Chapter 3

Sam walked into the house early that night. The days he was working in Oneonta involved an hour-and-a-half drive to and from work, and his days at headquarters involved almost as much traveling to the other satellite offices. He walked into his home shortly after five, both pleased he could do so and curious about what it was like getting home so early.

He grimaced as he looked around the kitchen and began putting away the dishes. Lizzie had been the baby of the family and Lee had spoiled her rotten, though not without Sam’s approval. Sam had been wrapped around her little finger since she was in diapers. She never did the chores if she could help it and would pout and complain whenever Sam worked up the nerve to bitch about the condition of the house. ‘God help the poor bastard who marries that one!’ muttered Sam as he began sorting through the mail. “Lizzie! You home?” he yelled.

Lizzie Charles bounced into the kitchen still dressed in her cheerleader’s uniform. By any standards, the sixteen-year-old high school junior was beautiful; short and slim, though with an intriguing bust, she wore her brown hair to her shoulders and had brown eyes set in a round face with prominent cheekbones. She was a good but not great student, thought Sam, so he wouldn’t have to send her to an expensive engineering college like Sammy attended. Plattsburgh State, Party School USA, would do just fine for her, he thought disgustedly, especially disgusted because he knew his daughter would be perfectly happy goofing off for four years.

Lizzie skipped into the kitchen and looked surprised. “Hi, Daddy, what’s up? You’re home early!” She came forward and Sam bent down, kissing his youngest on the forehead.

“Hi yourself. Are you sure that skirt can’t get any shorter?” he asked, eyeing her uniform of short, pleated skirt and tight sweater.

She waved his protest off. “Oh, Daddy, don’t be so stuffy. That’s the entire idea!” She twirled around once and dropped to the floor in a split, throwing her arms up. Sam smiled and helped her to her feet. “Besides, the guys on the team like it,” she announced, blissfully unaware that this was the worst possible thing to say to a father.

Sam harrumphed and snorted. “Yeah, then let them wear it. Go change!” he ordered.

Lizzie laughed. She headed for her room, saying, “You’re just a fuddy-duddy, Daddy. I just got home, too. I haven’t had a chance yet.” She headed into the hall, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Daddy, rah, rah, rah!” She flipped the back of her skirt up to reveal the matching panties to the costume, then laughed as she headed to her room to change.

Sam smiled and shook his head. He had never been able to control his youngest and doubted he ever would. Neither he nor Lee had ever been able to figure out where she got her wild streak, but she had one for sure! She managed to go through life able to do or say anything, happily aware that, somehow, her looks, her brains, or her parents would manage to bail her out one way or another. After Lee had died, he had gone to his daughter’s doctor and convinced the woman to put her on the Pill for ‘medical reasons’, ostensibly to help control her period. Lee would never have gone along with the idea, believing her daughter would never do ‘those sorts of thing,’ conveniently forgetting that when she had been that age, boys had wanted to do them to her! Sam wasn’t either that stupid or that hypocritical, and he remembered being a young man himself. He really doubted that Lizzie would maintain her virginity as long as her mother, even though he didn’t really want to know.

Lizzie came back into the kitchen, now wearing a worn and torn pair of blue jeans and a midriff-baring tank top. Underneath the tank top, Sam could see the straps to a lacy black bra and was again mystified by what a teenage girl was doing wearing racy lingerie. Lizzie had given him exasperated answers before, and he knew he would never understand. “What’s for dinner, Daddy?”

Sam shrugged. “What do you want, honey?”

“Let’s have pizza.”

Sam stared at the girl. “Lizzie, I eat out nine times out of ten. The one night I get home in time to fix a real meal and you want pizza?”

“Pizza, Daddy!” she said firmly, handing him the phone.

Sam threw his hands in the air and made the call. Paisely Road was barely in the range of one of the shops in Ballston Spa, and it would be delivered in thirty minutes. He hung up the phone and followed his youngest into the living room, then kicked her out of his La-Z-Boy. He saw several photo albums laying on the coffee table and picked them up. They were from the old days, the wedding album and photos from the honeymoon cruise, before the kids and the bills and every other damned thing that went with marriage.

“What’s with the photos, Lizzie?” he asked.

She looked over at him from the couch and grinned. “Teresa and Olivia were by earlier, and I commented on how you used to have hair, and they didn’t believe me, so I got out some old photos to prove it!”

Sam gaped and roared, “You little bitch! I ought to spank you for that! And for this damn wig brochure, too, you little bitch!” He tossed a junk mail flyer across the room at his hysterical daughter; he was absolutely convinced it had been Lizzie who had put his name on a baldness mailing list, and now he received toupee and Rogaine mail from around the world.

She stood and picked up the flyer, studying it. “Daddy, that’s so kinky! I never knew you liked to spank young girls!”

Sam laughed. “That does it, midget, you’re going to get it now!”

The busty little teen grinned and ignored the threat, walking past him to throw away the brochure. Her path took her within arm reach of her father, who grabbed her and pulled her, squealing, onto his lap. Once there, Lizzie found herself being tickled until she was screaming. Sam relented only when the doorbell rang, and the pizza was delivered. A red-faced and grinning Lizzie scrambled away, calling him a “Dirty old man!”