Conflict

Warning: One slightly graphic picture cut to make it slightly less graphic though still highly suggestive. Consider yourselves warned in a round-about kind of way.



Water thinks about it constantly. It's almost been a year since it happened, but that doesn't take away the anger or the hurt he felt when Demi left and took their two children with her to that creepy cult that lived far outside town. (Author's note: For the curious:Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)

He wasn't ever the sort of man who wanted to settle down and have children. From an early age, he'd pretty much said it wasn't for him. Never mind the fact that between high school and college, he'd had more serious relationship sex than he had meaningless sex.




But now he finds himself childless, technically, and in a new large and spacious apartment. Now when he can lead the life he always said he'd meant to, he finds himself decorating a room all in pink and carrying their toys left from their hasty departure to his new apartment. The hope is that they'll know that he was thinking about them always during their separation.

One room is already prepared for the day he gets his daughters back. But it's almost been a year already and he's no closer now than he was before at getting his daughters back. That's almost a year he's missed in their lives. Who's showing Shannen how to walk? Who's helping Melanie with her homework? The thought makes him queasy with anger.


So he just doesn't think about it. He keeps himself busy with work and the restaurant and meeting new people. It helps him not think.

Except those nights he goes to bed alone. His mind wears a trail looping over thoughts he'd prefer to not think about. His daughters sleeping at that creepy cult place probably being told that he didn't love them and wasn't looking for them. Demi falling for the words of Tristin Stratton who was even less worthy of trust than his sister Sofia.


If he looks like he's enjoying himself, it's just for show. To be polite, really. She called him. He doesn't really want to spread the pain. He doesn't want to talk about it anymore because all the talking he's done has done absolutely nothing to help him. And he doesn't really know what to do anymore.


It doesn't help, it doesn't make things better, but it is something. It stops the thinking letting his hand run along the crevice in her hip, fingering the delicate and rough lace of her underwear before it slides down her thigh. Feeling the strands of her hair brushing against his chest as she climbs on top of him, taking the lead and leading him away from those thoughts that fill his head when he is alone and goes to sleep.



She knows; he's sure she knows though he can't really find the words to say it again. Neither of them have discussed it. They've only carried on as if everything that had come before, their entire past hadn't happened. He's sure that he's being used as much as she's using him. Sometimes it feels ridiculous to find comfort in the silly repetitive ritual between two human adults. Sometimes he almost wants to laugh out loud about it.

But he doesn't. Not in any way that would be unusual. Though she has remarked on his smiling more at times. But she doesn't know, and he doesn't want to tell her. It's the smile of a man who doesn't really have much more to lose, who doesn't want to gain more just to lose it again. She doesn't really know what it's like to believe you're truly in love enough to give up everything only to have the one you were willing to give your heart to give it back and walk out with the two most important girls in his life.

If only there were a nice and neat way to end his story. You know, one of those beautifully poetic insights about life and love and maybe even the transient beauty of it all. But he's a realist, a pragmatist. It's almost been an entire damn year. What else can you really say?

********************************

So the last time I left these two Sam was saying some brave things. The words he can't say? I hope it's clear. He's not ready for a serious relationship. He's still hurting. And I totally get that from game play, lol.



Poor guy. Even though his chemistry with Sam is higher, I do believe that in his pixel soul he really loved Demi and he's really hurt by her leaving.

And, for anyone who might have forgotten, he really has tried everything. He's talked to the Mayor, but of course there isn't a police force to speak of, not that they can do anything with people living on the margins of town. And Water made a personal appearance over at the cult where he was promptly run off.

As for Sam, well, she was the one to call him once and invite him on an outing. Probably I will mention that later on. In the case of this entry, the inspiration came when I left the game running while checking up something or reading someone's post. When I went back, these two were hanging out at his house-- though they didn't actually make it past the lobby. Those darn comfy looking lobby sofas.

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Back where we started

And here we are, right back where we started. She's not a lush. This is her first drink of the day and only her second drink since her arrival. And this time it wasn't even her idea.

It's been a week. Only a week, but it still seems like it's been longer than that. Days go by slowly when you aren't working. It's only been a week, but she hasn't really looked very hard, if she's being honest with herself. Which she usually isn't, honestly.

"So how's the place?" Water asks as he pours himself a drink.


It was just a fluke. They happened to bump into each other while she was walking past to the City Center to check for new job postings. It was only 11am, and Water's restaurant wasn't set to open for another two hours or so.

"Well, I can't complain." She lies. She could. Easily.

Water told her about a little flop house, no questions asked, easy approval to rent a room. They provide you with three meals a day which is probably the best part about her stay. The elimination of her needing to cook or go in search of food.

But it's only a room.

A bare room at that. Her suitcase sits off in the corner. She hasn't even removed her clothes yet. The entire place suggests only a temporary living environment. Mostly because of the fact that bathrooms, showers, and even the damn TV is shared.



"It is certainly different." She smiles even as she puts her hand to her forehead to stave off the headache she can feel just beginning to grow out of her own boredom and exhaustion.

"How's the job search going?" He asks before he moves to step around the bar.

"Ugh." It's almost involuntary. There don't seem to be many jobs in this little town though she had seen a posting for Bonnie's Clothing Shop. Sam had already told her that Bonnie needed a cashier. She'd suggested it with a smirk and a poorly hidden laugh.

Samantha was not nearly desperate enough. "Well, you know, okay I guess. I don't have one yet, so that should tell you something."

Water chuckles. "That bad? Why don't you work here? I could use a bartender for the evening shift."

"Really? I've never tended a bar before though."

He slides into the seat near her. "I'd train you. Besides, a cute girl can't really go wrong."


Now Water was the one who suggested the flop house, so she's not exactly how sure she should be of his judgment. Really. But it did sound different, plus she stood no chance of having Sam suggest she should go work for Bonnie again.

"Wait, I have to do something first though." Samantha hops up, steps around the bar, and picks up three clear and heavy glass tumblers. It was a trick she'd done plenty in college at parties usually using their little espresso cups.

Glass tumblers are definitely heavier than espresso cups, but it works. Clearly it's a sign that she can be a bartender. She smiles because that's pretty awesome to be able to just juggle glass tumblers. (Can you do that with hardly any practice?)

Water isn't nearly so impressed it seems.


"Uh yeah, that's cool, but ah, try not to do that too often, okay?"

It's okay, she still questions his judgment anyway.

They part after shaking hands on it. Water will personally train her starting as soon as tomorrow.

*********************

Y'know, we put warnings when these things are long, should I put a warning when they're short?

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Dinner and a show

With a full and warmed belly, Samantha walked bravely into city hall, swinging the door open wide as she stepped inside trying to look around but without appearing completely lost.

And right away she jumped back, "Sorry!"

A woman stood behind the door, stopped with her hands in front of her as she'd thrown them up to stop the door from hitting her. Samantha expected a woman almost hit by a door to be a bit more upset than a simple apology could sooth, but this woman only smiled at her.

"Well, aren't we in a hurry?"


"Sorry, I'm new here, and someone suggested I should check in here first."

At the word "new," the woman perked up suddenly. "New? We don't get a lot of visitors. Welcome to town. I'm Samantha."

The other Samantha reached out her hand, and Samantha took it. "Really? I'm Samantha also."


For a moment it was like looking in a warped mirror. The other Samantha was nothing like her. She was clearly more of a dressy kind of girl, and her dark hair which was only in a bun still somehow had the appearance of being done in a salon.

Once again, Samantha caught the other Samantha looking down at her shirt. Her boobs were not so amazing that people were prone to staring at them, so she was sure it was the shirt.


"It's the shirt, isn't it?"

"Yeah, what is the deal with that? I know people get gag gifts, but they don't usually wear them."

"It was free."

The other Samantha looked at her with a smile, "Oh you are in need of some serious help. Come on. I know where we can go. It's close."




The other Samantha hadn't even asked if she had a place to live. The first thing she'd done was drag her off to a clothing shop. Hanging around a group of women tossing around their troubles was one thing, but these women clearly had plans for her before she even had plans for herself.


"How about this one?"

Bonnie seriously eyed the shirt as if it were a piece of art not just a shirt she were picking up so she could take off her free shirt that everyone seemed a little too interested in. "Hmm. Okay. But try it on."

As she was in the fitting room, plans were being made already. Before she'd even stepped out of the fitting room, she had agreed to go to dinner after she'd made a stop and gotten herself a place to stay and finally changed her shirt.





The house from the outside was small and plain. There was no perfect lawn and no landscaping, just the old newspaper on the porch which Bonnie kicked aside casually with a smile as she stepped out to greet them.

"Welcome to our house," Bonnie said with a smile.


There was a charm to the place that Samantha couldn't exactly pick out. It was small and within walking distance of Bonnie's clothing shop so that they didn't even seem to have a car.

"Thank you for inviting us, Bonnie," The other Samantha (who had agreed to be called "Sam" to avoid confusion) said politely.

"No problem, I figure that I should probably get on your good side now since I worry we might see a lot of each other next year."

Sam smiled at Bonnie, "I'll pretend that I have no clue what's coming or what you meant by that. I'd like to pretend to enjoy my summer."

They laughed easily, it was slightly infectious. Even if Samantha was disoriented by how quickly things seemed to be moving. Had she really only arrived in town this morning?

A man poked his head out of the door, "Okay, food ordered."


Bonnie, who had been sheepishly ready to tell them something hopped on him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek as he gently patted her head. "Oh god, thank you. I didn't want to have to tell them about the burnt pizza."

A pang attacked Samantha suddenly. Bonnie's move was casual, natural. The two fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces and it made Samantha's heart hurt. She glanced away and caught Sam's expression almost a mirror of her own. She was stone faced, almost stoic in an attempt to not react and she had also turned away to meet Samantha's gaze.


Sam, seeing her expression mirrored on Samantha's face, stepped forward with a smile at Samantha. "Well, while we're waiting for food, how about that haircut?"

Bonnie jumped at that idea too quickly. She was something like those little dogs who pushed their larger owners around, only in her case she was all bite and very little bark. Samantha could already tell she was not the sort of person one could say no to easily. Adorable, boisterous and demanding, normally a combination that probably drew people to her, something about it pushed at Samantha and almost made her wish she hadn't agreed to come over for dinner.

Bonnie dragged her out to the backyard where an old and weather beaten barber shop chair sat exposed to the elements.

"Now, I can tell you're a little nervous. Maybe a little dubious about my talents, so we'll start you off easy. I'll just do a little restyling and if you don't like it, well no harm done."

Sam stood near by, a hand on her chin and a smirk across her face. Even though Samantha was sure she was pretty much the one to blame for this, she found herself drawn to this woman. This evil woman who had her spending money on clothes before she had a place to stay and drew her into some oddly girly adventure.

This was something they'd laugh about later, she was sure. Hopefully over drinks.


"See? Not bad, huh?"

Samantha was pleasantly surprised.

Bonnie's husband, Orlando, stuck his head out the back door (not very far, Samantha noticed- she wondered if it was all the estrogen or if it was only his wife with the cutting shears). "Dinner's here."

Inside they went. Sam threw Samantha one last smirk as if she could read Samantha's mind and did fully intend on laughing about this later. Hopefully over drinks.

************

Bonnie and the pizza:


OMG, she looked so disappointed. And Ama is so not surprised. "We're having people over? And you cooked?"

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Just arrived

"A little early for a drink, inn'it it?"





Samantha stared the woman down and took a large gulp of her drink before she placed her order for a T-bone steak. She was starving, but she didn't exactly have money to burn through. She had to be careful and make it last, and the T-bone steak happened to be the least expensive thing on the menu. If she was going to waste her money, let it be on something helpful, like a good stiff drink to start the day.

She tried to take her time with her meal. Tried to not think about where in the world she was going or what she was doing because then she'd realize she didn't really know where she was going or what exactly she was doing. But it felt right. It was the right thing to do. There was something she was missing, a piece to her puzzle that had somehow managed to go missing over the course of her life when she'd been working on putting things together.


It was after she had finished her steak, sitting with a full stomach and trying to nurse her afternoon drink that she felt someone standing behind her. She did not turn around and she refused to curl up and let the little shiver roll down her back because she knew she was being watched.

"You're new here," he said as she raised her glass to her lips for something to do.

"Mmm hmm." His voice was smooth and gentle and it made her relax a little.


"I'm Water Mellon," he said with a smile as he stepped around to stand behind the bar. He was dressed well, in a suit that fit him perfectly and left both a lot and almost a little to the imagination.

"Water Mellon?"

"Yeah, my mom had a strange sense of humor. My brother's name is Green." His lips gently curved up in a pleasant manner. The way one does when they don't expect anything in return. He was relaxed and calm, and it made her feel relaxed and calm. "I own this restaurant."

"Nice place."


"Thanks. I do try." He glanced down at her shirt, the free shirt they'd given her at the train station when she'd left. (She hadn't even known they had shirts to give away to people leaving Lakeside-- what was that some sort of promotional deal?-- but it'd been free and clean, and it was comfortable.)


At least she hoped he was glancing at her shirt. He didn't say anything for a moment. She cleared her throat and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "I just left from there. And yes, I got this t-shirt."

"It says 'born' though. Does everyone born there get that shirt?"

She glanced down. So it did say "born." She hadn't noticed that before. "Huh. Well, I don't know. I could just be special."

He smiled at her. "Do you have a place to stay yet?"

Hopefully he wasn't going to offer her one. "I was looking for a hotel or something, but there doesn't seem to be any here."


"We're pretty small, and we don't get a lot of visitors. But I know a place you can go."

And he gave her directions to the city center and a special place that was "like" a hotel he said, but it really sounded more like one of those old flop houses for the poor. It was okay though, because technically without a job and on the go she was poor.

********************

So just for reference, because I'm sure we all know, anyone reading this blog has to be reading Lakeside Heights too, but just in case: This is Samantha Bradshaw's first stop on the grand tour of the Samantha Bradshaw project.

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Late Night Meeting

Last time we saw the cult-- I mean the Church for Wayward NPCs, Demi Love, partner to Water Mellon and mother of his two daughters, joined.

The last time we saw Joseph (AKA Mr. Big), he was on the run from Sofia Stratton, and so he went to the last place she'd think to look-- her own brother's church. (This update also includes information on the Church as well, for those just starting to read along with me.)



Quiet finally fell over the compound once everyone was in bed at their enforced bedtime.



Joseph couldn't sleep. He never could when they went to bed so damn early. Instead, he lay in bed looking to the ceiling, still half dressed in an undershirt and boxers. Nearby lay a pair of pants he left out and his old overcoat which Tristin had asked him to get rid of.

Joseph was no idiot. He's already gotten rid of his cell phone. Get rid of his clothes and then Tristin would ask him to get rid of his name. Joe was no sad little sim looking to fit in.


Near-by, he heard the girl in the bed next to him softly breathing rhythmically. One of the few plus sides of living out here was that at least Tristin was free with the women. For the most part. It was pretty clear that the one who'd given birth to his child was off limits though he never expressly said that. That only left the two others. And one of those two had a man who was coming around looking for his children.

He's been out just that morning. Tristin had asked Joe to stand near-by as he ran the man off again.

It'd been pretty tense. "Where are my daughters?"

Joe had to give it to Tristin; he could be as cold as Sofia. "They want nothing to do with you. Leave, Water."


Luckily a fight didn't break out because Joe wasn't sure what he'd have done. The man had a right to his kids, and frankly, Joe would prefer it if he took the older whiny one who was constantly yelling or crying over everything and anything.

The man left, though he was clearly not happy about it. Joe almost felt bad enough to help (and desperate enough to get the whiny kid out), but he couldn't risk pissing Tristin off. This was the last place Sofia would look for him with the last person Sofia would expect him to be with.

Anyway, it didn't matter. None of it did unless he couldn't get control of the business from Sofia. Right now, he was powerless and moneyless, and without even a damn cell phone. Joe only had his friends left.


Joe sat up carefully, the springs of his mattress squeaking just barely and still sounding too loud in the quiet of the room. He slipped his pants on and threw the coat on over. He'd only have to be outside for a moment. The tricky part was getting downstairs and outside.

The cold air burned the sensitive skin on his cheeks as soon as he stepped outside. A boy stood on the sidewalk waiting close to the doors of the church. He had to be freezing. All he had on was a long sleeved shirt. No one expected it to be so cold so far inland.

"'ey," Joe said casually. Teen boys didn't normally stand out front of churches in the middle of nowhere to pick up girls.

The boy reached out to shake his hand, slipping the tiny cell phone into his palm in one smooth move. Armando had said something about a new boy-- one no one would expect. Something about a boy of pedigree, the mayor's son or something like that. Said he would be useful or was it helpful?

"Thanks kid."

The kid did look pretty sharp. He didn't stick around long enough to chat, and he hardly seemed impressed with Joe. Just gave a nod and walked off down the road casually with out even a quip about the weather.

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Woo, sorry, it's been a while. I swear I haven't completely defected to TS3. Mostly, I'm using TS3 to illustrate very old stories, so it's rather easy to get sucked into those again.

But I still have plans for this story! So I'm going to shoot for an update every week or so on this blog.

I'd also like to take this time to invite those of you who enjoy writing to Valley Sun Sims forum. I've already mentioned it to a few people who I knew enjoy writing. It's a nice way to meet people, and find new stories. Plenty of us are using TS3 for stories, but plenty of TS2 people have been joining as well.

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Smoke and Chairs

"It's a chair."


Alberta couldn't think of anything clever to say. It was indeed a painting of a chair. "Maybe it has some extra meaning? Something about carrying something until you become an inatimate object."

Gabe examined the painting for a moment before coming to the same conclusion as Kate. "Pretty sure its just a chair, Alberta."

"Now you know its serious. He agrees with me."

The three stood around the painting staring at it quietly as if they were waiting for it to speak and explain itself. Alberta was sure that she was the only one giving the artist the benefit of the doubt. It could have meaning. It was completely possible that even the fact that a painting of a chair got into the museum is itself a statement of something.


"Chairs," a strange woman said while walking over to them, "are a statement of our own classification and subjegation. Chairs do all the work for us, holding us up at dinner and in front of the TV while we get older and our asses get larger. But no one gives thanks to the chair for just doing its job. No one ever really looks at a chair."

Alberta wrapped an arm across her stomach, gripping her other arm tightly. Both Gabe and Kate were oddly silent watching the girl in surprise.

"Uhm, wow." Kate finally managed to say. "How do you get that from..."

"I painted it," The girl smiled at Kate as the Gabe and Alberta suddenly had to glance away. No one had noticed her standing on the floor before. Was it possible she'd heard them talking? How embarrassing!


The girl looked at the painting allowing Kate to glance away. "Yep. Put a lot of work into it too. Hours and hours."

Kate sucked in a breath which Alberta could swear would have (probably should have) been a curse. "You heard us?"

The girl winked at her. "We're the only ones on this floor you know."

"Crap. Sorry. Music's more my thing." Kate waved at Gabe. "He's got no excuse though."


The girl laughed. "It's alright. I'm partially jerking your chain anyway. I mean, c'mon-- it's a friggen chair in a museum. I had to make something up." She turned to them. "I'm Regina. Wanna go outside for a smoke?"

Alberta could see Gabe was ready to politely refuse. Kate was faster though. "Sure."




"Oh god, that's so good. The woman who runs the place wants me to be here to present my paintings. Told me to look nice. I think I look nice. She didn't think boots and a sun dress were appropriately 'nice.' Bitch."

Alberta really couldn't see the problem. "I think you look nice."

"Oh you're sweet. A bit innocent though, aren't you? Hopefully someone's watching out for you. Oh geeze," Regina held out her carton of cigarettes. "Did either of you want one? I'm going to guess that Innocence here doesn't smoke."

"Sure." Kate bravely reached out and took a cigarette from the carton. Alberta hadn't known that Kate smoked. Yet there was Kate, taking a cigarette like she had always known Regina and lighting it without stopping to think about it.

There were so many things she felt she didn't know and hadn't experienced yet; it almost made her feel a little out of place until Kate took her first drag and started coughing as if she would die.


"Kate, are you okay?" Alberta could see Gabe out of the corner of her eye crossing his arms over his chest and laughing.

Kate held up her first finger in response to Alberta's question as she fought the coughs, her eyes a tiny bit teary. She then shoved her lit cigarette at Gabe, "Here tough guy. You take it then."

"Your lips have been on that. I'm not taking it."

Regina held out her carton to Gabe. With a tiny roll of his eyes, he grabbed one cigarette, deftly lit it with Regina's lighter, and took a puff on it.


"Crap. Stop showing what a burn out you are."

"Do you want me to teach you?"

"No." Under her breath, Kate mummbled, "Jerk."

"Are they always like this?" Regina asked.

"Generally. This is them being nice, if you can believe it."

Regina laughed. "I can bet what you put up with."


Alberta didn't want to pepper Regina with a ton of questions, but there was so much she was curious about. Kate appeared interested too. Once she'd decided to just ignore Gabe and his teasing, she turned back to talk with Regina. Kate didn't worry about peppering Regina with questions; she asked the questions in the same way she'd acted as if she could smoke.

"Look, I will tell you this much. I'm eighteen and I have my own house. If you wanna know more, you'll just have to come over some time." Regina winked at Kate. "I better be heading back. See you all later."

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