The Magpie's Death

When to Use Violence (2)

"Sam!" Michelle exclaimed, pulling him inside and shutting the door. "I was wondering when you'd get here. I was starting to get upset thinking you weren't coming."

She was drunk. Becca was alone in the living room, watching television, not affected by her mother's behavior. Setting Ellie down, he handed her the little backpack, urging her to join her friend. At least if he was here, he could try to keep the children out of whatever this was.

Once she was gone, he pulled Michelle to the open kitchen. She giggled at his hold on her arm, smiling wider.

He groaned. "Are you drunk right now?"

"So?" With a pout, her finger ran along his bicep. "I had a bad day."

"That's not really-"

She didn't care what he had to say and her whole face crumpled into anger. "That BASTARD called me and said he wasn't gonna send me child support anymore. Because he's DATING someone now and doesn't have money to spare. TO SPARE!"

Shuffling over to the counter, she poured herself another glass of wine, spinning away from Sam's reach as he tried to take it. She chugged it down and let out a dramatic sigh.

"It's his DAUGHTER! How could he say that? What an asshole." Turning, she slammed a hand on the table and he unsuccessfully tried to hush her. Every sentence was louder than the one before. "So, I said I was gonna call a lawyer. To hell with him! It's illegal to skip out on child support payments, you know?"

Sam guided her to a chair. "Yeah." He actually had no idea, but he wasn't about to ask. "How about we talk a bit quieter. You don't want Becca to know about this, do you?"

"Oh, you're so right..." Her words were starting to run together, but at least her voice was softer. Pulling him into the chair next to her, she slurred out, "You're sush a nice guy. An' sush a good father..."

Her hand ran up his thigh, her eyes piercing into his, and her smile was so blatantly seductive even he couldn't miss it. He grabbed her wrist, moving the crawling fingers away.

"Stop. You're drunk."

"Why can't all men be s'good as you?" she continued, using her other hand now. He grabbed her by both wrists, locking them together, which only made her giggle. "Oh? S'that how you like it?"

His grip released immediately. "That isn't what's happening."

What was he supposed to do in this situation? He'd dealt with a drunken Finn many times over the years, but Finn was never trying to get him into bed.

"I'm getting you some water."

He tried to stand, but she grabbed at his shirt and pulled him down again. Leaning in close, both hands on his thighs, she breathed out, "Y'know... I've been flirting, but you haven't noticed."

Like hell I haven't noticed. Everyone's noticed.

"You don' like me? I'm pretty, an' a good mom... an' I treat Ellie well, don' I?" She leaned in a little more and the smell of fermented fruit was heavy in his face. "I'm good 'n bed too, y'know?"

Sam pushed back and forced her hands away again. "Michelle, you're really drunk. And I'm not interested in you. You've been very nice and helpful, but I don't like you that way."

"Bullshit." She huffed, blowing more hot liquor into his face, and frowned. "I'm an effing catch for any man. What makes'you special?" Eyeing him, she tried to figure out how anyone could possibly not be attracted to her. "Maybe you like men?"

"Yes." he replied. It wasn't a complete lie and he was willing to say anything at this point to make her stop. "I like men."

She shook her head, pouting now. "I don' believe it." Her pout turned to a smirk and she bent forward off her chair. "Less tes' it out."

Crawling onto his lap, she grabbed his face and kissed him hard, her tongue licking at his lips. His aggravation was building. He needed to leave before he did something he would regret. Lifting her off and away, he held her up and stood.

Giggling as her feet dangled over the floor, her voice grew soft and breathy. "You're so strong. Hah... that's so hot."

"This is going to be embarrassing for you later," he promised.

He set her down and called for Ellie, who rushed over to him. Grabbing her bag, he scooped her into his arms, but was immediately cut off. In less than a second, Michelle pressed her lips to his again, and in the next, he heard a loud smack.

"What the hell?" Michelle exclaimed, holding a hand up to the tiny, reddening print on her cheek. From the look on her face, she was slapped hard enough to at least sober her some.

Ellie pointed at her, big eyes swirling. "Danger."

Snorting out a laugh, the first time he could ever remember laughing out loud, Sam's head turned to look at his daughter. He might have found it amusing, but Ellie was dead serious.

"What did you say?"

"Danger," she repeated, not removing her frustrated gaze from the woman.

Her second word. It was adorable and amazing and he felt a tiny flutter of something inside. He couldn't decipher its meaning, but it made him feel warm and made him want to laugh again. Instead, he cleared his throat and pushed the feeling away. He didn't want to belittle his daughter when she clearly wasn't joking.

"Not exactly... but thank you." His attention returned to Michelle and he backed away a few steps. He also didn't want to make this situation any worse. "I'll consider this drunken behavior, but I think it's best we don't meet for a while."

Without waiting for a response, leaving while Michelle was still frozen from the shock, he hurried out the door and down the steps. Hitting the sidewalk, he let out a sigh of relief. Then his relief quickly turned to concern. Michelle had always been flirty, but he never thought it would go that far. He should have been firmer up front. Now the relationship would be awkward at best. What would happen to Ellie and Becca's friendship? Would Michelle be petty and hold a grudge? Perhaps now she would start complaining about him behind his back the way she did with her husband. That was the last thing he needed and it could ruin all the progress Ellie had made with her friend. Who else would support her the way Becca did?

Lost in thought, he made it all the way back to the house without realizing, shuffling up the porch steps and through the double doors.