Don't Talk About Mickey

17 - Old and New Friends, Part 1

"Hi, Sam. Um, this is..." Carly stopped and sighed, wondering if leaving him a voicemail was a good idea. But it was too late now. She was long past the beep. "You probably know who this is. I don't know if you butt-dialed me, or if you called me on purpose. I'm hoping it's the second one, but hey, who knows?"

She paused for another moment, trying to gather what to say.

"Look," she said, taking a deep breath. "I miss you..."

There was a noise, much like a pounding, against Carly's car, startling her into hanging up the phone. When she looked up, she held in the urge to scream.

Cody Slade had his face smashed against the passenger window, smearing his facial secretions all over the glass.

"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted. "You scared the crap out of me!"

"Let me in," his flattened lips mumbled against the glass.

Carly hesitantly unlocked the doors and scolded Cody as he got in. "You're going to wash my car. Twice."

"Whatever." Cody shrugged and started to rummage through the glove box. "You're late."

Carly had completely forgotten about dance practice, and she oddly found herself smiling over it. There was a certain someone to blame for her forgetfulness, but that didn't bother her the least bit.

When Cody couldn't find anything interesting in the glove box, he sat back and glanced at Carly. "What are you grinning about?" he asked, noticing the smug look on her face.

"Nothing."

"Well, once you're done thinking about that guy from last night, we should get to practicing. Those marble floors aren't going to scuff themselves."

Carly looked down at Cody clothes, noticing he was wearing the exact same thing he wore the day before. Then she looked at her own clothes and realized the same thing about herself. "How about we don't and say we did?"

Cody flashed his big cocky smile. "Up all hours of the night, too, eh?"

"That's none of your business," she said calmly.

"Tsk tsk , little Carly," Cody teased. "You've been a very naughty one."

"Let's just practice so I can go home," she said impatiently. She started to get out of the car, only to remember what Mrs. Wright had told her. Letting go of the door handle, she sat back and sighed. "We can't practice in the studio," she said.

"Why not?"

"Mrs. Wright has a different schedule now. We'll either have to practice at your place or mine."

"Let's go to yours!" Cody crowed as he pulled at his seatbelt.

"Wait a sec," she said, stopping him. "We are not going to my house."

"We have to."

"No we don't. What's wrong with going to your house?"

Cody gave her a look like she was supposed to know the answer to that question. "You've never been in the same room with my dad, have you?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Carly asked, annoyed. "We'll be practicing so he'll have no reason to bother us."

"That's where you're wrong," Cody said. "Jack Slade is a perfectionist to the extreme. He has expectations that could never be met. He'll watch us the whole time like a freakin' dancing Nazi. And then, he'll send us to the gas chamber if we make one mistake."

"You're exaggerating."

"I don't exaggerate when it comes to my father. Now let's go to yours."

Avoiding anymore arguments, Carly wasn't hesitant to turn her car on and leave to parking garage. Once she made it home, she couldn't have been more thankful that they made the choice of doing dance practice at her house. Not only was she in her dirty clothes but she was also in dire need of a shower.

After wiping off the marks on the car window with her dirty shirt, she led Cody in the house and made him sit in the living room, while she freshened up for the first time in twenty-four hours. After taking quite a long shower, she slipped into some pajamas and met Cody back in the living room.

"You're not practicing in that, are you?" Cody asked skeptically.

"What does it look like?"

"Suit yourself," he said. "But I'm not liable for any broken toes or feet."

Carly turned on the stereo and met Cody with the proper stance. "You won't break anything," she said. "Shall we?"

Cody straightened his back and lifted his chin. "We shall."

***

Sam took a deep breath, harsh and vast. Ignoring Carly's message, he gripped the phone tightly and pressed the power button until no light came from the screen. He stood outside of a beat up motel door. Staring at it, he wondered if coming here was a bad idea. Whether it was or not, he was set on staying and toughing it out.

After knocking a few times, a small, skeleton-like woman opened the door. She smiled at him with a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth.

 "What do you need, Sugar?" she asked, while provocatively shaking her hips in the doorway.

Sam looked away, feeling suddenly awkward. "I need some of your time," he answered indifferently.

"Time is money," she said, still smiling.

Sam dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a few hundred dollar bills.

The woman looked at the money with wide, greedy eyes and let him in. "For that much I got all day."