reminded her that she probably had rats in there for company. “Heellpp!” she shrieked. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Don’t drop me in here, Hal, please! ”
“I don’t know a single reason why I shouldn’t,” he growled. “You so deserve it.”
“I will be your sex slave for the next entire week if you’ll just pull me out,” promised Shannon.
He hesitated.
“The next month! Two months!”
Just as she almost lost her struggle to keep her faceout of a mound of barbecued chicken bones, Hal tugged on her ankles and pulled her, inch by inch, back over the rim of the Dumpster.
Her sweater was coated with sour cream and coffee grounds. She had potato peels in her hair. Her silver leather pants were streaked with ketchup, mustard, rust, grime and something utterly unspeakable. But Shannon had never felt so grateful.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, panting for breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly.
She nodded. But along with her breath, a natural urge for revenge returned. All she was guilty of was getting rid of some perfectly awful, dated clothing! She’d done the guy a service. And he’d pushed her into the garbage….
Shannon stood up and pushed the hair back from her face. She looked at Hal, who looked back at her with a combination of anger and sheepishness.
“My hero,” she said soulfully. Then she hugged him.
S HANNON LAY neck-deep in scented bubble bath in her Avon apartment, surrounded by a fashion magazine, a lighted candle and a glass of wine.
She’d dropped her own clothes into a plastic garbage bag this time, and it sat near the door, ready to go to the cleaners. Though she’d tied the top of the bag into a knot, eau de Dumpster still wafted through the air.
She submerged herself and blew the scent, alongwith some bubbles, out of her nostrils. When she came up, water streaming off her face and shoulders and freshly washed hair, the air seemed better.
She thought of Hal’s outraged expression when she’d hugged him and laughed. He had announced she was fired and barely spoken to her on the ride home in the now doubly defiled beemer.
Shannon watched water drip off her breasts and back into the tub. She’d always wondered where she’d gotten these honkers. Rebecca Shane was flat as a board, and her father’s mother hadn’t had a lot in the chest, either. So who did Shannon have to thank for her boobs?
They’d been dangling over several hundred pounds of garbage this afternoon—her first ever Dumpster-diving experience. But what if her real father was a sanitation worker? And maybe her real mother cleaned houses or worked as a data-entry clerk or did sewing alterations for a living?
She had no idea. She had to track them down. While she didn’t want to hurt her adoptive parents, they had lied to her by omission.
All she knew was a few sketchy details and the fact that she’d been fostered by the New England Home for Little Wanderers for a few short weeks. So at least her biological parents hadn’t sold her on the black market. She supposed that was something to be thankful for.
Shannon added some more hot water to the tub and felt tears trying to form in the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away.
Hal’s voice echoed in her head. I’m here if you need to talk.
“No, you’re not,” she said aloud. “You just fired me.” She stuck a toe out of the water and peered at the chipped purple polish on it. She plunked it down into the bubbles again.
But did he really mean it? He’d probably just said it in the heat of the moment. He didn’t want to fire her—he needed her too much. And…oh, no. Finesse needed her to keep this gig. It was her responsibility, same as Jane’s, to keep their doors open.
She clenched a wet, soapy fist and brought it down on her knee. Great. She’d been impulsive and irresponsible again, gone and hugged him to smear him with garbage. She might have done it to get even, but they wouldn’t have been near the
“I don’t know a single reason why I shouldn’t,” he growled. “You so deserve it.”
“I will be your sex slave for the next entire week if you’ll just pull me out,” promised Shannon.
He hesitated.
“The next month! Two months!”
Just as she almost lost her struggle to keep her faceout of a mound of barbecued chicken bones, Hal tugged on her ankles and pulled her, inch by inch, back over the rim of the Dumpster.
Her sweater was coated with sour cream and coffee grounds. She had potato peels in her hair. Her silver leather pants were streaked with ketchup, mustard, rust, grime and something utterly unspeakable. But Shannon had never felt so grateful.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, panting for breath.
“Are you okay?” he asked gruffly.
She nodded. But along with her breath, a natural urge for revenge returned. All she was guilty of was getting rid of some perfectly awful, dated clothing! She’d done the guy a service. And he’d pushed her into the garbage….
Shannon stood up and pushed the hair back from her face. She looked at Hal, who looked back at her with a combination of anger and sheepishness.
“My hero,” she said soulfully. Then she hugged him.
S HANNON LAY neck-deep in scented bubble bath in her Avon apartment, surrounded by a fashion magazine, a lighted candle and a glass of wine.
She’d dropped her own clothes into a plastic garbage bag this time, and it sat near the door, ready to go to the cleaners. Though she’d tied the top of the bag into a knot, eau de Dumpster still wafted through the air.
She submerged herself and blew the scent, alongwith some bubbles, out of her nostrils. When she came up, water streaming off her face and shoulders and freshly washed hair, the air seemed better.
She thought of Hal’s outraged expression when she’d hugged him and laughed. He had announced she was fired and barely spoken to her on the ride home in the now doubly defiled beemer.
Shannon watched water drip off her breasts and back into the tub. She’d always wondered where she’d gotten these honkers. Rebecca Shane was flat as a board, and her father’s mother hadn’t had a lot in the chest, either. So who did Shannon have to thank for her boobs?
They’d been dangling over several hundred pounds of garbage this afternoon—her first ever Dumpster-diving experience. But what if her real father was a sanitation worker? And maybe her real mother cleaned houses or worked as a data-entry clerk or did sewing alterations for a living?
She had no idea. She had to track them down. While she didn’t want to hurt her adoptive parents, they had lied to her by omission.
All she knew was a few sketchy details and the fact that she’d been fostered by the New England Home for Little Wanderers for a few short weeks. So at least her biological parents hadn’t sold her on the black market. She supposed that was something to be thankful for.
Shannon added some more hot water to the tub and felt tears trying to form in the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away.
Hal’s voice echoed in her head. I’m here if you need to talk.
“No, you’re not,” she said aloud. “You just fired me.” She stuck a toe out of the water and peered at the chipped purple polish on it. She plunked it down into the bubbles again.
But did he really mean it? He’d probably just said it in the heat of the moment. He didn’t want to fire her—he needed her too much. And…oh, no. Finesse needed her to keep this gig. It was her responsibility, same as Jane’s, to keep their doors open.
She clenched a wet, soapy fist and brought it down on her knee. Great. She’d been impulsive and irresponsible again, gone and hugged him to smear him with garbage. She might have done it to get even, but they wouldn’t have been near the
Similar Books
