Wounds to Bind Chapter 5 – 'Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.' –Helen Keller
Thursday, June 9 – CPOV
After an early morning run, I have a session with my therapist, John Flynn. We've Skyped twice while he was on vacation. Flynn is a very proper English gentleman who is married to a wildly creative, graphic artist Rhiann. They took their two sons to England and France to visit the British side of the family. Today is the first time I've seen Flynn face to face in six weeks. "Do you believe in Karma?" I asked Flynn.
"Sometimes…this is your hour, Grey. I don't discuss my foibles," Flynn is clearly amused.
"I wonder if I am experiencing Karma for not wanting more with previous submissives and terminating our contracts." I cross my arms over my chest. I know Flynn defines this as a defensive posture…but I feel defensive.
"Do you think Anastasia cutting you off is Karma?" Flynn has a list of questions from our two Skypes.
"Perhaps," I admit. "I'm pissed off because Anastasia won't give me the opportunity to apologize. I've been listening to your rules about not stalking her. While I don't feel calmer, I am trying to understand." Somehow, I avoid gritting my teeth or breathing fast.
"What conclusions have you reached about what led you to punish Anastasia?" Flynn noted my comments.
"Why are the women in my life so impossible right now?" I snapped.
Flynn raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"Anastasia agreed to try to be my submissive. However, she didn't sign the contract and argued against the rules. Perhaps I had expectations about our relationship which hadn't been settled. I don't know what I was thinking." I sighed.
Flynn remained silent.
"Elena won't quit calling or emailing. Mom told her about the family dinner with Katherine and Anastasia. When I had dinner with Elena, she knew I had mixed feelings about Anastasia. I told her Anastasia went to Georgia to put some space between us so she could think. Elena urged me to go to Georgia to see Anastasia. I did and we had a good time until I was contacted about the situation with Leila at Escala with Mrs. Jones." I paused, but Flynn waited for me to resume.
"I think I was out of control Saturday morning. I was stressed about the lack of information about Leila's location and her health. Her piece of shit husband caused problems for my security team. When Anastasia said, 'show me how bad it can be' – part of me felt the challenge. I thought 'This is it. What I want. What I've been working toward. I need this. This is what I do. And we're finally here.' But I was also a Dominant who needed to show his submissive who was in charge." My voice faltered. "But Anastasia is not mine anymore." I stare out the window, not really seeing the semi-sunny day or nature in full bloom. There are prickles of tears in my eyes…and I don't cry! "How the fuck did she get under my skin? How the hell did she make me question myself?" I clench my jaw and try to modulate my voice. Flynn hates when I lose control and yell.
"I can't answer your questions," Flynn observed my body language. "Are you happy Grey?"
"What?" I frowned.
"Are you happy?" Flynn repeated. "The question is simple."
"Are you fucking mental?" I snapped. "I told you, I'm miserable since Anastasia left me. The damned nightmares have returned. What the fuck is happy?"
"Well, happy for me is waking up in the morning with Rhiann in my arms, or hugging my children. What is happy for you Grey? When was the last time you felt happy?" Flynn's eyes softened when mentioning his family.
"Gliding with Anastasia in Savannah." I answered automatically.
"What was the happy time before that?" Flynn updated his notes.
"Dancing with her before we went to dinner at my parents," I replied and then frowned.
"What was the frown," Flynn probed.
"During dinner I learned she planned to visit her mother in Savannah. I was angry because she didn't ask permission, even though the trip would take place during the week. She would return to spend the weekend with me. I took her to the boathouse. I wanted to spank her, but she said no. Because I was so frustrated with her not talking to me, I fucked her without letting her have any pleasure." I admitted.
"You punished Anastasia at your parents' home? Knowing you could have been discovered?" Flynn's shocked voice penetrated my brain. "She's new to sexual experiences, yet you fucked her without allowing her have any pleasure?"
"Yes," I relate my actions.
"How many times have you punished Anastasia?" Flynn pursued this line of thinking.
"Three times." I replied. "The night she graduated when she rolled her eyes at me. The night we had dinner with my parents, and the morning she left me."
"Do you see a correlation between the events?"
"Other than her rolling her eyes at me and not communicating?" I snapped.
"Not the correlation I'm seeking," Flynn shook his head. "Try again."
I thought for several minutes and then shrugged. "I'm not trying to be obtuse, but I don't get the correlation you are seeking."
"What happened before she rolled her eyes at you the first time?"
"I gave her a car as her graduation present, which she didn't want. Why she wanted to drive around in her death trap of a VW and not drive a new Audi A3 is something I still don't understand. She called the A3 a Submissive Special, and she was not happy I discussed the new car with her father." I tried to include all the salient points so Flynn would understand.
"Before that," Flynn directed.
"I came over to discuss the contract with her," I explained.
"Before that," Flynn directed.
I shrug. "It was her graduation day; I met her father and we had our picture taken."
"Exactly…her graduation day. One of the happiest days in her life ended with a punishment." Flynn connected the event with the action.
"I ended the day in bed with her, holding her and providing aftercare like a good Dominant. I had words with her roommate, Katherine." I argued.
"Because?" Flynn knows I don't sleep with anyone.
"Because Anastasia's email stated she didn't like me because I never stayed with her. When I returned to their apartment, Katherine claimed Anastasia never cried before and now she was upset and cried all the time. Since I was the new entity in Anastasia's life, Katherine blamed the constant tears on me."
"Keep that in mind, because we will discuss," Flynn directed. "The second punishment wasn't corporal. You choose an emotional punishment, at your parents' home after she met them?"
"Yes," I admitted. "I felt bad afterward."
"How long afterward?"
"On the way home, Anastasia said she thought I only took her to my parents' home because Elliot took Katherine and she felt I was forced into bringing her."
"So, Anastasia had self-doubts about her worth in your life?"
"Yes." I frowned again. I couldn't help the free association of thoughts in my head. "Anastasia was upset about Elena. She called her Mrs. Robinson. She was appalled I have contact with her."
"Appalled?" Flynn noted.
"Because I had contact. She called Elena a child abuser," I nodded.
Flynn's eyebrows shot up. "Hold that thought. We're coming back to it also. The third punishment with the belt was Saturday morning?"
"After she rolled her eyes at me and then ran from me and then…" I paused.
"And then?" Flynn prompted.
"She said she felt the same way about punishment that I felt about touching," I admitted. "But she asked me to! She said she needed to know how bad it could be. She had to know if she could handle it or not! Then she left me! After she promised she'd never leave me!" I yelled.
"When did she promise to never leave you?" Flynn's startled face betrayed his usual laid-back style.
"In her sleep, in Georgia; her revelation was the most comforting thing I ever heard," I sighed.
"Hold that thought also," Flynn directed. "Was Friday night good for both of you? I know you came home earlier than you planned because of the Leila situation. However, did you have a happy reunion when Anastasia came to Escala on Friday night?"
"I think so. I don't want to go into details but we were incredibly happy to see one another. We could barely keep our hands off one another." I admit.
Flynn cleared his throat.
"Okay, I couldn't keep my hands off her. She wore this short skirt which showcased her great legs. We had sex, followed by a good dinner, and shared a very sexually satisfying scene in the playroom," I explained the evening.
"Sexually satisfying for both of you?" Flynn's voice expressed his disbelief in my statement.
"Yes, as part of aftercare, I asked Anastasia if she would do it again and she said yes. I concentrated on touch during the session."
"You touching her or her touching you?" Flynn asked.
"My touching her, while her sight and touch were blocked. Her sound was limited to the music I played on earbuds for her. We have discussed how being unable to see, or touch, or talk heightens perceptions," I explained. "The scene was sexually satisfying for both of us, I swear. We slept together in my bed, spooning with her back to my front."
"Please consider all three times you have punished her…" Flynn directed. "Do you see the correlation now?"
I thought and then I know my face fell. "I punished her after what should have been three happy events for her. "You are right, I don't have an empathetic bone in my body."
"What have we discussed about that?"
"I need to develop empathy," I respond.
"Yes, you do need to develop empathy, but I wasn't referring to that."
"Quit being my harshest critic." I parroted his previous advice. "Recognize my self-loathing and change my perceptions."
"Name a happy time in the playroom with Anastasia," Flynn directed.
I pause. Friday night was sexually gratifying for both of us – but was it happy? "I was happy after spanking her with the belt Saturday morning. I was euphoric. I thought we would have the most amazing sex once her endorphins kicked in. But they didn't. She was angry and told me I would never touch her like that again. She told me to get my shit together; then she left me."
Flynn sighed. "Honestly, your physical pursuits…sailing, soaring, running, golf and kickboxing…do not make you happy. You weren't happy with Susannah. You weren't happy before Susannah. You are not happy when you attend family events. You are not happy when you dine with Mrs. Lincoln. The happiness you might feel when you send shipments to Darfur have been marred by the logistics to get them there." Flynn paused, thoughtfully. "Have you been compiling your list of things to accomplish?"
"I should add learn to be touched to the list, but I have no clue how to remedy the situation. Touch – and not when shaking hands with business partners, or when family touches me, or when Bastille gets in a lucky punch," I try to define touches.
"When Anastasia said you would never touch her like that again – did you think about how she touched you? Or how you prevented her from touching you? I don't want details, but I assume she was restrained in your playroom on Friday night?" Flynn asked.
"Anastasia is the only person, other than family, to touch me – but there were problems with that also. Yes, she was restrained every time we were in the playroom. If we had sex in my bed, she was restrained. She was restrained if we had sex in her bed. She slept with her back to my front, so she couldn't touch me in her sleep." I admit. "I never knew where or when she would touch me. I felt…" I pause for a long time.
"Angry?" Flynn suggested.
"…afraid," I admitted.
"Are you ready to research Traumatic Touch Therapy?" Flynn's question is a natural progression of our discussion.
'I will not breakdown! I am Christian Grey, master of my universe! Why can't I just contract with a submissive who will follow orders and not turn my world upside down? Because you don't want a submissive, stupid shit. You want Anastasia, and she's worth all the work you do.' "I want Anastasia back, and she wants to touch me. I can't keep grabbing and pushing her hand away when she tries to touch me. I'm willing to attend touch therapy."
"I know three practitioners. I know you need time to research and vet them. I'd like to start with a younger woman who works with PTSD veterans and abused women and children. Sela Koch is not like other women in your life. She won't fall for the pretty face. She's happily married to a big bad Marine who treats her like a goddess. You might look like a demi-god and be as rich as a third world dictator, but I don't believe there is a chance in hell she will fall for you. When you give me an all clear, I will talk to her and see what we can do about setting up an appointment for a meet and greet."
"She has to sign an NDA," I consented. "She can't touch until I feel comfortable with her."
"She's about the size of Anastasia, which might be helpful in desensitizing you." Flynn noted. "Here's the information on Traumatic Touch Therapy. Do your research. You need to know how therapy works. The three practitioners I recommend are starred to facilitate your background checks."
Day Five, sans Christian Grey – APOV
My work day is almost over. Jack invades my space, planting his ass on my desk, leering at my breasts. He suggests since I'm dressed up, we should have a celebratory dinner. He enjoys Kate's plum dress a little too much for my taste. The color accents my hair and my eyes. My plum-colored peep-toe pumps, ruched clutch, lip gloss and Kate's jacket complete the ensemble. I brought a gold bangle to change my ensemble from work day to social night. 'I won't think about how much Christian liked this dress either.'
I refuse Jack's dinner invitation. I explain I'm meeting my father. Jack was leaving for lunch when I returned to SIP in a cab. I took Kate's car home at lunch time and caught a cab back to work, knowing my driver would be at SIP when I'm ready to leave. Jack must have plotted all afternoon about giving me a ride home. He appears testy at my refusal.
"Intern rule number one – don't fraternize with the boss. Essentially, we must maintain a good work relationship." I frostily inform him. I wish I had his complete attention when I spoke, but he's too busy leering at my breasts. Elizabeth Morgan exits the elevator and frowns at the sight of Jack sitting on my desk. "I believe Ms. Morgan is looking for you." I straighten my desk, ignoring him.
Jack nods at Elizabeth but turns back to me. "Tomorrow is casual Friday, you may wear jeans. Everyone goes for a drink after work at Fifty's across the street. You need to socialize with your coworkers."
"I can't participate tomorrow," I inform Jack's departing back. "Dad arrives in Seattle tonight and will be staying the week with me." My explanation falls on deaf ears because Jack and Elizabeth enter the elevator. I slide six manuscripts into a spare tote; ready for reading on the road.
When I step off the elevator a few minutes after Jack and Elizabeth, they're loitering in the lobby. He heads for SIP's front door, shadowed by Elizabeth. I ignore them and veer off to the front reception desk. My driver greets me and escorts me to his car. He requests I sit in the middle of the back seat. What is with these security men and the middle of the back seat? I catch a glimpse of Jack standing outside the SIP door, lighting a cigarette and watching me.
My driver is very observant about our surroundings. He accesses his cell phone and takes a panoramic view from the driver's door. "Miss Steele, who is the red-haired man?"
'Momentarily, I panic…is Christian here? Is he planning to offer me a ride to Portland? But I don't see any black Audi SUVs in the area. I realize he means Jack.' I glance back at Jack. "The one at my office?" When my driver affirms, I explain it is my boss who wanted me to have a drink or dinner with him tonight.
"Who is the brunette?" He shows me a picture of a young woman, about my size, sitting in the open-air seating at Fifty's. She would be attractive if she cleaned up. She wears a nondescript hoody, jeans and sneakers. The expensive sunglasses and a cross-body bag merit a second look at her picture.
"I don't know her," I answer truthfully. 'Is it one of Christian's ex-subs? Is she checking me out? Why is she checking me out?'
"She headed for the bus stop when I started taking pictures. Do you know this person?" My driver shows me a picture of a man with average height, muscular build, dark brown hair with a military haircut, Top Gun aviator glasses and leather jacket. His nose had been broken sometime in the past and wasn't set properly. His nose had a definite dip where there should have been an arch.
"Can't say I've ever seen him." I search my memory. "I don't know all the people who work in the area."
"He may have a thing for brunettes. Once you were in my car, he began watching the other brunette. Every now and then, if you feel like you are being watched, take a panorama view of your surroundings. Watch for people who make direct eye contact with you, and watch for people who quickly turn away to prevent a clear shot of their face. Be aware of your surroundings. Additionally, if you haven't taken self-defense courses, you should. SIP is not in the best neighborhood. This is not the worst area of Seattle, but it's not the best either." My driver advised.
"My ex-military Dad taught me self-defense and I carry pepper spray. I have a conceal carry permit, but I usually only carry when I'm on the road to and from Dad's house." I explain.
"Buy a rape whistle, or a small, compressed air horn. If you are in a dangerous situation, the whistle or horn to draw attention," he recommended. "I'll email pictures of these two persons of interest to you. Watch for them in the future."
We exchange pertinent paperwork. I pay for the ride; he gives me security information. In case of accident, there is a charged cell phone in the glovebox preprogrammed for 911and his office. He requests the phone never be powered down. There is a charger in the glovebox which accesses the cigarette lighter. His staff can ping the phone to find us in case we lose the connection to them. He drives smoothly away from the curb and merges into traffic.
I begin reading a manuscript. When I finish reading, I complete the synopsis form on my laptop. I begin reading a second manuscript. The driver puts up the privacy screen and turns on a reading light for me. I don't watch the road or scenery; I dig into my work. The miles and the minutes fly by.
XXX – CPOV
"Minimal media," Taylor reported when he returned to the car. I flew Charlie Tango from Seattle to Portland. Taylor, because of his color-blindness, cannot co-pilot. He arranges for Stephan to be on standby in Portland if he is needed.
"Is if I use it here?" I wear black jeans, a grey cashmere sweater and a black leather jacket. I want to appear casual. I dress like our first morning at the Heathman when I captured her sweet pouty lips. 'Fuck the paperwork, Anastasia…just fuck me!'
"I did not see Miss Steele, Boss, but I saw Mr. Steele and his friend, Mr. Rodriguez." Taylor reported.
"Well, let's go see the boy's pictures." I hid my disappointment. After several minutes of walking around the gallery, I encounter Raymond Steele.
"Mr. Grey," Steele could not contain his surprise. "Is Annie with you?"
"It's Grey…just Grey. No, I'm sorry, she isn't with us. Taylor and I flew down. I was able to get away after all, but Anastasia was gone from her condo when I checked. She's not answering my emails," I try to keep the censure from my voice.
"Annie is en route, then. I thought maybe one of your men was her driver." Ray Steele's eyes assess me.
"En route?" I looked at Taylor, who shrugged. He instinctively knows what I want.
"A driver?" Taylor texts someone. "You don't know who by any chance?"
"Sorry, Annie didn't say. She said she had a driver, and would arrive by 8:30. We're having a late dinner and then Annie is riding back to Seattle with me. I'm doing some work on her condo this next week," Steele explained, noting the look crossing my face. "She didn't tell you I was coming to Seattle?"
"I've had a very busy schedule this week," I prevaricated. "I've been remiss in checking Anastasia's schedule."
"Well, until she gets here, let me show you around," Steele offered. "I know most of the places where José took the pictures." He led me to the beginning of the exhibit.
'So, Anastasia hasn't told her father she walked away from me. What do you think about that, Dr. Flynn?'
Taylor hovered, waiting for Steele to be sidelined by talking with his friend, Rodriguez Senior. "Sir, she's in a vehicle, headed for Portland, ETA 8:30."
"Who the hell is she with?" I demanded to know; my curiosity overrode my manners.
"Miss Steele hired a driving service to escort her from Seattle to Portland. She contacted them on Sunday." Taylor explained.
"She's is riding with a stranger! Putting herself at risk! She races around, without thinking, without an ounce of self-preservation." I snapped. 'I want to spank her until she can't sit down for a week. What is it with her? Is she putting herself at risk at her job? Is she at risk in her condo? I need answers.'
"The company is owned by an ex-military man who has several ex-military men working for him. The fleet is fairly new. No vehicular accidents in the last decade. All the drivers are bonded and have defensive driving training. Excellent ratings from clients such as Governor Gregoire and Senator Blandino. I do not believe Miss Steele is in danger." Taylor lists the pros of Anastasia's situation. "I'm keeping the company information on file, because they could be a good contact for Grey House."
"Miss Steele had better not be in danger, Taylor," I threatened him. "Someone will be fired if anything happens. I told you I wanted 24/7 protection following her. Why is that not happening?"
"My people are as discreet as possible given Miss Steele does not want a protection unit." Taylor defended his people. "We can't follow her while her father is in Seattle next week. I don't want my men arrested for stalking."
"I need to talk to the art gallery director. Ask him to meet me by the back wall?" 'I will fire Taylor and anyone else who gets in the way of my reclaiming Anastasia and her affections.'
"Near the two pictures of Miss Steele?" Taylor affirmed.
I nodded curtly before texting Flynn. I tell him what she did and how I want to spank her until she can't sit down for a week. I don't tell him I want to spank her and then fuck her into the middle of next week. Flynn tells me to stow my twitchy palm, such actions won't endear me to Anastasia and could widen our rift. He states we will discuss my attendance at the exhibit when Anastasia asked me not to go.
"What do you mean they are not for sale?" I demanded. I'm still in a foul mood created by hearing about Anastasia's driver.
"Believe me, if the situation were within my purview, I would sell them to you. I'd be thrilled to announce our first sale of the evening was made to Christian Grey." The art gallery director assured me. "However, the contract and the photo releases are explicit. When the exhibit ends, Rodriguez will claim the pictures and deliver them to Miss Steele. Neither the pictures nor the negatives are for sale at any price."
The 30x42 inch landscape picture is designated for Steele. Anastasia and Katherine, sit on a log and huddle before a campfire. They share the same blanket, wear mittens, coats and stocking caps. Steam rises from their mugs. The 24x36 portrait picture, designated for Mrs. Adams, features Anastasia standing in a sun ray. Her eyes are closed, her lashes brush her cheeks, a soft smile graces her rosy, pouty lips. Her hands are tucked in the back pockets of her jeans. Her t-shirt hugs her breasts; her jeans hugged the curves of her ass. The deep rose t-shirt accents Anastasia's alabaster skin and rosy lips. The picture is an exposé of light and shadow. Anastasia stands in a clearing in the woods. The trees and the ferns cast varying shades of shadows which contrast with the sun ray on her face.
I cannot take my eyes off the picture. I remembered watching Anastasia sleep. with her lashes dusting her cheeks. I remembered kissing those pouty rosy lips. I remember smelling her sweet soft hair. I remember her jeans and T-shirt gracing her curves when I visited the hardware store. I'm so damned mad at her for not talking to me. I almost wallow in sexual frustration.
"When did you contract with Mr. Rodriguez?" I employ Carrick Grey's best interrogation tactics.
The gallery owner consulted his file. "Rodriguez's advisor came to me in April. He is a volunteer at the gallery. He knows we're suffering from a downturn in donations. Having a senior college student exhibit during the last month of the fiscal year helps our bottom line as well as providing the student with sales which could ease their senior year financial obligations."
I indicated he should continue, ignoring his blatant plea for funding. 'Fucker. I would not be able to fund food drops, nor provide people with decent places to work if I spent all of my funds supporting everyone who wants a handout.'
"In late April Rodriguez presented a slide show of one hundred available pictures. I selected fifty. Rodriguez signed an exhibit agreement with us. On May first, he returned with a second slide show of fifty pictures. I selected twenty more landscapes which included those two pictures. May third, Rodriguez returned with signed media releases for Miss Kavanagh and Miss Steele. May fifth, we sent seventy pictures to the printer and framer for processing for the show. May fifteenth, we determined the placement of the pictures on the gallery walls."
"Thank you for the information," I want him to go away so I can stare at Anastasia's pictures.
"There are dozens of other pictures which you can purchase for offices or your home." The art gallery director hinted. "They are all available to their new owners as of June twenty-ninth. We have a new exhibit starting July first which runs through September fifteenth. Patriots is a collection of paintings, sculptures and photographs created by veterans who live in the Northwest. The focal point of the exhibit is a circular bronze casting, approximately thirty inches in diameter. Opposites has a peace sign on one side and a nuclear warning sign on the other. Opposites is a striking piece if you are seeking décor for a reception or waiting area."
"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," I prevaricated. When he left and when I didn't have an audience, I took a picture of the two Anastasia pictures with my phone. If I can't physically own those pictures, I will have an electronic copy. I'm aware my interest in the two pictures might be misinterpreted, but I will task PR to watch for pictures or press of this event. 'Anastasia's pictures mean she'll be in proximity to the boy. If she can forgive him for almost assaulting her…why can't she forgive me?'
XXX – 3PPOV
José was angry because Christian Grey attended the exhibit opening. Ana obviously came to her senses about him. She arranged to arrive without him and return to Seattle with Ray. He asked the art gallery director to tweet Christian Grey attended an exhibition opening at Portland Place. The art gallery director was pleased with the suggestion. He posted a picture of Christian Grey staring at the sun-ray picture on the gallery's web site. He included the gallery URL in the tweet. Grey's picture would be a great graphic for Jose's exhibition review which was scheduled to appear in the Seattle Times and Portland Tribune.
XXX – CPOV
"Boss, we have to go," Taylor appeared at my elbow. "Someone tweeted your presence here. Paparazzi are arriving in droves. I called for our driver to transport us back to the helipad. If you are unable to fly, Stephan will. You can co-pilot."
"I wanted to see her."
"We can't allow this to happen, Boss. Miss Steele doesn't deserve to walk into a scene between you and the media." Taylor advised. "I called the security team we use in Portland. A team of three will be here in fifteen minutes. One at the front door, one at the back door and one inside. They will text me as events unfold."
"Is there a rear exit?" I capitulated, knowing there will be security here after I leave.
"Right this way," Taylor escorted me through an Employees Only door and down a hall to a loading dock where our vehicle waited.
XXX – APOV
When I arrive, my driver escorts me inside, handing me off to José who hovers near the door. Wow! A suit-wearing José is a sight to behold. He cannot compare to Christian in a suit, but he is good looking, nonetheless. My only friend, while Kate is away, hugs me hard and won't let go first. 'Aftercare said I needed hugs.' I return José's hug.
"Ana, I'm so glad you came," José whispers in my ear. "Are you trying to lose weight so you fit in Grey's world?" He holds me at arm's length and frowns.
"José, I'm fine. I've had a rough first week at work. Congratulations on the show! I'm so proud of you, working towards your goals." I hug him again.
"How did you get here?" José tucks my hand in his elbow to escort me to Dad.
"I hired a driver, but I'm riding home with Dad. He's doing some work on the condo while Kate and Ethan are out of town. I worked on the way here." I showed him my laptop computer case and the tote with the manuscripts. He hands my things off to the cloak room and gives me the receipt for them.
"Grey was here. He left about a half-an-hour ago," José quietly informed me. "Consequently, we've been invaded by the media."
"Good! Let's hope they took lots of pictures of him viewing your work. You can use the free PR." I teased; aware our picture is being taken. I'm pleased to look nice standing next to him. People obviously recognize me from the two pictures of me on display.
"I could use everyone buying a picture," José admitted. "A sold-out show will support me until I graduate. I could take a larger class load. I would graduate next year with my major in engineering and minor in photography."
"I'll keep my fingers crossed…" I cross my fingers in the air.
"The gallery director said Grey asked to buy both your pictures," José pulled a face.
"I'm glad they are earmarked for my parents, but I'm sorry you missed the sales." José is my friend; however, I'm not discussing Christian with him. I thought Christian's rules were clear: the relationship ended when I walked. 'Get your shit together Mr. Sex-on-Legs Christian Grey because if you don't, you'll be playing all alone by yourself. A vision of Christian in his red room of pain sobers me. He doesn't have to play alone in his red room of pain. He said I'd be amazed at how easy it was to find women who shared his lifestyle. How hard is it to 'share' his lifestyle when you spend 12 weekends in a penthouse and walk away with clothes, car, electronics and jewelry in exchange for a bruised ass?'
"What happened with Christian Grey?" Dad asked when we were finally alone.
"We have a fundamental difference of opinion about how to live my life," I shrugged. "You know how I can't stand Mom's controlling or overbearing traits. Christian has those with a side of money and a plethora of groupies. His lifestyle does nothing for me. I don't want things from him. I'd rather have nothing and spend quality time with someone I care about…than have everything money can buy except quality time. I still have feelings for Christian but he has issues; I have issues."
"Carla thinks," Dad paused.
"Mom thinks I'm avoiding Christian because she approves of him. She thinks I'm being obstinate about reconciling with him because I overthink issues." I scoffed.
"Basically, yes. Be prepared to live with the consequences of your decision. He was here, looking like someone stole the decoder ring out of his Post Toasties," Dad reported. "Grey and Taylor left when paparazzi found him here."
"I'm surprised he came," I murmured. 'It's a little painful to be here…I am reminded of the art on the white walls of the Escala penthouse. I'm reminded of the art on the executive floor of Grey House. I'm reminded of the extraordinary Trouton works hanging on the wall in Christian's office.'
"Grey said his schedule cleared up so he could attend," Dad explained. "Speaking of schedule, l think we should start at the back of the exhibit and work our way toward the front so we can leave out the front door."
We stop at the two pictures which José asked to exhibit. They coordinate well with the landscapes he has on display. We are detained by the art gallery director who captures a photo of us standing between both pictures. Several of the media take our pictures also. The art gallery director tells them we are friends of José Rodriquez, because neither Dad nor I will talk to them.
"What are you doing with the sun ray picture when the exhibit is over?" Dad asked.
"I thought I would give it to Mom for Christmas," I shrugged.
"If you work things out with Christian, you could give it to him for his office," Dad suggested. "He stood there for a long time staring at it. I felt bad for him."
"That's a thought," I admit. I might have given Christian the picture, if he had ever said he loved me. However, he doesn't own me…therefore, I'm determined he won't own the sunray picture. We tour the exhibit and I hug the Rodriguez men goodbye. They promise to join us for the Fourth of July weekend. José gives me a gift, "For your new place..."
I open the package to find a wonderful 5x7 landscape picture of Lake Sylvia in the spring. "Do you mind if I put it on my desk at work? After the press interest tonight, I'd like to show your picture to my coworkers."
José agrees and after one more round of goodbyes and hugs, Dad and I depart.
Dad and I talk about the work to be done at the condo during dinner. We rough out a schedule which should keep him busy for a week. There are a couple late soccer games on ESPN and he wants to watch them. He will bunk on our sofa if I don't object.
"What's in the truck?" I asked Dad when we finish dinner and head to Seattle. The tarp covering the bed of the truck is lumpy, but well contained. I can't see a thing.
"Early birthday presents," Dad teased. "I found two 36x24 flat white wicker trays at an estate sale. They might have been trays out of wicker trunks. I thought they would fit under your bed to hold some of your classic books if your bookshelves are too full. I put felt on the bottom so they will slide in and out easier for you. I found a white wicker vanity with attached mirror and a matching chair for your bedroom. Kate said you needed it."
I sigh and Dad laughs.
"I know you don't like to play Barbie, but I like the structure. I thought you should have the white wicker breakfast-in-bed tray when Kate was sick, but time got away from me. The tray folds and hangs on the wall as a decoration when not in use. I found a white wooden stand with two white wicker basket inserts. I remembered you needed to expand your desktop surface when you studied for finals. The stand is the same height as your desk. You can use the baskets like drawers. I also found a set of wicker shelves to hang on the wall over your desk. You can store desk items on the shelves to clear your desktop. I created a bulletin board with a white wicker frame also."
"Thanks Dad! I would hug you but you're driving! The white wooden stand will work great to hold my new printer. I can put paper, ink jet cartridges, etc. in the baskets. I appreciate the wall shelves and the bulletin board." I need to reconfigure my room for the new furniture.
"There are two other presents back there. I was sorting through the attic. I found a blue lap quilt which folds into a quillow – a quilt pillow. I also found a pale blue Depression glass water carafe with a matching tumbler and under tray for your bedside table. I described them to Carla. She thinks you will like them. Both belonged to my mother, your Grandma Steele."
"I will love them," I declared. "Did you bring empty ice chests and freezer containers?"
"Four of them, full of empty containers. Kick off your shoes, crawl into the back seat and get some sleep. There's a pillow and a blanket for you. I'm wide awake; I have a thermos of tea and a GPS. I'll wake you when we get to Seattle." Dad promised.
I try to block out the classic radio station Dad has turned on. I'm tortured by Steely Dan's Rikki Don't Lose That Number.
We hear you're leaving, that's ok
I thought our little wild time had just begun
I guess you kind of scared yourself, you turn and run
But if you have a change of heart…
We can go out driving on Slow Hand Row.
We could stay inside and play games, I don't know
And you could have a change of heart…
I sigh and close my eyes, creating a mental list of weekend tasks. Before I am fully alert, Dad calls my name to wake me up. We have arrived at the outskirts of Seattle. Damn! Now I'm reminded of how Seattle looked by air the night Christian flew me in Charlie Tango. Thank god Dad turns off the radio so he can get directions from me.
XXX – 3PPOV
Portland PI to Jason Taylor – 10:10 PM:
AS arrived at Portland Place 8:30. Greeted by friend and father. Thirty minutes in art gallery, pictures taken with father at back wall of exhibit by gallery director and media. Dinner at Buffalo Gap. On road to Seattle around ten. Will arrive Seattle approximately one o'clock. Pictures attached.
Taylor sighed and forwarded everything to Grey. How was he supposed to keep track of Miss Steele if she didn't want a close protection detail? He could not imbed a tracker under her skin or attach a tracking program to her phone. Mia Grey caused headaches for her close protection detail since her return from Paris. She felt they were an impediment to her having fun and frequently ditched them. Elliot Grey's detail suntanned in Barbados while watching Elliot coat Katherine Kavanagh's body in suntan lotion – SPF 30 to be precise.