Chapter Four #2
I glance across the aisle at Kate, and she’s still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the finish.
This is it, the end of my academic career.
I will never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again.
Inside, I’m doing graceful cartwheels around my head, knowing that’s the only place I can do graceful cartwheels.
Kate stops writing and puts her pen down.
She glances across at me, and I catch her Cheshire cat smile, too.
We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Kate is more concerned about what she’s going to wear to the bar this evening.
When we arrive home, I’m busily fishing around my purse for my keys. “Ana, there’s a package for you,” Kate says, as she joins me on the steps to the front door holding a brown-paper parcel.
Odd. I haven’t ordered anything recently.
Kate gives me the parcel and takes my keys to open the door. It’s addressed to Miss Anastasia Steele. There’s no sender’s address or name. Perhaps it’s from my mom or Ray.
“It’s probably from my folks.”
“Open it!” Kate is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our exams-are-finished-hurrah champagne.
I open the parcel, and inside, I find a half-leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card. Written on one side, in black ink and neat cursive handwriting, is:
Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks…
I recognize the quote from Tess, and I’m stunned by the coincidence as I’ve just spent three hours writing about the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination.
Perhaps there is no coincidence… Perhaps it’s deliberate.
I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the d’Urbervilles.
I open the front cover of one of the books.
Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:
London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.
Holy shit—they are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who’s sent them.
Kate is at my shoulder, gazing at the books. She picks up the card.
“First editions,” I whisper.
“No.” Kate’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Grey?”
I nod. “Can’t think of anyone else.”
“What does this card mean?”
“I have no idea. I think it’s a warning—honestly, he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It’s not like I’m beating his door down.” I frown.
“I know you don’t want to talk about him, Ana, but he’s seriously into you. Warnings or no.”
I have not let myself dwell on Christian Grey for the past week.
Okay…so his gray eyes are still haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and his wonderful fragrance from my brain, but why has he sent me this? He told me that I wasn’t for him.
“I’ve found one Tess first edition for sale in New York for $14,000. But yours look in much better condition. They must have cost more.” Kate is consulting her good friend Google.
“This quote—Tess says it to her mother after Alec d’Urberville has had his wicked way with her.”
“I know,” muses Kate. “What is he trying to say?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t accept these from him. I’ll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book.”
“The bit where Angel Clare says fuck off?” Kate asks with a completely straight face.
“Yes, that bit.” I giggle. I love Kate; she’s loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table.
Kate hands me a glass of champagne and grins. “To the end of exams and our new life in Seattle.”
“To the end of exams, our new life in Seattle, and excellent results.”
We clink glasses and drink.
The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon-to-be graduates out to get trashed.
José joins us. He won’t graduate for another year, but he’s in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all.
As I down my fifth glass, I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.
“So what now, Ana?” José shouts at me over the noise.
“Kate and I are moving to Seattle. Kate’s parents have bought a condo there for her.”
“Dios mío, how the other half lives. But you’ll be back for my show?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I smile, and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close.
“It means a lot to me that you’ll be there, Ana,” he whispers in my ear. “Another margarita?”
“José Luis Rodriguez, are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it’s working.” I giggle. “I think I’d better have a beer. I’ll go get us a pitcher.”
“More drink, Ana!” Kate bellows.
Kate has the constitution of an ox. She’s got her arm draped over Levi, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on the student newspaper.
He’s given up taking photos of the drunkenness that surrounds him.
He only has eyes for Kate. She’s all tiny camisole, tight jeans, and high heels, hair piled high with tendrils hanging down around her face, her usual stunning self.
Me, I’m more of a Converse and T-shirt kind of girl, but I’m wearing my most flattering jeans.
I move out of José’s hold and get up from our table.
Whoa. Head spin. I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila-based cocktails are not a good idea.
On my way to the bar, I decide to visit the bathroom.
Good thinking, Ana.
I stagger off through the crowd. Of course, there’s a line, but at least it’s quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting. Hmm… Who did I last call? Was it José? Before that, a number I don’t recognize.
Oh yes. Grey. I think this is his number. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is; maybe I’ll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the cryptic message. If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the Call button.
He answers on the second ring. “Anastasia?” He’s surprised to hear from me.
Well, frankly, I’m surprised to be calling him. Then my befuddled brain registers… How does he know it’s me?
“Why did you send me the books?” I slur at him.
“Anastasia, are you okay? You sound strange.” His voice is filled with concern.
“I’m not the strange one, you are.” There—that told him, my courage fueled by alcohol.
“Anastasia, have you been drinking?”
“What’s it to you?”
“I’m…curious. Where are you?”
“In a bar.”
“Which bar?” He sounds exasperated.
“A bar in Portland.”
“How are you getting home?”
“I’ll find a way.” This conversation is not going how I expected.
“Which bar are you in?”
“Why did you send me the books, Christian?”
“Anastasia, where are you? Tell me now.”
His tone is so…so dictatorial, his usual control freak. I imagine him as an old-time movie director, wearing jodhpurs, holding an old-fashioned megaphone and a riding crop. The image makes me laugh out loud.
“You’re so…domineering.” I giggle.
“Ana, so help me, where the fuck are you?”
Christian Grey is swearing at me. I giggle again. “I’m in Portland…’s a long way from Seattle.”
“Where in Portland?”
“Good night, Christian.”
“Ana!”
I hang up. Ha! Though he didn’t tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplished.
My head swims uncomfortably as I shuffle with the line. I’m really quite drunk. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I’ve succeeded. This is what it’s like. Probably not an experience to repeat. The line has moved, and it’s now my turn.
I stare blankly at the poster on the back of the stall door that extols the virtues of safe sex. Holy crap, did I just call Christian Grey? Shit.
My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise.
“Hi,” I bleat timidly into the phone. I hadn’t reckoned on this.
“I’m coming to get you,” he says and hangs up. Only Christian Grey could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.
Holy crap. I pull up my jeans. My heart is thumping.
Coming to get me? Oh no. I’m going to be sick…
No, I’m fine. Hang on. He’s just messing with my head.
I didn’t tell him where I was. He can’t find me here.
Besides, it will take him hours to get here from Seattle, and we’ll be long gone by then.
I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror.
I look flushed and slightly unfocused. Hmm… tequila.
I wait at the bar for what feels like an eternity for the pitcher of beer and eventually return to the table.
“You’ve been gone so long,” Kate scolds me. “Where were you?”
“I was in line for the restroom.”
José and Levi are having some heated debate about our local baseball team. José pauses in his tirade to pour us all beers, and I take a long sip before saying, “Kate, I think I’d better step outside and get some fresh air.”
“Ana, you are such a lightweight.”
“I’ll be five minutes.”
I make my way through the crowd again. I’m beginning to feel nauseated, my head is spinning uncomfortably, and I’m a little unsteady on my feet. More unsteady than usual.
Drinking in the cool evening air in the parking lot makes me realize how drunk I am. My vision has been affected, and I’m really seeing double of everything like in old reruns of Tom and Jerry cartoons. I think I’m going to be sick. Why did I let myself get this messed up?
“Ana.” José has joined me. “You okay?”
“I think I’ve just had a bit too much to drink.” I smile weakly at him.
“Me, too,” he says, his dark eyes regarding me intently. “Do you need a hand?” He steps closer, putting his arm around me.
“José, I’m okay. I’ve got this.” I rather feebly try to push him away.
“Ana, please,” he whispers, and now he’s holding me in his arms, pulling me close.
“José, what are you doing?”