Who Shot the Bitch Troll?
To all my faithful readers and reviewers: thank you for your support and suggestions. Since school has restarted, you will have to expect less frequent and shorter chapters. I hope that you still enjoy!
Chapter 9
Taylor
Landing in Las Vegas was just as smooth as take from Seattle. For once, it was I who had the driver waiting with a limo to drive us to the Bellagio. Gail has a spa appointment in an hour for something that Mrs. Grey called "the works." I plan to have a swim, sauna, and massage, but I'll be damned if anyone is going to touch my nails and hair. My Dad always said that he could never trust a man with clean fingernails. Of course, he never met Christian Grey.
After the cool damp of Seattle, the dry heat is a welcome change. I wouldn't want to come here in summer with temperatures in the hundreds, but this is pleasant. Our hotel suite has a stunning view of the city and beyond that, the desert. Gail finds it overwhelming that in addition to the bedroom, we have a large eating and living space. There are fresh flowers waiting for us, courtesy of the Greys, as well as a bottle of Bollinger. When Mr. Grey does something, he does it right.
The bathroom is, of course, enormous, with a full sized tub and jacuzzi. I can think of a few ways that we could make use of those. I suppose that all this luxury is much less of a shock to my system than hers. I have been in and out of suites like this for the past four years. But this is the stuff or magazines and televisions shows about the lives of the rich and famous.
As she looks around in astonishment, I have to make a comment.
"You look just like Mrs. Grey did the morning that she woke up in the Heathman while she was still little Anastasia Steele," I say. "You can talk to her about it when she gets back from Aspen. You know that she's going to want to hear all about it."
"I know that she will," replies Gail, relaxing a bit. "It's a lot to take in."
"Well, think about the man who lives in the biggest penthouse in Seattle and just moved into a mansion with one of the best views of the Sound," I say logically. "He stays in suites like this wherever he travels. But when you consider the poverty of his early years, it is really not so surprising."
"I wouldn't want to live like this all the time," she muses. "But I guess I can manage it for a weekend."
"Neither would I," I say. "Now why don't we get some lunch and then you can go for "the works." You know it makes you sound like a car or something."
"You're lucky that you added the 'or something,' buster," she says playfully. "You'll get to enjoy the works tonight if you're lucky."
"We're in Las Vegas," I reply. "How could I not be lucky? And remember, what happens in Las Vegas, stays in Las Vegas."
She looks at me and then smirks.
"Well, if it stays in Las Vegas," she answers. "That would be too bad for you."
I shake my head. Have we ever been able to banter together so freely? Working for the Greys means that even when we are alone, we end of spending most of our time discussing them. And neither of us dare show the least, little sign of becoming overly familiar with Mrs. Grey. Mr. Grey nearly went ballistic the one that that Mrs. Grey (then Ana) engaged in a playful chatter over the evening that she was "Mrs. Taylor." However, I believe that since Mrs. Grey has become pregnant, Gail is getting a pass on that.
She deserves it. She spends half her time worrying about Mrs. Grey. I know that their relationship is deeper than just employer-employee, but considering how Mr. Grey tended to isolate her in the early days, I think that it is only natural. Luke has told me all about their confidante and conspirator relationship that he is facilitating, as well as their "code green" drills. Since the scheme has Dr. Trevelyan's blessing, I am turning a blind eye to it.
After we eat and Gail leaves the suite for her "works" appointment, my cell phone rings. It's Flynn.
"Taylor," he says. "We may have a problem back here."
"What now?" I sigh, wondering if there will ever be a time when there is not some kind of problem.
"It's Clark," he replies. "I think that he is trying to make an arrest in the Lincoln murder case."
"Surely not Mia Grey," I answer.
"Worse," he says. "I think that he is closing on Linc."
"God damn it all," I swear. "He has no evidence on Lincoln. He has no evidence on anyone. Why can't he just leave well enough alone?"
"Because this is a high profile case and he's under a lot of pressure to make an arrest," he says.
"Why do you think it's Linc?" I ask.
"Because of the leak to press about it," he says. "If they arrest Lincoln and he decides to drag Christian's name into it, his reputation will be shot and it could set back all the progress that he's made."
"What makes you think that he will drag Grey's name into it?" I ask.
"Because he's convinced that there is some link to Christian in divorce mess that never made it into the proceedings," he replies. "I think that he is trying to connect the dots between Christian investing in Elena's business and Linc posting bail for Hyde."
"Does he know that Elena gave Grey the money to start his business?" I ask. "Or rather Linc's money?"
"That I don't know," replies Flynn.
"Where are you getting your information?" I ask.
Silence.
"I can't say," he finally admits. "Confidentiality and all that. But my information is accurate."
"Okay, I won't ask again. Have you called Carrick Grey?" I ask.
"I called him, but he hasn't called back," Flynn states. "He could be forced into doing something that he doesn't want to do, but he may not have a choice. We need to keep Christian's name out of the press at all costs."
"What do you have in mind?" I ask.
"I think that we should ask Carrick to defend Lincoln if he's charged," he answers. "We know that he's innocent, so it wouldn't be like we were asking him to knowingly defend a guilty man. And he may be a slime ball, but the last time I looked, that wasn't a crime."
"Do you have Price in the loop?" I ask.
"I know that he's in Aspen with Christian, so I've been reluctant to call him," he replies.
"I wouldn't worry about him letting anything slip," I comment. "He's a pretty cool customer and he knows how high the stakes are. It really sucks that Lincoln is going to make out from his 'inheritance,' but that's the law."
"Yes, it is," I reply. "But if by chance he was convicted of the crime, he couldn't profit from it. This is one hell of a mess."
"It's been one hell of a mess from the beginning," Flynn remarks. "Just when I thought that Christian was finally free from all the shit in his past and moving forward with a
positive self-image, all this crap has to come back to haunt him."
"Well, keep me posted," I say. "But to be perfectly honest, there is not much else that I can do. I'm in Las Vegas to be married and I don't want anything spoiled for Gail. It's the first real vacation away from Grey that we've had in the four years that we worked for him."
"I understand," he says. "I only called to keep you in the loop. I don't think that the shit is going to hit the fan for a few more days, hopefully while Christian and Ana are still Aspen."
After Flynn hangs up, I want to throw my cell phone against the wall. I am so sick of this Elena Lincoln shit that I am beginning to wish that I had killed her myself.
Price
Arrival at the house with the three girls is as chaotic as it always is, regardless of where we arrive. They tumble out of the SUV and Melissa barely has time to catch up with them before they reach the front door.
"Back, ladies," she says in her authoritative voice. "I want each of you to grab your own bag."
"Why can't Ryan bring them in?" asks Sarah.
"Because he's the chauffeur, not the bellhop," I reply. "You wouldn't want Christian and Ana to think that you were all spoiled brats now, would you?"
"No, sir," they answer politely.
"We can leave the ski gear on the roof," says Ryan, as he hands out the bags from the back of the car. "We can use this vehicle to drive out to the slopes."
"Are you taking us?" Emily asks.
"No," he says. "Probably Sawyer will . . . I hope."
The last two words are spoken under his breath. I can't blame him. He probably thinks that it's Sawyer's turn to get the third degree. I wonder if Taylor is here since he is the head of security.
At the door, we are greeted by Christian, who introduces the housekeeper, Mrs. Bentley, to us. She is a little baffled by the barrage of questions, mostly addressed to Christian, by the girls.
"Do we each get our own room or do we have to share?" asks Sarah immediately.
"You will all share," answers Christian.
"Where is Ana?" asks Katie.
"She's resting upstairs because she is tired," he replies.
"When is lunch?" asks Emily. "I'm hungry."
"As soon as you are settled."
"What's for lunch?" asks Katie.
"Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup," replies Mrs. Bentley.
"What kind of cheese?" asks Emily.
"You have your choice between Swiss or cheddar," she answers with a smile.
"Can we have Coke with lunch?" asks Katie hopefully.
"We don't have any soda in the house," explains Mrs. Bentley. "Mr. Grey told me to have milk and apple juice on hand for you girls."
"Do we at least get chips?" asks Sarah.
Mrs. Bentley frowns.
"Mr. Grey ordered whole wheat crackers, and whole wheat bread," she says.
"Man, Christian," complains Sarah. "You are such a party pooper."
Christian laughs.
"Sorry, Sarah," he replies. "I'm just trying to maintain my sanity. As I recall from your last visit, you girls are energetic enough without adding any sugar or refined carbs into the mix."
"That means that he thinks that we're too hyper," comments Emily.
"He's right," says Melissa. "Why don't you show us to our rooms, Christian, so that we can get the girls sorted out? The longer that we stand here, the longer it will take you to get out to the slopes."
"Mrs. Bentley," says Christian. "You go organize lunch. And, Melissa, I am sure that you are looking forward to getting the girls out of your hair for a while."
"You learn quickly," she says with a grin.
"Thank you, sir," Mrs. Bentley says in relief. "Please let me know if you need anything."
Katie opens her mouth to say something, but before she can get a word out, Melissa gives her the "don't you dare say anything else or you'll be in trouble look." As we go up the stairs, Katie is at Christian's heels.
"Do we have a jacuzzi in our bathroom?" she asks.
Christian stops, turns around and looks at me. I shrug.
"We do at our house in Tahoe," adds Emily.
Christian rolls his eyes. I have to laugh.
"No," he says. "Your room does not have a jacuzzi. But you do have a stunning view of the Rockies."
"I'd rather have a jacuzzi," grumbles Sarah.
But I have heard enough. I drop our things in Melissa's and my room, stride into the girls' room next door and close the door in Christian's very surprised face.
"That's it, do you understand?" I say sternly. "You will act like the polite young ladies that we have brought you up to be. There will be no more demands, complaints, or otherwise rude remarks. I expect that you will be more respectful to the security men. Their job is hard enough without you hassling them."
"We weren't rude to Ryan, really," answers Sarah. "He thought that we were funny, sort of."
"Well, let's just strive to make a good impression and be good guests," I state. "That's if you want to be invited back."
"Yes, sir," they reply looking a bit sheepish.
I open the door and walk out into the hallway where Christian is waiting with a bemused look on his face.
"Mission accomplished!" I comment with a smile.
"They really weren't that bad," he says uncertainly.
"Parenting 101, my boy," I reply cheerfully. "Set the boundaries early and don't let bad behavior pass unremarked. If you wait too long, they won't remember what they did or said that needed correction."
"If you say so," he answers, but he doesn't look convinced.
He goes back downstairs while I join Melissa in our room. Since we are only here for a couple of nights, she already has us unpacked.
"Call the troops to order?" she asks.
"Oh, yes," I say and then sigh. "Why do they always have to do this? Whenever we go anywhere, they have to start in with the button pushing."
"Because they are 10, 12, and almost 15," she replies logically. "And by the time they're through with this phase, this little one will be at it."
She pats her belly, which is only beginning to expand. I smile.
"Maybe this one will be a boy," I comment. "I hear that they're easier."
"Different kind of button pushing," she answers. "But still button pushing. But the real fun hasn't even started yet. Wait until they become interested in boys."
"Isn't that why we are sending them to convent school?"
"Good luck," she says. "Next year the mixers start with the local boys school. Sarah is already making Facebook friends with some of her friends' brothers."
I roll my eyes as we make our way downstairs to lunch. The girls are already at the table, competing with each other to tell Ana all about how Christmas went and how things have been going since our last visit.
"I hope they're not wearing you out," I say during a break in the din.
But Ana simply beams.
"I think that this is wonderful!" she replies happily. "I was an only child and after my Mom remarried it was just Ray and me. I am enjoying being a part of such a lively and active family."
"Are we your family?" asks Katie.
"What do you mean?" Ana asks in return.
"Well, I mean, you're Christian's wife and he's our brother, sort of," she replies. "So I guess that makes you our sister-in-law, sort of. I mean Daddy is only Christian's father, sort of. I mean, he doesn't like call him Dad or anything."
Ana is silent for a minute.
"I call my Dad, Ray, most of the time," she finally says. "Because when he was married to my mother, he was my stepfather. And now my Mom is married to Bob and he is my stepfather, but he's never felt like a father."
"Did you ever call him Dad?" asks Emily.
"No, I've always called him Bob," Ana says.
"Is he your family?" asks Katie.
"Of course, he is," she says. "He's married to my mother."
"Don't you ever get confused, you know, having so many Dads?" she asks.
Of course, none of this makes any sense to her. In her world, you have one Mommy and one Daddy. She is vaguely aware of other kids whose parents are divorced, but I don't think that she ever thought about it too much. Her curiosity is interesting, but I am afraid that it is about to become too personally intrusive.
"No," says Ana. "I never have a problem. I could never confuse Ray and Bob."
"Oh," says Katie. "If they are both step-fathers, then who is your real father?"
Ana's cheerful mask slips a little bit and Christian puts his arm around her.
"My birth father died in a Marine training mission the day after I was born," she says quietly. "I never knew him."
She looks at Christian, who picks up the explanation.
"Ana thinks of Ray as her real father," he says, giving her a little squeeze. "He was the man who raised from the time she was a very little girl. When I wanted to marry her, I asked his permission and then he gave her away at the wedding."
This silences the girls. Since Sarah had the conversation with me about Christian's birth mother, I can see her processing this information. Emily and Katie don't seem to know to think.
"So then, Christian, you think of Carrick as your real Dad and Grace as your real Mom because they raised you," Sarah comments thoughtfully. "That makes sense. But how do you think of Daddy? Is he kind of like a step-father?"
Christian looks surprised by her insightful question. She is watching him closely for his reaction, as are Emily and Katie. I know that he has been struggling with this very issue and I feel bad that the girls have put it out front and center. However, I know that Christian has a reputation as a man who reads other people well. The girls aren't trying to push buttons now or test boundaries. They have a very genuine, human interest in this man who, technically speaking, is their half-brother.
Ana now reaches over and takes his hand. I can see the authentic love and mutual support that they have for each other. I am happy that my son, who has had a painful introduction to life and later suffered abuse at the hands of a perverted woman. I open my mouth to tell the girls to go and put on their ski clothes, but Christian stops me.
"I never knew who my biological father was until I met Chris, your Dad," he says. "So it's not something that I have ever considered. I guess you could say that I'm still considering it."
"Okay," says Emily. "We're still considering whether you're real brother or not, so we're even. Can we go skiing now?"
"Absolutely!" Christian says quickly.
The girls run off to get dressed and he turns to me and sighs.
"They're very smart girls," he comments.
"I'm sorry, Christian," says Melissa. "I feel bad that they put you in the hot seat so quickly, but I couldn't think of a way to stop them without generating more questions."
"It's not the first time that I've been in the hot seat," he answers ruefully. "But they have a very natural curiosity about all this. I will say this. They are very honest. I wish that more adults had that degree of forthrightness."
I agree with him. When everyone is ready and we pack them up in the SUV with Sawyer driving this time, Christian is laughing and joking with them about their abilities in skiing. Being kids, the lunchtime conversation is already forgotten at the excitement of testing out some new slopes. The air is crisp and it looks like there is good snow pack under the powdery cover.
By the time we get to the slopes, everyone is relaxed except Sawyer, who has just undergone a third degree similar to the one Ryan got. He is muttering about exacting some sort of revenge on Ryan who had talked him into swapping duties, since Sawyer is usually Ana's close protection. I look over at Christian who is smiling at Sawyer's discomfort.
"I guess no one is immune," he comments.
"Just ask Ryan," I reply.
But in my heart I feel a warmth growing in my heart that I never thought possible. I suppose that in my own way, I have been restraining my emotions where he is concerned, fearful of the rejection, which on many levels, I so richly deserved. But it looks like that is not going to happen.