Chapter 13 – Blue Steel
I feel like a disobedient child rather than the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. After re-reading Anastasia's letter repeatedly, I took a picture of the cake she'd sent me, and then devoured half of it. That picture was now the wallpaper on my phone, replacing Charlie Tango. It gave me hope. She was so open, honest, and ridiculously amusing that it made me desire her even more if that's possible. I wanted to sleep with her - yes, but there was just something about her leaving me just want to be in the same room with her and soak in her aura. Now if my stomach stopped churning from the earlier sugar-overload, I'd be content.
I send Anastasia a quick thank you text. I want to say more, but the words just don't come. My brain feels like it's warming up for a marathon and the feeling is alarming. A few deep breaths calm me slightly, but it doesn't fully stop the chain reaction I can feel building.
Once I got home, I gave Taylor and Mrs. Jones the evening off. Even the teeming rain couldn't dampen my spirits. I felt better knowing that Anastasia didn't loathe me after everything that's happened in the recent weeks. I have to admit I also enjoy feeling like her father has taken to me somewhat after our horrendous start immediately after her car accident.
Once Taylor and Gail are gone for the evening, I lock down the private elevator, knowing that Taylor would need the key to access the penthouse when they returned home. I served myself a glass of wine and head up to the playroom. The scent of orange and leather greet me as I open the door. They feel like old friends, yet after the past few weeks, I know better.
I now have significant doubt that my lifestyle was appropriate. Anastasia made me question everything I've known about sexual relationships since I was fifteen. I'd been considered a genius at math since high school, yet a simple one-plus-one equals two doesn't quite add up in my personal life. I mean my birth mother was a prostitute. She was paid for her sexual services with cash, which in turn paid for her drugs and our slum of an apartment. What's so different about me hiring a submissive, renting them an apartment, buying them clothes and a car? I'm no better than my mother's pimp. The main difference is I'm not just the pimp; I'm the customer too. No matter how hard I try, this knowledge feeds the self-loathing I've struggled to suppress for two and a half decades.
How did everything get so convoluted? How did I get so twisted? Right and wrong are generally so cut and dry, yet in terms of my BDSM lifestyle the lines were blurred since day one. I can see it now, but until recently, I didn't even know any better. Master of the business world – not quite but maybe one day, yet my personal life has clearly been a major cluster fuck.
I caused other people physical pain, all for my own enjoyment and to get myself off. After what my pimp did to me, the agonizing suffering I experienced as a toddler, and I follow his lead. What the fuck is wrong with me? My anger is building quickly, from a slow simmer to a raging boil. I want nothing more than to destroy this room.
I head to the security office in search of something to pulverize the room. The vibration of my cell phone disrupts my frantic search. I can't help but smile when I see the message is from Anastasia.
Ana: Zoolander, TBS TV 5 mins, watch party! I demand my Blue Steele! … signed - Ana the bossy, gimpy bitch
Christian: Gimpy?
Ana: Dad & the boys went into town for beers and some military companionship. Dad left the stash of peanut brittle high up in the kitchen. Ana & altitude don't go well together, so after a wonderful, yet minor, flop, I opted for half a pain pill and a beer. GO ME! Zoolander now Grey! NOW! Don't forget to grab yourself a beer and your laptop first!
After grabbing a beer, I quickly head to the TV room. Once I have the movie on, I send her a text of the picture of my television screen and wait.
Christian: Okay?
Ana:Turn Skype on your laptop and dial me in. Then set the laptop nearby so I can see you and absorb your reaction to one of my all-time favorite, stupid movies.
Christian: Really?
Ana: Consider it your first lesson in LARPing like a real person – movie night with a friend. I've been abandoned between a bar and Barbados, and you're not doing anything, so why not?
The entire situation was odd, but I complied. I was happy to see she took the computer I'd given her to Montesano. Once we both had computers set up and I saw her, I couldn't help but smile. Her color was returning, she had no make up on, and was sitting on a couch with a beer in one hand and rested her injured arm on a medium-sized open tin of popcorn.
"How are you feeling?" I asked apprehensively.
"Wait for it! Wait for it!" she laughed. A moment later, the security phone rang. Thankfully we had extensions throughout the apartment for that line. I reached over to the phone on the side table and answered.
"Grey"
"Mr. Grey, you have a package from a Miss Steele at the reception desk. Would you like me to have one of the staff bring it up?"
"Yes please. I'll unlock the elevator," I reply before hanging up. I glance at the laptop screen and Anastasia is grinning at me.
"Pause and rewind the movie to the beginning," she orders. "I'll do the same."
"Is the package really from you?"
She laughs. "Well, I can't sit here eating snacks without sharing. If we were in the same room, I'd share with my friends if they were watching with me, which technically you are. Now scoot and get the package, so we can get movie night with friend going."
When I return to the TV room, all I can see on the laptop screen are Anastasia's fingers tapping irritably. I can't help but laugh.
"I was going for impatient, not funny," she giggles in reply. When her face is back on the screen, I can see she has an identical box next to her. She takes a drink of her beer – liquid courage perhaps? "Now Mr. Grey, before you open your box you must hereby swear to follow the rules set forth by me – the queen bookworm, empress of all Zoolander surveys, and most of all, the bitch with the megaphone?"
"Megaphone?" I ask with a smirk.
Sure enough, she pulls out a megaphone and into it yells: "Yes Megaphone!" before bursting out laughing. I thought my laptop speakers were going to shatter.
"So Grey, do you agree or do we end our video conference?"
"You, Miss Steele are in charge tonight."
"GO ME!" she yells throwing her arms up into the air, then swearing in pain.
"Are you okay?" I swear that girl has no notion of recovering quietly and with caution.
She's blushing furiously. "I forgot about my injured arm. It hasn't really hurt in a while, so it slipped my mind. I'll be right back, I think I'm going to take that other pain pill."
It took her a minute to grab the pill and return. I cringed when she took it with a sip of beer. "Put down the beer Anastasia. You shouldn't drink if you are on pain medication."
I laughed when she pouted, jutting out her bottom lip in an exaggerated manner. "Oh-kay," she sighed. I watched as she got to her feet, left my view, then returned with a bottle of water. "Better?"
"Much. How many beers did you drink before texting me?"
"Half of the one you saw. It was brewed by one of my dad's friends, so whenever I come home I have one. There's one in your box, but you can't have it yet."
"When can I have it?"
"Soon, but first, let's take the tops off our boxes and let's see what your first item is Mr. Grey!" she is almost cheering.
I pull out a black and white bandana, as does she. I watch as she barely manages to get it round her head and pull some of her hair up so it sticks out the top. "Your turn Grey."
"Really?" I ask as I gaze at the bandana in disdain.
"Yes really. Weren't you ever young? I mean Kate, Jose and I had regular movie nights when the weather was bad while we were in college. I just thought, you might not have done any of that normal stuff, since you are so private," she replied almost sadly. "I want you to have fun. You're only twenty-seven, right? Besides, you've got the perfect hair to pull this off, though it's a bit long."
I nod, then reluctantly put the headband on and pull my hair up. I feel stupid, yet she is smiling broadly.
"Your snacks for the night are in the Tupperware container in the box," she informs me as she pulls a Tupperware container from her box.
All I know is I'm praying it's not something sweet. After eating half of the cake she'd sent, I can't handle any more sugar. When I remove the container's lid, I'm surprised to find three warm meat-filled empanadas, a smaller container of warm mac and cheese, and a rolled up piece of paper.
"How did you do this? You're hours away," I asked in disbelief.
"I annoyed your security team to no end. When I sent the cake, I sent a separate package to Taylor after he and Gail agreed to help me pull this off. It's still warm because Gail fried the empanadas and heated up the mac and cheese before they left for the evening," she replies blushing. "When I was in the hospital, I caught Gail checking out Taylor's butt and I thought she was cheating on her husband since she was introduced to me as Mrs. Jones. If we're being honest here, I'm a closet butt checker myself, though I'm a look but don't touch girl, so yeah, I checked out the butts of every one of your security team. Are you sure you're not gay? You hire some nice butts Mr. Grey." She giggles uncontrollably.
I think I'm going to enjoy my remote evening with Miss Steele while she's on pain medication. I'd heard she's hilariously uninhibited during these times. "Definitely not gay. Did you check out mine?"
She turns cherry red before burying her face in her good hand. "Guilty as charged."
"So, since you've checked out my security team and me, who has the best butt?"
"Oh crap," she giggles so hard she falls sideways onto the couch. "Oh crap!"
"Well Miss Steele, I'm waiting."
When she finally stops laughing, she replies, "Sawyer, as he's the only man I've seen in undershorts. I don't know who was more mortified, him or me, as I inadvertently walked into the bathroom after he showered. Thankfully, he already had on his underwear. He's a boxer-brief type of guy. The site made me want to perform a scientific study of personality vs. underwear style. So Grey - boxer, brief, or hybrid? Wait! Before you answer, I'm going to text Taylor, Ryan, and Reynolds to ask them too. I'm curious to see if all security wears boxer-briefs," she giggles as I watch her type the text. With an exaggerated push of a button, she exclaims, "Text sent!" before giggling again. "Well Grey?"
I can't help but smile at her as I reply, "Boxer-brief."
I can see the flush returning to her cheeks. "I asked those I texted to prove it, so Mr. Grey, prove it!" She shows me the text she sent my security team and she did, in fact, ask them to prove it. I can only imagine what they'll think. They'd better not send her any racy photos.
"You want me to drop my pants while we Skype and show you my underwear?" I ask incredulously as she uses her good hand to cover a yawn.
She quickly nods with a mischievous smirk on her face, before yawning again. In the time it takes me to reluctantly stand and drop my pants, I look back at the laptop and she's sitting there fast asleep. Sawyer had said the pain medication leaves her a bit uninhibited before knocking her out. I have to admit, it's highly amusing.
As I eat my first empanada and some mac and cheese, I unroll the small scroll of paper from the package. It's a recipe for an Orange Mocha Frappuccino. What the fuck is an Orange Mocha Frappuccino? Handwritten at the bottom is the following:
Pull the blender out of your frig, add 6 ice cubes, blend and enjoy!
They make everything better!
I don't get it, but I'll follow her instructions. Once I'm in the kitchen and have the blender going, I realized how much planning went into this evening. I'm flattered an oddly, I feel cherished. I don't recall ever feeling that way, or maybe, I don't remember ever allowing anyone to make me feel that way. I'm incredibly relaxed, which even after hours in the playroom I never really felt like this.
With my drink in hand, I head back to the TV room and start the movie. It's a ridiculous movie, but it makes me laugh. It doesn't take long before I understand the Orange Mocha Frappuccino reference. I've never been a big fan of television or movies, but I'm enjoying myself; especially being able to gaze at her asleep on the nearby screen.
By the time the movie is done, I've spent the better part of it laughing and glancing at the laptop. She slept through the entire thing looking peaceful. The only thing that would have made it better is her being here, even if she were asleep on the couch next to me.
A quick click of the remote and the television is off. I start picking up around me when I hear Ana scream through the computer. When I turn toward the laptop I see a large beast on top of her.
"Rungo no!" she yells trying to push the massive dog off her. She swears before reaching for an empanada from her box, and makes sure the dog sees it. She then orders him to sit. He does so obediently next to her on the couch. I get a good look at the beast and it's the largest dog I've even seen. Sitting side-by-side with Anastasia, the dog must weight nearly two hundred pounds.
"What the hell is that?" I can't help but ask as she rubs her ribs. "Did it hurt you?"
"This," she states flatly as she points toward the dog, "is Rungo. He's a six-year old English Mastiff and our pride and joy."
"He needs obedience training," I can't help but keep the anger out of my voice. "You're injured and he could have made it worse."
She takes the leash that's in her lap and shakes it at the camera. "He brought me his leash, so he wants to go out. The problem is he smelled food and he's a growing boy." I watched in shock as the dog laid down on it's back, resting its head on her lap and she rubbed his belly. "I'm sure he'll be more mindful in the future. I do appreciate your continuing concern for my wellbeing."
As she clips the leash onto the beasts collar, she gets to her feet. "You're not going to walk that thing in your condition, are you? It will probably drag you down the street."
She giggled. It's a sound that's sexy, yet in this instance annoying. "He's an English Mastiff, not a Saint Bernard. He is part of a breed of gentle giants. In Rungo's case, he's an oversized couch dog. Give me ten minutes, and I'll be back."
Begrudgingly, I allow her to walk the damn dog. Who are you kidding Grey, she would have walked the beast regardless. My brain is on autopilot – that girl has no consideration for her own health and wellbeing. She's recovering from a major car accident, a shooting, she still has pins in her arm, a broken collarbone, a concussion, and more bruising than I've ever seen on a human body – Yet she walks the fucking beast of a dog with a smile on her face and mischief in those blue eyes.
When she finally returns, the beast takes up half the couch and Anastasia happily sits next to him while she rubs his head.
"I'm glad to see you are back in one piece."
She smiles, grabs her phone and clicks a few buttons. "When Ray brought me back from Texas, we got Rungo. I was very withdrawn and had always wanted a puppy, so Ray thought he'd help bring me out of my shell. Check the email on your phone." She waits a minute as I do as she asked and start the sideshow she emailed.
The first picture is of a teenage Anastasia holding the puppy that would grow up to be the beast. I'll admit, the puppy is adorable, yet when I look at Anastasia, I can see the impact of Texas on her. She has a hint of a fading black eye, her shoulders are hunched in defeat, she's holding the puppy for dear life, and she just appears lost. There's no light in her eyes. None of her normal, shy, yet vibrant self.
"Ray brought Rungo home about two weeks after I returned from Texas. If it wasn't for this big ball of muscle, I probably wouldn't have set foot outside the house," she explained sadly. "It was the first dent through my self-imposed withdrawal. He brought me a book on the breed, and set up a chart of what care Rungo needed and when. Having Rungo gave me purpose at a time when I was paralyzed, lost and wallowing. I vowed to never feel that way again. Unfortunately, I was wrong," she whispers in the end. When she wipes a few stray tears from her eyes, my heart feels like it's splitting in two.
"I can understand those feelings. Given everything that's happened to you in the past month, it's only natural to feel that way to some degree, isn't it?" I ask uncertainly.
"Probably," she sighs. "It's just after four years away at college, I felt like I was starting to figure out who I not only wanted to become, but was meant to be. In many ways, I felt like I had truly found my footing for the climb out of the abyss that was Texas, yet since everything lately, I feel like I'm sliding downward again."
"I completely understand," I barely manage to choke out. "It's as if you are looking through the wrong end of the telescope all of the sudden and what you want or need seems unreachable. You either keep trying to reach your goal or you just turn that part of yourself off completely. As a wretched example of the latter, I discourage you from taking that path. At best it leaves you isolated, numb, and dead inside; at worst, you just don't feel anything. Right and wrong become concepts that apply to business, but your personal life is utterly fucked up because that basic, commonsense right and wrong barrier slowly loses it's meaning."
I rub my eyes roughly. I can't bring myself to look at the laptop. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. "You were right about me. I'm a damaged four-year old in a twenty-eight year old body. There are times when I feel he's not alone in there either. It's a four-year old, a businessman, and a dominant, all struggling for control; yet they feed off the same emotional umbilical cord so it's difficult to see where one starts and the other ends."
Raw – it's the only word to describe how I'm feeling right now. I've never been able to verbalize what I'm feeling because I couldn't understand it myself. Flynn was right that day in the hospital; it helps looking at your life through an impartial window.
"Beneath all of the issues, you're a good man Mr. Grey," she whispers. "If I know in my heart and soul that you can overcome this, then I know I can get passed Texas and the last month. We can do this and do it for ourselves. Since I'm technically still on my father's health insurance, I'm going to keep visiting Dr. Flynn when I return to Seattle late next week. I need to do this for my future. Who knows, maybe we'll meet in passing in the waiting room some time and we can have a walk off. Did you finish the movie?"
Try as I might, I can't help but smile. "Just don't go monk on me."
"Then behave Mr. Grey, behave and that doesn't mean poorly," she smirks.
This beautiful, beguiling woman is going to be the death of me. "When do you get the pins removed from your arm?"
"On the eighteenth. Kate should be back from Barbados then to accompany me; otherwise Luke said he'd take me since he'll still be off from work. My dad's business got a really huge order, so he's been back at work part-time since I've been home. Next week he's back full-time."
"I could take you," I offer.
"I think Kate will be back by then, so no worries. Thank you for the offer though."
"What else have you been up to other than recuperating?"
The conflict within her appears on her face for a few seconds, then disappears. "I guess you can say I'm working on my dream. All through my senior year of high school and college, I obsessed over a dream. When I return to Seattle, I'm going to find myself a basic job, preferably in the evening at a book or hardware store, and during the day attempt to build the dream I played pong with in my head for nearly six years, work on myself, and do some volunteer work."
She actually looks excited and in some ways, ready to take on the world. "If you want help just ask."
Her gentle smile is enough to melt my hardened soul. "I appreciate the offer, but I feel like building whatever this becomes in terms of the new me, well it's something I want… no need to do on my own. Whether I succeed or fail is irrelevant. What matters is I do it on my own terms and follow it wherever it goes. It's about the journey."
"Do you still want to work in publishing?" I can't help but ask.
She nods. "I'd applied at a few publishing houses in Seattle, Chicago, San Francisco, and New York for an entry level position before the accident. If one of them comes up now, I'm not certain I'd take it straight away. In my head, I have more important avenues to explore. For the first time ever, I honestly feel like I have my priorities straight."
"According to my father's associate, the offer still stands at SIP."
"Mr. Grey, no disrespect intended, but I want to make my own way and succeed with my own ideas and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my accomplishments are my own once I figure myself out. One of the good things to come out of this mess is I've found time to really consider what I want in my life over the next few years. It's pretty simple – therapy to get passed the stuff in my past, a career, and maybe even write a novel. Once I get passed my issues, then I'll risk venturing into the relationship world again. Right now, I just don't trust my choices."
"I can respect that," is all I can think about replying. I feel this overwhelming need to take care of her and protect her, yet deep down, I know she needs to find her own way. Anastasia is this beautiful, innocent spirit that people have attempted to repeatedly crush, yet in some ways, it appears she comes out with renewed feistiness. The glimpses of who she will become are breathtakingly spectacular and unless I get my shit together, I don't stand a chance with her or anyone else for that matter. I need to straighten my life out for myself, and then see where this new road takes me.
"Now Derek," she laughs doing her best Katinka accent. "Show me your blue steel and magnum."
I turn away from the laptop, then quickly return my gaze, suck in my cheeks and say, "blue steel for you my dear, but before you can see magnum, I need to tame the beast."
"Nice double entendre there Grey, nice," Anastasia laughs.