So now they were in New York, and the one woman that Boone had wanted to avoid, who he'd actually fled from, was now living under his roof. How the hell was he supposed to cope with that? How was he supposed to live with her, but not actually live with her? He was determined not to give in to them, his baser instincts that was, not creep into her bedroom to watch her sleep, not 'accidentally on purpose' walk in on her in the bathroom, he wasn't some sick stalker. In Malibu at least their parents had always been there as unintentional chaperones, here there was nothing but his own conscience keeping him from stepping over the line.
Shannon had settled in quickly, claiming the former guest room as her own. Her shit quickly spread through the apartment, the bathroom an absolute sea of lotions, potions and paraphernalia Boone thought he'd seen the last of when he left home.
They settled into a routine with astonishing rapidity. He made her breakfast in the morning, just doubling up on what he made for himself while she slept through the noise he tried to minimize as much as possible. Boone carefully placed his body between her closed bedroom door and the Magic Bullet on those mornings he made them fruit smoothies, not having to be quite as careful when he prepared egg white omelettes for them both. He went to the trouble of actually leaving her two slices of untoasted bread right in the toaster so she didn't have to rifle through the fridge herself. All she had to do was either depress the lever on the expensive Kitchen Aid for her toast and pop the plate into the microwave he'd left carefully covered in cling wrap in the fridge, or reseat the Magic Bullet container on the power base he'd left on the counter.
As much as he didn't see her in the mornings, while she slept his early waking hours away, Boone rarely saw her in the evenings either, the dance company started later because they also finished later. Even after the evening performances wound up, there were still showers to be had, the directors' critical wrap up speech to listen to, and then the tense subway ride home. Shannon loved New York in general, but hated the subway; her forced late night return to the apartment always caused her a great deal of apprehension. She always sat in the seat closest to the door and avoided touching anything unless she just couldn't avoid it. She strode purposefully down the sidewalk once she disembarked; her right hand in her bag, the spray can of mace clutched in it tightly, she'd thought about asking Boone to meet her train each night but given his early start, knew that just wouldn't have been fair, after all he was already supporting them both.
The first two weeks passed quickly, and suddenly it was Boone's twenty-first birthday, his trust fund was going to kick in on that landmark day, and he'd arranged to take the afternoon off work. He had to be at his lawyers' office to sign the papers and arrange for the transfer of the funds so he needed the extra time. Hesitantly, Shannon had asked for the evening off to celebrate with him and had been granted it. She may have been living with Sabrina Carlyle's son, who just happened to also be her step brother, but it was her natural talent that won her the respect of her mentors, not his semi-celebrity status.
It would actually have been difficult for any of the interns at the company to have existed in New York without a benefactor. Shannon was lucky to have her big brother there to facilitate things for her. The city was expensive and with no income the novices had to rely on someone to pay their way, at least until they proved themselves and were put on the payroll. Very few of them would even survive through their internship; there was a cut every week, not unlike some tacky network reality show, though their highs and lows were experienced anonymously. So far Shannon had always come out on the winning end.
She met him back at their apartment around six; Boone already had an exquisite bottle of Moet and Chandon champagne chilling in the ice-bucket and the glasses on the counter, he'd taken them out of the fridge when he heard her key in the lock, wanting them to warm to the optimum fifty-five degrees. He poured each of them a measure of the bubbly, once they'd toasted, he asked where she wanted to go for dinner.
"It's your birthday Boone, isn't it more appropriate if you pick?" She sipped the effervescent libation, savouring the slight bitterness of it.
"But you're the one new to the city. I thought maybe there was someplace that you'd like to go. And it would mean more to me if we went somewhere you picked anyway." He'd already finished his first glass, and was halfway through his second; you only turned twenty-one once in your life he figured, so why not do it with gusto.
Shannon thought for a second, she didn't really know any places in the city. She'd visited him from time to time while he was attending university, but they hadn't really made many forays into the city, instead just ordering in pizza or Thai and sitting together in his dorm room. "Ruby Foo's," she announced, blurting out one of the few restaurant names that she'd heard of.
"Ruby Foo's?" Boone wrinkled his face up in consternation. "That's such a touristy place, and it's in Times Square. Are you sure?"
"I still am a bit of a tourist here." Shannon pointed out. "Sushi Boone! You and I both love it. Bring it on. I want to go to Ruby Foo's," she confirmed decisively.
They each had another glass of wine and then walked the few blocks to the visual and auditory overload that was undeniably the most famous spot in New York.
There was a twenty minute wait for a table so he led her to a vacant table in the bar and then got them each a drink. The female bartender didn't card him, even with his boyish good looks he hadn't been carded in years, and he doubted even Shannon, though underage, would have been asked for I.D. The place was far too busy for the bartenders to take the time to go to the trouble.
As they sipped their beverages, Boone heard all about her first few weeks in the dance company. Her girlish enthusiasm bringing a goofy grin to his lips, he drank in every word; while simultaneously also drinking in every detail of the face that he loved and knew so well. It was already the best birthday he'd had since he'd left Malibu for the east coast.
When their table was ready the pager Boone had been given at the front door lit up. They were settled in the quiet corner of the seven-thousand square foot 'palace,' and each given one of the multi-paged menus. They took a few minutes to peruse the astonishing number of selections. Shannon thought that ordering a la carte was going to be beyond her and found the page with the combination platters. Seeing one that piqued her interest she turned the menu around and shoved it under his nose, tapping the plastic covered page with a manicured nail, she announced "This one."
Boone squinted a bit in the dim light, he'd had a hard enough time making out the writing on his own menu, let alone hers now that she had it scant inches from his face. He leaned back a bit so the minimal light could fall on the page. Her selection looked okay, so he shrugged in acquiescence, "Looks good Shan."
After ordering they struck up a conversation with the couple at the next table. Since relocating to New York Boone had discovered that everyone always seemed friendlier at the establishments located in and around Times Square. Many of the patrons were tourists, already in an open and outgoing mood given their, if only temporary, carefree circumstances, happy to make a connection with like minded strangers. The man and women seated beside them were married, from New Jersey, in town to do some shopping for their daughters' upcoming birthday; their names were Carl and Judy.
Spying something protruding from Shannon's purse the woman asked if they were on their way to a birthday party. Seeing the direction of her gaze Shannon realized that the gift she'd gotten for him was somehow almost ready to fall out of the top of her bag, the gaily coloured paper emblazoned again and again with a repeating pattern of "Happy Birthday."
Not understanding where the woman could have gotten that idea Boone frowned at the question, but Shannon just replied, "We're already at the birthday party. It's Boone's twenty-first today." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
Congratulations were extended and a round of drinks bought by Carl for all four of them. They toasted once the beverages arrived, and Shannon fished the package out and handed it across the table to him. Just as he took it, the artistically arranged platter of sashimi and sushi they'd ordered appeared, but he chose to ignore it, instead wanting to see what was in the miraculously perfectly wrapped present. He opened the card first, though, of course. She'd simply written his name above the cheesy verse, and scrawled 'love Shannon' at the bottom, his eyes strayed again and again to the word 'love' knowing that she didn't mean it quite the way he wanted her to. He put the card to one side and tore back the corner of the paper, splitting the Happy that spanned that particular edge into 'Hap' and 'py' exposing the front cover of the book that currently sat atop the New York Times bestsellers' list. "It's perfect Shan, thanks."
She smiled at him happily, she'd had years of picking out gifts for him and had known that the book would please him, he loved to read, but she also knew that she could have bought him the most hideous item in the world and he would still have beamed happily, just because it was from her. "I had them wrap it at the store." She admitted, knowing he must have been wondering why it wasn't still in a Barnes and Noble bag with the price tag stuck on the corner and the bill enclosed. She wasn't one for standing on formality.
"You kids are so cute," Judy commented after spontaneously rising and giving Boone a kiss on the cheek, to which he'd blushed furiously. "How long have you been going out?" The sparks between the two were unmistakeable, more so from the boy than from the girl though, she thought.
"Oh, no," they both protested, "we're not going out." They explained their relationship, including the "step" part.
"Hmmmm," Judy replied, "Obviously I was mistaken then." She looked at Boone again her eyes narrowing, thinking that the boy was just looking for heartbreak, perhaps they both were.
Their dinner finished, the two from New Jersey bid them good night, Carl squeezing Boones' shoulder as they left, wishing him a final happy birthday.
They lingered over dinner, laughing when their chopsticks clashed together, both of them going for the same delicacy at the same time.
Shannon held his arm as they walked back home, leaving the gaudy neon of Times Square behind them.