CHAPTER 1: With a little Work

It was a warm Thursday morning in Bon Temps and already twenty-eight degrees Celsius. Sam, owner of the town's water hole, Merlotte's Bar and Grill, had been up all night wondering what he'd done wrong to cause Tara to suddenly take off in the middle of the night leaving him alone in that cheap motel she called home. Two days ago, her drunken mother hit her over the head with an empty gin bottle. Although the bottle didn't break upon impact, it left a nasty swell on her forehead just below her hairline. That was the last straw for Tara. Pissed off, she moved out and into the motel. "I wish she came to me when she was hurting", Sam muttered to himself. He didn't like her having to endure her mother's drunken rages. Lack of sleep made him cranky and restless and he wanted some kind of distraction. So, he decided to do some repairs to his old trailer. The wobbly kitchen counter for starters needed tightening up.

"Shit!" Sam cursed out loudly. The screwdriver slipped out of the groove causing his hand to rotate and slam against the hard resin handle. Holding his throbbing hand, he blamed himself for not being more focused. Instead, he allowed his mind to drift and settle on Tara. He dived deep in thought as he sat under the counter.

He remembered not long after he'd opened Merlotte's, he started seeing a local and attractive young girl in micro-braids come by. Sure, she would have a drink or two and as far as beers went, Miller was her preference. When her best friend Sookie started to work for him as a waitress, her visits became more frequent. Not that he minded, in fact, he looked forward to seeing her, daily. In some ways, she reminded him of himself, troubled and alone, angry and unapproachable. But, she was undeniably beautiful and at the same time cute. Whenever he stole glances of her, he found that her exotic looks captivated him every time she walked in. Her small perfect lips and almond shaped brown eyes were set like jewels in her oval face. Her smooth flawless caramel skin was magnetic, he felt drawn to her. He wanted to at least know her name. Not wanting to ruffle any feathers, he refrained from asking her friend or her cousin who worked for him.

He learned her name by happenstance when one night her cousin Lafayette, his short order cook, called out to her upon seeing her waltz in. All along Lafayette had been calling her 'hookah' or 'bitch', names only cousins that tight could get away with. That night 'hookah' was in a rancid mood. She had just walked off yet another job.

"Please don't call me that 'cause the only hookah here is the one looking at me with them big ass frog eyes batting them cheap ugly fake eyelashes." he heard Tara say.

"Well excuse me Miss Tara Mae." Lafayette threw back before sashaying back to the kitchen.

Tara, pretty name, Sam remembered thinking.

When Sam's bartender, Ed moved to Texas, Tara begged him for the job. He hired her on the spot knowing full well that he was taking a risk, especially with a track record like hers. She was notorious for pissing off her bosses and according to Lafayette, that hookah change jobs faster than Secretariat at the Kentucky Derby. But Sam was willing to give her a chance.

So happened that in some fucked up way she had prior experience. From the time she was in grade school, she mixed drinks for her mom. Besides all that, his main concern was whether or not her no-nonsense attitude would rub the customers the wrong way. Very soon Sam found that her strong will and professionalism championed over any ruffian. She knew when and how to limit any drunken customer and despite her petite stature and pretty looks, she could give just about anyone a look that made them think twice about messing with her.

Amongst her co-workers, Tara's sharp wit and directness was much to be desired but after a while her easygoing nature came through and was appreciated by all, including Sam. Not even a week after hiring her that he felt comfortable enough to make his first move.

One late night after closing, he finally asked her over to his place for drinks. Sitting on chairs at his porch under clear starry skies, they chatted and laughed over shots of whiskey. Looking on, one would've thought that they'd been long-time friends. After a while, things progressed into the trailer and before they knew it, they had earth shattering sex first on his couch and then in his bed. Sex with Tara always felt new, electrifying and intense, but, there was more to her Sam found himself wanting and needing. He found her to be not only smart, well read and witty, she was caring and sweet and funny. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to be with her. If only she'd let him.

Lately he had been wanting to tell her how he felt about her, but she didn't make it easy for him to do so. Habitually, she'd take off right after they have sex. He'd wake up in the middle of the night or the next morning to find her gone. He knew about her rough childhood. The abuse at the hands of Lettie her alcoholic mother and not having a father around. Still, it tore him up whenever she acted tough and distant. He wondered if deep down she had any feelings for him at all and if she did, maybe she didn't really know how to express them. He thought that perhaps the reason why she took off last night was because she was pissed at him for not saying he liked her. Then again, she did say "no strings attached" that first night. Hell, I'm confused, Sam thought.

Sam was fed up of thinking anymore and shifted his focus back to the wobbly counter. As he inspected the problematic screw, he couldn't help but think that his love life was like his trailer, shaky and ready to cave in. Just then, Tara let herself in, looking sexy and cute in a green spaghetti strapped blouse and washed out mini jeans skirt. She marched straight up, leaned on the very same counter and looked down at him sitting underneath it. Not minding the state of the counter or the fact that maybe he'd be pissed off at her, she had a pleased-as-punch expression as if nothing happened the night before.

Speak of the devil he thought to himself and then let her have it. Instantly the air became tense as harsh words were exchanged. She's so stubborn!, he yelled inwardly. Sam finally had enough of this shit and raised himself up from under the counter and threatened to throw her out if she didn't give him reason not to. As he looked at her square in the face, he searched for an explanation. Then she finally spoke.

"I'm sorry".

Struggling to find the right words to say, she went on to say, "I don't know how to be with somebody, I never been with anybody".

This he believed.

He then calmed down some. "I'm just in a sour mood" Sam confessed while looking around disapprovingly at the old trailer.

"You mean at me?" Tara asked.

"Nah, it's just the trailer falling down around me", he added while still feeling somewhat defeated, and then sat back down under the counter and turned his attention to the loose screw.

It was obvious to her that he was using the wrong screwdriver in the first place.

"You need a Robinson's screwdriver for that" she said bending down and looking in.

"How would you know something like that?" Sam asked amazed at her knowledge in such things.

"No daddy and a drunken mom, all the fixing fell to me", she said as she straightened back up and looked at the walls and then the ceiling.

"The place would look good with a little work" Tara perked up and give the tiny place a once over.

Sam eyes instantly lit up on hearing her say those words. As he stared back at her he wondered if she wanted the same things in life as he. Could it be that she thought that their relationship was worth 'fixing up' and all it needed was just a 'little work'?

"Hey, let's go to Holmes Depot and get this screwdriver", Sam said jumping to his feet.

"Oh, OK, sure", Tara replied knowing full well that he was capable of getting it on his own but didn't mind going along for the ride. Besides, anything was better than staying at home.

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