He's being ridiculous.
Standing outside Taylor's building with both my heart and foot in my mouth, I repeat that mantra over and over to myself. Christian has many, many traits that are worthy of admiration. He is sculpted in the shadow of an angel, he is sweet at his core and despite his notions on the matter, he is fiercely loveable. He is a business boomer with brains to burn. He's a friend to the third world, he's a benefactor in the privacy of anonymous donations and he's the best thing that ever happened to me.
He is also an idiot.
Taylor is, excluding me and his family, the closest thing he has to a friend.
And I'm not about to let him throw that closest thing in the trash for the sake of a ridiculous misunderstanding and two stubborn alpha-male egos butting heads. I'm not big on the whole a woman knows her man better than he knows himself school of thought. But this is an exception to the general rule. Because in this instance, I do know my man better than he knows himself. And my man is afraid to admit that he misses Taylor, even to himself, and he's even more afraid to countenance the very idea that he could be in the wrong.
That he, Christian Grey, was capable of being wrong.
The apartment building's main door suddenly opens, and a slim twenty-something exits, clutching a yoga mat. This is my opportunity and I smile my thanks to her as I dart in before the door closes, muttering absentmindedly about forgotten keys. His apartment is on the third floor, number sixty-two. I extracted this intelligence from an initially reluctant Mrs Jones. Once she knew what I wanted to do however, she was on board. He takes his time in answering my impatient knock and I'm willing to bet he's analyzing my anxious face on some hidden surveillance system.
Sure enough, when he does answer, he doesn't seem surprised.
Just wary.
And wearied.
"Miss Steele. Is everything ok?"
Politeness dictates that I should ask for his permission to enter his home. Experience dictates that if I do, I'm getting nowhere with the mission I need to accomplish. I smile and stride my ass into his sparsely decorated home, forcing myself to forget the manners I was born with. His sigh is loud and exasperated as he closes the door behind me, trudging into his living with resignation splattered all over his face.
"Miss Steele, this is really not the-"
"He misses you, Taylor. Christian misses you."
The scepticism on his face is not encouraging.
"I don't think Mr Grey is in the habit of yearning after former employees, Miss Steele."
I roll my eyes.
He's not here to see it.
"Mr Grey is in the habit of making decisions that are to his detriment in the heat of the moment. You've been there from the get go, Taylor. You're the one he trusts the most, the one he always turns to. You're the closest thing he has to a friend and I'm pretty sure that boss or no boss, you like him too. And I'm not about to just sit around while you two play in separate sand boxes because of your masculinity bullshit. I don't know what happened between you two, he won't tell me, but I'm sure it's nothing that can't be resolved."
Jason looks at me for a moment and I swear that it's amusement I see in his eyes.
"Mr Grey hasn't told you the issues surrounding the… ahh, nature of my dismissal?"
I roll my eyes again.
He's still not here to see it.
"Well, no, but I know it's not something that is completely without hope of redemption. It can't be. And Christian needs you, Taylor, even if he'd rather die than say it. And I mean that, quite literally. He would rather die than say it so that's why I'm here and that's why I'm saying it. And that's why I'm asking you to come over for dinner tonight. You two can sort this out over some food and drinks and then I can go back to not worrying about the fact that he's silently missing you, but to stubborn to say so."
He leans against the pillar of his open plan kitchen.
This time, there's no mistaking the absolute mirth in his eyes.
He's fucking laughing at me.
I glare.
Here I am, staging an intervention out of the goodness of my heart, and he's silently laughing at me.
"Miss Steele, are we talking about the same Christian Grey? Because, the one I worked for, misses and needs no one. Except maybe you, and maybe his family… but definitely not his staff. He'll do fine with Sawyer and Sawyer will do fine with him… and I'll… I'll do fine without him. Now, I appreciate that your intentions were good in coming here but if there's nothing else, I have some business lined up for today and I have to get going."
Like hell you do.
"Taylor, can't you just apologize and put this to bed? For the love of-"
"Me? Me? Miss Steele, forgive me, but if you don't know the circumstances surrounding my firing, then how can you assume that I am the one who needs to apologize?"
That puts a spanner in my works.
I blink.
It's a damned good point.
"Well, there's probably a pair of you in it, all I meant was-"
"All you meant was… you want me to go and kiss the ring, worm my way back into the good books, all so that things can go back to the way they were?"
I'm a little startled.
I've never heard Taylor say so much in one sitting.
And I've never heard the tinge of bitterness that bounces in his tone.
Shit, Christian… what did you do? What did he do? What the hell is this about?
I need to stay rational. This is a lover's tiff between two bromancers that don't even know that they are bromancers. I've seen the way the two of them pore over car dealership brochures, rattling on excitedly about this new model and that new model. It's the one thing they share without any inhibitions, their love of cars. Christian is at his most animated during these conversations, he looks his age, he looks carefree. Taylor is at his most relaxed around him during these conversations, he doesn't yes sir this and no sir that. He offers his opinions with confidence. They are equal when it comes to their vehicular knowledge and passion.
I don't want my complex Christian to miss out on that.
I don't want Taylor, who is by far my favorite PBG, to miss out on that.
I have to box clever.
I have to be the diplomat.
I have to be truthful.
"Why don't you just come over for dinner, Taylor? Christian might not be able to say he misses you, but I can. I miss you. It's not the same without you around. Sawyer's fine and everything, but it's just not the same. I'm pretty sure that after a few glasses of wine and a full stomach, he'll be in a better frame of mind than when you two last spoke. And even if he isn't, you're not losing anything. We're free tonight if you are?"
He shakes his head, crosses his arms and it hits me.
Jason Taylor can be just as stubborn as Christian Grey can be.
Great.
Just great.
Maybe I'm a little wet behind the ears for an operation of this scale.
But a girls gotta try.
"Miss Steele, I-"
"Call me Ana."
"Miss Steele, trust me when I tell you that Mr Grey does not want me coming over for dinner. Tonight, or any other night. And I don't want to come over for dinner, tonight or any other night. Everyone has their limits, and I've reached mine. I respect the man, and I will hold every single one of his confidences, but I've reached my limit. I am interviewing for other positions today that I hope-"
He scoffs tiredly, but good-naturedly.
"That I hope will be a little less demanding and a little less mercurial than my employment with Mr Grey. I am never going to going work for him again, that part of my life is over. The doctor says the stress would have killed me anyhow so there really is nothing left to say on the matter. I appreciate your coming all the way over here, but I really don't think that Mr Grey would. So, let's just say our goodbyes now so that you and I can at least part on good terms. Ok?"
I shake my head in frustration.
Taylor… working for someone else?
Taylor… protecting someone else?
No.
No.
My cell kicks my ass out of my panicked reverie. My eyes close in trepidation. Only one person has that ringtone. Jason's lips quirk in amusement as he accurately reads the expression I'm sure is etched into my face. Pulling the phone from my back pocket, I cringe when I see his name bleeding into the LED display, accusing me with every shrilling ring.
"Aren't you going to get that? I may be three days on the unemployment scrapheap, but I do remember with a certain acuity that Mr Grey does not like his calls to be ignored."
Suddenly, a disturbing possibility for his termination bursts into my mind.
And if that possibility is in fact the reason, then no dinner will ever heal the wounds. I bite my lip as I miss his call, I can predict the twitching palms email that's coming my way, word for word. I table that for a second, there are more pressing concerns to deal with. My fingers tap my cell of their own volition as I try and find a polite way to ask a staggeringly impolite question. It becomes very clear, very quickly, that there is no way to ask this impolite question politely.
I just have to ask it.
Otherwise, I'm wasting my time and Taylor's time.
My cell shudders with an incoming email.
That didn't take long…
I blurt the question out. I don't mean to blurt the question out… but I blurt the question out.
"Taylor, did you sleep with Mia?"
Time stands still. His eyes widen as his brain tries to get on board with his ears. Disbelief colors his face, before giving way to angry indignation. Mia is, save for me and Grace, Christian's favorite female on earth. His little sister is near and dear to his heart. My own heart is hammering, I'm experiencing an ass-kicking bout of déjà vu. I'm back in Christian's office, I'm meeting him for the first time. I'm mumbling and I'm stumbling. I'm dressed like a pauper on the docks, he's eying me like a landowner inspecting his property. I'm reading Kate's inane questions, I'm asking Christian Grey if he's gay.
I snap back into the present.
This isn't that.
Taylor isn't glaring at me the same way Christian glared at me.
Taylor is laughing.
Taylor is laughing his fucking ass off.
"Sleep with Miss Grey?"
His voice is tight with amusement, he's pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to contain himself. I don't think I've ever seen Taylor laugh like this, I don't think I've ever seen him laugh at my expense. I don't know how to react, what to do. Finally, he takes pity on my confused indecision and shakes his head with the fondness for me that sparked my fondness for him.
"Miss Steele, Mr Grey didn't fire me because I slept with his sister."
He snorts with bemused and oddly ironic laughter once more.
"Mr Grey fired me because I slept with his brother."
The air tickles my tonsils as my mouth falls open into a gormless gape.
"With… with Elliot? Say what now?"
….
TBC
A/N: Obvious divergence from canon here, just roll with it people! And just so we're all cheerfully crystal clear, Christian's problem is not rooted in homophobia or because he wants Taylor - LOL!
Like I said, this is a light-hearted fic. Ain't nothing heavy afoot.
Till next time
Inks x
…