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It wasn’t a big deal. Sam grew up doing cons. They were one of the only things Dad actually taught him. Sam performed this act all the time before they got in contact with Bobby. He was a little rusty, sure, but it was like riding a bike. Besides, the sooner he did it, the quicker it was over.
The first step was to look like he felt bad for what he was about to do. Sam leaned against the countertop, bit his lip, and pointedly avoided meeting Cara's eyes. “Hey, Cara, uh, while we’re doing this…” Sam sighed deeply. “Could I ask you a favor?”
“What kind of favor?”
“Well…” Sam threw in another sigh for good measure, then just barely made eye contact. He wanted to seem like he would rather look anywhere else. “I travel a lot for work, you know? And I accidentally let a prescription lapse.” As soon as he finished, Sam ducked down his head.
Was he overselling it? He was probably overselling it. He acted plenty confident with Cara before. Normally, Sam would play shy from the start. If only he thought of this plan before he got his cock out instead of after. Then he could execute it properly.
He looked back up at Cara. That was not a friendly expression. Dammit.
“I thought you were smarter than this,” she said.
“It’s not for a drug,” Sam said quickly. Too quickly. Now he definitely sounded suspicious.
Cara was, of course, not reassured in the slightest. “What kind of prescription isn’t for a drug?” Now she downright glared at him.
It was clutch time. If Sam didn't get things back on course, he never would. Thank God, they had reached the part where Sam didn’t have to act. If anything could save this, it would be authenticity. Sam just needed to be honest and he’d hit the right level of embarrassment on his own.
“Catheters,” he said. “I have to self-catheterize. I have spina bifida.” Sam felt his body tense up with every word. He never admitted this unless he absolutely had to. He didn’t even tell Ruby—she walked in on him in the bathroom and found out by herself. Sam tried not to think about how many people Dad must have told over the years.
The silence afterward was longer than the time between phone calls from Dad and loud enough to eat Sam alive. Cara’s gaze burned. Her face was impassive.
When she finally spoke, it was deadpan. “I don’t know. I conducted a pretty thorough examination of you, and I can’t say I noticed any problems. Everything seemed functional when it was inside of me.”
Great. Cara thought he was funny. This con wasn't like riding a bike at all; it was closer to crashing a car.
Sam must have made a face, because Cara burst out laughing. “Relax. Take a joke. I know that’s not how it works.” Her smile was insultingly wide.
Sam didn’t answer. He'd heard that line seriously before. It was difficult enough to sniff out one doctor to sleep with; seducing two or three just to fill a single prescription was downright demoralizing. It made him feel like a goddamn hooker.
Sam didn't like to bother Bobby every few couple of months, but it was a thousand times better than this. The only reason Sam even tried this bullshit again was because he had already slept with a doctor, and he knew better than to pass up an opportunity.
“Sam?” He snapped back to attention. Staring into space did not help the odds of salvaging this.
Once Sam was looking at her again, Cara spoke. “Okay. I can't see any harm in it. If you figure out how to abuse a catheter, I’ll be impressed.” Her words were still dry, but at least this time there was a hint of inflection in her speech.
“Really?”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Yes, really. I hope you know your size.”
For the first time since he thought up this whole plan, Sam could finally breathe. He did it. He didn't lose his touch after all. Sam had a clean supply of catheters for another few months.
For the millionth time, Sam found himself wondering how the hell Dad did this for eighteen years.