A/N: This is a rewrite of my original fic Walk the Streets on FFN under the username JinSun. I started it in 2013 but stopped updating in 2015 for a variety of reasons. That being said, I want to take a stab at finishing the story in the way that I always imagined, this time with better writing skills and some general maturity. There will be serious adult themes throughout the fic, so please be aware of that if it is a problem for you. I will be uploading chapters of about 3,000 to 5,000 words as often as I can. Do not expect frequent updates because I am a grad student but do expect fulfilling updates because small ones are just summaries with extra steps. All characters are over the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.
Yes, Walk the Streets is definitely OOC and yes, it unintentionally derives creative inspiration from the 1990 romantic comedy, Pretty Woman. I'm original, I swear. Please feel free to leave a comment since I love reading them.
Muggy August air and the droning of cicadas enveloped Annabeth on her walk from the Natural History Museum down to her hole-in-the-wall apartment off 85th and 1st. Apartment was probably an overstatement given the fact that even those rat's nests were usually equipped with 24/7 running water and an actual stovetop, but she'd grown fond of her Bunsen burner and no water meant no flooding. The walk wasn't long, just under two miles if she cut across the grass and avoided dog poop. Nothing like cleaning digested kibbles off your only pair of sneakers in 95-degree weather.
Even if she had stepped in dog poo, the walk would have been well worth it, since Tuesdays were Annabeth's only free day to do what she wanted without having to worry about a client calling. Of course, she almost always spent them doing the same thing, studiously engaged with piles of books at the library or ogling in wonder at massive petrified tree rings from the days of pioneers. The week's pent-up stress would melt away like the ice cream bars sold to little kids and crusty business executives along Central Park West, and just for a tiny isolated moment, she could pretend she was someone else. Those old worn pages and seemingly infinite sap rings never failed to completely capture her imagination. So much possibility existed in the world of books and science that Annabeth often felt as though she could spend the rest of her life reading and still never scratch the surface. Her favorite subject, even back in the nightmare that was public school, was always science class. The unit on architecture and physics seemed like such an amazing concept, to be able to build something huge, something so undeniably grand that would last forever. She wished she could afford to go to school as an adult.
Sweat streaked down her flushed cheeks as she huffed her way across Central Park. Families with children cooled off in the shade while others trudged along the path in their workout gear. One guy even sat in business suit on a park bench with the sun beating down on him. She knew it was supposed to be high 90s and humid all week, but it was the one day she could wear jeans and baggy clothing instead of her usual slutty getup. Laced heels and miniskirts do not make for appropriate artifact viewing, but sweaters and old jeans were practically made for it. The added benefit of course was that no one was staring at her like a slab of meat up for sale. She'd even tied her long blonde curls into a ponytail and threw on the old Yankees cap she'd had since she was twelve. Even though that faded cap was practically a part of her body at this point, she could never remember where she got it. It definitely had something to do with her mother's side of the family. Then again, she had no idea what her mother even looked like.
Memory lapses were common for Annabeth, and the absence of her mother was hardly the most shocking of all. Her childhood was littered with incredibly strange if not hypnotic moments of obscurity. Some she could chalk up to her diagnosed ADHD as lapses in attention, but others simply made no sense even in retrospect. One moment watching a murder of crows, the next in a hospital wing with a stern looking nurse peering down over her pointed nose. Nodding off while taking a test then waking up crying in a storm drain. This doesn't even begin to cover her frequent and troubled experiences with spiders. The teachers were no help and always seemed to blame these occurrences on Annabeth, despite her inability to explain why or how they had happened, despite her being a child and they adults.
Still, even those lapses in memory were preferable to the ones she had as an adult. Not all clients were willing to play by the rules, and she had learned long ago to never accept drinks she didn't make herself. Those moments were less frequent ever since her move away from the Bronx and into Manhattan, no doubt due to the shift in clientele, but the memories, or lack thereof, did not stay with her old apartment.
The loud sounds of the city brought Annabeth back to the present. August was a good time to walk the streets, even in the heat. The swarms of loud tourists typical of the vacation months were dying down and the beating sun meant that only the most resilient locals would crowd the sidewalks. Even on the stretch of 5th Avenue lined with hot dog stands, roasted nut carts, and "I New York" shirt stands, she had more than enough room to freely swing her arms.
Annabeth was just about to cross the street when she noticed a man about twenty yards back glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. It was the same guy from the park, the one roasting in the sun in a full business suit. He looked somewhat young, maybe a few years older than her, but his hair was jet black and tousled, especially in the humidity. His suit was dark blue and slim, probably some young business intern fresh out of college or a rich heir to the city's ever-growing billionaire class. Realizing he'd been caught looking, he slipped on a pair of shades and walked off the way they came.
Creepy… she thought. Unwelcome and uncomfortable stares were the name of the game in her line of work, but usually only when she was in her "work attire." A baggy sweater, jeans, and a raggedy baseball cap were hardly the definition of sexy, and it usually let her lay low and unnoticed. Whatever he had wanted, it clearly wasn't appropriate for daytime in public. I'll have to keep a better eye out on my next walk, she thought, dreading the idea of her off day becoming just as unpleasant as the rest of the week. I'd better make a detour so he doesn't find out where I live.
The Yorkville Library was just down the street and only a couple of blocks away from her apartment. The plastered Art Deco style reminded Annabeth of the old black and white movies she used to watch with her dad about the building of Manhattan, or even King Kong. It wasn't the biggest library in the city, not by far, but it was one of her favorite places to spend her free time. Sometimes she just couldn't take it in her cramped apartment anymore and needed a place to breath. The library also served as a wonderful place to hide from any and all creepers who insisted on following her home, as police frequented the area and some of the staff knew her face well.
One such person was an older woman with brilliant silver hair and stormy grey eyes, not unlike her own. Annabeth always looked for her, but it seemed as if the old lady only ever showed up once every couple of weeks or so. Despite this, she always made an effort to offer Annabeth a book recommendation and ask her what she thought about the last one. She looked forward to those moments, even if she was a little intimidated by the woman.
Annabeth walked up the steps and swung open the large wooden doors. The usual after school group of kids loitered around tables, chatting and playing games on the library's computers. Some of the front desk librarians nodded at her, and people wandered through the aisles, eager to escape from the brutal afternoon heat. A long line of people streamed out of the café in the back, most just there to buy a smoothie or have an excuse to use the bathroom. Annabeth couldn't really blame them since she wasn't there to read either; the books she had just checked out last week were still unfinished on the floor next to her bed. She peered over at the nonfiction desk and saw the familiar silver hair tied in a tight bun furiously typing away on what looked like a several different screens at once.
Must be the heat, she thought to herself.
"Hello Ms. Barn," Annabeth said.
The librarian looked up from her work but continued to type all the same. "Hello Ms. Chase. I believe you were here last Tuesday. Have you finished your books already? What did you think of Drawing for Architects? Did you understand the part about lateral trellises? You took notes I assume, yes?"
Annabeth twisted her fingers at her waist. "Oh, umm…no, sorry. I just came in to say hello, sorry." She felt like she was apologizing too much, but the fiery look from the librarian made her itch, as if she was still in high school and didn't do her homework. She wasn't prepared for the barrage of questions about something that was merely a hobby.
Ms. Barn paused and stared at her for a few moments before turning back to her work, the clickity-clack of the keyboard ringing through the library.
Annabeth shifted nervously at the desk, wondering if she should leave or say something else. She decided on the later. "I just wanted to say thanks for giving me recommendations and all, you know. Not many people I know read." She paused, uncertain of where to go next. "Sorry, I just appreciate it is all, thanks."
The old librarian nodded but didn't say anything. It was as if she was upset or somehow disappointed that Annabeth hadn't finished the books she'd been given, which annoyed her since it had only been a week and she hardly had any time to do anything, much less study architectural books. Realizing that the conversation was over whether she wanted it to be or not, Annabeth quickly walked away, accidentally bumping into the side of a cart of books and spilling them onto the floor.
"I'm so sorry! Sorry, I'll clean them up right away!" she said, frantically grabbing at the books. It was embarrassing enough being cold-shouldered by the one librarian she knew, and Annabeth wasn't eager to continue the trend. She shoved the rest of the books onto the cart, and without looking back, swept out of the library onto 79th Street and hurried down the pavement towards her apartment. Her cheeks flushed bright red, but hopefully the people just thought it was the heat.
After a few blocks, she slowed her pace to catch her breath. Why was she so cold to me? It's not like I've ever finished a book in that time. She sighed and plopped down on a bench. A portly woman walking her chihuahua sauntered down the street talking loudly into a Bluetooth earpiece about business deals and pricing. What a lousy way to end the day. Annabeth lifted her cap and ran her fingers through her hair, hoping a breeze might cool her head. She liked the advantages of the baggy clothing, but even she had limits in the blazing heat of an August afternoon. The asphalt from the road radiated up at her, and the exhaust from cars stifled the already swampy air. One less person who doesn't judge me, she thought.
Just as she was about to get up, she felt a tingle down her spine, like someone was watching her but didn't want to be seen. Annabeth whirled around, twisting her neck to glance at the trees and patios. From the edge of her vision she saw him. It was the same man in the suit from earlier, this time standing by a black sedan, his eyes obscured by his sunglasses and a newspaper in his hands. She knew better than to think it was a coincidence, but it was impossible that he'd found her so quickly. Annabeth was sure she wasn't followed all the way to the library, but if she ignored him, she risked being followed home. The only option was to confront him in broad daylight with as many people around as possible, and with the summer sun still high in the sky, now was her only opportunity to protect herself.
Approaching him didn't feel like approaching the usual crowd of creeps she would confront. Maybe it was because it was broad daylight, or maybe it was because the man was dressed nice enough to attend a formal ball, but either way it was unsettling. He hadn't looked up from the newspaper although Annabeth had already crossed the street and was only a few feet away. She stopped at arm's-length, enough room to run for it but close enough that she could identify his face in case an officer needed to draw it later.
"Stop. Fucking. Following. Me." she said using her best commanding voice. She didn't want it to sound haughty or mean, since the sort of psychopaths that stalk women tend to be loose cannons in general. She knew the best thing to do was to acknowledge the stalking and confront them about it. That was the advice of the social workers she'd met in the past, and it usually worked. The second option was bear-grade pepper spray.
The man looked up from his paper and knit his brows, a look of general confusion and panic on his face. "Oh no, I wasn't trying to—"
"Do not follow me home, do not talk to me, do not come anywhere near me," she continued feeling more confident. "The next time I see you, I will call the cops and tell them you've been following me for days."
Annabeth knew the NYPD was borderline useless in terms of daily reports like this, but the threat of arrest or a permanent record was usually enough to scare off most people, and she figured it had to work for business execs just as it would for anyone else. The guy seemed petty worried anyway, judging from his nervous glances and body language. Still, there was something remarkably off about the way he held himself and spoke, as if he was intensely confident in what he was doing. Yea, I bet he is. Fucking creep, she thought.
"I'm so sorry, I truly didn't mean to come off that way," he said again, opening his palms to her as some sort of peace offering. "I am definitely, one hundred percent, not stalking you or trying to do anything wrong here." He pulled his glasses off, revealing a pair of sea-green eyes framed by dark brows and high cheek bones. She hadn't been able to tell up close, but the man was incredibly good looking, especially when compared to the usual scrawny or out-of-shape businessmen that polluted the streets of Manhattan. Even under his suit she could tell his frame was large and his shoulders broad. He might not have been the biggest guy, but Annabeth pegged him for being athletic in college, maybe a runner or swimmer.
That being said, there was no way Annabeth was going to let down her guard to a half-baked apology like that. "Yea, okay, sure. You just happened to see me earlier and creepily walk away. You just happened to show up outside the library that I just happened to have exited. I've met a lot of liars. You're not very good at it."
She shifted her weight to the back of her heels, feeling a sense of dread at the impending conflict. Definitely not the direction Annabeth anticipated her Tuesday evening plans going.
"No," he said blankly. The man looked like he was struggling to comprehend what was happening. "I have a job offer with a company I run, that's all, I just didn't know how to approach you about it."
Annabeth shuddered at what she imagined a job offer from the creep could be. "So I'm to believe that you so graciously picked me among all the possible New Yorkers in this city for a job for your company, randomly, and that it wasn't you being creepy, it was just you respecting me and wanting to approach me the right way, is that right?"
"Yes, exactly," he said, his face lighting up in sudden relief.
"You're an actual idiot. I'm calling the cops," she said, taking a step back and whipping out her phone. It wasn't like her to lose her temper in situations like this, but the guy was being particularly insufferable.
The man frowned at the insult like a kid. "Look, I think we just got off on the wrong foot," he said. "My name is Percy. Percy Jackson. I own several companies but the one you'd be interested in is a security management firm. I have a business card and everything." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a shiny white card with a large orange square.
Annabeth hesitantly reached out for the card and glanced at it. Everything looked legitimate, but it wasn't exactly rocket science to print business cards these days. "What's CHB stand for?"
"Oh right. Control Holding Board. CHB operates in a number of fields and so we use the company as a sort of management system to allow the other branches to flourish and do their jobs efficiently. Probably won't mean much to you anyway since the job is under a subset company," he said, shrugging.
Even his response seemed pretty well thought out, but that didn't do much to ease her fears. If anything, the line could have been rehearsed beforehand. And what kind of name was Percy? Annabeth didn't like the look of him or his incredibly suspicious offer. He hadn't even told her what the job was.
"Look, no offense, but you've made me really uncomfortable and I need you to leave.," she said. "Please don't contact me or come by here again or I really will call the police and file a report." She turned on her heel and began walking back to the bench.
"Alright well, sorry again," he said, sounding somewhat frustrated. "I'd rather you didn't do that, so let's just say you declined my offer." He folded the newspaper and tossed into the open window of his car. "You have my business card if you change your mind."
Annabeth watched him drive away, memorizing his license plate number just in case. It seemed that confronting him was the right idea, but the whole incident seemed really unlike other confrontations in the past. The shiny white card glittered in the dying light of the afternoon sun, the letters CHB etched into the card and her mind. What a vague name for a company, she thought. Nothing good can come from secrecy like that.
Annabeth tucked the card away into her jeans pocket and walked down the street toward her apartment, unaware of the gravity of the offer just presented to her.