Sam plopped down into a sofa with a well-worn groove, already sagging in the middle. She fanned herself with her hand. “Phew… siddown, you two,” she gestured to their loveseats across the coffee table. “What do you say we catch up, talk about the 'good old days'? I can tell you all kinds of embarrassing stories. Say, still remember the shit we had to bear from that stuck-up bitch, what was 'er name, Gail?”
“Grace, Grace Sawyer,” Alice involuntarily lowered her voice as if mere mention of her could call her old nemesis back.
“Yeah, but you showed her good, Alice! Right?”
“Alice? You?” Zack turned to his timid girlfriend with a look of utter surprise.
She shrank in her seat. “Uh, well...”
“You haven't told him anything? What were you doing all the time, girl?” Seeing her old friend redden, Sam cheerfully laughed, making all her chins wobble. But that laugh quickly turned to a bark. “Carmen! Where the hell are you? I told you to bring the snacks as soon as my guests arrive!”
A young, plump Hispanic woman scurried into the stately room with a large platter in each hand. “S-sorry, Missus, the cook was still getting them ready… But they're on the way now. They'll be here in a moment.”
“Well, good,” Sam glared at her for a bit, then turned back to Zack, all smiles again. “You oughtta hear this, Zack. How your little Alice got the biggest, meanest bitch of all Buttercombe expelled...”
***
“… and remember when we had our first taste of Buttercombe dinners?” Alice giggled.
“Yeah, that was the shit,” Sam nodded, plopped another canape into her mouth and turned to Zack who was getting a glazed-over look. “But we're talking and your man here's bored to death, huh? Hey, listen, Jack's got plenty of games here, console, arcade, God knows what other shit's there. Interested?” Not waiting for his reply, she shouted, “Carmen! Where're you? Move your lazy butt here and take Zack to the game room!”
“No, no, I don't want to impose...” Zack didn't get any further.
“Bullshit!” Sam laughed out loud when she saw his startled expression. Then she relented. “Look, I want you to enjoy your time here just like Alice does. So just run along and play. And Carmen'll take you some more snacks. Y'hear, girl?”
“Yes, Missus.” The Hispanic bobbed her head.
“And tell the cook to bring more snacks to us too! Or I'll tell Jack you're both starving me to death!” And Sam caressed her enormous gut as if she believed it.
“So your… uh, Jack, likes gaming?” Alice picked up courage to ask about the thing she was interested in the most – Sam's mysterious partner.
“Yeah, he's quite a bit into it. And wasted a fortune on various old arcades etcetera. I used to love that stuff, too, but it's sooo exhausting,” Sam languidly stretched on her sofa. “Much better to just watch TV, y'know? Which reminds me, what do you think about...”
***
Another hour has passed and Alice was getting a little frustrated. Doubly frustrated, she admitted to herself. With Sam, for avoiding all her indirect hints about Sam's mystery man. And with herself for partaking a bit too much in the feast that spread in front of her – in the best (or worst) Buttercombe traditions. She was again experiencing that familiar sated feeling and her little tummy was curving up.
She sighed, dusted off crumbs from her blouse and opted for direct attack. “Listen, how did you meet, uh...?”
“You mean my Jack? Jack Spencer? That's another long story. Pretty long and pretty twisted one, girl. Aaand… ” Sam snickered and half-turned her head to the window. Alice watched, fascinated, her chins rearranging. “And it's better be to leave it for next time since that's his beemer in the driveway. You'll stay for dinner, right?”
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