I'm Not Saying I'm a Gold Digger

The night was never silent. It was always filled with noises of animals and the occasional drinker. In the city, the night was even more noisy. The night was just like the day, except that the sun had went to bed. But who needed the sun when you had city lights to illuminate your way? Though the night grew darker as clouds passed over the moon, there was nothing to fear. In fact Shari Anne Cohen wished it could be darker. The jobs she did, required her to work in the shadows and this job was very important.

Shari was an artist. She was a student, a sister, a daughter, a citizen, but above all else she was an artist. Her primary drive was her work and before the could wake up, she had to finish the last piece to her meticulously planned out puzzle. The shadows were her friend so Shari leaned in closer to the once blank billboard. She shook the can in her hand before spraying her life blood, her weapon, the ink, onto the board. Allowing herself to step back for a moment, she could see that it was nearly done. Just a few more sprays and her greatest street work would be done.

The first thing that attracted eyes to the billboard was the huge paper crane. It was almost engulfed by a forest of white and pink cherry blossoms but it was struggling to be freed. The crane's beak was stretched open, trying to capture the tiny solitary bird that fluttered just beyond its reach. Anyone could tell that if the crane could just get that bird, it would be freed from the mass of flowers. Shari had that ability. She told stories with two dimensional figures. This was the last piece of her most recent story. Those that followed her street work would find even more meaning to the billboard art. However, it also stood on its own. It sent the message that what was needed to be the key to a person's cage was always far away. This was Shari's words of wisdom to the people of city.

Excitement bubbled up through her. She was proud of her work, but now she had to find a way to get down and as far away as possible. The last thing she needed was to get caught. Getting down the ladder and off the roof proved to be harder than getting up. More than once Shari lost her footing for a moment and dropped one of her cans. With a wince she heard it clatter to the ground. Though the city was filled with noises, the loudest thing to Shari was the ruckus the cans made as they hit the concrete.

Safely on the ground, Shari changed her ink stained tee shirt for a nice respectable buttoned down blouse. She stuffed her shirt in her bag with the rest of her equipment that had been gathered from where they had fallen and stashed her bag behind the dumpster. It was the place she always hid her things and no one had yet to steal it. Even if they did, she could always buy new cans. The one thing of value she carried around her neck, the camera. She jogged out of the alley and as far away from the crime scene as she could. Then in the fluid motions of an experienced photographer, she took shots of her artwork. They would be going on her website.

Suddenly Shari felt herself being grabbed from behind by the shoulder. She whipped around, holding her camera protectively.

“Get your fucking hands off...” she trailed off as she saw who it was. Or they were. She shook her shoulder loose and bolted. The cops raced after her.

Shari wove through the streets around the scattered groups of people. It was too late in the night to hope for more than a couple crowds of people so she ducked into an alley and scrambled over the gate that blocked her way. All the while she was holding onto her camera for dear life. She made her way into the subway only to realize that the police would probably have been informed about her. The way back to the streets were blocked so she zigzagged around until she found a bathroom she could hole up in. To her immediate dismay, the door was locked. The cops were right behind her now. From what Shari could see there was no escape so she turned to face her predators.

“Can I help you?” she asked innocently.

“Maybe you should have asked that before you ran,” one of them said while the other took out a pair of handcuffs. “You're under arrest for vandalism of private property.”

Though Shari scoffed, she allowed herself to be led out of the subway and into a waiting police car. Already a plan was beginning to form in her mind. If this plan failed, she didn't know what she would do. Her scholarship could be revoked because of an incident like this and her parents were in no position to pay for her college fees. The cops talked around and joked about how they had finally caught her but Shari simply rolled her eyes. They had nothing.

The policemen ushered Shari into the police station and sat her down roughly in a chair. She glared at them before turning her head to whoever was in charge.

“Um excuse me,” she called loudly to the balding man at the desk. Without waiting for a response she continued. “I think there's been a mistake. I've been charged with vandalism but I have permission from the owner.”

The man at the desk looked up at Shari. To him, Shari was the epitomized version of all he hated in the city. He couldn't stand over privileged snotty kids who wanted a taste of crime. It was bad enough watching out for the poor ones, the ones that actually wanted to better themselves but didn't know how. Kids like Shari made his job harder. Little did he know that both her designer jeans, shoes, and shirt had been stolen from one of the many “over privileged” kids at her college. Behind her pretty face, Shari was one of the poor ones.

“Oh really?” the man said with a sarcastic smile. “Luckily we can just ask him since he's already here.”

Shari grimaced. She hadn't been expecting the owner to have been waiting for her to be captured. He obviously had no life if all he could do at two in the morning was hang out at a police station. She hid her annoyance from the man at the desk and matched his sarcastic smile with one of her own.

“That's great! Bring him on out then. I'm sure we can clear this whole entire thing up,” she said.

The man shot her a glare. He was tired and hungry and had just about enough with Shari. Every part of him screamed that he should just throw her in a cell and let the hood rats deal with her. Surely she would come out either with a black and blue face or missing her designer clothes. Either was fine by him. However, there were procedures to follow. He got up from his desk and went to the back room in search of the owner of the billboards the girl had been vandalizing. He led him to the girl and went back to room for some coffee. It was a long night. He could leave them alone to duke it out.

The owner of the man looked down at Shari. Politely Shari raised herself from her seat and held out one of her cuffed hands to the man.

“Hi, I'm Shari Anne Cohen,” she said as he hesitantly took her hand. “And you?”

“Leon. No last name,” he replied stiffly with a strong Australian accent. Shari frowned. As far as she could tell she was doomed.

From the way he held himself, Shari realized there was no way she could convince this man to not press charges. Leon No last name was old. Not wrinkling and cane holding old but he definitely looked old enough to be her father and she knew her father would never had dropped the charges. Unlike Shari's father, Leon owned his age. His hair was composed of black and white strands with the occasional silver highlights, as if he had dyed it the moment he saw a single peek of gray. His eyebrows, mustache and beard however, were still a dark brown. Leon was tall and thin though he did look quite in shape for a man in his fifties. He didn't look old. He barely had any wrinkles besides the standard ones around the forehead and mouth and his crowfeet that framed his hazel eyes just seemed to add to his whole no nonsense persona.

Leon squinted at her and looked her up and down. He couldn't imagine that this was the deviant that had been using his billboards as a piece of coloring paper. She hadn't even bothered to apologize yet. There was no way he would let her walk.

“Do you like them?” Shari asked. “My pieces, I mean. Like do you understand?”

The older man simply shook his head at the young girl. No he had strongly disliked him. He disagreed with the message she was sending to those that saw the billboards.

“It's pessimistic. You can't say that no matter how hard you try you'll never get what it is you desire. It's childish too.”

Shari perked up. The fact that he had even had any thoughts on her pieces gave her some hope. That's what they had been created for, to spark discussion. He didn't have to agree with it. He just had to understand it.

“It's not pessimistic. It's reality. Humans are never satisfied. Their always reaching for more and that's why they'll always be stuck in a cage, reaching for the key but never grabbing it. Have you seen the last one? It pretty much sums up everything.” Shari struggled to maneuver her camera while still handcuffed. She finally gave up and asked Leon for help. “Can you just take it off? Press that big button and you can see the pictures.”

Leon stared at Shari, taken aback. The girl was bold. She hadn't apologized and she had defended her piece against him. Now she even wanted his help. If nothing else, Leon was intrigued. He lifted the camera strap from around her neck and pressed the big button. A picture of the billboard came up. The latest one. Leon had to admit the girl had talent. He clicked through the pictures one by one, admittedly fascinated by the girl's work. It seemed she was inspired a lot by East Asia. Suddenly he started clicking through selfies and pictures of other graffiti. Leon realized that the Shari he had just met wasn't entirely real. He looked from her designer jeans to the picture of her in a raggedy shirt, sitting in a room where the walls had holes and were definitely moldy. Shari stood on her tip toes and tried to see what Leon was staring at, but she was too short and he held it too high. Finally Leon placed the camera around her neck.

“I won't press charges,” he said.

Shari let out a sigh of relief and jumped into the air, almost toppling her glasses off her face. “Thanks mister! I'm glad you could understand. If you ever need something done, just call me. Like I'm forever in your debt.” Shari regretted her words as soon as she said them. She was in no position to be in debt to anyone.

“I'm glad you said that actually. I'm going to need some help.”

Shari hid the groan that almost escaped from her mouth. This man was old and rich. What could he possibly want her for. She hoped it wasn't for sex.

“Art related right?” she asked nervously.

Leon cocked his head at her, eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What else would it be?”

The man from the desk took this moment to come back from his much needed break. What he saw made him frown. It was obvious to him that the girl had probably convinced the owner of the billboards that her rich daddy would pay for everything, no charges would be pressed. The man racked his brain, thinking of a way to at least keep her in a cell overnight. He could find no reason. Reluctantly he unlocked her handcuffs and let her off with a warning. This was the type of thing that made him hate his job.

Shari rubbed at her wrists where red skin had mimicked the lines of the cuffs. She could almost still feel the heavy weight on her hands, but she smiled anyway. Free at last. Now she just had to find out what Leon could possibly want and sneak back to campus. It didn't work that way. Leon simply asked for her contact information claiming he would get in touch with her. In the mean time he ordered her to study up on her Japanese art. She scoffed at her demand. So he had really wanted her to make something.

By the time Shari had walked all the way back to her college campus, the sun had began to wake up from its slumber to rise back into the polluted sky. She stopped for a moment to take a picture of the sunrise before sneaking into her dorm. Her roommate was on the couch, awake.

“Lacey, have you been up this whole time?” Shari asked guiltily.

Lacey was supposed to be her look out. She was dependable and Shari's secrets as if they were her own. Shari almost thought of her as a sister. They looked enough alike with their petite statures, blue green eyes, long hair, and glasses. Except that was where the resemblance ended. Shari had blond hair while Lacey's hair was red. At Shari's question, Lacey shook her head and rubbed her eyes.

“Are you kidding me? It's almost five. We have classes in four hours,” Lacey said as she pulled her blanket tightly around her and closing her eyes.

Shari groaned. “I know, but I kind of got arrested.”

The other girl couldn't help but open her eyes again. “Shit... Okay first thing tomorrow is story time, but now we sleep.”

Shari nodded and smiled. Sleep was exactly what she needed right now.