Chapter 19

The days are long and boring when there's no attainable goal in sight. I need to find a job so I have motivation to haul my butt out of bed every day. I had to quit my part-time bookstore job when I went to Italy with Kent. My manager just couldn't be that flexible and the job wasn't worth missing the trip over. Now, though, I'm without any employment… and without a boyfriend, and I'm the kind of girl who needs one or the other. Eyes on the prize, so to speak. Toward that end, I decide to start looking for a job as soon as possible. I'm poring over the classifieds online when Kate comes sallying in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Why are you so happy?" I grumble. "Life sucks."

"Not mine," she says airily. "I just met a fantastic man, had a brilliant conversation with a potential employer, and had the most incredible lunch. And," she looks at me, eyes sparkling as she says, "I did all three at one time."

"Oh, no. Is it time for another Kate romance drama? I've just now gotten over the last one."

"Oh, shut up, princess. You have your knight in shining armor and your rich gay friend who loves the stuffing out of you—you're all set. What about me?"

"For your information, I'm no longer seeing Mr. Grey, so…no knight, armor or otherwise. I do have Kent but he's still traveling with Jared, and I'm still unemployed. So you see, not much better off than you, Lady Kate."

"You and Christian will hook up again. This is a tiresome game you both play and I have to admit, it's getting old for the rest of us."

"Kate," I start to say but unexpectedly the tears overtake me and I'm sniveling, "it's not a game and I'm not kidding. I haven't heard from him since I threw him out and told him never to contact me again."

She gasps. "And he listened? What is his problem? Doesn't he know a solitary thing about women? I'll call him…"

"You will not. Just leave it alone. What was I thinking anyway? He's Christian Grey."

She rolls her eyes, her hands migrating to her hips in a typical Kate no-nonsense position. "Ana, stop with the self-deprecation, will you? You're just as good as him in every way. Just because he's wealthy does not make him better than you. I mean, God, Ana, if he's dumb enough to heed your obviously-not-serious warning to stay away, then he's way too dumb to deserve you. I mean, come on."

"Kate, do you think I should go to Australia and do you want to come with me if you do?"

"Australia? What the hell are we talking about? I could swear we were having a conversation about Christian Grey."

I sigh. "Keep up, please. I've moved on to the next conversation and it's about Australia and my, um, husband?"

...

Despite Kate's enthusiasm to accompany me down under, Australia gets tabled for now. My finances dictate that I secure gainful employment, like, immediately, so I focus on that task exclusively. Or try my best. But when I close my eyes at night, that excruciatingly handsome face pops into my mind's eye and stays there until I finally fall asleep.

Less than two weeks later, I find a job. I went for it on a lark, never thinking I'd really get it. Total score. I've been hired at a small independent radio station. The pay is anemic but it has two excellent things going for it: first, my boss is a handsome—and single—man in his early forties. This is good for a couple of reasons, not the least of which is that I don't go for older men. So I can enjoy his good looks guilt-free, no wife in the background, and there's absolutely no chance I'll get involved with him.

Second, it's a really fun job and I'm going to get to meet all sorts of people since we do two talk shows, one daily and one weekly. Much of the time we're running NPR programming so there's reliable funding as well.

I never heard anything again from Christian but I'm working hard to accept it. I do believe in fate so if it were meant to be, this whole thing would never have occurred. At least that's what I try to believe. Some days it's easier than others.

I'm out to lunch with Peter—the station's managing director and my boss—today. It's only the second day of my new employment but things are looking up, so much so that I haven't thought about Christian more than five or ten times and it's already past noon.

We've just ordered our meals when Peter steps away to take a phone call. I glance around to people-watch when my eyes light on a very familiar face. Minx? She sees me at the same time as I recognize her and we both squeal. She gets up and rushes up to me, three tables over.

"Ana!"

I stand up to throw my arms around her. "I'm so glad to see you! We need to get together soon."

"Yep, we do. How are you?"

"I'm good. I just landed a new job and right now I'm having lunch with the boss. It's a radio station."

Minx's eyes widen in surprise. "Wow, that sounds so cool. How about we get together for dinner later in the week so we can chat. I'm actually here with my dragon lady mother so if I keep her waiting too long, I'll never hear the end of it."

I crane my neck to see the woman at her table. She's small and elegant with an older version of Minx's pretty face. "Okay. Does Thursday sound workable?"

"Perfect. I'll call you to confirm."

...

That's how we end up at a cocktail lounge on Thursday evening, happy hour—emphasis on the happy since a boatload of sailors comes in shortly after we get there. There's one in particular who I have my eye on but quickly chastise myself for even considering it. Sailors are notorious for being love 'em-leave 'em types. Trying to ignore all those steamy looks, though, is not easy. Though I try to avoid entertaining it, the mean little thought that goes traipsing through my head is that none of them can ever measure up to a certain gray-eyed gent I know. The idea is depressing for I know it's true.

"So," Minx says after we are served our drinks, Tanqueray and tonic for her and a margarita for me, straight up with salt, "no more Irina for you?"

"Nope. I've fulfilled my contractual obligations and I'm o-u-t."

She cocks her head, slightly smiling. "Was that because of a certain someone?"

"Yeah, pretty much," I answer quickly, determined not to raise the specter of Monsieur Grey tonight. Minx, however, has other plans.

"Irina griped when I asked if you were coming to the next meet-and-greet."

"What do you mean griped?"

"Just that she said something along the lines of, the girl comes to one party and leaves with two of my best clients. I can't afford for her to attend any more."

I giggle. It was true. Kent told me he had no need to attend any more of Irina's functions now that he has me to act as his escort. Plus, I'm planning to work on him to make that trip out of the closet, tout suite. That's no way for him to live and he knows it.

Then there's Christian.

"How are things with your two clients anyway?"

"Kent and I are supremely copacetic. Not so much with the other one."

"No? Why not?"

Sighing, I look Minx in the eye. "Can we agree not to talk about him for now, Minx? It's still too recent and I've been trying without all that much success to banish it from my mind."

"Oh, okay. Just so everything's aboveboard, I should tell you that I saw him at Irina's last week. They were having coffee together and going over some papers together—blueprints, I think."

"Hmmm." I chug my drink in two gulps and signaled the waiter for another. "Do you need a fresh one?"

"Sure, why not?" she answers as she swallows the contents of her glass. "So what else has been going on?"

Two hours later, we stagger out into the balmy summer night. As we wait for a taxi, we promise each other to get together again soon. "You need to come to my place and meet Kate. I think you two will hit it off."

"Yes," she manages to slur her monosyllable, "definitely."

The driver takes Minx home first since she's sort of on the way to my place. We've both had a bit too much to drink and are quiet now, each of us marshaling forces to stave off the inevitable nausea that threatens lushes during car rides. Once I'm alone in the cab, we begin to approach an elegant restaurant located on an isolated stretch of the road. The exterior lights are twinkling brightly in the darkening dusk sky and I watch all the people in formal dress going in or coming out of the eatery. As we are passing I get a glimpse of a couple, elegantly dressed emerging from a taxi. When the man stands up straight, I get a feeling as if I've been punched in the stomach. He looks so much like Christian.

Is it Christian?

I can't tell for sure since I cannot see his face. "Slow down, please," I ask the driver and he complies but the beautifully dressed man never turns around. He has his arm around his companion, a tall honey-haired woman dressed in dark blue, and hot jealousy sears my innards. Before I can get a good look at the man, they enter the restaurant and my cab fully passes the establishment.

The temptation to go back and enter the restaurant is titanic—it would be just so easy and I'd know for sure if Christian is dating again. Still, I opt for the path of least resistance and continue on my way home. Once there, however, all bets are off.

No matter how I try to kid myself, I'm upset: mad, jealous, and insecure. I feel abandoned, which is ridiculous since I told him to get lost. The pain of his likely betrayal is burning up my gut, as if jealousy targets center mass like a policeman's gun.

Kate's not home so I curl up on the large overly soft sofa with a glass of Drambuie on the rocks and surf the television channels for an old movie. Dante shuffles over to join me, elated that someone's finally home to keep him company. Kate rescued the pup from a drug dealer who kept dogs to fight them. She'd spotted him one day when she was out for a run and took a wrong turn. Dante is such a gentle soul that he would have ended up as bait for more aggressive animals. Kate paid one of the kids who run interference for the bastard to sneak the skinny little pup out one night and he's been with us ever since.

At least something goes my way when I chance upon It Happened One Night, just the type of black and white madcap movie I was looking for. Taking a swallow of the liquor, I relish the burning sensation of it going down my throat where it transforms into a seductive heat. At times like this, I can understand how alcoholics are made.

Sometime during the evening I experience an epiphany of sorts: I have to make the next move… and I have to do it soon. If I wait too long, Christian will move on if he hasn't already. I truly don't want that. I'm the one who tossed him out when he expressed reservations about our nascent relationship. What's more, I can call him right now and if he answers, at least I'll have the answer to one question—whether or not that was Christian at Bay's Edge restaurant. I jump up to retrieve my phone from the depths of my handbag and punch in the number I'd long ago committed to memory. The call goes right into voice mail. Shit.

I opt to leave him a message. " Hi Christian, it's Ana. I'm watching an old movie and drinking myself into oblivion. Wondering how you're doing and why you're not answering your phone." I pause. "Call me when you get a chance." I disconnect and then immediately regret leaving the message. I'm not thinking straight.

I need some company is all it is. I'm just feeling lonely. I look down at Dante's soulful eyes, his head in my lap. "What I mean," I say to his questioning look, "is human company. Male human, preferably. Don't take it personally."

...

Three more weeks go by without any contact from Christian and I know it's truly over. Though it was devastating to me since I'd really fallen for him, I have no choice but to face reality and move on. It's just that he set the bar so high, so stupidly high, that no one else seems to measure up. I throw myself into my new job with a frenzy, and Kent and I have a long talk about my going to Australia. He thinks I should do it so I could make a clean end of that whole thing. He even offers to accompany me and pay my way. I have an angel in Kent and I absolutely know it.

One night I'm hanging with Jared at their house. Kent had an emergency drama going on with one of his models and had to leave. Jared and I decide it's a good night to get tanked up on ice cream and we start making these disgusting drinks with Kahlua, ice cream, and M&Ms.

I'm feeling a little tipsy when I ask Jared a question about something that's been bothering me. "Do you mind that Kent spends time with me, Jared?"

"Not at all," he replies easily. "I don't know if you understand the reason. I mean, other than the fact that he genuinely likes you."

I look up sharply at him. "The reason? No, I don't."

Jared closes his eyes and nods. "I figured as much. Kent doesn't like to talk about himself much. And he's such a good listener that everyone tends to forget that he barely says anything. Kent had a younger sister whom he adored. Two… almost three years ago he lost her in a terrible motorcycle accident. She and her boyfriend both died instantly. He misses her very much and you remind him of her. Sadie."

My hand flies to my mouth. "Oh, poor Kent. That's terrible."

Jared nods. "What makes it even worse is that only Sadie knew him, really knew him. The reason why Kent refuses to come out of the closet is that his parents are homophobic. They're very by-the-book Christian. If he did come out, he'd lose them and he'd have no family left. That's why."

"He'd have you," I say simply. "And he'd have me, too. Family is not always blood. Sometimes you make your own family."

Jared reaches across and grasps my hand, squeezing it. "I can see why Kent loves you, Ana. You have a pure heart."

Pure heart, maybe, but Christian left a man-sized hole in it—in my heart and in my life. At least I have my new job, though. My boss seems to really like my work and Kent and I are going to Australia next month to get my annulment going and to see the Rehnquists. So there's that. It was hard asking for ten days off at a new job but I explained the situation as best I could and Peter said he'd use temps while I was gone.

The end of the third week came and I was bone weary. I'd been running at full steam all day, all week, at work and I was looking forward to kicking off my heels, slipping into my frayed yoga pants and hanging in bed for the weekend. Just as my ass touched the sofa, I mean, the exact second cheeks hit cushion, my cell began to sing with new music from the Black Keys. I wearily pulled it out of my back pocket.

"Hey, Minx. What's going on?"

"Ana. Remember the night we went out and ran into all those hot Navy boys? Well, I gave one my number and he just called. He and his friend have a two-day leave and want to spend their hard-earned money on us. What do you say?"

"On us?"

"Well, yeah. He asked me to bring my pretty friend. Are you up for it, Ana? It will be fun."

"Ugh, no, Minx. I'm exhausted. Some of us have to actually work for a living, you know."

"Low blow, missy. I work hard for my dollars, just a different hard. And…you can always do what I do anyway, and you know it. No reason to throw stones. Now, come on. It'll be fun."

"No, really, Minx. Some other time. Tonight is for bed, a book, and Dante."

"Who's Dante?"

"My roommate's dog."

"Oh."

"Anything else, Minx?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure I should tell you this but maybe I should."

My heart rate began to kick up a notch. "What is it, Minx?"

"It's about that dude you met at Irina's. What was his name? Ah, yes, Christian Grey, right?"

"What about him?" Heart rate going into overdrive.

"I saw him at the dungeon party last Friday night."

"Dungeon party?" Heart rate through the roof. Feeling lightheaded.

"Yeah, Ana. You know… that room? Just so you know, he wasn't doing anything with anyone… he was just watching but…"

"But?"

"He was dressed as if he came to play. It's possible that after I left he did. He was still there when my client dragged me upstairs."

"I see."

"Anyway, I just thought you should know. If you change your mind about coming out with us tonight, give me a holler." She sighs. "Now I have to scare up someone else and the hottie will be massively disappointed when he sees it's not you."

I feel ill: sweaty and shaky. I know it's an adrenaline response to what Minx told me. "Minx, give me a minute and I'll call you back. Okay?"

"Are you changing your mind about coming out tonight?"

"Maybe. I'll call you in five." I disconnect before she can say anything else.

I drop into the closest chair. Christian took me at my word and never contacted me again. Now he's gone back to his old way of coping. Am I going to pine away at home or go on with my life too? The answer very nearly slapped me in the face. With heavyhearted resolve, I punch in Minx's number.

"I'm in," I say quickly when she answers.

"That's the spirit. Shall we pick you up or meet?"

"Tell me where and when and I'll meet up with you."

"Okay, we're starting out at Dewey's. It's on Fourth Ave between Pike and Union. We should be there in less than an hour. Does that work for you?"

I glance at my watch. "Works for me. See you then."

Scouring my closet, I finally decide on an outfit. I shed my little black skirt, stockings and fitted blue Oxford for a pair of black short shorts, a tight shell-pink pocket tee and over both I pull on a sheer three-quarter-sleeve white shirt that hits my legs just below the shorts. I look in the mirror when I'm ready and absolutely hate what I see. Back to the drawing board.

Though my worn jeans are screaming out to me, I ignore them. I want to look sexy—no, I want to feel sexy tonight. If Christian is going to move on, then so am I. In fact, I wish I'd run into him so he could see that I'm so over him, the dick.

I pull out a short sundress. It's sleeveless and such a pale pink that for all intents and purposes, it's white. The best part is that it fits me like a glove—and that's 'cause Kent made it just for me. My legs look endless in it since it's so short and straight cut and since I have a bit of a tan already, helped along with copious amounts of tanning moisturizer, I'm good with bare legs. The shoes present a bit of a problem. I want to wear my high-heeled sandals but they're not a good choice when paired with alcohol. I can wear my ballerina flats but they don't look as good with a dress and my arches ache after a while. My best bet is to go for something in between. I pick my platform wedge sandals that are relatively high but since the sole is mostly flat, they're easy to walk in. This way I get the benefit of high heels without the drawbacks. I sweep my hair to one side, my fingers dexterously braiding it into a single plait that rests on one shoulder. After brushing my teeth, I do my makeup: mascara, eyeliner, and pink lipgloss.

Good to go.

This time when I look in the mirror, I'm pleased. Slipping on my multiple bangle bracelets and my cuff rings, I toss my phone and cosmetic case into my handbag, blow Dante an air kiss, and head out to meet my friends.

The bar is hot and crowded, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other. Minx is having a high old time, with three horny sailors plying her with liquor in the hope they'd get lucky. The best looking one—Rudy—stays with me most of the night and we talk as much as was possible in the loud tavern.

I am on my second drink when Minx catches my eye, waving me to come with her to the ladies' room. Excusing myself with Rudy, I catch up to her.

"Ana, Irina just texted me. She needs me to come in. One of my clients is having a crisis and asked for me tonight."

"A crisis?" I have zero idea what she's talking about.

Minx rolls her eyes. "Yes, Ana, a crisis, as in he needs to beat on someone. Preferably me."

"What?" I know my face must have drained of all blood. "That's fucking sick, Minx."

"No, Ana, it's fine. I don't mean literally beat on me as much as do the S/M thing. Don't worry: I've been down this road with this guy before. It's a pressure valve for him and he never goes overboard or I wouldn't do it with him. But I'm going to have to leave in about an hour. Sorry to cut short our night out but this will pay my whole month's rent."

"No problem, Minx. This place is getting on my nerves anyway. Though Rudy is awfully pretty."

The wily smirk on Minx's face makes me nervous. She leans in to whisper, "Did he tell you he's a SEAL?"

"Noooo." I'm surprised for he seems too an innocent to be an elite warrior. "I don't remember him being with them the last time."

"That's 'cause he wasn't. He's a SEAL and from what I've heard, he's from the top ranks of them. And you have to admit, he's hot enough to burn."

I turn my head back to try to catch another look at him. "Wow. Looks are deceiving. He seems so innocent to me."

"I think you should definitely give him your number. Granted, you'll only see him when he's on leave but that might make the perfect boyfriend." She arches her brows and I have to laugh.

When we go back out to the bar, I look at Rudy through new eyes. He's certainly built like an elite soldier but his face is so clear and pure, it's hard to believe he's been responsible for bringing death and gore to people's doorsteps if need be. Still, I have to admit, I find him more interesting with the knowledge.

All too soon, it's time for Minx to leave and so I'm going, too. There is no way in hell that I'm going to stay out with three men who haven't seen a woman in several months unless she was a fellow soldier. Would that make a difference to them? I wonder.

As we're leaving the bar, there's a commotion down the block and we hear people screaming. There are too many obstacles in our line of sight so we can't see what's going on but in seconds we unfortunately find out when a speeding car comes careening onto the sidewalk, mowing down the people who were standing there. I get pushed back hard and I fly backward into the sidelight of the front door of the bar. Intense pain turns everything red; it's so bad that I cannot tolerate it and blackness descends over my eyes.

...

When I wake up, there's a light shining into my eyes. "Hello. Can you tell me your name?"

The disembodied voice is that of a young man but I can't see him clearly. "Ana," I struggle to say. "What happened?"

"You were thrown back by a crowd escaping an out-of-control driver. You slammed your shoulder pretty badly.

"Oh. Can I go home now?"

"Not yet but soon. Can you tell me your whole name?"

"Ana Steele. I feel fine." I assess myself and then have to add, "Mostly."

"That's good. We do have to run some tests, however, to ensure everything is indeed fine. It won't take long and you'll be back in your own bed in no time. Okay?"

I try to nod but the movement hurts my neck. "Is my head okay?"

"That's one of the things we aim to find out. My name is Dr. Shaw, by the way."

"Is my friend here with me? Minx?"

"Yes, she is. Would you like to see her? She's been pestering everyone who comes within ten feet of her."

"That sounds like Minx," I snort. "Thanks, Doctor," I add finally. The doctor looks no more than 24 or 25, and he also looks very tired. It must be a bitch working in the ER, doing thankless tasks that never get recognized.

About an hour and one MRI later, the nice young doctor returns to give me the results but gets paged away. He tells me to sit tight—he'll be right back. As if I'm going anywhere. I pick up a magazine, Seattle City Life and flip through it. How I even managed to spot him in the collage of photographs, I don't even know. Maybe it's fate but there he is, handsome and smiling with a leggy blonde hanging all over him.

Christian.

The photos are from a nightclub opening. I whip the pages back to the cover to check the date: it's the current weekly issue. So he is dating then. Maybe the man I saw at the restaurant was in fact Christian, too. Not to mention that he's back with Irina at her nasty little dungeon. It is at this moment that I know our tender little relationship is well and truly over. I tell Minx to ask Rudy to come in to wait with me and kiss her goodnight. Rudy waits with me until I'm discharged and then sees me home. All he gets for his trouble is a hot and heavy kiss. When he tries to come inside, I decline.

"When does your leave end?"

"Tomorrow," he says, his voice deep and hoarse.

"Well, call me when you're stateside again. We'll definitely get together."

"Is there no way I can spend tonight with you, Ana?"

He's so ruggedly handsome that I'm sorely tempted but I just met him, for God's sake. I give him another quick kiss. "No, Rudy, there's no way. I'm sorry."

His face a mask of disappointment, he backs away, kisses my hand, and says goodbye. I have a feeling I've seen the last of Rudy. Oh well.