Chapter 4 – Bitch Versus Bitch

Shannon remembered the last social event she had been to. It had been a Valentine's Day Eve Celebration, otherwise known as another random excuse for Sabrina to flaunt her connections.

After smiling charmingly and shaking hands with carious balding, wealthy stockbrokers, she had sat down, delicately nibbling on a friggin' heart-shaped watercress sandwich. A round-faced, overweight man had sat next to her, asking her about college choices. "Harvard or Yale?" How about friggin' cosmetology school? "What's your favorite subject?" Whatever's seventh period on Friday. Then, Boone had sat on the other side of her.

"Nice to meet you," he had told Fatso. Idiot suck-up. Fatso had gone on to explain that he was a teacher, but wanted to be a screenwriter. Obviously, Sabrina wasn't doing to well with social connections lately, was she?

"So what are you doing here?" Shannon interrupted his rant about The Count of Monte Cristo, which he had read 15 times with his hostile pre-pubescent eighth graders. Apparently, Shannon's comment was not appropriate: Boone kicked her under the table and the man promptly excused himself. Just to bug Boone, Shannon had responded to his kick by wrapping her foot around his and digging her toes into his calf.

"Stop," he said under his breath. She didn't, and instead ran her foot a little higher up the side of his pant leg. "Stop," he repeated, but she didn't until Sabrina walked by, looking a little suspicious. Eventually, they both went their separate ways – Boone went to talk to the son of one of the stockbrokers, and Shannon started to make small talk with the trophy wife of a psychiatrist. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Boone go up the staircase. Naturally, Shannon followed him. Upstairs, he was waiting outside of the occupied bathroom. She snuck up behind him and kneaded his shoulders, grasping his skin in her fingers and letting go, and then sucked at his neck.

"God, Shan…" he groaned. She wrapped her arms around his neck from behind him and rested her lips on his ear and murmured,

"You wanna get out of here?" Kissed his ear softly.

"How did you know I'd be up here?" he muttered.

"Followed you. I was watching you," she whispered, and once again moved her lips against his ear. She felt goose bumps appearing on his neck.

"Won't they notice we're gone?" He asked as he took her hands in his.

"She cares more about the ratio of tuna to celery in the salad than she cares about us."

"But she'll be really pissed off if she finds out we ditched her party," he breathed in her ear.

"It's not a party, it's a non-denominational celebration, Boone." He laughed and leaned down to her.

"I want to get out of here, but – "

"I'll make a compromise: let's fuck in the bathroom." He looked taken aback, but rather pleased at the same time.

"But there's someone in there."

"Then how about in the other bathroom?"

"My mom locked the doors. She only wants people using one."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah, I know."

"We'll wait for the person to get out. Who's in there?"

"The Count of Monte Cristo guy."

"Have you ever noticed how long it takes for fat people to pee?"

"Shhhhh, he might hear you."

"I don't give a fuck."

"You're probably the rudest person I've ever met, you know that?"

"You love it."

"Yeah. Basically." She took her arms off of him as Fatso left the bathroom.

"Hi, Mr. Goldwin!" She said sweetly, watching him go down the stairs. Boone raised his eyebrows, rolling his eyes at her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He fell into his arms and kissed him tenderly repeatedly.

"Shan," he interrupted, "We have to be quick, okay?"

"Mmmmm," she answered between kisses. "No time to take…mmm… our clothes… Mmmmm… just…God," she said.

"Sure. Whatever you say." She started to unzip his pants. "You look really hot today," Boone said.

"Tell me something I don't know, Boone," she responded as he leaned back to pull his pants down. She leaned into him, hard.

"Jesus Christ, Shannon," he sighed. She lifted her dress as he pushed her against the wall, deepening to kiss. Slowly, he began to encourage her underpants down, fingers skimming over her hipbones.

"Second drawer," she said, "Do it in the shower." As he stepped behind the curtain to deal with the condom, Shannon dug her fingernails into her thigh, whining at him to hurry up. When he came out of the shower, she quickly pressed her lips against his again.

"Take off your boxers." She demanded. "Now." When she came, she prayed to God that the walls of this bathroom were sound proof.

This family gathering was different. Only a few people were there, silently sipping their drinks of choice. Shannon sat on the couch, staring at the rug.

"You okay?" asked Boone, patting her knee. She flinched.

"Please don't touch me."

"I'm sorry. But are you okay?"

"What the hell do you think?"

"Um. Not okay?"

"Bingo."

"Well, if there's something I can do…" Boone trailed off.

"I'll let you know." He started walking away.

"Wait! Can you, um, stay with me?"

"Sure." He sat down.

"It's just that – I – I never really felt like his daughter. We never talked or anything. He didn't like to talk to me because I reminded him of… of her, but I never really made like… an effort." She paused. "And now I'll never be able to. I won't get to visit him in an old people place… my kids won't ever meet him… not that I would have wanted them to. But now I'll never be able to – "She sniffled. "I don't want to be here. I just want to go to sleep… why does she have to friggin' entertain? Dad's never even met great-aunt whatever her name is!"

"She has to make everything a party." He said quietly.

"It's insane!"

"Her husband just died, and… she's… she's making truffles." Said Boone.

"Are you upset, Boone?"

"I'm upset because you're upset." They sat in silence for a moment. "Um, Shannon? I'm really sorry I called you a bitch yesterday."

"Oh God. I had forgotten." She sniffled. "Thanks a lot for reminding me." She stood up and headed to the kitchen.

"Oh, Shannon!" said Sabrina. "Thank God you're here! Hey, I was thinking we could go have a spa day, you know, your nails look a little ragged, and under the current situation, I thought we could have a relaxing – "

"What the fuck is your problem, Sabrina? I don't need a fucking facial because my dad just DIED! Your husband! Don't you even care?"

"Shannon- there's people here!"

"Like I give a fuck! What the hell!" she cried. "It's true! Don't you have any feelings? Or are you such a cold hearted bitch you don't –"

"Shannon, just because your father isn't here to keep you in line –"

"You mean to slap me?"

"Shannon Rutherford, you need to show me some respect!"

"You don't deserve respect! You're totally fake, your stupid wedding thing is all about love and family, but it's all total bullshit, like you give a shit about me and Boone!" With that, Shannon slapped her stepmother on the cheek.

"Get out of my house."

"It's my – "

"Get the hell out of my house!" she roared. "In ten minutes, I want your undeserving ass out of here!"

"I hate you."

"Out!" Shannon tore out of the kitchen, where several confused looking relatives sat, and up the stairs, where Boone stopped her. "What's going – "?

"Your mother just kicked me out of my house!" she sobbed. "I don't live here anymore!"

"Shannon –"

"I'm going to miss you so much!" she wrapped her arms around him tightly. "I've got to get away. Like, far away. I don't know when I'll be –" Tears streamed down her face.

"Shhhhh. You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I –"

"I'll go talk to her, okay, honey?" he said sweetly.

"Oh…" she wiped her eyes. " Okay." Shannon entered her room, in a trance, for the last time, and located a duffle bag. She threw in skirts and sweaters and shoes, blankets, books, her CD player, and, as a second thought, a picture of her and Boone from a few weeks before and her credit card and some cash. Then she got her toothbrush. She stopped for a second, hearing yelling downstairs. Boone was saying,

"…Can't do this! Her father just…"

"She hit me! She's violent!"

"She's not – she's, she's confused! People often behave differently when –"

"Bullshit! She –"

"Like you know her at all! I'm the only one who ever made an effort to –"

"Did it work, though?"

"She's seventeen!"

"She'll be eighteen in a week!"

"Her birthday is April 13th! It's March!"

"Well- "

"It's not legal for minors to – "

"Fine! She can stay here until she's eighteen! But the day she – " Some of the relatives started giving Sabrina and Boone dirty looks. Shannon ran downstairs.

"No – you know what?" Said Cousin Edith, walking into the kitchen. "My daughter's and I are leaving. Thank you, um, we'll be going!" Shannon ignored her, and screamed at Sabrina, "I'm leaving anyway! Anything to get away from you, you filthy, rotten witch!" Sabrina and Shannon stared at each other, wrath in their eyes. It was bitch against bitch, and the combination did not mix well.

"Fine." Said Sabrina to Shannon, not averting her gaze. "Just don't ask me for any money."

"I'm in the will."

"I'm your legal guardian until you turn eighteen."

"So you're saying –"

"I get to keep it unless you're here for the reading and when you're eighteen."

"And when will that reading be?"

"I think I'm going to keep that information withheld." She said smoothly.

"You can't – " started Boone.

"Stay out of this!" said Shannon, and then to Sabrina, "Do you want me to hate you?"

"Does it matter? You aren't my daughter, and you don't live her anymore."

"Fine. I'll find my real mother."

"Camilla was a mess of a woman." Sabrina said disdainfully. "You know she left your father and eloped with that French bastard?"

"You haven't even met my mother."

"You haven't seen her since you were four."

"I was six, you bitch." She said menacingly. "She sent me a letter when I was fourteen, too. She's still in Paris." She paused, and added, sneering, "My dad, too. He was secretly corresponding with her."

"You're lying."

"You wish." Shannon tried to stamp out the waver in her voice.

"W-what?"

"Yeah. Now, if you'll excuse me, I only have a minute left to pack."