Sharing Samantha

Chapter 1

Samantha

Fucking Thanksgiving.

My mood is already sour, but when I realize the asshole across the room has seen me, and is currently making his way through the crowd towards me, the last shred of my attempts at just getting through this god-awful day go up in flames.

This is not what I need right now. Not when, for one, it’s stupid Thanksgiving, which, for those of us without any real family and who suck at making friends, is an all-around crap holiday. For two, I’m spending it at my stepmother Lynn’s house, who treats me like a second-class citizen at best.

Oh, I can keep going.

There’s also the fact that I’m twenty-seven, somewhat recently single, and even more recently without a job, since the dating website I was working for as a front-end programmer just abruptly went under.

…Who knew that no one wanted to use a dating site called Fingr.

Oh right, and my apartment back in New York City has, as of two days ago, been condemned for structural issues.

Winning at life right here.

But all of those things I’ve been grinning and bearing, especially since I arrived at Lynn’s house this afternoon in upstate New York. Being here without my dad around anymore always sucks. On holidays, it’s worse. And with everything else going on? Well, it’s a lot. The only reason I came was that the prospect of having Thanksgiving alone with fast food and free HBO in a shitty motel room somewhere sounded more depressing than words can even describe.

So, here I am. At least it’s snowing out. I do love the snow.

Oh and to make things even more fun, Martin is here. Martin is Lynn’s complete frat-boy douchebag of a son. Which unfortunately makes him my frat-boy douchebag of a stepbrother. He’s a complete tool, and to make it worse, he’s an obscenely rich and successful tool. Martin runs a hedge fund in New York, and is every bit the asshole finance guy you’d imagine. He’s also a total creep and has on more than one occasion suggested we “just bang, to get it over with.”

Gross.

But like I said, all of those things I’ve managed to accept in a way. All of those things I’ve got bottled up nicely inside. But this?

Nope, this is my breaking point.

The guy walking towards me through the crowd would be Ken. Ken as in, my ex. Ken as in, the ex who cheated on me, started dating the girl he banged behind my back.

And here he is, at my stepmother’s annual “night-before-Thanksgiving” holiday party. To make things even more fun, Lynn doesn’t tolerate alcohol in her house. Which means, being single, being unemployed, being homeless, and being confronted and forced to say hi to my asshole of an ex is happening completely sober.

…I would literally cut someone for a glass of Chardonnay right now.

“Happy holidays, Sam.”

Part of me wants to respond with just a fist to the mouth, but I take a breath. I’m not pissed at Ken for cheating on me because we were in love or anything. No, I know we weren’t. I know it was just easy to date Ken when he asked me out. After all, I knew him from home, and with both of us living in New York, it was just…yeah. Easy.

I’m pissed because getting dumped like that sucks. And him going off to start a relationship with the chick he slept with is just a bruise to the ego.

“Hey.”

Hey. That’s all I manage. Ken smiles.

“Great party. Lynn is the best. Must be great to come home to this, isn’t it?”

Lynn is a manipulative, psychotic bitch, actually. And coming home is a nightmare.

But again, I just smile dryly.

“So, you came home for Thanksgiving too?”

Ken nods, flashing this smarmy grin that makes me question how on earth I ever found him attractive enough to date. I look at him now and so much of me hates that he’s seen me naked.

“Yeah, I…” he frowns. “You’re not really on Facebook much, are you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Oh.”

I frown. “Oh?”

“So, Sam, I’m home because…”

“Hey baby!”

Ken beams, turning, and suddenly, my jaw drops.

Oh, you’re fucking kidding me.

On the list of reasons why today sucks, this one might just take the grand prize. Because giggling as she grabs my douchey ex-boyfriend’s hand and snuggles into his arms, is Shellie.

A.k.a: The skanky cunt that Ken cheated on me with.

“Oh, hey Sam!” She beams. There’s not even any malice or cruelty in her eyes. She’s just really clueless enough not to see why this might be weird for me.

“Uh, hi,” I mutter icily.

Again, I’m not pissed because I was “in love” with Ken or anything. It’s just an ego thing. And it fucking stings.

Shellie beams, her face red and rosy. “Do you wanna see it?!” she gushes.

Ken frowns. “Hon, maybe she doesn’t—”

“See what?”

Shellie giggles and raises her hand up. “Ta-da!”