Claiming What's His (3 page)

“Nice you meet you, Char.
 And please call me Sam.”

The rest of the time Sam chatted with Char, getting to know her a bit more.  She found out that Char and Danny just moved to town from Dallas, looking for something new and not knowing anyone.
 She said that she was looking for a job as soon as Danny started school next week.  

Sam immediately offered her a part time job (for the time being), helping her with various things around the office (flyers, phone calls, accounting stuff, etc), mostly answering phones.
 Sam had spent a good portion of the afternoon answering telemarketers’ phone calls.  The others were sales calls with the last one being for Viagra.  She figured it might be best if she hired someone to handle that for her.  Once she started having monetary-paying clients, she would graduate Char to handle accounting for her as well.

Sam waved good-bye to her as she walked back to her car and headed back to the office.

“Your first client was four years old?”
 

Her best friend Maggie threw her head back and laughed her ass off as she sat across from her in a booth at Daisy’s Diner.

Daisy’s Diner was a ‘50s style diner that reminded Sam of the sock hop she had back in high school during her junior year.  The booths resembled the backseat of a caddy and the stools were covered in plastic.  The color schemes of the restaurant were white and baby blue.  The waitresses wore white and baby blue colored uniforms with black-rimmed glasses and were on rolling on roller skates. 

Maggie was laughing so hard that she doubled over and rested her head on the table as her shoulders shook.  She even managed to snort twice which made her laugh even harder.

Oh
God
.  This was beyond embarrassing. 

Maggie never snorted, not even at the funny stuff that they did when they were younger.  Sam knew that if Maggie snorted, it was
bad
.  Once, during comedy night in college, Maggie laughed so hard that she snorted wine through her nose.  The wine splashed everywhere across the table – on the table, on Sam’s blouse, and in the girl’s hair who sat in front of her.

But Sam told Maggie everything.  She had never kept a secret from her.  Never had and never will (probably).

“A four and three quarter, to be specific,” Sam mumbled, trying to slowly sink down in her seat.   She hoped that if she sunk low enough then she could disappear through the cracks of the seat and crawl away from the embarrassment.

Age wasn’t
that
important, not in this conversation.  Technically, she didn’t want it to be, but it seemed important enough for Maggie to crack a joke.

What she should’ve said was
, it wasn’t important, especially in
this
conversation.

After her morning visit with Char and Danny, Sam called Chuck, told him it was a false alarm, and that he didn’t need to worry.  Naturally, he asked what the situation was and she knew she couldn’t lie to him and make something up.  The last time she did that she had told him that wild monkeys ran into Daisy’s and stole his muffin off his plate while he went to the restroom.  She filled him in from beginning to end, with him laughing so hard he snorted through the phone.  Then, she called Maggie and asked her to meet at Daisy’s Diner for lunch, where she was now laughing at her special ordeal.

“I don’t think it’s
that
funny, Maggie,” Sam retorted.

Maggie calmed her laughing and reiterated, “Let me repeat.  Your
first
client was
four
years old.  I’m sorry, I mean
four and three quarters
.  How is that
not
funny?”  And then she continued laughing.

Sam sighed.  She could see how it was funny but that didn’t mean that Sam particularly enjoyed being the Maggie’s laughing stock.

“Fine, it’s a little funny.  But he had a convincing story,” Sam defended herself then continued, ”And it sounded serious.  What am I going to do?  I need to start building up my client list if I want to make money, at least to pay rent.  You’re the one with the marketing degree here so…
help!
” Sam nearly shrieked at her
help
because she was in panic mode.

When Maggie was able to contain herself and wipe the tears from her eyes, she suggested, “We can start by making some flyers.
 We can put them up in different places around town, and then maybe post on Facebook and Twitter.  We can hire one of those sign dancers who hold up signs all day while they dance to their ipod or whatever they have.  That would help spread the word –”

Sam had cut her off, her lips curling, “You mean those people who dance and wave the signs in all directions where you’re not able to read them?”  Maggie nodded.  “No thanks.  But, I do like the flyers idea.  You think that would work?
 I mean, this is a small town.  I don’t think very many things can go wrong.”

“Never say never.
 Plus, if there’s nothing here, you’ll always have the nearby major cities.  That will only be a few hours’ drive away,” Maggie told her.

“True.
 But let’s focus on one thing at a time before we expand statewide.  I may be willing to look into expanding to Houston, at the most.  For now.”

“Sweet.”

*******

Maggie had great ideas as how to design the flyers.
 She had taken a few shots of Sam walking along the sidewalk and somehow incorporated that into the flyers.  They went to the local Kinko’s and made about a hundred copies (to start off), dropping them off at Cozy Inn & Cafe (best coffee ever), Comfort’s Public Library, Jette’s Engines (motor shop), and Pop’s Fridge (bar).

Afterwards, they flagged down Hon
Vilaycha, a Laotian woman in her early twenties, five foot five weighing about a hundred pounds who pushed a cart with her homemade cuisines: papaya salad, sticky rice or white rice with chicken, duck, beef, or shrimp. 

Luckily, they spotted her a two blocks from Cozy’s. 

Hon was wearing a navy flare-legged capri pants, a floral-printed kimono shirt and flip flops.   Her black hair was neatly tied in a bun on top of her head with loose strands sticking out.  One thing to never under estimate about her was that she had a mean overhand.  She would smack anyone over the head who even thought they can take advantage of her.  Or was it underhand?

Sam had even seen her go up against a six foot man before who thought he could get an extra side of Hon.  She kicked up her foot right between his legs, hitting dead target to his family jewels, making the guy grab himself and hunching over in sheer pain as he groaned, falling to the floor.

As soon as she saw them, Hon waved her hand high in the air, making sure that the girls noticed her.  Not only were they the best customers and fans of her food, but they also tipped very well.

Maggie parked and they both folded out of the car.

“Haw ah yoo, Sum, Makky?” Hon asked with her thick accent, smiling at her.  Hon’s English was very good for someone who came from a foreign country a few years ago.  Even though there may have been times where Sam couldn’t understand a certain word, Hon tried her best to get her words (or point) across.  She even sometimes acted it out the best way she could.  It was exactly like playing charades.  It was hilarious.

Setting Hon’s comedic enactments aside, Sam shook it out of her head and returned a smile, “I’m good. 
Business good today?”

“Hey, Hon.
  Things are shakin’ as always.  How are you?”  Maggie replied, stepping up to the curb.

“Yah, yah.
  Goot, goot.  Lot of peepo today.  Amote ah gon.”

“Maggie and I are getting hungry.  Do you have any left for us?
” Sam asked, sounding very hopeful, leaning over to peak in the cart on her tippy-toe.

“
Fah yoo and Makky, yah, yah.  I make, I make.”  She nodded rapidly, going underneath and pulling out two white Styrofoam containers.

Hon always had some food for Sam and Maggie.  Hon’s cuisine was well known throughout Comfort and it usually sold out before lunch was over, sometimes even before lunch started.  It was the type of food that wasn’t seen around unless you knew where to find it.  Sam had never tried Laotian food before, but once you tried it, it was addictive.  Even if Sam and Maggie didn’t buy any for that day, Hon still manage to sell it before she went home. 

Hon came to Comfort about three years ago from Laos, via California.  She had an older sister that lived in Houston and had been over longer than she had.  Her parents were still back in Laos (Vientaine, Sam guessed).  Hon didn’t like the big city, saying that it scared her so her sister set her up there in Comfort.  The town was small enough for Hon to settle, yet, it was close enough for her sister.  Hon had complained one day that she was bored and Maggie had given her the idea for a mobile cart to sell food.  Hon instantly loved that idea and went to work on making it happen.

Low Laotian music played from beneath the cart.  As Hon scooped food to put into the containers, her hips swung side to side and Sam and Maggie both couldn’t help but join her, not realizing what they were doing.  It was a natural reaction.

At a distance behind Hon, a younger boy, who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen, came strutting down, pants hung low across his mid-thighs, yellow rubber ducky boxers exposed, and hat worn on backwards and to the side as he swayed thuggish-like towards their direction, grabbing his crotch (to prevent his pants up, Sam assumed).  He also had on a white tee shirt and fake gold chains around his neck.  Shades covered his eyes, but he had his focus on Sam and Maggie as his lips curled, ready to hit on them.  He seemed to be of Asian descent and had a similar smile to Hon’s. 

They must be related
, Sam thought.

“Aye,
yo, Auntie!  Wassup!  Who are these hot girls?” he asked as he gave them a once-over.

Hon lifted her head and her eyes bugged out, dropping the container of food onto her cart.  One hand flew to her hip and she wagged her finger with the other.  “
Tommy!
  I tow yoo I dun lie.  Look at yoo.  Go chain yoo clote!”

“
Chillax.  Everyone likes it.”  He turned his attention to Sam and Maggie, smiling and showing his silver grills.  “How you doing, ladies?”  Tommy laid on that thick gangster-like accent, puckered his lips and licked them.

Sam’s lips curled in disgust.

Eww. 

Gross. 

Seriously?

“I don’t like it and don’t look at us like that,” Sam stated, raising her brow.

“I don’t it either.  Plus, I’m way older than you, although not too old to be your mother and certainly not your grandmother –,” Maggie shared.

“He gets it, Maggie.
” Sam interrupted, stopping her with a hand to her arm.

Hon burst in a fury of Laotian words what Sam had assumed were a little bit profanity (maybe a lot of profanity), making Sam and Maggie to take a side step away from Hon, their eyes widened in shock.  This was the first time that Sam had experienced Hon’s wrath (toward someone else) and she was scared (mostly for Tommy’s well-being). 

However, through all of this, Tommy didn’t seem to be phased with any of it as he stood there, rolling his eyes at her.  When she finished, he retorted, “Man, y’all just crampin’ my style.  I’m out!”

Tommy turned around and swaggered back down the direction he came from, his panting falling off his thighs as he bent to drag them back up just below his ass, but not before he threw his index and .

“Oh, Sum, Makky.  So, so solly.  My neefew.  He stay wit me dit week and he go home neck week.”

“No worries, Hon.  He’s harmless.
” Maggie stated and shrugged her shoulders.

“I
finit yoo food.”  Hon returned to filling their containers, piling on extra chicken for them which they tipped her nicely (as usual).

*******

They returned to the office and ate their lunch while Maggie reminded Sam about her under-aged client and continued to laugh. 

Sam pulled her handgun off from her belt clip and slipped it in the top drawer.  She had just gotten her license in the mail the day of graduation but had waited the next day since it was late at night by the time she had checked the mail.

The next day couldn’t have come fast enough.  When she finally made her purchase of the Glock G26 Gen4, she, Maggie, Mitch, and George headed straight for the shooting range. 

They had been there for a while and somehow when Sam went on a bathroom break, Maggie managed to tape her phone onto the target and told her that her goal was to shoot as close to the phone as possible without damaging the phone.

Maggie issued a challenge.  Sam knew that.  Growing up they were always doing that to one another; no one
ever
backed down.

Sam’s whole life was on that phone: her class schedules, her work schedules, her business plan, her office supplies, her research on the Glock she purchased (or more like was gifted to her), and all her passwords for every website that she had been on but couldn’t remember.

Sam accepted that challenge and, with her numerous target practices with the Nerf gun shooting at stuff animals and with an actual gun (that she had secretly rented with Maggie but neither Mitch nor George knew about), managed to keep her phone intact.

Since that day, Sam hadn’t been able to go back out to the range for more target practice, nor had she been able to use it to catch the bad guys. 
Yet.

Snapping her out of her trip down memory lane, Maggie threw a bean sprout at her head and informed her that Krissy texted earlier and said she would be in town that weekend for the annual fundraiser. 

Krissy Conrad was Maggie’s younger sister who was currently a sophomore (or more like her third year, or was it fourth) in college attending the University of Texas.  No one ever knew what Krissy’s major was so they don’t know what to tell other people when they asked.  Her major seemed to change with whomever she dated at the time.  The last major seemed to have been theater arts (since her then-boyfriend was an prospective actor).