Unzipped?

by Karen Kendall

  This was the type of information she’d feared. A double rejection. The stiff-arm treatment, no matter how gently presented. Her mind flooded with a thousand questions, Shannon turned her gaze back to the silent television and watched the actors and actresses go through the motions of life.

  She felt suspended and weightless, as though she were underwater and unable to move with any urgency. She watched a woman slap a man, a snake menace a child, an executive get into an elevator. None of it meant anything or triggered any emotion. Once the final tear had fallen on the letter in her lap, she went numb.

  23

  SHANNON AWOKE to sunshine streaming through her bedroom window. Clearly it was there to mock her. How dare the sun shine when she’d managed to chase away the guy she loved and turn him into a jerk? How dare the sky be blue and birds chirp when her own biological mother didn’t want to meet her?

  She staggered out of bed and headed toward the bathroom, where it was hard for her to even find the energy to brush her teeth. She squeezed out some toothpaste onto her brush and did so anyway. She scrubbed at a back molar and glared at her reflection. She had sheet marks on her face and her hair…yikes. She looked like a cross between Einstein and Ozzy Osbourne, and didn’t much care. She put herself on automatic pilot and got through the shower, fueled only by the knowledge that if she wanted coffee, she had to go out for it.

  Minutes later she stood in front of her closet, discombobulated. She did not want to wear her orange leather jacket. She did not want to wear her jean jacket with the hand-embroidered Chinese dragon on it. She obviously would not wear a black cocktail dress to work.

  No jeans, though she longed for them—not professional. Red suit? Yeah, right. Hip navy waitress dress? Maybe. Very retro. Nope. She didn’t feel retro today, or hip, come to think of it. Black pencil skirt with two-inch back vent? Too confining.

  At last she chose low-slung, wide-legged wool pants with a faint pinstripe. She stuck a leg into them as the phone rang, and hobbled to the bedside table to answer it, wondering what she was going to pair the slacks with.

  She normally enjoyed getting dressed in the morning—she considered it costuming. Her clothes projected whomever she chose to be that day. It was fun.

  “’Lo?” She stuck her other leg in, pulled up the pants and felt the zipper brush her backside. She looked down to find a pregnant pooch of fabric at her waist. Brilliant. I just put my slacks on backward.

  Next she’d forget a top altogether and go to work in her bra.

  “Shan? Are you feeling better?” Lilia, bless her, had called to check up on her.

  No. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel better. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be in the office in about half an hour.”

  “Okay. By the way, Hal Underwood just came by. He dropped off an envelope for you.”

  Her heart lurched. She told it to right itself. Hal is a goat. “Weird. I haven’t sent him a bill yet.”

  “Kudos, Shan. He looks incredible.”

  Yeah, kudos. “Well, I couldn’t have made him look worse, right?” She forced out a brittle laugh.

  “I think he was very disappointed that you weren’t here.”

  “Bummer,” Shannon said lightly. “Well, I’ve got to finish drying my hair. Sorry I’m running late. I fell asleep without setting the alarm. Be there soon.”

  ALL DAY LONG, she refused to open the envelope. It was brown, nine by twelve inches, and definitely contained more than a check. She glared at it. Was it bad poetry? A ream of insults? Who knew. She was done opening mysterious envelopes. They never contained good news.

  She pulled herself together to meet with three clients, sent PR packets out to two others and scheduled a speaking engagement. She dredged up a smile and some friendly words for Janna, the high school girl who was “paying” for her consultations by helping with direct mail.

  She had blossomed with a little guidance and no longer hid her face behind her hair. She even smiled in spite of her braces—which would come off in less than a year.

  Still, Shannon had the sensation that she was functioning underwater, in slow motion, and that nothing she accomplished meant anything. She ate a giant chocolate bar for lunch, ignoring the raised eyebrows of Jane and Lil.

  She was slumped in her chair at the end of the day, aimlessly playing solitaire on her computer and still ignoring the envelope, when her partners invaded her office. Lil picked up her purse—dropping Shannon’s Palm Pilot into it—and Jane held out her raincoat.

  Shannon squinted at them and stuck her lip out. “I don’t wanna. If I drink cosmos, I’ll get all weepy and pathetic.”

  “Yes,” said Jane. “That would be the point. You need to talk about it.”

  “About what?”

  “God, grant me patience. About whatever is turning you into a mope. It doesn’t take my degree in behavioral psych to figure out that you are depressed and repressing your feelings. Now suck your lip in, sweetie, and stand up.”

  “Leave me alone,” she begged.

  “We left you alone yesterday,” said Lil.

  “It’s not good manners to pry,” Shannon said, in a last-ditch attempt to keep sulking alone.

  “Shan, you’re as rude as they come,” Lil retorted, “so I just figure I’m making you feel at home.”

  Shannon produced a weak grin and let them bully her out the door. They went just down the road to Max a Mia, where her friends set a cosmopolitan in front of her in short order. They also ordered appetizers, since she’d need something to soak up the alcohol after her unhealthy lunch.

  “Speak,” said Jane. “My brilliant powers of deduction tell me that this all has something to do with Hal Underwood.”

  “So do mine.” Lil nodded. “And I notice that you still haven’t opened his envelope.”

  “I hate him,” Shannon said by way of explanation. “But it’s my own fault.” She picked up her glass and let some of the vodka roll over her tongue. “That’s the worst part. I told him to date other women, so he did.”

  Jane made a sympathetic noise.

  “But I didn’t tell him he should sleep with his tacky receptionist right after we…” She took another sip. Then she said to Lil, “You want a fake bearskin rug?”

  Her friend shuddered. “Absolutely not.”

  “Just checking.” She turned to Jane. “You?”

  “No, thanks. Especially not if it has butt-prints on it. But it’s, uh, generous of you to offer.”

  “Yeah.”

  Jane and Lil looked at each other. “Okay. So you told him to move on, and now you’re mad at him for moving on. That makes sense.”

  “I know.” Shan looked at them woefully. “And then he lied about it and said that he didn’t sleep with her!”

  “How do you know he’s lying?”

  “Because she clamped his hands onto her boobs, dragged him into her lair and I heard them kissing through the microphone. Ugh! And then it took him forever to show up at my apartment later to crow about it. Like, ‘Hey, teach, do I get a gold star for that?’ Unbelievable!”

  “That’s bad.”

  “Then the jerk tells me that he didn’t sleep with her and gets mad at me!”

  “You’re sure he’s lying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then you’re well rid of him.” Jane’s steady brown eyes held regret.

  “Yup.” Shannon’s lip trembled. “But somewhere along the way, I fell for him. And I never thought he was a liar.”

  Lilia reached over and hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

  “But it gets worse. You know how I made the decision to see if my birth mother left anything in my file? Well, she did. A letter. And it said she loves me, but I can’t meet her because the ‘circumstances of her life’ don’t permit it. The letter may as well have said ‘Don’t bother me.’”

  “Oh, Shannon.” Jane squeezed her hand.

  “And it’s like a double rejection. First, she gives me up. Second, she doesn’t want to see how I’ve turned out. I h
ave this overwhelming urge to…to hunt her down and force her to see how I’ve turned out! The letter was loving, but it also makes me angry.”

  “That’s completely understandable.” They all sat in silence for a moment, while the buzz of restaurant noise went on around them. Glasses clinked, laughter carried over from other booths, another song began on the sound system.

  Finally Jane said, “About the letter. There are all kinds of possible scenarios. Your birth mother is probably married now. She may never have told her husband that she had a baby before she met him. Or she could be afraid of the reaction from any other children she has. Or perhaps her parents are elderly and ill and live with her. Maybe they’re devout Catholics, and finding out that they have an illegitimate grandchild could literally kill them. You just don’t know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” Shannon said. “And that’s what hurts. I will probably never know.”

  “Shannon,” Lil said. “I understand how upset you are. But you do have two parents who love you very much. Perhaps they’re not biological parents, but they’d move the earth to make you happy, even if they hate your toe ring. And that’s such a blessing…a blessing that many people don’t have in their lives.”

  Shannon nodded. Lil’s parents had died young; her father on his second tour in Vietnam and her mother of a rare blood disorder. Lil’s paternal grandmother had raised her, and Lil had always felt somewhat odd that she didn’t have a normal family.

  “You’re right. And I do love my mom and dad. I need to go see them and tell them that…that we can move beyond this. Tell them that in spite of the fact that we don’t always see things the same way, I do adore them and am grateful for everything they’ve given me—”

  Jane, who was facing the television in the bar, suddenly pointed. “Look! Look, it’s Hal. On the news!”

  Shannon whirled, spilling her drink.

  A local TV newscaster asked Hal, “How do you feel, Mr. Underwood, knowing that your competitor, Greer Conover of Conover, Inc., has allegedly been engaged in corporate espionage and theft?”

  She heard Hal’s voice as the cameras flashed to an office building. A man was being led out the front door in handcuffs.

  “Well, mostly I feel relieved to have gotten to the bottom of things. I had known we had an information leak for some time, but I hadn’t pinpointed exactly how it was occurring.”

  “Did it come as a shock to know your own receptionist was aiding and abetting your competitor?”

  The camera flashed to a still photograph of Tina.

  “What?” Shannon couldn’t believe her ears.

  “Absolutely, it came as a shock.”

  “Your receptionist, Tina Wimple, claims that she was coerced and blackmailed into her actions. Do you find that claim credible?”

  “I really can’t comment on that at this time.”

  “Mr. Underwood, will this situation affect your planned IPO?”

  “We will delay the IPO for a month or so, until I have all the facts in front of me, but I can assure you that our technology is still unmatched…”

  “Oh. My. God.” Shannon stared at her friends. “I guess he was so good in bed she confessed.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Or,” Jane said, “he’s telling the truth and he didn’t sleep with her. Didn’t you say you were listening in on the date? To give him help if he ran into trouble?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then he was wearing a wire. You said she came on to him first. What if she tried to strip him, found the wire and assumed he was working with the police?”

  Shannon had to admit that this was a possibility.

  Lilia nodded. “Drink up, Miss Shane. I think it’s time you opened that envelope he dropped off.”

  THEY ALL DROVE back to the Finesse offices, and Shannon retrieved the envelope from her credenza. She slit it open with a pair of scissors and pulled out the contents: yet another sealed envelope and a single sheet of paper from Hal.

  Dear Shannon,

  Please find enclosed information on your biological parents. Don’t even ask me how I came by this knowledge, but I thought you might like to have it. A private detective could possibly have found it for you, but the process would have taken much longer.

  Shannon, I wish you all the best in your life. May you one day realize what a beautiful woman you are—inside. May you discover that you are a success in every sense of the word: that you are brave and talented and creative. I’d give anything to present you with that role of national prominence that you so deserve.

  Since I can’t do that, let me just say that you have played a very important part, however brief, in my life. I love you, Shannon. Yes, even though you’ve tormented me, stolen my favorite pants and charged me for the pleasure. Even though you’ve accused me of lying to you.

  I’m absolutely positive that it’s beyond uncool for me to pour out my heart this way, but just picture me wearing shades and sitting astride a Harley as I do it.

  You’ll always be on the silver screen in my heart.

  Love, Hal

  Shannon swallowed hard and handed the letter to Jane and Lil. She fingered the sealed envelope, her palms sweating.

  I hope you can feel my love from afar, for the circumstances of my life do not permit me to meet you.

  Her birth mother had asked her to respect her privacy.

  Yet in her hands she held the answers to her past, courtesy of Hal, sweet Hal. He’d obtained the information illegally, there was no doubt about it. He must have hacked into private, secret files—she had no idea how. He’d risked his reputation and possibly his freedom for her.

  And he hadn’t lied to her, after all. She believed him, now.

  Her hands trembling, she stuffed the envelope deep into her handbag and shoved her hands into her pockets.

  “You’re not going to open it?” Lil asked, incredulously.

  “I don’t know.”

  A wise little smile played around Jane’s lips. She said nothing for a long moment, then, “Go get him, girl.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to try. I’m not sure I deserve him. But first, I have a phone call to make.”

  As her partners filed out of her office, Shannon punched in the telephone number she’d known by heart since she was six.

  “Hello, Mom?”

  “Shannon!” Relief and love poured down the line, even through Rebecca Shane’s formal, continental accent. “I’ve been so worried about you. Are you all right?”

  Shan nodded slowly, feeling ashamed that she’d refused to see or talk to her parents for the past few weeks.

  Not lying this time, she said, “I’m fine. Mom, I just called…to tell you that I love you. I love you and Dad very much.”

  A swift intake of breath told her that her words had healed a wound. Her mother began to cry, elegance taking a backseat to emotion. “Oh, sweetheart. We love you, too. You are more precious to us than anything, do you hear? I haven’t been a perfect mother…and your father knows he could have been around more, but—” Her voice broke. “We never meant to lie to you. We just didn’t know how to bring it up. We’ve been cowards, and I—”

  “Mom. It’s okay.” Though it had started out of her mouth as an automatic response, Shannon sat down on the edge of her desk, hard—because the truth of the statement overwhelmed her. She was okay. She had no identity crisis. As Hal had told her, she was herself, no matter what.

  Something else occurred to her: for the first time since hearing the news that she was adopted, she realized that she wasn’t the only one who needed comfort. Her mother needed reassurance, too.

  She did her best to extend it, as Rebecca sobbed quietly on the other end of the line. “Mom, I’ve been so lucky to have you. You and Dad are my parents, no matter who actually gave birth to me. Nothing can ever change that. And Mom, I wouldn’t want to.”

  24

  SHANNON THOUGHT she’d have more time to prepare herself before seeing Hal, but he was getting out of the Explorer just as she p
ulled into the parking lot of his building. She hit the brakes and looked at him for a long moment. He looked back, lowering his shades à la movie star to check her out.

  There were dark circles under his blue eyes and he’d managed to do something screwy to his hair. He needed another cut. Enrique would have a coronary when he saw him. Shannon didn’t care a bit. To her, Hal was the model of a GQ guy: Genuine Quality. Gorgeously Quirky. Gallant and Quiet.

  “Hi,” he said, pushing the sunglasses back into place. He folded his arms across his chest. Defensive body language. He didn’t want to be vulnerable to her. She bit her lip.

  Then she eased her foot down on the gas pedal and pulled into the empty spot beside him. “Hi.” She put the brake on. “So. Do you know of a car wash place that specializes in getting the mold out of crazy women’s carpets? Because this car really stinks.”

  He leaned back against the door of the Explorer and looked at her through his shades, so cool that it hurt. “I might.”

  “Would you be willing to take a ride with the insane and show me where the place is?”

  “I might.”

  She looked at him uncertainly. “What’s my next step, here? Do I have to beg?”

  He ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned wickedly. “Did I just hear that correctly? Shannon Shane, Nerd Buster, is asking me for guidance?”

  She nodded.

  “Regarding this begging,” he mused. “It might be damn good for you. Would it take place, say, on your knees in front of me?”

  “Is your fly zipped or unzipped in this scenario?”

  He laughed and opened her passenger-side door, sliding in. “Phew. You ever heard of a product called Lysol? Take a right out of the parking lot.”

  She did, her mind racing as they drove. What to say to him? How to say it? Once again, she didn’t know her lines. She was utterly tongue-tied. She followed his directions in silence, her cheeks warming under his amused scrutiny.