Wounds to Bind Chapter 3 – 'Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.' – Theodore Roosevelt
Monday, June 6 – Day Three, sans Christian Grey – APOV
Alarm…groan! 'Don't think about waking up in Christian's bed! Don't think about Christian! Focus on something other than Christian. Make a list and check it twice...don't think about naughty or nice. The Dominant Devil does not dwell in my details. Each focused task helps me reclaim myself.'
'CONCENTRATE!' Morning ablutions, breakfast with multi-vitamin and two ibuprophen to facilitate sitting, crockpot, pack lunch in tote. My hair is loose and wavy from drying while braided last night. The apple green headband, button earrings and bracelet are more girly than I usually wear. I'm ready to rock the day with minimal makeup and strawberry lip gloss. I wear sneakers for driving and walking, and tuck the apple green pumps in my tote. The apple green pumps are mid-heel and not too uncomfortable to wear for the day. I pull on the apple green sweater. I take a selfie of the navy sheath and apple green accessories to email to Kate and Mom. I am dressed and ready to begin my internship at Seattle Independent Printers as the assistant to Jack Hyde, Commissioning Editor.
I have my driver's license, current health insurance card and social security card for completing HR documents. I have enough cash and change to pay today's parking fees. Lunch is packed. I have Christian's check to deposit at noon in my bank account. If I forgot to bring something important today, I can always bring items tomorrow.
The GPS in Kate's car directs me to SIP using the most expedient route. I repeat yesterday's driving exercise. I park Kate's car in the public parking lot near SIP. I change shoes and walk to SIP arriving before eight-thirty. Elizabeth Morgan, head of HR, waits for me at the front reception desk. She critically observes my attire before she conducts me to her office.
'Am I overdressed for my first day? Did Kate and I get the work wardrobe wrong? I described what I saw everyone wear when I interviewed. Elizabeth is dressed in a floaty summer frock, a little more Tatiana, Queen of the Fairies, than I would ever wear. She is about Mom's size and has a sturdy quality about her, despite the ethereal dress. Her heeled sandals are pretty.'
"This is your payroll information. This is your agreement not to acquire our client list nor sell it to anyone. This is your agreement not to reveal any personal information about our authors. This is your agreement not to plagiarize or sell any manuscripts submitted to this office. This is your agreement not to introduce a computer virus or program into the computer system which will create loss of files or information. Nor will you download any information which is politically incorrect on the computer system. This is your agreement you will not surf the internet, play games or access personal e-mails or social media on company computers. This is your agreement you will not make nor answer personal phone calls during work hours." Elizabeth appears peeved because I read everything before signing.
"Experience taught me not to sign anything without reading first." I commented, thinking of signing Christian's NDA without reading it. I was too anxious to lose my virginity to him to exercise due diligence.
Once I sign a document, I photograph it. I return the pile of HR forms to Elizabeth. As quick as I finish, Elizabeth gives me a tour of the facilities and introduces me to staff. I'm grateful for the crash course in SIP from yesterday's review of the site. I am shown to the IT department first, which is in the basement. IT provides my company email address, a password for company email and server access. They train me how to enter information in the author/manuscript database. They show me the file rooms with archive manuscripts. I am not required to file archive manuscripts, but I should know how to locate archived manuscripts.
Elizabeth shows me to the break room, mail room, copy room, large conference room and front lobby area on the first floor. I am shown to Management, HR, Fiscal, and conference suites on the third floor.
Elizabeth hands me a procedures manual which explains everything regarding phones, faxes, emails, computerized calendaring, etc. Elizabeth gives me the work performance standards which have been used with Jack's previous interns. She warns my WPS could change at my 30, 90 and 180-day employee evaluation. She explains Jack might add other tasks at my evaluation. She suggests I acquaint myself with procedures manual until Jack arrives. I am assigned to the second floor Editorial Group. My workstation is located a few feet from Jack's office door.
Jack arrives before ten and gives me his coffee cup. I find his small gold hoops a little disconcerting. His miniature studs seemed to fade away as his personality took over when I interviewed. Today he wears navy dress slacks with navy loafers and a sky-blue long-sleeved summer weight shirt with a textured navy tie. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail. I'm glad he is physically different from Christian – five-ten, two hundred pounds, straight red hair and flat inexpressive blue eyes. I find my way to the kitchen by following the building map, emptying one pot into his mug and starting a fresh pot of coffee.
'I will not think about Christian and our almost coffee date! Concentrate on tasks at hand. You cannot be distracted from your professional life by the turbulence in your personal life!'
Jack asks me to bring my work performance standards to his office for a quick meeting. I'm relieved because he leaves the office door open. He provides a daily schedule. From eight-thirty to nine each morning I make coffee, fill faxes, printers and copiers on the editorial floor with paper, and check and sync our schedules in the online calendar. At nine I sort Jack's mail and date stamp it. He receives the correspondence before nine-thirty…or when he comes into the office.
Jack shows me where to find his correspondence folder on the server. He will read his correspondence and create responses. He will save the responses in a folder on the server. He uses an electronic signature on his letters, so I don't waste time trying to obtain a signature. I am to print and mail responses and author letters within 72 hours of receipt. I copy every letter for Friday afternoon filing in the large bank of file cabinets for the editorial floor. Everything is noted on the file log on the left side of the file. Paperwork is filed in chronological order on top of the right side of the file.
Invoices are copied and original invoices are forwarded to the Finance Office along with the original receipts. Copies of invoices with copies of receipts are placed in an empty wire basket on top of my desk for filing on Friday. Unsolicited manuscripts are date stamped and the basic information entered daily in the author/manuscript database. Then unsolicited manuscripts are arranged alphabetized by title only on an empty shelf in the bookcases outside Jack's office. Chronologically they are arranged oldest to newest from top to bottom, left bookcase to right bookcase.
Each day, any manuscripts which languished 90 days on the bookshelves are sent to archives. Manuscripts intended for archive are placed in the mail center basket marked Archive. The mail room staff files them alphabetically by author in archives. A note of the manuscript's new location is entered in the author/manuscript database.
Jack shows me the mail center on the editorial floor. The center holds interdepartmental envelopes, letter-sized envelopes and large mailing envelopes. Complete the form for special mailing requests and place in the out basket for the mailroom to handle. The mail room checks the center every two hours.
Jack is an avid coffee drinker and asks me to make coffee as necessary every thirty to ninety minutes. I will prepare materials for editorial meetings on Tuesday mornings. He will email what he needs for the editorial meetings on Monday afternoon so I can prepare for Tuesday morning. He explains I may go to lunch from 12:30-1:30 as noted on the schedule, ensuring I don't leave early or return late. When requested, I will pick up lunch for him at the nearest deli. I'm skilled at organizing my time but this schedule is the ultimate in micro-management. Before I recover from schedule shock, Jack invites me to lunch today to celebrate my new job.
I demur, explaining I have tasks scheduled at lunch time and after work every day this week because I just moved to Seattle. Jack orders me to leave those tasks to my roommate who won't start her internship with Seattle Times until July first. I maintain calm despite wanting to freak out because Jack Hyde knows more about my life than he should. I explain Kate is unable to fulfill personal tasks for me. 'So not going anywhere with you, buddy. I wish Christian had set off my self-preservation sirens as loudly as you do!'
Jack offers to show me the area around SIP over the weekend, but again, I demur. I explain my father plans to visit Seattle and work on my condo, which leads to a discussion of the area around where I live. We discuss Pike Place Market and its amenities. He lives in the area also and offers to give me rides home when we work late. I have no response to his offer at this time. I must plan proactively. Maybe Ethan, Kate or Elliot can pick me up the nights I work late.
During my unassigned work time, I am to read the first chapter of unsolicited manuscripts from the bookcases outside Jack's office. I am to complete the synopsis form contained on the server. Synopses are saved as author last name dot author first initial dot first three words of title with underscore between words dot doc. Once we've finished my orientation, Jack sends me to fetch coffee, again.
I find the break room by memory. I think my SIP work peeve will be people who leave half a cup of coffee in the bottom of pots so they don't have to make a new pot. I pour the half cups from both pots into Jack's oversized mug. I add a splash of hot water from the water tower. I microwave his cup for sixty seconds while I prepare new pots to brew. I race back to his office with his coffee.
The water tower in the Editorial Pool has a hot water feature for tea, hot chocolate, etc. However, the green tower requires someone add two gallons of tap water to the top section which filters the water into the bottom section. Once the water filters into the bottom section, anyone can get hot or cold water. If I want water for tea, I must add water carrying to my morning schedule.
At lunch time, I attempt to deposit Christian's check at a Seattle branch of my Montesano bank. If I had known his check would cause a flurry of attention, I would have waited until after work. The bank manager wants to know why I'm depositing $24K written on a personal check and signed by 'the' Christian Grey. "Jay Leno advised him to purchase vintage vehicles." I find a picture of Wanda on my phone. "Classic 60s Beetle."
"Wow," the bank manager reacts to my answer. "I've always liked vintage cars. Is it like flipping houses?"
"Flipping cars must be lucrative if Jay Leno is involved," I shrugged. "I'm the second owner. Original from the factory in 1960-61, the car cost $1600. Fifty years later, the car is worth fifteen times the original fee."
"Well, I can't invest at the level of Christian Grey or Jay Leno, but flipping cars sounds more entertaining than watching the stock market's daily roller coaster ride." The banker declared.
The bank requires a three-day hold on the check. They want proof 'the' Christian Grey wrote the check and I'm not just scamming them with a bogus check. The bank manager offers financial advice which I refuse because of time constraints. He recommends I have the sales contract with me when I file my taxes. I can verify the deposit online.
As I park and walk to the office, I check my surroundings, as Dad suggested. I feel like I'm being observed but I don't see familiar faces, black suits or black Audi SUVs. I'm not a drum majorette, the leader of the band, or a religious figure. I won't be followed. I'm not a migrating bird. I won't be tracked or monitored. The contract said if I left, we were over. I will not receive a second chance. I had better not see any of his men-in-black observing me, or he will, via my loudest, rudest voice, hear from me.
When I return, Jack is out of his office at a lunch with an author. He believes I will be fine if I adhere to my schedule until he returns. From lunch to break time, if I have no other pressing tasks, I am to read and review manuscripts. I take two of the oldest ones to my desk. Before I start, I print out a copy of the superficial review form. I am appalled. If you spend your time reading the first chapter or more of a manuscript, then you should write as comprehensive a synopsis as possible.
Jack has not returned by break time. I talk with Emily, Amber and Claire during our break. Emily curses because she destroyed a stocking. She dropped a manuscript which snagged on her stocking and destroyed the whole thing while falling to the floor. The ladies share some of their 'oh hell' moments. Claire keeps spare things in a toiletries travel case. Emily uses a large, double zippered, soft-sided briefcase. Amber uses a large floral decorated box. They keep their 'oh hell' supplies in their credenzas. I thank them for the tips and suggestions about what other items I should have…like a toothbrush, toothpaste and floss. Claire recommends a clothes brush. Emily recommends double sided tape for when a hem comes undone. Amber recommends a card with a list of my contacts, and if I am allergic to anything. When I return to work tomorrow, I will have a better storage method than carrying everything in a tote every day.
My micro-management schedule says to move the expired manuscripts after my last break. I fill a tote with manuscripts. I check the procedures manual and it says I have to move the manuscripts up and fill the empty spaces. Fuckety- fuck.
"What are you doing?" Amber inquires while I'm working.
"Moving the manuscripts according to the procedures manual." I explained.
"Sorry, we installed new bookshelves in April; the procedures aren't updated. The shelf you just emptied pulls out." She demonstrates. Then she reached up and pressed a button at the top of the shelves. The shelves moved up automatically and locked into place. "Put this shelf in the bottom." She demonstrates. "Move the manuscripts from the top shelf of that bookcase to this shelf." She helped me.
"Take the empty shelf out, press the button." The shelves moved up again. "Insert this shelf in the bottom and put today's manuscripts on it. Be back in a second." Amber returned before I finished putting the manuscripts on the shelf. "You slap a label on an old file folder; write today's date vertically on the tab with a Sharpie. You tuck the dated folder in front of today's manuscripts. Do all the manuscript tasks at the same time because you only have to access the database once."
"That's not what my schedule says," I showed her the schedule.
"FMTT," she groaned. "Do you have to follow this schedule exactly, or just complete what's on the list for the day?"
"I don't know," I admit. "I've never worked in an office before."
Amber reorganized the schedule on a clean piece of paper. She delineated work groups which made more sense. "Try this schedule. Move manuscripts tasks to after last break. That includes moving, archiving, date stamping, entering in the database, and uploading synopses. I generally read manuscripts after lunch and to last break if I'm not busy. After last break there is time to write and upload synopses."
"Here is an alphabetical organizer. On Friday afternoon, two-hole punch file copies before you alphabetize them. Also, get a package of printable file folder labels from the office supply room. Count how many letters, bills and minutes you are filing. I keep a tally Post-It on the front of my organizer so I know how many letter labels, bill labels and minute labels to create and print. Print Friday's date and your initials on each label before printing. Print any other miscellaneous labels at the same time."
"I'll email you the filing label template. Take the labels to the file cabinets with you. Take the first item to be filed, determine the category. Put one of the corresponding labels in the next open space on the chronological log sheet. File your document and repeat the process. Before you start filing, print a couple dozen blank chronological log sheets and two-hole punch. Place them on the file clipboard, so you don't have to stop mid file to print what you need. Keep them with your file labels and your organizer to eliminate extra steps."
"Thank you for the help," I love her organization. "I owe you lunch for helping to get me organized."
"There are other streamlined procedures. I'll share them as I get time. I'm the senior support staff. Part of my job is to help train staff. I'll email the filing procedures when I get back to my desk. There's an app which tells you the date for ninety days ago which streamlines checking which manuscripts have aged out. I will email the link to you. Always keep half a dozen empty banker boxes, marked Archives, to send old manuscripts to the mailroom."
At the end of the day, I leave with Claire, Amber and Emily. They go to the bus stop. I retrieve Kate's car from the parking lot. I stop at a big box store and purchase a locking toiletries travel case with a mirror in it. I buy a box of gallon plastic bags to separate things. The clear plastic bags mean I can see the contents without sorting through everything. I buy the additional things recommended by my coworkers. I buy a bundle of hanging wardrobe boxes from U-Haul on the way home. The bundle is awkward to fit in the elevator and carry to the condo, but we will use and reuse them several times over the next few weeks.
'Just because your workday ended does not mean you can wallow in memories of Christian. You have things to do. Concentrate. Busy hands…busy mind.'
I change into shorts and a t-shirt, glad to be home. I assemble my emergency supplies in the toiletries case to store in my workspace tomorrow. Today's ensemble is separated into a drycleaning bag and the clothes hamper. I put the second white mesh tray from the office store on my dresser to hold the contents of my purse. I will empty my purse into the basket every night when I get home. I put the apple green accessories away. I feel mentally exhausted from my first day at work.
I separate the crockpot contents (Italian sausages with peppers and onions) into dinner tonight and meal-sized freezer containers. I assemble six pounds of beef stew meat tossed with beef fajita seasoning on a bed of tri-color pepper strips and sliced raw onion rings in the crockpot insert. I'll put the insert in the refrigerator until morning. I will separate the beef fajitas into meal-sized portions tomorrow night. After I eat dinner and clean the kitchen, I make lunch for tomorrow.
One of the submissive sites suggested cleaning when you feel uneasy or depressed. The site claims straightening physical aspects of your life brings clarity to mental ones. Dad always says, 'Busy hands, calm mind.' I fill crates with Kate's winter clothes. The buzzer for the condo sounds.
"Three-A, can I help you?" I don't identify myself. Kate insisted we list our first initials and last names on the buzzer. 'Please don't let it be Christian. Please don't let it be Christian. I'm not ready to see him without breaking down and weeping like one of Kate's bodice ripper heroines.'
"Delivery for Anastasia Steele," a delivery man announces. I grab my keys, phone, pepper spray, and a tip. Armed, I make my way downstairs. I sign for the package, which is a long floral box. I've seen Kate receive floral boxes before. Upstairs I slip off the ribbon. Inside are two dozen long-stemmed white roses and a card.
Congratulations on your first day at work.
I hope it went well.
Thank you for the glider.
That was very thoughtful.
The glider has pride of place on my desk.
Christian
I stare at the card, feeling the ebb and flow of fury quickly followed by tears. While the card is in his handwriting, one of his Grey House staff must be in charge of sending flowers.
'I don't do hearts and flowers.'
'I don't do romance.'
'I don't do girlfriends.'
Christian's statements echo in my head. I drop the card back into the box, slip the ribbon back on and place the box on the green settee. I retrieve the box of Christian's items and place it beside the roses.
'How did he know white roses are my favorite flower? He never asked my favorite flower, or color, or band, or movie…like normal people do when they are beginning a relationship. Only…we weren't a relationship…not to him anyway. He only wanted a sex slave…an obedient sex slave who would not look, touch or talk unless ordered.'
Back in Kate's room, I fold and store winter clothes in crates. Once I've exhausted myself, I take a hot shower. I gently coat the blooming bruises on my ass with arnica lotion. Pulling on a clean t-shirt and panties, I'm ready for bed. Tomorrow will sort itself. Alarm set, lamp off, deep sniff of the lavender candle and I'm ready for sleep…which eludes me.
'I won't think about Christian…I won't think about Christian…I won't think about Christian…I won't think about waking up alone on Saturday morning. I won't remember the night lights of Seattle through his floor to ceiling windows by the piano. I won't think about his mournful song selection.'
I was accustomed to physical work at Clayton's Hardware for eight-ten hours on Saturdays and Sundays. But SIP was eight hours of engaging my brain and I am mentally exhausted. 'I'm tired of crying over Christian. He needs help and I am not the one to provide it. He has a darkness I can't touch, let alone understand. Sorry Christian…I want a face-to-face apology for hurting me; however, I won't pursue you to get it. I understand he expects everyone to want a piece of him, his money and his lifestyle…but not me. He needs to learn he can't buy me.'
'My first step in the healing process was to sever ties between us. I didn't want his gifts in the first place, so leaving them behind was not an issue. I left Escala with a bruised ass, a confused mind and a broken heart. I deserve MORE…love and respect…hearts and flowers. I deserve a life free of fear, free of pain, and free of arbitrary rules which result in punishments.' I cry…I can't stop the tears...
'It's taking all my self-control not to fuck you on the hood of this car right now, just to show you that you are mine, and if I want to buy you a fucking car, I'll buy you a fucking car,' he growls. 'It's a gift, Anastasia. Can't you just say thank you?'
'This is what happens when you refuse my gifts,' Christian snarls. I don't know what happened…suddenly I am naked and restrained on the hood of the Submissive Special in Christian's private parking area at Escala. I am blindfolded with the bra and restrained with the panties Taylor bought. Christian holds a rose to my nose and orders me to smell it. He brushes it back and forth over my skin, making me squirm.
And suddenly…
…I'm wide awake and yelling "NO!" Oh, bloody hell. I cannot toss and turn all night. I have to be on time for work tomorrow. I move my ibuprophen PM tablets from the medicine cabinet to my bedside table. I make a cup of sleepy-time tea and curl up with a book, praying for sleep.
XXX – CPOV
I thank Andrea for the fresh carafe of coffee, a croissant and apricot jam when I begin my day. My thank you surprised her, but I am guaranteed she, not Olivia, will bring me a fresh carafe at the top of every hour. I add a cryptic 'Olivia' to my list of things to do. 'I need to remain in good standing with her father, Senator Oliver Blandino, but I'm tired of Olivia's fluttering eyelashes and come hither looks. I shudder with revulsion. I hate that Anastasia left me. but I'm thankful for Mrs. Jones, Ros and Andrea who make my life easier. I must let them know they are appreciated.'
Since Anastasia announced she had been hired at SIP; I ordered Welch to discreetly research the company. Based on his short but succinct report, I discuss the acquisition of SIP with Ros. She was surprised I wanted to move quickly. I explained the need to finalize the acquisition before the end of the fiscal year. We discussed the Detroit brownfield site versus potential sites in Savannah. Unfortunately, Detroit offered a better deal.
I sparred with Bastille and put him on his ass three times. He tells me to get my head on straight before I return to the ring. He refuses to be my kickboxing bag. He doesn't ask when he will have a new client to train. He is not like Elena, nagging at me to pick another client. I paid him good money to train my submissives, and he doesn't ask questions. I paid Elena good money to vet submissives for me – yet her questions are endless. She feels Anastasia is not good enough for me. She announced she has potentials to interview and select. Considering the way Anastasia looked at me the morning she left, I feel like my life is thirty-one flavors of nasty right now.
I wish the hot shower I took after working out washed my cares away. Instead, I plan to fill my day with work. Instead of keeping Taylor at Grey House with me until midnight, I decided to work until late in my home office. I asked Taylor to drive past Anastasia's building. The lights are on. Somehow, I'm relieved to know she is home so her flowers can be delivered. I poured myself a cognac and wandered through my penthouse while Mrs. Jones finished dinner. Tonight's menu is steak, served medium rare, with classic French bordelaise sauce. She prepared roasted fingerling potatoes, roasted carrots and mushrooms with fresh thyme, and green salad with a red wine vinaigrette. She baked whole wheat dinner rolls with asiago cheese and cracked black pepper.
I go upstairs to the submissive bedroom. Mrs. Jones cleaned the room, in preparation for Anastasia to occupy the space. She put away the clothes delivered from Neiman Marcus. I smell Anastasia's favorite toiletries, remembering her soft hair and giggle. I remember how warm she felt, pressed against me while we slept. I open a drawer and feel the silks and satins which she should wear. I close the door on those thoughts when I close the door to the submissive bedroom.
I pour myself another cognac and this time I stroll to the balls room as Elliot calls it. My pool table is located in the library. People probably think a pool table belongs in a media room or family room. However, when I'm playing pool, I don't want the distraction of a TV. I wish I had shown the library to Ana. She loves books. This would have been one of her favorite rooms in my penthouse. While the red room spoke volumes about me – this room would have spoken volumes to her.
Mrs. Jones takes my empty cognac glass and leaves a tray on my desk with my dinner. There are two bottles of water, and a goblet of ice. I ate dinner while working. One project at a time is not enough. I try not to think of Anastasia, but she is there, always at the periphery of my thoughts. Each time I finished a project today, I read her note. I work harder, knowing my reward is reading her note over and over. 'I remember the happy times, too, Anastasia.' I look at the WSUV picture I loaded on my cell. Graduation Day…Ana told me she would try.
While I'm in the midst of reading mergers and acquisitions, I am notified Ana's roses were delivered to her condo. I can't help myself. I haunt my emails and voice mails for a 'thank you' or some kind of acknowledgement. 'I wonder if she's trying to write a thank you note. I remember how long it took to think of what I wanted to say on her card – yet it did not say all I wanted to say. Maybe she'll call me to thank me. Maybe we can talk. Maybe she'll invite me to come to her condo. I'll wear a grey suit, white shirt and our favorite tie tomorrow, in case I see her.'
I return to the work I brought home. I read and dissect the prospectus for the Detroit site. I delineate plans for the Lucas Woods' situation. I read monthly crystal reports for each of the departments at Grey House. I read Welch's fact-finding report on SIP and the projected fiscal performance report from M&A for SIP. Barney provided an updated technology status report. I'm interested in his analysis of the solar-powered tablet.
PR submitted an analysis report for the month of May. The WSUV picture and articles featured prominently in the Communications report. They showcased figures for how many times Katherine Kavanagh's article was accessed through Grey House's website. I send an email to Eamon Kavanagh, telling him the number of hits and visitors from Grey House's website to Katherine's article. I apologize for interrupting the family vacation, but I thought Katherine would want to know. 'I'm not a stupid man. I hope throwing Katherine a kudo will improve her opinion of me.'
I managed to catch a few hours of dreamless sleep since Ana left. Mostly I dread the return of the nightmares from a time in my life which I still don't understand. 'How did Ana make my bed feel so big and lonely? How did she make my penthouse feel so cold and empty? How is she changing me?'