Chapter 3: Sammy is vindicated

Wednesday, June 4, 1993.

We'd been on the road for about an hour when my phone rang.

"Hi, I didn't wake you, did I?"

As usual, the reception was less than perfect, but I recognized the voice. I looked over at Megan, and mouthed, "Its Marcie."

"I've been awake for hours."

"I hear you slept with Megan before she left."

"You talked to Zelda, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I called your apartment and she couldn't wait to tell me. How was it?"

I grinned at Megan. "She wants to know how it was."

"Is that her? Is she still with you?" Marcie asked.

"It must have been pretty good. She's still with me. In fact, she's driving," I said, not divulging the reason; I was having difficulty lifting my arms.

"I'm happy for you. I knew she was the one for you. What took you so long, Sammy?"

"Believe me, it was worth the wait," I said, looking at Megan, and watching her blush.

"Have Megan call me," Marcie said, and I told her I would.

I waited until nine-thirty to make the dreaded call. Adeline wanted to know why she hadn't heard from me, and when I didn't answer, she wanted to know where I was.

"It doesn't matter where I am. The reason I called is to cancel the house. What I need is a house with a pool."

"You sound cold, Sammy, like you don't want to talk to me."

"This is hard for me to say, Adeline, but I'm not alone."

"Are you ... are you dumping me just like that? I don't believe it. Who is she?"

"Can you help me with the house, or should I find another realtor?"

"You can't do this to me. I demand to know who it is."

I suppose an apology was in order, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I hung up without finding out if she had a house with a pool. It was the next day before she called me back.

We stopped early. Like the two nights before, the motel had a pool, but when I asked Megan if she wanted to go for a swim, she made a face. I thought I knew the reason. I asked her if she wanted to go shopping for a bikini that fit her. She shook her head, and I dropped it. I thought she rejected my suggestions because of what happened the day before. It was the next day before I found out I was wrong.

Thursday, June 5, 1993

We'd had a good night's sleep, and my arms felt much better. I drove and Megan took possession of my phone.

After a lengthy conversation with her mother, Megan filled me in on what was said. "She's figured it out that I'm with you, but she doesn't know where we are. She thinks we're still in Pontiac," she said, grinning.

"She doesn't have the number for the apartment, does she?" I asked, knowing from Marcie's phone call that Victor had had the phone service resumed, using my old number.

Megan shook her head. "I didn't give her the cell phone number, either. She insists that I catch the next flight home. What should I do, Sammy?"

The ringing phone prevented me from responding. I'm sure Megan thought it was Debra calling. She answered, and after several, "I sees," she told the caller that she would tell me.

"That was the realtor. She's found a house for you. It's in the next block from the house your parents are building. It's new and there's a pool. You are to go by her office to pick up the keys. She didn't want to speak to you," Megan said, without mentioning Adeline by name.

"Did she say if the house is furnished?"

"Yes, it is. Everything is new, so you'll have to sign the inventory."

I wondered if Adeline had mentioned the price. Megan repeated her question.

"What should I do, Sammy?"

Didn't she know I'd arranged to have a house with a pool in order to prevent another incident like we'd experienced with Wayne and his boyfriend, George?

"I'm hoping that you'll go to Florida with me. You've worked hard and deserve a vacation."

"My mother's not stupid. She knows what we're doing."

"You're a college graduate and smart as hell. Tell your mom you know how to take care of yourself."

She smiled, but didn't say what she was going to do about leaving or staying.

"I've got to find out if the baby came yet," she said, already dialing Deb's number, before launching a short, but very informative conversation. In the next five minutes I learned that Megan enjoyed sleeping on top of me as much as I liked her there. She told Debra about me 'defending her honor' at the pool, adding that I'd lost my interest in having sex for the last two nights.

"I don't think he knew that I got my period," she said, glancing at me, before whispering into the phone. "I offered to let him fuck my tits, but he said he wasn't up to it. Do you know how deflating it is to have your guy turn down a tit fuck?"

She went on talking in a hushed voice. I didn't try to eavesdrop. So that was the reason she didn't want to go into the pool.

Friday, June 6, 1993

I told Megan what Marcie had said about wanting to hear from her. Their conversation started off slowly, with Megan saying that we'd been in Kentucky for two days, and that we hoped to reach the coastline by the next day. Marcie must have asked about Debra's baby, because I heard Megan tell her, 'not yet, any day now.'

Then, I found out how close they had become when Marcie visited me the weekend of Debra's baby shower. They'd gone into Megan's room for an intimate chat.

"Sammy didn't tell you about the bully jumping him, did he? No, he got the better of the guy, and he kept saying that he was all right, but his arms have been aching ever since the fight. We didn't have sex that night, and then I got my period. He wanted me to lie on top of him and tickle his ass with my pubic hair. Then, the next night I became concerned when he turned down a tit fuck. Last night, I wouldn't take no for an answer. I gave him a blowjob. He said it hit the spot, but I'm not sure I did it right."

I expected Megan to be blushing, but she held the phone to her ear, listening intently, like she didn't want to miss a single word.

"You did? Under the head you say? I'll try that next time. You couldn't? I couldn't either. Did he do you? I know, it reminds me of windshield wipers on high speed."

After she finished the call, Megan became quiet. I tried to find out what she'd told Marcie she would try next time, but she wouldn't say. No matter how much I teased her, she wouldn't tell me.

Every morning, I woke up wondering if this was the day. Would she say it was time for her to leave me? I hoped not.

Saturday, June 7, 1993

Two pieces of very important information reached us that day, the seventh of June, 1993.

We were making good time traveling through Virginia when Megan announced that she simply had to find out about the baby. There was no answer at the Simmons's home. She left a message, saying that she would try again after lunch.

Megan was on pins and needles until she spoke to Debra's mother. The baby was born the evening before. Jenny Lynne weighed 6 pounds, 15 ounces and was in good health. Mrs. Simmons gave her the phone number at the hospital, but urged her to wait until the next day to call. I had a feeling that I would be hearing more about Jenny Lynne than I needed to know.

I did most of the driving that day, and was tired when we stopped at a motel. My plan was to tour Williamsburg the following morning, and then head south. We showered and dressed for dinner. I was surprised when Megan finally wore her new dress. Was this her way of telling me that this was our last night together?

Was I becoming paranoid? I decided the best way to put the matter to rest was to ask.

"Are you considering catching a flight home?"

She looked at me, shocked, like I'd struck a nerve.

I decided to help her make up her mind. "For your information, I can list ten reasons why you should come to Florida with me."

Megan's look of shock changed to a playful smirk. She came to me, pressed her body to mine, and placed her hand behind my neck. "I'm going to leave it up to you as to when I leave, but I'd like to hear those ten reasons for me to stay."

In heels, her lips were even with mine. I put my arms around her. She moved even closer.

"You feel good in my arms."

"Is that reason number one?"

"You smell good, too."

"That doesn't count. You can by a bottle of perfume and knock yourself out."

"I like the way your little ass sticks out," I said, patting her ass.

She pulled my head forward, and her lips mauled mine. "Hmmm, you taste good enough to eat."

"Is that something I can count on?"

She pulled away, saying, "It depends on the other eight reasons you want me to stay."

I think she knew that I didn't have eight more reasons. She teased me throughout dinner, accepting my better reasons, rejecting the ones that were not so good.

"You're sexy. You look spectacular in a bikini."

"That doesn't count. I'm a liability in a bikini. I get you in trouble."

"That's the reason I'm getting a house with a pool. You'll wear a bikini for my eyes only."

She refused to change her mind. "I like watching you, too, Sammy, but I don't monopolize you. That's being selfish."

"I like being with you."

"I like being with you, too," she said, becoming serious. I took that as a valid reason.

"You're generous."

A cloud came over her face. "If you're referring to the tit fuck, I withdraw the offer."

"Why?"

"You rejected my tits because they're small."

"That's not true. You know my arms were aching that night. You have lovely breasts. They're not small. I won't reject them if you make another offer."

"We'll see," she said, becoming playful again.

"You're expression is sexy when I remove your panties. Does that count as a reason for you to stay?"

"Oh, Sammy, you really know how to tweak a girl's hot spots," she said, striking a pose, open mouth and a far off gaze in her eyes, like she was about to orgasm.

Her fond look told me that I was on a roll. "I like having sex with you."

Her contented look changed to one of contempt. "Duh! You're a college graduate and supposed to be smart as hell. You'd like having sex with a giraffe if it would hold still long enough for you to mount it."

I looked for signs that she was teasing me, but didn't see any. She was biting her lip to keep from really lashing out at me. I didn't know what to say, so I told her that I loved her.

"You're just saying that," she said, accusingly.

"I'll tell you what I don't like about you. I don't like for you to question my honesty. I've loved you ever since that day last August when we met."

With that, I concentrated on my meal, consuming everything on my plate while Megan only picked at her food. Every so often she would sneak a peek at me. When I was finished eating, I folded my napkin, and called the waiter to bring me the check.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked when we were in the car.

"No."

"You seem angry."

"I'm disappointed with you. When I bullshit someone, I tell them that I'm bullshitting. Telling you that I love you was not bullshit!"

We rode in silence for a few minutes. "I have a question. Why haven't you had sex with Marcie?"

"She's my friend," I said, as if that was explanation enough.

"Didn't you want to? I know she wanted to have sex with you."

"We had oral a couple of times, but I couldn't go all the way."

"I'm your friend, and you went all the way with me," she said, giggling. "You fucked me five times that first night."

I laughed, and found that I couldn't stop. Soon, we were both laughing. We didn't stop until we reached the motel.

The second piece of information arrived later that evening. Megan had taken her position on top of me. Neither of us had gone to sleep. I was enjoying the way her pubic hair tickled my ass when my cell phone rang. It was Mr. Oldham. I'd never heard him so excited.

"Are you watching the news, Sam?" he began.

"No Sir, it doesn't come on until eleven over here."

Megan rolled off of me when she heard me address the caller as Sir.

"Where are you?"

"Virginia, we're heading south tomorrow."

"Turn on one of the cable channels. They're all covering it," he said, saying goodbye before I could ask what I was supposed to be looking for.

Megan sat up in bed when the TV lit up the room. I laughed when I saw her holding the sheet in front of her, like she was embarrassed for me to see her breasts.

I searched around until I found CNN. What was Mr. Oldham so excited about? What did he want me to see?

My cell phone rang again. "Sammy, why are you still in Virginia? You haven't had trouble, have you? What did you mean when you told John we're heading south tomorrow?"

"Hi, Suz. No, I haven't had any trouble. We're heading south because that's the direction Florida is in."

"Don't try to evade my question, Sammy. Who is with you?"

Had she not spoken to Marcie lately? I could not believe that they had gone five or six days without speaking, or could it be that Marcie had not told her about Megan?

"Megan's with me. You met her a few times last year, and then at graduation. She missed her flight home the other day so she decided to help me with the driving."

"The blonde is with him," I heard Suzanne tell Mr. Oldham, and then to me, "That explains why it's taking you so long, doesn't it?"

"Suz, what am I supposed to be looking for on the news?" I asked, disregarding the question about how long it was taking to get to Florida.

"It's the flood. Haven't you run across it yet? It's on all the channels. Your father thinks he saw the Omaha building that you talked us out of buying."

Hearing this, I became as excited Mr. Oldham. "I'll search all the channels until I find it. I'll call back if I see the building."

"I didn't know you and the blonde..."

"I'll call back," I said, cutting her off before I got bombarded with questions about Megan and me.

I flipped around the channels until the network news came on. They all led with how the Missouri River had been flooding since April, doing untold amounts of damage to everything in its path. I spotted the building before the announcer told us what we were seeing. Omaha, he said, was hit hard, and indeed, I could tell that the second floor windows were under water. I called Neill Fenton. Cassie answered the phone. Yes, her dad was there, and yes, he was watching the news.

"Is that the building?" I asked, wanting him to verify what I already knew.

"Sammy, I don't know how you had it pegged that disaster would strike that building, but I'm glad your dad listened to you."

I recalled that Neill had wanted the company to buy the building. It would have assured that he would have work during slack times.

"How much pressure can those windows take?"

"The first floor is probably already flooded with mud from the river bottom. I pity those poor bastards that own it. Did you see how fast the river is flowing?"

"I just tuned in. My dad called to tell me about it."

"Rest assured, Sammy, you're going to be a hero at the Oldham Companies."

I thanked him for his opinion on the building, and turned my attention to the news. Megan cuddled up next to me, looking sad at seeing the devastation the river was leaving behind.

I was torn between feeling sorry for the poor bastards that Neill had spoken about, and being elated that my prediction was coming through. There had been times during the last few months when I'd been sorry that I'd opened my mouth. I knew that Mr. Oldham and Suzanne had taken their share of abuse from the investors for standing by me. I'd often wondered how much longer it would be before they sided with the investors and admitted that I'd been wrong. They had sent me to Florida to protect me from the harsh sentiments the investors were anxious to bestow upon me.

"Sammy?" Megan asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I kissed her on the forehead to indicate that I was listening.

"You said you would call your father back."

I kissed her forehead again before dialing the number.

"Sam, that's the building, isn't it?"

"Yes Sir, I remembered the pattern of the bricks over the entrance, but I called Neill. He agreed that it's the building."

"How did you know the building was skunked, Sammy?" Suzanne asked. She must have picked up the extension.