Chapter Thirteen
The following day, I call my mom after I get home from work.
It’s been a relatively peaceful day at Clayton’s, allowing me far too much time to think.
I’m restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow, and at the back of my mind, I’m worried that perhaps I’ve been too negative in my response to the contract. Perhaps he’ll call the whole thing off.
My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation.
Bob has twisted some ligament, which means he’s hobbling all over the place.
Honestly, he’s as accident-prone as I am.
He’s expected to make a full recovery, but it means he’s resting up, and my mother has to wait on him hand and sore foot.
“Ana, honey, I’m so sorry,” my mom whines into the phone.
“Mom, it’s fine. Ray will be there.”
“Ana, you sound distracted. Are you okay, baby?”
“Yes, Mom.” Oh, if only you knew. There’s an obscenely rich guy I’ve met and he wants some kind of strange kinky sexual relationship, in which I don’t get a say in things.
“Have you met someone?”
“No, Mom.” I am so not going there right now.
“Well, darling, I’ll be thinking of you on Thursday. I love you…you know that, honey?”
I close my eyes. Her precious words give me a warm glow inside. “Love you, too, Mom. Say hi to Bob, and I hope he gets better fast.”
“Will do, honey. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I have strayed into my bedroom with the phone.
Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up the email program.
There’s an email from Christian from late last night or very early this morning, depending on your point of view.
My heart rate spikes instantly, and I hear the blood pumping in my ears.
Holy crap. Perhaps he’s said no. That’s it—maybe he’s canceling dinner.
The thought is so painful. I dismiss it quickly and open the email.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Your Issues
Date: May 24 2011 01:27
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
Following my more thorough examination of your issues, may I bring to your attention the definition of submissive.
submissive [suhb-mis-iv]—adjective
1. inclined or ready to submit; unresistingly or humbly obedient: submissive servants.
2. marked by or indicating submission: a submissive reply.
Origin: 1580–90; submiss + -ive
Synonyms: 1. tractable, compliant, pliant, amenable. 2. passive, resigned, patient, docile, tame, subdued. Antonyms: 1. rebellious, disobedient.
Please bear this in mind for our meeting on Wednesday.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
My initial feeling is one of relief. He’s willing to discuss my issues at least, and he still wants to meet tomorrow. After some thought, I reply.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: My Issues… What about Your Issues?
Date: May 24 2011 18:29
To: Christian Grey
Sir,
Please note the date of origin: 1580–90. I would respectfully remind Sir that the year is 2011. We have come a long way since then.
May I offer a definition for you to consider for our meeting:
compromise [kom-pruh-mahyz]—noun
1. a settlement of differences by mutual concessions; an agreement reached by adjustment of conflicting or opposing claims, principles, etc.
, by reciprocal modification of demands.
2. the result of such a settlement. 3. something intermediate between different things: The split-level is a compromise between a ranch house and a multistoried house.
4. an endangering, esp. of reputation; exposure to danger, suspicion, etc. : a compromise of one’s integrity.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What about My Issues?
Date: May 24 2011 18:32
To: Anastasia Steele
Good point, well made, as ever, Miss Steele. I will collect you from your apartment at 7:00 tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: 2011—Women Can Drive
Date: May 24 2011 18:40
To: Christian Grey
Sir,
I have a car. I can drive.
I would prefer to meet you somewhere.
Where shall I meet you?
At your hotel at 7:00?
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Stubborn Young Women
Date: May 24 2011 18:43
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I refer to my email dated May 24, 2011, sent at 1:27, and the definition contained therein.
Do you ever think you’ll be able to do what you’re told?
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Intractable Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:49
To: Christian Grey
Mr. Grey,
I would like to drive.
Please.
Ana
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Exasperated Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:52
To: Anastasia Steele
Fine.
My hotel at 7:00.
I’ll meet you in the Marble Bar.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
He’s even grumpy by email. Doesn’t he understand that I may need to make a quick getaway? Not that my Beetle is quick…but still, I need a means of escape.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Not So Intractable Men
Date: May 24 2011 18:55
To: Christian Grey
Thank you.
Ana x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Exasperating Women
Date: May 24 2011 18:59
To: Anastasia Steele
You’re welcome.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I call Ray, who is just about to watch the Sounders play some soccer team from Salt Lake City, so our conversation is mercifully brief.
He’s driving down Thursday for graduation.
He wants to take me out afterward for a meal.
My heart swells talking to Ray, and a huge lump forms in my throat.
He has been my constant through all Mom’s romantic ups and downs.
We have a special bond that I treasure. Even though he’s my stepdad, he’s always treated me as his own, and I can’t wait to see him.
It’s been too long. His quiet fortitude is what I need now, what I miss.
Maybe I can channel my inner Ray for my meeting tomorrow.
Kate and I concentrate on packing, sharing a bottle of cheap red wine as we do.
When I finally go to bed, having almost finished packing my room, I feel calmer.
The physical activity of boxing up everything has been a welcome distraction, and I’m tired.
I want a good night’s rest. I snuggle into my bed and am soon asleep.
Paul is back from Princeton before he sets off for New York to start an internship with a financing company. He follows me around the store all day asking me for a date. It’s annoying.
“Paul, for the hundredth time, I have a date this evening.”
“No you don’t. You’re just saying that to avoid me. You’re always avoiding me.”
Yes…you’d think you’d take the hint.
“Paul, I never thought it was a good idea to date the boss’s brother.”
“You’re finishing here on Friday. You’re not working tomorrow.”
“And I’ll be in Seattle as of Saturday and you’ll be in New York soon. We couldn’t get much farther apart if we tried. Besides, I do have a date this evening.”
“With José?”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“Paul… Oh.” My sigh is exasperated. He’s not going to let this go. “Christian Grey.” I cannot help the annoyance in my voice.
But it does the trick. Paul’s mouth falls open, and he gapes at me, struck dumb. Humph—even his name renders people speechless. “You have a date with Christian Grey?” he says finally, once he’s over the shock. Disbelief is evident in his voice.
“Yes.”
“I see.” Paul looks positively crestfallen, stunned even, and a very small part of me resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does, too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.
After that, he ignores me, and at five I am out the door, pronto.
Kate has lent me two dresses and two pairs of shoes for tonight and for graduation tomorrow.
She’s insisted I wear them. She doesn’t understand that I’m just not interested in clothes…
I wish, for her sake, I could feel more enthused about fashion and make an extra effort, but it’s not my thing.
What is your thing, Anastasia? Christian’s softly spoken question haunts me.
Shaking my head and endeavoring to quell my nerves, I decide on the plum-colored sheath dress for this evening.
It’s demure and vaguely businesslike. After all, I am negotiating a contract.
I shower, shave my legs and underarms, wash my hair, and then spend a good half hour drying it so it falls in soft waves to my breasts and down my back.
I slip a comb in to keep one side off my face and apply mascara and some lip gloss.
I rarely wear makeup—it intimidates me. None of my literary heroines had to deal with makeup.
Maybe I’d know more about it if they had.
I slip on the plum-colored stilettos that match the dress, and I’m ready by six thirty.
“Well?” I ask Kate.
She grins. “Boy, you scrub up well, Ana.” She nods with approval. “You look hot.”
“Hot! I’m aiming for demure and businesslike.”
“That, too, but most of all hot. The dress really suits you and your coloring. The way it clings.” She smirks.
“Kate!” I scold.
“Just keeping it real, Ana. The whole package—looks good. Keep the dress. You’ll have him eating out of your hand.”
My mouth presses in a hard line. Oh, you so have that the wrong way around.
“Wish me luck.”
“You need luck for a date?” Her brow furrows, puzzled.
“Yes, Kate.”
“Well, then—good luck.” She hugs me, and I am out the door.
I have to drive in my bare feet. Wanda, my sea-blue Beetle, wasn’t built to be driven by stiletto wearers.
I pull up outside The Heathman at 6:58 precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking.
He looks askance at my Beetle, but I ignore him.
Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.