Author's Note: This is the chapter that deals with the 5-day break up of Christian & Ana after the belt incident, so readers be forewarned: it's actually a more serious chapter (for once). There really wasn't any way around it.
Chapter 10 – The Toxic Avenger
One thing I will say about Christian is when he worked with Elliot to design and build Grey House, he took care of his number one bitch at that time – me. We'd been together long enough at the time of the build that he knew my preferences in terms of office style, layout, etc… Sue me. I'm a creature of habit in terms of what goes where. My office sits next to Christians. The only things separating them are two large, luxury bathrooms, and a shared kitchenette. My private bathroom, which in a business setting you'd think was just a commode and sink, actually contains a large shower and separate soaking tub. I mean, I remember thinking – who the fuck needs a soaking tub at work? Answer: I FUCKING ABSOLUTELY DO! I've used that thing on really bad days where I was stuck here until nearly midnight. Hell, Gwen and I have done all kinds of things in that bathroom and my office in general.
When it came to office furniture, well Christian had to have his way. He wanted to set the look of Grey House and especially our offices – the controlling fucker. Well, at least that's what I thought at the time. Frankly, my office is stunning. He hired a master carpenter to custom design not just the desks but all of the cabinets, chairs and each of our offices have a floor to ceiling, eight-foot wide, hand-carved art piece. Mine is stunning and features a tree-filled landscape surrounding a large, log cabin bar with the name Bailey's Pub as its logo. Yeah, I had confided to Christian a few years back that when I retired I wanted to open my own pub – all sports, all the time, with my own craft beers. I'm a simple girl. Christian's piece has three different city panorama's carved into it – Seattle with the Space Needle front and center; New York with the Empire State Building front and center; and finally London with Big Ben front and center. These were the locations of GEH's main offices at the time. If he commissioned the works now he'd need to add Singapore and Barcelona.
Back on track Ros – so these massive pieces of art, while beautiful, to me seemed a pointless expenditure. When Christian and Elliot took me on the original tour of the completed offices the night before we officially moved in, I remember thinking – well, that's lost square footage. Boy was I wrong. You see, Christian and I spent a ridiculous amount of time at work – early mornings, late nights, and hell, sometimes middle of the night conference calls due to time differences around the world. Both of us have slept on our respective office couches too many times in the early GEH years. I will always remember sitting behind my desk for the first time at Grey House and looking at the over-the-top remote control on my desk. Have I mentioned Christian loves technology almost as much as he loves his dick? It controlled the shades, the monitors, the lights, the sound system, and much to my surprise – the bed. I'm talking about his remote, not his dick, though if he could control those items with his dick, he would. Why you ask? Because he's a typical man in so many ways it's not funny. Frankly, I would love to see that happen just to see the look on the hetero ladies in the room jaws drop when he whips out his dick to change slides. It would be spectacular. But I digress as I once again allow my twisted imagination to rule. And now back to the art pieces. You see, Christian had murphy beds built into these pieces for those nights where it was easier to remain in the office than run home, sleep for an hour, shower, and then head back. Hell, he even had two bedrooms build for the security team and one for Taylor in particular off the main security area. See he thinks of everything.
And Bailey's Pub you ask? Well, it's the name of the shared kitchenette and features a fully functional, but small kitchen, and a larger bar with all the amenities. Needless to say, Christian, Andrea, and I have celebrated one too many deal signings downing high-end hooch at Bailey's. It was there that we learned our Miss Andrea worked her way through college as a bartender. Naturally we learned it from Sawyer, who was more than happy to share pictures of his cousin from her bartending days. They were shocking. You see, here at Grey House, she's put together like the perfect ice queen business woman, but back then she wore a push up bra, ripped t-shirt that accented her partially exposed mounds, shorts that left little to the imagination, fuck me heels, and her long blonde hair, which I had never seen down from it's standard up do before, was down, wavy, sexy and she was smoking hot. I'm talking, sex on a stick hot. I mean, SCHWING hot if I had a penis. If I had Christian's penis I'd be lucky to not poke my eye out. Holy fucking shit, the queen bee, as I called her, oozed raw sexuality. Yeah, I will admit to looking at Andrea differently now.
It turns out that in one year her tips were enough to pay for four years of college plus living expenses, yet she did it for four years and only quit the day she got her degree. I had to ask why. Her reply was simple, at the end of four years I had enough money to live my dream, head to the Big Apple, and not worry too much about money. When she got the job in health care, she immediately plunked down a two hundred thousand dollar deposit on a two-bedroom New York City condo and was happy for the longest time there. I'd bet our Miss Andrea could make more as a businesswoman/stripper than she could Grey's personal assistant. I mean she's that fucking hot once she lets her hair down. Gwen and I are going to have to go clubbing with her. True it's only so I can be seen with two smoking, hot blondes on my arm but fuck me, I'm vain.
Friday, after being informed by Christian, Taylor, and Sawyer of the security issues at Escala, I went to my office, took a long hot bath with a glass of wine in hand, and called Gwen. Yes, I know it's nine a.m., but technically I'm on London time so it's the afternoon there. An hour later I felt like me again and was ready to work, or so I thought. I remember being woken up by a smirking Christian with my head on my desk and the aroma of my favorite chicken parm hoagie filling the room.
"Jesus Ros, this is why I put a fucking bed in your office," Christian scolded me. "You look like shit and it's my fault."
I merely glared at him before replying, "Is that how you compliment the fair Anafuckingstasia?"
"Anafuckingstasia?" he bellows.
Yeah, he's not happy with me. Fuck him. I'm beyond caring at this point. All I do is smile at him for a few seconds, then add, "It's my nickname for her because she's the badass who has you walking on marbles. She's your Gwen. Hell, she's even a bookworm like my Gwen from what I hear. Plus you are happy almost all the fucking time now. At first it was creepy, but I think I've gotten used to it." Good save Ros! I wish I could high-five myself right now.
"Fuck you Ros," he laughs before sitting across from me and doling out our lunch.
"I'll pass Christian because frankly, you don't do it for me and I'd hate to castrate you just when you finally seem happy."
The look he gives me for an instant reminds me of a shy little boy. It's fucking adorable, but gone way too soon before he goes back into the quasi-laidback Christian I see occasionally. "You're working too fucking hard. Clearly you aren't thinking straight. I'd apologize because it's my fault but we both know I don't do apologies."
He has the nerve to laugh but at least he appears contrite. "Yeah, well, I'm staging a coup here at Grey House. I'm planning on renaming it Bailey's House and changing the company name from GEH to Beh because it reflect my attitude – just beh!"
I spend lunch bringing him up to speed on London and a few other deals we have in the works. At this point I know I need to voice my concerns about SIP, but knowing that his girl is about to start working there on Monday makes it a bit harder, especially since her boss will be the asshole I'm most concerned about there. "Let's talk SIP."
He nods but shows more interest on this topic than he did on London. Yup, he's got it fucking bad. "The HR issues there are my biggest concern. I have Welch digging around on a few people and Barney trolling through their servers like a nano-bot on crack. Intern turnover is too high when it comes to a few of the editors. I mean, normally interns come in work six months to a year and the good ones are hired and the rest leave at the end of the internship for other pursuits. That's the norm in publishing. The turnover rate at SIP is ridiculously high."
Those grey eyes can pierce my soul as he just stares at me waiting. "What aren't you telling me Ros?"
I sigh. "There are two editors there who have higher than standard turn over – Jill Barkley, who is a demanding bitch to work for if the rumors are correct, and Jack Hyde, who has had a dozen interns in the past two years. All have quit in a matter of weeks stating that Hyde was wonderful to work for but publishing wasn't for them. Oddly enough, most of them work in publishing today at different houses around the country. I've checked on a few and Hyde gave them glowing recommendations. I'm concerned because your Anastasia is going to be working for Jack Hyde."
"So I take it you've met him in your trips over to SIP?"
"Just once. He thought I was a management consultant hired by Roach. He seems nice enough but there's something off about him. It could be that I have an issue with ponytail wearing men, but he just creeps me the fuck out. I could be wrong about him, but he makes my skin crawl."
I watch as he runs his hands through his hair. After the Escala incident this was the last thing he needed to hear, but fuck me, I had to warn him. When I contacted Welch and Barney, I cc'd Taylor and Sawyer on the email, so they knew of my concerns but they were waiting to say anything to Christian until Welch and Barney finished their digging.
"So what do we know so far about this Hyde character?" he asks.
"He's a few years older than you. He's worked at SIP for three years. He's originally from Michigan and moved here for the SIP job after working his way up from intern to editor at a publishing house in Detroit. He's supposedly excellent at his job – according to Roach, he's the top editor there. In terms of his personal life, he's single, unattached, heterosexual, who lives in a small, three-bedroom ranch down in Federal Way. He doesn't have a criminal record that we can find as an adult, though there are sealed juvenile records, but otherwise nothing."
"So on paper as an adult he appears normal, but your gut tells you where there's smoke, there's fire?" Christian queries.
"Yup."
"Let's have everyone keep digging just in case."
"Already on it boss," I taunt him as he cringes at the word. He hates it when I call him boss. As he gets up to leave, I can't resist, "Say hello to Anafuckingstasia for me. I can't wait to meet your better half. I hear great things about her from Elliot and Kate."
That was Friday - a day that ended with me full of hope that Christian might finally be happy. Hell, I was thrilled for him and grinning like a psychopath at the thought. As I've said, I love my Grey boys. By Monday morning I knew something was wrong because Christian pulled a no call, no show at the office. Taylor called Andrea and mentioned that he wouldn't be in and to reschedule his meetings. Normally when Christian has a major schedule change he calls me, but nothing. Naturally, I assumed he was locked in his bedroom all day with Anastasia. I was wrong.
When Tuesday was a repeat of Monday, I called Christian's cell phone repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail. I then called Taylor who firmly stated that Christian was under the weather and wouldn't be in. No one does detached like Taylor does, but the concerned undertone to his voice caught my attention. I knew something was wrong. So what do I do? I head to SIP for an impromptu visit, as I know Miss Steele began working there yesterday. Have I mentioned that I'm pushy? I'm nosey too. I scheduled a new employee luncheon at SIP to see how all the new hires in the past month are enjoying their time there. As a management consultant, it technically could be considered part of my job to see what can be done to improve SIP, so fuck everyone as I'll do what I want thank you very much. Yes, I agree, Christian Grey made the biggest mistake of his life when he handed this nosey bitch access to background checks and power. So today I would unofficially meet Anastasia Steele.
At eleven-thirty I arrive at SIP and commandeer a conference room on Roach's floor. Lunch is delivered just before noon, and my guests arrive promptly at noon. There's Hannah Jeffries a new administrative assistant who has been at SIP for just under four weeks, Lynn Michelis an intern in the non-fiction section, Robert Hanimon who is an intern in the graphic design department, and entering last is Anastasia Steele, my true purpose for being here today. The first thing I notice is she looks tired. No amount of make up is going to hide the dark circles under her eyes. I'm glad I have a point of reference to how she normally looks, because otherwise I might have missed it. She also looks sad, withdrawn, and dare I say it, but thinner than her normally tiny frame. So this is why Christian is out. The shit hit the fan somehow with Miss Steele. My mind races as I robotically go through my practiced spiel about being a management consultant hired to make SIP a better place and the number one publishing house in Seattle. I'm flinging so much bullshit I can almost smell it. Either that or Hanimon passed gas. I wish I had a cork for his ass.
I spent an hour with Anastasia in that conference room as I tried to solve the puzzle of what went wrong between them. Did that cunt Elena Lincoln interfere? All I want to do to that woman is tell her to fuck herself and the submissive she rode in on. I know I saw her show up in her gash-mobile at Escala on Saturday afternoon. Fuck, I hate that bitch. My mind then ventured to the former sub and I couldn't help but wonder if she had something to do with this. Nothing surprises me anymore. What does that say about me? Who the fuck knows but it's something to dwell upon during my next business trip when I'm bored out of my gourd at yet another five-star hotel. My final musing as I sit here is I wondered if Christian cut off his own nose to spite his face. In the end, that's the one I settled on as being fact. Why you ask? Well that's a story unto itself in the saga of Gwen and Ros.
Have I told you that when it comes to Gwen I'm insecure? Well, at first I was anyway. You see, I'm a female version of Elliot Grey – never a serious relationship, fluttering from woman-to-woman, but there is my Christian Grey dominant side too. You see, falling in love with Gwen, it was easy to not look at other women because I had everything I'd ever wanted in one neat, blonde, hot, adventurous little package. Screw all the other women. I had the perfect one and that left me insecure, because I'm far from perfect.
To understand my insecurity, you need to understand my need to be a dominant. Trust me when I say, I have more layers than Shrek and many of them are royally fucked up, though tightly packed. He may be an onion, but I Ros Bailey am a shallot – yes I'm sweeter. Fuck I just made coffee shoot out my nose just thinking that shit. Sometimes I crack myself up. Back to my god-fearing parents, who are going to hell when they finally depart this realm. They drilled it into my head from an early age that I was unworthy of god's love because of my sexual orientation. Hell, I knew early on I was gay and I'm sorry, but I didn't hide it. I mean, why hide the real me? Well, said biological parental units didn't appreciate it as it was embarrassing for them to have an abomination as a daughter, their fucking words, in the eyes of the Lord. Yeah, being raised with religious zealots as parents was challenging, especially during my teenage years when their cult-leading pastor had them try to beat the gay out of me. Needless to say, it didn't work. At least I didn't grow up in that fucked up town in the movie Footloose where you couldn't listen to modern music and dance. No one can tell us lesbians that we can't dance. It's our thing. Granted some of us aren't as graceful as others, but we don't allow that to stop up. No Sir!
I know, I know. I got sidetracked yet again. And now back to the glimpse into the fucked up world that made me who I am today – the over the top, badass lesbian who has it all. There is nothing worse than being raised in a house where men ruled and women had no say. I hated my fucking father with a passion, but I also hated my spineless mother almost as much for allowing it. She didn't pick her own clothes or make decisions. He ordered, she obeyed. Did I believe in a god back then? I did. Hell, it was all I knew. Let me rephrase that – it was how I was raised as an infant – believing there was a God, and by my teenage years it had been effectively drilled into my red-head that he loathed me.
After that, my first question to my parents and their pastor after they tried to brutally exorcise the lesbian tendencies from me was: how do they know that their god is in fact a male? After all, it's women who bring life on this earth, not men, so how did their god birth man? To me, well, it was a simple enough question. Pure logic. The pastor slapped me right across my face. I slapped him back. I was sixteen at the time. I was thrown out on the street by the assholes to fend for myself. Is it wrong that at the time I felt relieved?
I've always been good at taking care of myself, which was helpful. I had been working for six months before being excised from my family home like a boil on the ass of society, so I had some money saved. I was also fortunate that my then math teacher understood the challenges I faced at home. After all, he was a fifty-year old gay man whose partner of twenty-five years died of cancer the year before. He took me into his home and set me up in the small basement studio apartment he normally rented to college students. I adore that man and always will. He didn't charge me rent, didn't judge me, fed me, and for the first time in my life, I had someone who really understood and accepted me. To me, he is my real father. I was where I truly belonged.
Every year one of us travels to the other's home for Thanksgiving. Emma calls him grandpa and he loves it. Gwen and I both call him dad, which makes him teary-eyed. He got me through my last two years of high school, but he was strict. I had a hard ten p.m. curfew. He checked my homework and made sure I studied. He did my SAT prep at the house so I was ready when I took the test. That man is the reason I got a full ride to Stanford. If you had told me that I'd call Mr. Brian Bailey, dad one day, I'd throw you in a straight jacket, but in every way, shape, and form, he's my real dad. Parents are supposed to love and nurture their kids unconditionally. Mine didn't, but Brian did. In the two years I lived in his house before college he was the best fucking father a girl could ever have. He even helped me get emancipated. For the first time in my life I felt nurtured, but all that nurturing doesn't completely remove the damage done by the bio-parents. It's always there simmering under the surface waiting to undermine the logical side of you. It sucks but it's reality. Brian taught me to separate the two so the impact would be minimal and it works the bulk of the time, but every so often I fail miserably and it bites me in the ass.
So now imagine the shit fit I threw when Gwen was offered a higher position at Harper Collins, which would move her back to New York City after we'd been dating for six weeks. I was already head over heels for her and the thought of her heading out east made me ill. To say I freaked out was an understatement. To add to it that I felt out of control, well that was just a massive given. When I went all Dom on her ass and ordered her to not even consider taking the job, well, quiet, bookwormish Gwen told me and I quote: 'If you think you can pull that Dom shit with me you are sorely mistaken. If you don't cut that crap out, I'll be the one doing the spanking and I promise you it won't be enjoyable.'
Can you see why I love her now? Yes, she walked out on me right after she said that and I went out like an asshole and got rip roaring drunk at the WildRose, but you know what? Though I was hit on over and over again while there, I just couldn't even flirt with anyone. I woke up the next morning in Elliot's guest bedroom with a hangover that made me wish my head would explode already. When I finally crawled out of bed and headed to the kitchen for coffee, still dressed in the clothes from the night before, I found Elliot and Gwen eating breakfast and laughing like they didn't have a care in the world. After the smell from their sausage and egg breakfast sent me running to bow before the porcelain god, I headed back their way only to find Elliot now gone and Gwen waiting for me with her arms crossed defiantly.
"Sometimes you're an ass," she informed me. "You went off the deep end because I had a job offer. You didn't even think to ask me what I thought about the job and potentially moving. You just decided to put your foot down. Well Ros, guess what? We've been dating for less than two months. We're not living together, we're not married; hell, we live separate lives when we're not together. Where do you get off telling me what to do? That Dom shit has got to be restricted to the bedroom because I'm sorry, even if we were living together or married, you wouldn't be able to tell me what to do. We'd discuss decision jointly and come to a conclusion together. That's how relationships normally work. Do I make myself clear?"
All I could do was nod. It's not often that I'm rendered speechless. In my eyes, I viewed myself as the leader in the relationship. I mean, that's how dominants think – we are kings of the world. Needless to say, Gwen kicked the soapbox from under my feet and allowed me to verbally tighten my own noose around my neck. Everything I could have said wrong, I did. And yes, I did say it repeatedly and felt that noose tightening. I told her I was in charge, and that she would have to listen to me if this relationship was going to work. I mean, I was desperate because at work I had to cede some of my precious control to Christian as I recognized that in our business relationship that he was the dominant and fuck that realization almost killed me. I think I knew it the instant that I met him, which is why I tested his patience for those first two weeks and then met him on my terms. I took control of him the only way I could. Note to self: apologize to Christian for being an asshole back then.
Gwen handled my stupidity really well that day. When I finally took one foot out of my ass and the other out of my mouth, she basically told me that I had a decision to make – either be a dominant without her or a true partner with her. The choice was mine, so technically I had the illusion that I was in control. She gave me a twenty-four hour deadline. Then she went home. Yes I know, don't say it. I'm well aware that she's the true dominant in our relationship. Trust me, I know, I know.
It was the worst twenty-four hours ever! I'll admit to calling my dad Brian and crying my eyes out. Yeah, me crying, I know it's hard to imagine, but fuck, I felt like my world just fell apart. Dad basically told me to get my head out of my ass, wipe the shit from my eyes, and follow my heart rather than my damaged head. Have I said that I love him yet? I really, really do. As to Gwen, well, we all know what decision I made as we're married with three kids and living in Seattle. Seeing Anastasia visibly depressed and Christian MIA, I couldn't help but feel he was experiencing his own meltdown as he was at the fork in the road – be a dominant twenty-four seven in all things or let go of some of his precious control to really let someone into your heart and life as a partner.
Wednesday Christian showed up to the office looking like shit, yet amazingly still all kind of hot. If you'd told me that Mr. GQ could look even hotter with unshaven stubble, I would have called you an idiot. I may be gay, but I can recognize a good-looking guy when I see one. They don't make me all juicy in my pussy but I can identify above average looks regardless of gender. For example: Christian, Sawyer, Taylor and Elliot are hot. Welch is not. See, I'm the next Dr. Seuss, but not meant for small children. Come to think of it, neither was he in his personal life from what I've heard.
Today is the day I go dominant on Christian Grey's pathetic ass. I had Gwen and Brian do it for me, so the least I can do is pass on the painfully earned knowledge. I barge into his office to find him once again with Welch, Taylor, and Sawyer but his heart isn't into this security briefing. "Okay boys, get the fuck out of here now," I order them. Amazingly they don't even look at Christian for confirmation they just leave. Taylor though gives me a nod.
"Good morning Christian," I greet him as I serve myself a cup of coffee from the kitchenette before planting my pert ass on the seat across from him. "Guess what today is?"
"What Ros? I really don't have time for this shit," he snaps at me.
"Well fuck you Christian, you're going to sit there like a good little boy and benefit from my wisdom whether you like it or not. Do I make myself clear?" I'm in full-on Dom mode now. Fuck him the little plebe.
He nods uncertainly.
"Look at me when I talk to you dammit," I order. Once he does I proceed to tell him about that horrible twenty-four hours that was my shit or get off the pot moment with Gwen. He listens and as my story goes on, his interest has actually increased. Yup, I nailed it. When I finally finish my story, I drop my Dom alter ego. "What I'm trying to tell you Christian is to truly let Anastasia into your life, you're going to need to let some stuff go – the first being some of your control. Life is like a rollercoaster ride – sometimes it's fun, sometimes it's exciting, sometimes it's intense, but going on a rollercoaster alone is boring because you don't have anyone to share the experience with. After that day with Gwen, I cleaned up the bullshit in my life. I felt truly liberated from my zealot parents' upbringing for the first time ever. Heck, I felt like the real me was coming out. It's been an amazing experience. It's your choice, but should you embrace the lighter side as I have, its time to become the Toxic Avenger and get rid yourself of the Chernobyl-like people in your life once and for all. I'm not saying it will be easy because for me it wasn't. I had to look at everything from this new and improved point of view and frankly, it made me realize how utterly stupid I was in the past with regard to the people I allowed into my life. My best decisions were my Brian-dad, you, Elliot, and Gwen, the rest, well, let's just say I allowed my damaged side rule and the day I chose Gwen was the last time I allowed that to happen."
I watched him for a few moments. He looked like he was processing everything. Finally he asked, "Was it truly worth it?"
All I could do is smile. "More than you'll ever know." I got to my feet and head toward the door, stopping as I gripped the doorknob and returning my attention to him. "Your girl is at SIP and looks as miserable as you do my friend. It's time for you to shit or get off the pot."
"Thanks Ros," he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Have fun at the gallery in Portland tomorrow night," I added with a smirk as I walked out the door.
It didn't surprise me to see both Taylor and Sawyer hovering near Andrea's desk waiting for me. I merely smiled at them, muttered that I've been in his shoes, and headed back to my office. Try as they might, the two burly guys feel protective over Christian, even with his flaws. I love my patched together GEH family.