“So Christian Grey saved your life,” Shari said pouring herself a glass of wine as we sat on the couch in the suite.
“That’s one way to look at it,” I said. “Another is that he chased me into the street and nearly got me killed.”
Shari refilled my glass. “Couldn’t you have reasoned with him? I mean told him you’d think about it after he promised to publish my book?”
Oh, my God. She was incorrigible. “Look, Shari. The man wants to put his fist in my butt. I’m not sure how cavernous your pucker is, but mine isn’t even remotely fist size!”
“Yeah, I can see how that would be a deal breaker.” She sighed, “I guess we’re better off without him, huh?”
When she looked up her big green eyes were filled with unshed tears. She got up and reached for her coat and scarf. “Thanks anyway. I know you had to be a good sport for my sake, and I’m grateful. But I guess it just wasn’t in the cards.”
“Where are you going?” I asked, unsure she should be alone.
“Don’t worry, I’m meeting Enrique at the theatre. We have tickets to see the Lion King at 3:00. I’ll be back later.”
“Have fun,” I said.
She twisted her face into a sad little smirk.
I polished off the last of the Zinfandel and showered to recover from my myriad of Grey related ordeals. Poor Shari. I told myself not to feel guilty. It's not my fault Grey was the way he was. And there was no way I was taking one for the team.
I wrapped myself in a towel and went into the room to change.
And saw Enrique snoring peacefully in Shari’s bed.
For one clueless moment I considered waking him and telling him he’d be late for the show. But then I did the math. Shari was meeting Enrique, but Enrique was here. Why would she tell such an obvious lie, unless she was about to do something desperate? She said the play started at 3:00. The clock on the nightstand said 2:58.
I went back into the other room to retrieve my cellphone.
Except, of course, it was gone from the end table.
Oh no, Shari.
No, no, no, no, no.
I broke a land speed record changing back into my clothes and chased after her, wet hair and all, determine to grab my phone out of her hand and smack her upside the head for even thinking of keeping her appointment after everything I’d been through in the past 24 hours. I quickly spotted her standing in a park at the middle of a small footbridge. Staring down into the churning water with my phone press to her ear. She had her back to me, so she couldn’t see me approach.
Shari and I were finished as friends, the backstabber! I didn’t need her--I had my part time job at Party City. As soon as we got back to Washington State, I was going to take all my things and vacate my wing of her family’s palatial hilltop mansion, and live out of my beat up old Volkswagen for the rest of the semester.
Yeah, that would show her.
I slowed as I approached the bridge, my hands curled into claws ready to wring her skinny little neck. She was thanking him profusely for saving her (or rather my) life, the traitor. After all we’d been through. I couldn’t believe she’s sell out our friendship to some psycho-whackball like this!
But what she said next made me stop short.
“I just wanted you to know I’ve seen enough. I’m withdrawing my entry for the Next Big Thing contest. It was nice knowing you.” She sighed sadly. “No I'm not just kidding. It’s not you. It’s me. We want very different things out of life. If we were to have a physical relationship it would have to be in the confines of a church sanctioned marriage, lights out and strictly missionary. And I want kids, at least five or six. And we’ll live in a house I’ll decorate myself, with pastels and my ceramic doll collection. And you’ll have to watch the kids on Friday nights so I can have my girl’s night with my friends, and I’ll expect you to hang out with my bookclub at the Olive Garden every Tuesday. Would be willing to do that for me? I didn’t think so either. So I guess this is goodbye then.”
She hung up, but when she turned around her eyes were triumphant.
“Like I said, Junior, watch and learn. And if he doesn't leave you alone, start bragging about your relationship all over twitter and Facebook until he takes out a restraining order against you.”
“You dropped out of the contest?”
She shrugged. “We’re a team. If you’re out, that means I’m out too. I’d be a pretty messed up friend if I put my silly dreams ahead of your safety. There will be other contests. The important thing is that Christian Grey won’t be harassing you ever again.”
*
I wish she were right. I wish I could say that was the end of it. I wish I can say that we enjoyed the rest of our trip in peace, before we flew home. And in fact I can say that since that was what happened.
But it certainly wasn’t the end of it.
I’d settled back into my routine at Party City, straightening up a display that had been knocking over by a small pack out rowdy schoolchildren when my boss walked over to me.
“Fannie, we’re getting hammered up front. I’ll need you to open another register.”
Hammered up front. I wondered if there was language like that in Christian Grey’s contract. I felt myself biting my lip and blushing. I grabbed a cash drawer from the office and loaded it into the empty register. Then screamed when Christian Grey materialized before me holding a basket.
“That’s a fetching cap and apron you’re wearing.”
“What they hell are you doing here?”
He pressed his lips together in a smile raised one eyebrow. “Such language, Miss Bentley. And with children present. I’ve half a mind to paddle your fanny…Fannie.”
I nearly swallowed my tongue in terror upon hearing my own name come out of his mouth. The gig was up, but how did he know? Then I noticed his gray gaze was burrowing into my left breast. Crap. My nametag. It bit my lip in terror of his impending wrath.
“A charmingly Victorian name. It suits you. But I can see why you prefer to be called Cherry.”
Phew. I released my lip. “Yeah, they call me Cherry because I blush a lot.”
“Really? I assumed it was because you’re virgo intacta.”
I turned the color of a ripe tomato. Fortunately, no one in line seemed to understand Latin. “I’m not virgo inta—anyway, you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“I’m here in Washington on business, and I have to pick up a costume for a party.”
Right. He just happened to be in my home town, and he just happened to wander into the party supply store I work in, purely by coincidence, to buy some cheesy plastic costume even though he’s a billionaire and could probably have one flown to him overnight from a museum in Venice, Italy. I wasn’t buying it. But it did raise some disturbing questions. Seeing as how he didn’t know my real name until a few seconds ago.
“And how did you know I worked here?” I said in a stern voice.
At first he tried to look innocent, until I cocked one eyebrow and he smiled at his own cleverness. “Remember when I put my number into your phone? I also did a reverse 411 on your work number.”
“You only had my phone for a few seconds.”
“A few seconds is all I need.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Apparently, that went over the heads of the people in the line as well.
“You bite your lip a lot. I wonder what it tastes like.”
At that moment I had a horrible image of my escorting Mr. Grey out into the alley and him nuzzling my body and raining light kisses on my neck up against the dumpster filled with garbage from the In-And-Out next door. “Oohhh, Cherry, you’re so dirty. You know how I like it. Oh, god. Whatever you do, don’t take that apron off.”
I shuddered and cleared my throat. “As much as I’d love to stand here and chat until my shift ends, I have a job to do. So if you’re not ready to be rung up, I’ll have to ask you to move from the line.”
“Oh, no,” he said in a breathy whisper. “I’m more than ready. I just worry that what I have might be more than you can handle.”
A few of the mothers started fanning their faces. Oh, that part they understood. I grabbed the basket from his hand and started scanning the items. One vibrating light saber, four pairs of handcuffs, a pair of black rubber boots, a roll of duct tape, a can of processed cheese spread, and one Batman cape with mask. As he took a hundred from his wallet, I held up the last item.
“Um, Mr. Grey. I think you grabbed the wrong package.”
“Oh, did I?” He said with one brow raised and his tongue flicking his front teeth so it came out in kind of a lisp. I chose to ignore the goofy face he was making for no apparent reason.
“This isn’t the full costume; it’s just the cape and mask. You can’t have a costume party without a costume.”
The corners of Mr. Grey’s mouth lifted in a faint smile. “Right. Send one of the stock boys to get me another costume. After all what sort of party could I possibly have wearing only boots, a mask and a cloak?”
The kind of party that the neighbors write about to Dear Abby after he brains himself by jumping off the dresser and missing the bed, while the damsel he has handcuffed naked to the bedposts has to scream for hours before they hear her cries and call for an ambulance. You don’t have to be the Riddler to figure that one out. In fact, the women in line were all twittering and one was openly humping her cart like a monkey.
The stockboy went to the back, and Mr. Grey leaned closer.
“I thought a lot about what you said. About how you want commitment and a relationship. I think I’d be willing to give it a try.”
I bit my lip to keep from screaming. “Huh, what? You want to marry me?”
“No, but I am willing to compromise. You let me tie you up, beat you with whips, and cram foreign objects into your orifi, and in exchange I’ll take you to a restaurant, introduce you to my family, and let you be seen in public with me every once in a while.”
I turned bright scarlet and the line behind him erupted into shocked squeals.
My hand shook as I snatched the hundred, rang him up, and hurled his purchases at him, in two seconds flat. “Take your stuff and get out of here before I call the police.”
“What about my Batman costume?” he asked slyly.
“Forget it,” I called out the stock boy. “I’m sure he’s got at least one rubber suit at home.”
Grey stood there and smirked.
“I mean it,” I screamed. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you.”
“Fine,” he said. “Like I said, we’ll try this your way. For now.”
I slumped over the counter and the stockboy came over. “Are you ok, Fannie?”
“Please check the parking lot and make sure his car's gone.”
[To Be Continued]