Monday morning’s staff meeting was the usual—Randy Andy venting at his staff in his normal management-by-intimidation style. This Monday, however, Shannon really didn’t care who said what to whom. She was still on a cloud of … something. She didn’t want to analyze it; she wanted to enjoy it.
However, when her boss asked her to stay after everyone else was dismissed, she knew she had little chance to make her good mood last.
With a slight smirk on his face, he began with, “So, I hear you’ve worked things out with our star artist.”
Shannon had a minute of panic. Had Larson heard somehow about her weekend with Leo? Where was he headed with this?
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Worked it out. You got the permits and permissions taken care of and he signed off. What do you think I meant?”
“Yes, I have everything signed and filed with the appropriate departments.”
The smirk disappeared to be replaced with an expression Shannon knew meant he was about to rip into her. “It’s about time. I have to say, Ms. Morgan, I’ve been disappointed in your performance since you moved to my department. You’ve certainly not lived up to the hype I heard from the mayor’s office when they recommended you. Or were they trying to prune dead wood by sloughing you off on me?”
Shannon took a few seconds to compose herself before she answered. Her automatic response was to tell him to get stuffed—or worse. But she knew she would only inflame the situation. Which, she suspected, was exactly what Larson was counting on.
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed in my work. I’ve tried to uphold the standards of the department.”
“Well, you haven’t succeeded. And if you don’t pull it together over the Independence Day event, you may find yourself outside looking in.” He handed her a sheaf of papers; in them, she noticed, were phone calls unanswered for days. “Take care of this. They’re mostly from potential vendors. We make money off the vendors. They’re important.”
Then why didn’t you give me these phone messages when you got them? Oh, wait, because then you’d have nothing to harass me about.
“I will.” She stuffed the papers into her notebook. “Anything else?”
“No, I think I’ve covered it. But make no mistake, I’m watching you.”
Like a hawk watches prey. But I’m not going to let you have me for lunch, buddy.
She left the conference room with her head held high, determined to get back the good mood her weekend had put her in.
Less than five minutes later, Powell showed up at the door to her cubicle, which was even less of a surprise than her conversation with her boss had been.
“So what did Randy Andy want?” her friend began.
“The usual. I’m not living up to expectations. I better straighten up or I’m gone. Nothing new.”
“Didn’t he know you got the art installation taken care of?”
“Yes, but not the vendor phone calls he hadn’t given me yet.” Shannon showed her the stack of phone messages.
“Son of a bitch. He’d do anything to make you look bad, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah, and ruin my morning when I was feeling pretty good.”
“I’d say more than pretty good. You have the look of a woman who has been well and truly fucked,” Powell said. She plopped down in the chair across from Shannon’s desk. “My weekend felt like one long meditative session with Buddhist monks—silent, celibate, and boring. Let me live vicariously, please. I need specifics.”
“Powell, can you keep it under the decibel level of a fighter jet, please? I’m not interested in having my social life spread all over the office like peanut butter.”
“Social life? Who cares about your social life? I want to know about your sex life, since you actually have one now.” She leaned across the desk. “On the time-honored scale of one to ten, with one being the worst sex you’ve ever had and ten the best, where did the weekend rank?”
“About twenty.”
“Oh, my God, I am drooling here. He’s that good?”
“I don’t know what your criteria are … ”
“How many times did you come?”
“It would be oversharing to tell, Powell.”
“You asked what my standards are. I told you.”
Shannon made a shooing motion. “Begone, woman. I have to get some work done today.”
“When do you see Studly-Do-Right again?”
“We’re spending next weekend in Portland at his place. He said it’ll take him a week to get it cleaned up enough to allow me to see it.”
“The man cleans, too? Honey, you’ve got hold of a real gem.”
Two minutes of talking with Powell about her weekend and her good mood made a rapid return. She went back to her work with renewed energy and tore through her to-do list, making the phone calls her boss had given her to answer, handling emails, and drafting the minutes from her meetings the previous week. She even managed to soothe a couple angry phone callers about parking fines.
The day flew by. She was about to wrap things up so she could leave for home when she glanced up from the desk. A man was standing in the doorway to her cubicle. The good feeling disappeared again; this time she was afraid it was permanent.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. She could feel her shoulders tighten and her throat clench.
“I came by to see if you’ll have a glass of wine with me after work,” her ex-boyfriend Jeremy Vincent said. “I need to talk to you.” He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him. He was leaner, tougher looking. And he had a tan so dark his skin looked like aged leather.
“You know I don’t drink. And what do we have to talk about? You left. I stayed. That about says it all.”
“It’s important, Shannon. I know I wasn’t fair to you when I left. I want to start over, do it right this time.”
“Just like that, I’m supposed to pick up where we left off when I haven’t heard from you in a year?” She grabbed her messenger bag and rain jacket. “I don’t think so, Jeremy.” She tried to move past him but he blocked the doorway. “Do I need to call security and have them remove you from the building?” she asked.
“Is this how you treat the citizens of the city of Vancouver?”
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t live in Vancouver.”
“Yes I do. I moved from Portland so I can be close to you. To make it up to you for what I did to hurt you.”
“You’ve got one hell of an ego. But don’t worry. You’re off the hook. I’m fine. Except I can’t get out of my office to go home.”
“I learned a lot about myself spending all that time alone. I learned we belong together, Shannon. Haven’t you always felt that, too?”
“Are you okay, Shannon?” Powell’s voice cut into the conversation. “Do you need security?” She was standing directly behind Jeremy, her cell phone in her hand. The expression on her face would have made a boulder disintegrate into gravel.
“No, thanks, Powell. Jeremy was leaving, weren’t you?”
Jeremy hesitated for a moment but, bookended by two women who seemed determined to face him down, he finally moved. “I’ll leave. But I’m not giving up. I know now what I need. You. And I won’t stop trying to convince you I mean it. No matter what it takes.” He strode toward the elevator leaving the two women to gape after him.
“What the hell is he talking about?” Powell asked.
“Apparently he believes I suffered when he left, and he’s graciously offered to make up for it,” Shannon said. “I’m not sure what to do about it. Maybe I should sit down and talk to him, just to clear the air.”
“Or maybe you need a restraining order.”
“Like for stalkers?”
“Yes. If he won’t go away that’s exactly what he is.”
Shannon shuddered, knowing what Powell had gone through a couple years before. The story she’d told about black eyes and sprained wrists, slashed tires, and break-ins was horrific. In Powell’s case, it had been her ex-husband. It had required the intervention of law enforcement, and when the police couldn’t stop him, a move from Colorado to Washington State to get away from him. “This is nothing like that. He caught me off balance, that’s all. I don’t think he’s dangerous. More like annoying. Actually, I kinda feel sorry for him. He looked so pathetic.”
“He was standing too close to you and he sounded way too demanding. You need to watch your back, Shannon. From what I heard of the conversation, I don’t trust him.” Powell grinned at her friend. “On the other hand, maybe you can find someone who’ll want to watch your back for you. Maybe a guy who’s hot and sexy. Know anyone like that?”
All the way home, Shannon thought about Powell’s advice. A restraining order. It sounded like something out of Law and Order: SVU. She didn’t think it was necessary. But then, she would never have thought she’d see Jeremy again much less have him suddenly appear and ask to get back together.
She didn’t understand her ex. When they were together he’d hardly thought they were the soul mates of romance novels. She didn’t think forever had been on the table for either of them. Granted, her father had met him once, and on the basis of a short acquaintance, seemed to assume he was the one for her. But no one else did.
No question she’d been hurt when he left, but that was as much because of the way he left than anything else. He’d disappeared while she was at work one day, leaving no trace, not taking the few things he’d left at her house. He hadn’t even left a note. It scared the bejesus out of her worrying about him until he texted her a few days later to say he needed space and was off to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. He explained it wasn’t her; it was him. He’d been rude; he’d scared her, and she had to admit, her pride had been dinged a bit by the way he’d ended things. More than anything, he’d confirmed what she’d always thought anyway—she had lousy luck in dealing with the opposite sex.
Maybe though, for the sake of closure, she should see him again. Not to revive what she was sure was no longer there, but to put it firmly in her past. She made herself smile when the thought occurred she could thank him for leaving in such a way that she was angry at all the males on the planet, making her unattached when Leo came along.
On the other hand, if Powell was right, if she’d seen something Shannon had missed in Jeremy, if he was capable of doing something like stalking, maybe encouraging him wasn’t such a good idea. Shannon tried to get the idea of being stalked out of her mind, but she couldn’t. Powell had spooked her.
Her friend’s warning stayed with her as she fixed and then ate dinner, while she loaded the dishwasher with her breakfast and dinner dishes. She tried to settle in her living room with a book, but she couldn’t concentrate. Every sound—and the old building she lived in made lots of creaky noises—made her think someone was outside on the porch, at her back door. She jumped at the wind, started when the rain changed directions, read the same page five times interrupted by the groans and moans of the house or by her neighbors making noises. At the rate she was going, she wouldn’t get much sleep. Something had to be done or she’d be a total mess by morning.
She wished she had a dog. Walter would have been good company tonight. Wait. That’s what she needed—company. She started to call Powell but couldn’t push the button to ring her. If Powell came over, she’d make her more nervous about Jeremy being a stalker and she needed someone to tamp down the feeling, not make it worse. Then she had an idea. Walter’s owner.
Leo answered on the second ring. “Hey, Shannon. What’s up?”
“Nothing. I needed to … wanted to … thought maybe we could talk.”
Leo paused for a moment before asking, “Are you okay? You sound, I don’t know, different. Upset maybe.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Well, maybe not exactly fine.” She was silent for a bit, trying to find the words to explain why she was freaking out. “Jeremy, my ex-boyfriend, came to my office to ask me to have a drink with him.”
“He didn’t remember you don’t drink?”
“I guess not. I don’t know. That’s not the point, though. He’s back in town and he’s discovered what he needs from life. Me. He wants us to get back together.”