A Bit of Warm Comfort (A True Blood - Sam/Tara Fic)

Chapter 7 - Talk to Me

Sam got out his truck and slammed the door. This day had been a nightmare from the very beginning. First, he received a call from a tenant at one of the duplexes he owned, asking if he could fix a leaky faucet. What should have been a ten minute repair turned out to take more than two hours, not to mention having to shell out $260 for replacement parts. Then he got a call on his cell from Arlene telling him she wasn't going to make her evening shift because she had some kind of stomach flu. Before Sam could utter a word of complaint, Arlene started gagging and hung up the phone. This was her third time calling in sick this week. Now he was going to be short-handed two waitresses and a bartender.

It was after seven when he finally walked into the bar. Merlotte's was moderately packed with customers mostly left over from the dinner rush or coming in to unwind after work. Sam waved to a few of the regulars then stopped cold when he saw Tara working behind the bar. She was busy refilling a pitcher of beer for his new waitress, Rachelle. She didn't even bother to look up when the waitress turned and said his name with a frantic look of relief on her face.

Normally, Sam would've been happy to see Tara at the bar, but tonight her presence only irritated him more. He was her boss for godsakes, even if he was head-over-heels, crazy in love with her. Her being here was a direct challenge to his authority. He couldn't just let her act as if nothing had happened between them yesterday.

As he approached, Rachelle grabbed him by the arm. "Thank God you're here, Sam," she said.

Tara continued working, as if he wasn't standing there. It occurred to him that her actions were deliberate. That pissed him off even more.

"Arlene called and said she was sick again," Rachelle continued, oblivious to the tension Sam felt building inside. There was something else bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Tara looked different somehow.

He noticed that her braids hung unbound around her shoulders instead of pinned back from her face in her usual style. She was wearing a satiny white, short-sleeved, collared blouse that buttoned down the front, with a pair of black slacks that complimented her slender figure. She was bit over dressed for work at Merlotte's, but Sam had to admit she looked exceptionally pretty.

He tore his eyes away from her bent head, long enough to spare Rachelle a cursory glance.

"I know," he said. "She called me while I was on the way over."

"Sam, I'm not sure I can handle a big crowd like this."

"It's not that big. You'll do fine.

"I don't think so. Arlene always handles section 3 because there are more tables. She said it would be too much for me since I'm new and all."

And Arlene can get more tips, Sam thought.

"Sookie takes care of section 4 because that's where Mrs. Fortenberry sits who doesn't seem to like me much and—."

"Hallie's still here. I'll see if she'll work a double shift."

"But what if she can't? I'll be stuck here doing all this by myself," she said, her voice on the verge of hysteria. "This isn't what I signed up for, Sam. I might forget someone's order or get the tables mixed up. I can't handle this type of stress. I'll-."

"Jesus, Rachelle, just do your fucking job, okay?" he snapped, losing his last bit of patience.

Rachelle's big brown eyes widened then glistened with tears. She quickly grabbed the pitcher of beer from Tara then scurried away.

"You wanna tell me what that was about? You practically bit that poor girl's head off."

Sam whipped around to glare at Tara. "You wanna tell me what the hell you're doing here?" he asked in a harsh whisper.