Craving Shannon (4 page)

Shannon paced the cold, empty room, trying to warm up. She supposed it was stupid to rely on the likes of her corrupt landlord to make good on his promise of heat.

She opened the oven door and set it at the highest temperature. She sat on the floor in front of it, pulled up the hood of her parka and wrapped the filthy blanket around her shoulders. With her gloved hands, she opened the book that Sarah had lent her.

A sharp noise outside the window startled her, causing her heart to beat faster. Was it a gun shot?

A few seconds later, the sound of people yelling in the street and the scream of police sirens confirmed that it was.

“This is no way for someone to live,” she said aloud to the empty room. Before she fell into despair, she reminded herself that it was only temporary, only until she received a couple of paychecks. Hopefully by Christmas, she could start looking for something a little less horrific.

The familiar anger started to well up again, replacing the self-pity, the fury at her mom for putting her in this position. What kind of woman not only lets a man like Bill into her life, but marries the asshole? Didn’t her mother give a damn about her only child?

The usual guilt followed.

Her mother had paid the ultimate price for marrying Bill, had paid with her very life. Had they have known Shannon was home, hiding under the kitchen sink, they would have murdered her also.

It was the only shred of comfort Shannon could give her mother at the end, to stay hidden, to do nothing while her mother begged for her life, to keep hidden when her mother screamed while they battered her to death. She knew that the only thing that could possibly make a hellish situation even worse, was for her mother to have to witness the brutal murder of her only child also.

“Go, hide, Baby,” her mother ordered when the pounding on the door began. “Don’t come out, no matter what happens!”

Good God, eleven days ago?

It seemed like ten years but also ten minutes simultaneously.

The yelling in the street grew louder; the flashing from the cop cars lighting up the dingy room.

Shannon put down the book and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was starting to warm up, thank God.

She forced her mind to think of something pleasant.

Work.

She loved her new job. Everyone was so nice to her. She loved working with Sarah. Sarah was funny and made the day go by so much faster with her constant wit and humorous sarcasm. And Kyle, he was funny too, even though Shannon seemed to be a great source of amusement for him, the way he teased her constantly. She had a good time today, despite feeling a little awkward. She wondered what she would do if Kyle ever asked her out on a real date. He seemed overly interested in her, but Shannon couldn’t tell if it was genuine, or if he was just an all-around flirt.

Last but not least, she thought of her boss, Chad. Something about him intrigued her more than it should. In the stillness of her crappy apartment, it dawned on her that she had developed a crush on him over the course of the day. It was more than his great looks; he had an unmistakable kindness to him that was uncommon, or uncommon compared to the people she had been forced to interact with in the past few years. When he smiled, which was always, it went all the way to his eyes and almost took her breath away. Of course, the good looks helped a lot. He looked like one of those buff movie stars—the older ones, the manly ones, the type of man that any woman would love to marry when they were older. Men like Chad, though, upper-class, ivy league graduates, usually married women of the same caliber, not girls from trailer parks. If her dad had not died in a car accident, there was no doubt that she would have gone to college. She would have had a career, and she never would have ended up living in that hellhole. Perhaps she could have married a classy man someday, a professional man that was good mannered and cultured.

She yawned deeply and realized that she was exhausted. She lay down determined to get some sleep. She needed to be back at work the next day, even if it wasn’t until noon. Soon she felt herself drifting off.

She looked over at the TV and rolled her eyes. It was bad enough that she was living a white-trash lifestyle, she didn’t need to watch it on TV. God, her mother was really embracing this existence. “Mom, do you have to watch this shit?” she called out.

“Watch your mouth,” her mother scolded.

“You’re kidding, right?” Shannon asked. “Do you see where we live? You’re watching Maury, but I shouldn’t say ‘shit’?”

“It sounds worse coming out of a beauty like you,” her mother replied. “Besides, I never liked—

The knock on the door was innocent enough at first. She watched her mother jump up and look out the small window, holding the green lace curtain back.

Her mother turned around and Shannon was surprised to see horror written across her face. “What?” she asked.

Her mother shook her head and pressed her finger to her lips.

Shannon stood stock-still. Whoever was at the door was reason for serious panic.

Then the banging began!

It didn’t take long for both of them to realize that it wouldn’t stop. This person—or people—was determined to get in.

“We know you’re in there, Bill?” a gruff voice yelled. “Open the mother-fucking door, you prick!”

Shannon’s knees began to shake.

“You can’t hide from us, cocksucker! We know what you did.” It was a different voice, so there were at least two people.

“I say we break down the door and waste the bastard,” she heard one of them say.

“Leo wants the fuck alive,” the other voice replied.

“There’s someone in there. I saw someone at the window! They gotta know where that dirtbag is at.”

“Fuck it! Break the door down!”

Shannon woke up to the sound of her own screams…again!

She was covered in sweat and tears, and shaking like a leaf.  She sat up and placed her head in her hands, allowing the sobs to come freely.

When she had cried herself empty, she looked out the dingy window and was relieved to see a faint orange tint in the sky. She put her hand over her heart until the pounding slowed down considerably.

On a brighter note, she must have gotten at least six hours of sleep. That was a first since the night it happened.

She unzipped her bag and pulled out a clean, long-sleeved t-shirt—one of only four tops she had—threw her mini-skirt on the floor and shimmied into her only pair of jeans. She escaped from Florida with only the clothes on her back and a small wad of money that she’d earned from babysitting.  Upon her arrival in New York, she hit the local Salvation Army to pick up a couple of skirts that would be appropriate for work.

She brushed her teeth, threw some water on her face then pulled a brush through her long hair. She wished she had a little makeup to highlight her features, but then acknowledge that wasn’t her biggest necessity by a long shot. Some food would be even better.

She couldn’t bear to spend one minute more in the shithole than necessary,  so, even though she wasn’t due to meet Chad for several hours, she decided to head in that direction and spend a few hours in Central Park.

At eleven forty, she made her way to the office.

Chad stood outside the building holding a small cardboard box in his gloved hand. He smiled warmly as she approached. “Good afternoon, Shannon,” he greeted.

“Hi, Chad,” she replied, feeling oddly comforted by the sight of him.

He nodded toward the box. “I brought lunch,” he exclaimed. “I hope you don’t mind but I ordered for you. I figured I wouldn’t go wrong with a chicken wrap, since you had one yesterday.”

The guy was a lifesaver. “That’s really kind of you,” she said sincerely.

“Shut up,” he joked. “You’re doing me the favor by being here.”

He handed the box to her and pulled a set of keys from his pocket. He opened the door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. “Ladies first,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

Chad walked slightly behind Shannon when they reached their floor, flicking on lights as he went by.

It was bizarrely quiet. Shannon suddenly realized just how alone the two of them were.

She set the box on the conference table and pulled out a chair while Chad went over to his desk and hit a button on the landline to listen to his voicemail.

“Chad, we need to talk about last night,”
a woman’s voice rang out from the speaker.
“Since you’re not picking up your cell, I thought—

He hit a button again, cutting the voice off. “Sorry about that,” he called over to Shannon. She shrugged her reply.

He looked very different in jeans and a thin, black sweater. Shannon hadn’t realized just how fit he was until that moment. He had the body of an Olympic swimmer—muscles in just the right proportion. No wonder Sarah was so hot for him. He was a fine looking man. She felt a slight flutter inside.

“Shall we eat first?” he asked.

After lunch, Chad cleaned up then grabbed the thick folder from his desk. He opened it and handed Shannon a small stack of papers. “So we’ll just continue on like yesterday,” he said.

“May I ask a question?” Shannon looked up, wide-eyed.

“Anything,” Chad replied with a warm smile.

“Why exactly are we doing this?”

“I suppose I should have explained that yesterday,” he answered. “I have a client by the name of Mikhail Bazarov. Mr. Bazarov is arguably the wealthiest man in Russia. He’s a businessman first and foremost, but some of our clients can be a little shady at times, so I’m not sure how Bazarov managed to acquire the fortune he has.”

“Why do you represent them?” she asked curiously.

“Well, we’re not here to judge. As long as we uphold the law, and as long as our clients aren’t known terrorist or drug or sex traffickers, what little indiscretions they commit in their own countries are really none of our business.”

Shannon nodded.

“Anyway, Mr. Bazarov has a helluva lot of money to invest, more than you could imagine, and has decided that he’s interested in investing some in Omagal Inc, but, as you could tell from yesterday, I’m having trouble finding out enough about them to advise him. At this rate, I don’t even have a contact name.”

“Why doesn’t he do this himself?” she asked.

Chad chuckled. “It doesn’t work like that, unfortunately.  Bazarov got wind of this company through an acquaintance in Israel, but doesn’t really know if this guy is being upfront or not. Since I am his investment manager, he thinks it’s my job to do the leg work, which it technically is. I am duty bound to advise him on what’s best for his money.”

“I guess we should get to work then,” she said enthusiastically. She proceeded to read the page in front of her, but looked up when she sensed eyes on her. Chad was still staring in her direction, his eyes boring into her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable…but…there was something else, another feeling that she couldn’t quite decipher.

He seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in and smiled shyly. “Let me know if you find anything regarding a man named ‘Barasch’. I have a feeling he may be a good lead.”

Shannon nodded.

After a long while she looked up. “What about a
woman
by the name of Barasch?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Chad queried.

Shannon held up the page in her hand. “Nika Barasch is the daughter of the founder, and also resides over the board of directors, of a company called Neriun Energy. It’s a small alternative energy company based out of Tel Aviv.”

Chad raised his eyebrows questioningly.

She shrugged. “I just guessed…based on the name, the Israeli connection, the alternative energy…thing…”

Chad’s mouth formed a small ‘O’ then broke into a smile. “My dear, I think you’re on to something,” he said in a classic Hollywood accent.

Shannon giggled.

“Seriously, girl, that’s some good reasoning.”

“Thank you. I just hope it helps,” she replied.

“If it leads me to a contact inside Omagal Inc., it will be a tremendous help,” he assured her.

Shannon couldn’t believe how much more at ease she was on this day as opposed to the day before. She had always been a shy girl, but when her father and brother died, she became so overwhelmed with people looking at her with pity, she withdrew even further. That was compounded even more when she and her mother ended up in a trailer park, with a bad reputation, outside Miami.

She relaxed into a pleasant, easygoing conversation with Chad as they skim through the pages before them.

Chad told Shannon all about growing up in an exclusive neighborhood in Greenwich, Connecticut.  He told her that his parents owned an apartment on the Upper West Side that his father used to let him and his friends stay in occasionally, unchaperoned. He recalled fondly the parties and mischief that ensued due to the lack of parental supervision. Shannon could hardly believe how modest and down to earth Chad was for someone who grew up so wealthy.