Can't We Just Be Happy Chapter 9 The Lair, a fifty shades trilogy fanfic

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot are the property of E.L. James. I'm just having a lil' fun. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 9 | The Lair

STEELE

"Oh my god, what did I drink?" Kate wanders into the kitchen with what appears to be a killer hangover. Usually, I feel bad and nurse her back to health, even letting her indulge in a little 'hair of the dog'. Not this time.

Serves her right

Damn skippy.

Since she didn't say good morning, I'm not responding to her rhetorical question. I lean on the island in the center of our kitchen and look at her, disinterested, as she holds her head in her hands, slumping over the breakfast bar. The sun was peaking through the sheer curtains in my bedroom before I was finally able to get to sleep. I've been pissed ever since I witnessed the Anastasia Character Assassination.

I turn away from her and begin fixing myself a tuna salad sandwich. The salad is fresh, and I'm hungry as hell for a change. As I construct my masterpiece, including freshly sliced tomatoes and lettuce, rinsing the utensils I've used along the way, I get the feeling of eyes boring into the back of my head. I will myself not to turn around because I know what's coming next. Once my lunch is complete, I grab a Pepsi, some chips and a few cookies, again. These little no-name, chocolate bastards I found are good as fuck, then I'm off to my room. I don't get a toe out of the kitchen before she groans, then whines, "Will you make one for me? I'm hungry." A few things run through my mind. She sounds like a two-year-old. She can reach the knobs, recognize hot from cold and read instructions, when she's so inclined to bother. Plus, tuna salad?! When you're hungover?! Really?!

I look back over my shoulder at her, without turning completely around, and shock the shit out of her. "Everything you need is in the fridge, Kate. You know where the plates, knives and forks are located too, so have at it." When her mouth falls open, I say to her what I always say to myself, "Close your mouth," then I continue on my way.

She's been quiet as a church mouse since lunchtime. I thought I heard her leave after I refused to be her fucking sandwich chef. The solitude afforded me the luxury of leaving my bedroom door open. When I hear a light tap on the doorframe, I realize she's been here all along. "Ana?" Her voice is soft, almost melodic. Not Kate, the ball-buster, Kavanagh you usually hear.

She wants something.

No doubt.

"Hmmm?" I'm not giving her the dignity of looking up. She never looks at me when I try to talk to her, then the heifer has the nerve to sigh. I still don't raise my eyes.

Get used to it, Kavanagh, you earned this.

"Ana, are you going to Sunday dinner with the Greys? I need a buffer." There's the Kate I'm learning not to trust.

Don't look Steele. You're doing fine, besides these notes won't type themselves, and she sure as fuck ain't gonna help. Focus on getting your job done. She's a big girl with a big mouth, she can handle herself.

I don't pause, "No, Kate. I'm not going to Sunday dinner with the Greys. Elliott's your buffer." I almost let the conversation drop, but she huffed like I told her she was on punishment. Before she can storm away I point out the obvious, "One more thing, Kate." I refuse to let this opportunity pass me by. Now, I look up from my reading and stare into her defiant green eyes, "Keep your hateful prose about Christian to yourself, then I'm sure the evening will go smoothly." It's silent for a few seconds, then I return my eyes to my copy. A slight sound in the doorway causes me to put in my earbuds. If she keeps fucking around, I'm gonna close the door again. Her nerve floors me, it's beyond my comprehension how, from the door, she has the unmitigated audacity to send me a text.

KKav: What did he do now A? U kno im here if u wanna talk :)

Not now! We've gotta finish this because no sooner you're done, I'm gonna collapse. We didn't sleep last night, remember? Don't you dare waste my energy!

She's right. I giggle to myself as I think about one of Sheila's lessons.

Oh, I have to hear this. Which one?

When you develop arthritis, you're gonna look back and regret using the keystrokes it took to write that text.

Ah, yes. Damn I'm good.

Yes you are, my bestie.

I close my phone without responding to Kate's message and take out my earbuds. She's so certain we're about to have a girl to girl chat, you can see it in her eyes. I get up from my papasan, go over to the door and gently close it in her pitiful face. Her gasp from the other side gives me a bit of the satisfaction I want. She's badmouthed Christian since she met him. I've begged her to stop and Elliott's demanded she stop. Now, she's added belittling me to her list of crimes. She better be careful, her days are numbered.

Bullshit copy reading? Done.

Edits, notes and reviews? Saved.

Long hot bath? Calgon, take me away.

No word from Christian is making me nervous. I basically sent him an essay of the last twenty-four hours and haven't heard a peep back. Something's definitely wrong. We don't go a full hour without a text and now, he's radio silent? I don't get it. Something's absolutely not right. He can't be mad at me for not going with him, can he?

Kate and Elliott stopped by after dinner, while I was in the tub. They were speaking in almost hushed voices, all seemed well between them. I say almost hushed because Elliott sounded like a bull in a library. I had to cover my mouth, so they didn't hear me giggling. He asked about me, but Kate steered him away from my door. I've got no issue with Elliott. I'm disappointed in and offended by Kate, Jose and Ethan.

This is a royal fuck up. I'd get in touch with Gail, or even Jason, if they weren't on vacation. Jason works too many hours as it is. I'll leave them alone, for now. Once I'm out of the tub, I feel worlds better. It's been quite all afternoon and evening. My mind was racing for a while, but then I recalled what Christian said from the plane…

… I haven't told anyone we're not together…

… this isn't what I want at all. I want us to be married and, if nothing else, leaving together, but this isn't about me. You asked me for time and space to decide what you want and to reach your goals…

… I love you and I hope to see you again soon. Laters baby.

He's on a business trip and being quiet because he thinks it's what I want. I did this, plus I've stood idly by while Kate chastised him and Jose sneered at him. Luke and I'll talk about it tomorrow, maybe he or Alex can help me get in touch with Christian. I fall asleep still disappointed in my friends, but more upset with the monster I created.

Do I HAVE to go to work today? The manuscripts seem to grow out of my desktop. There were two in my chair Friday morning. Ten'll get you twenty, there'll be another one today or tomorrow. I haven't gone to Mr. Roach yet. I have a feeling it's part of the, "There'll be no bias" crack he made last week.

Once I get to SIP and go straight to my office. I'm sick of work appearing out of nowhere. I've heard Marcus complaining about the same thing. If he's feeling stressed, then all's not right with the SIP world.

"Good morning Claire." I smile as I walk by her desk. I don't think I could sit in the front of the room, right by the stairs. How many people interrupt her during the day? As usual, she smiles and nods.

Hanna's not at her desk yet I see. It's not unusual. Most days, I end up making coffee for her. It makes me giggle. Christian would hang Andrea in the center of his lobby if she behaved like Hanna. I have to shake the thought of him and his not responding to me from my mind. I'm afraid to call him because if he doesn't answer, I'll be crushed.

Not letting Kate see me down was my mission Sunday. It wasn't too hard since Elliott took her off my hands for dinner. Elliott wasn't gonna give her a chance to showcase her ass. He issued his warning before leaving our apartment, "Don't start any shit tonight, Kate. My mom's not happy about Christian being away this close to the holiday, so no under your breath remarks about him or his absence. Get it?" She must have nodded because the next thing I heard, was Elliott saying "Good. Let's go."

"You're deep in thought." I jump at the sound of a man's voice. I thought it was just me and Claire here. "I apologize. I didn't mean to scare you, Ana. Are you ok?"

"A bit winded at the surprise, but I'm fine. Why are you in so early Marcus?" Marcus Cantor is one of the Reference Department editors. He's been in the business for a long time. Newspapers, magazines, screenplays for television and even a few movies. He gave a lecture at UDub my sophomore year. I got starry eyed listening to him regale us about his career. I haven't mentioned it to him. He's one of the reasons I followed my dream, instead of going into Journalism with Kate.

He 'slowed his role' and went into book editing, reference books particularly, saying "I thought it'd be nice and quiet and boring. Turns out, I'm reminded of my days editing for the LA Times, especially with the bullshit Jerry's been handing out lately." He's absolutely right. The caliber of material we're seeing is horrendous. He and Tyler have to triple check what they see to be certain it's accurate.

Marcus only speaks when he feels it's necessary, or when he's spoken to directly. He's not one for small talk, so when he speaks, people listen, those with any common sense anyway. Neither Courtney nor her sidekick, Melissa, listen to anyone.

He growls a bit, then pours a cup of coffee. "Those damn manuscripts. Those things are ridiculous. Tyler and I spent all day trying to verify a relic and still weren't successful. I was complaining to my wife when one of my kids told me to 'Google It', another one asked 'Did you check Wikipedia?' My youngest daughter got my attention when she stated the obvious, 'Are you sure it's even real, Dad?' I came in here to follow their suggestions and to let Tyler know if we don't find anything today, that pile of paper is trash."

I nod. Granted, in fiction, I don't really have to verify things in the copy I read, but the story can't just be a bunch of nothin' either. So, while I feel his pain, I can't feel the depth of his pain. "Lemme know if you need help Marcus. I'm not a Historian, but I understand the concept of verification."

He smiles at me, "Dear girl, I see all the shit on your desk. There are plenty of interns around here for me to pester. I tell Noah all the time what a goldmine he has in you and point out how he better put Courtney and Melissa on a leash. Do they do anything over there? Some of my interns mistook them for editors. Tyler choked on his Pepsi."

I frown and shrug my shoulders, "That's a good question. I dunno."

"You're too busy to notice. You're not missing anything, believe me." His watch alarm sounds, "Whelp. Time to rattle some cages. If you ever decide to expand your focus, lemme know. I can use an assistant like you on my team. You'd whip those whiny lil slackers I've got into shape. Enjoy your day Ana." Marcus raises his coffee mug to me and leaves the break area. He really is a nice man. He can be gruff and short, but he's a real cream puff underneath.

Amazingly, my day going well, things are falling into place. The style guide and campaign I created for my real author arrived. Noah showed them to me before going to the Eds' meeting. The documents look great, and I do say so myself. I've got a coordination meeting with my author on Wednesday, so he can see them when we talk. I told Hanna I needed her to join me. Courtney missed the last meeting. I don't expect her to attend this one either. Marcus' interns are right. The way she behaves, you'd mistake her for a higher position.

The buzzing of my phone is a text from Luke signaling lunchtime.

Farmer: Same ole same ole?

ARS: Yep. Thx Frank :-)

Farmer: No cookies 4 u :-(

He hates it when I call him Frank. I dunno why, Frank Farmer was hot.

Anymore, Luke and I go to a deli, or he gets food and we sit in the break area. He's even picked up food for the Lair. We all ate and jaw-jacked around our desks. When I'm particular rundown, he and I just sit in the car and listen to the radio, neither of us speaking, which is what happened today. I've got a fuck-ton of shit on my mind. If I start rambling, I dunno when I'll stop, so I've been quiet today.

I get back to my office a little after one and check my schedule for the rest of the week. What the fuck! All this reading must've done a number on my eyes. Who changed my schedule? 'Meet the author'?! I have an author, a real author. Looking at the name more closely, recognize it as one of the latest bathroom wall scribblers. How do I nicely explain to this guy he should find a day job? This can't be right. Who put this here?

"Hanna?" I get no response, so I try again, "Hanna?" Where is she? When I get to my office door, the sight before me is reminiscent of two big kids on the playground picking on a smaller child. Melissa and Courtney are at Hanna's desk. Melissa is blocking Hanna from getting out of her chair, while Courtney growls an interrogation.

"Where's the style guide Hanna? I know it got here. I need it for my meeting tomorrow. Now, turn it over."

"I dunno what you're talking about Courtney. Style guide and campaign materials go to the editor of record who may, out of courtesy, share the results with the assigned assistant, before going to the Eds' meeting, which is happening right now. Anyway, style guides take time. I reminded all the editors, assistants and interns the same thing. The material you submitted was late, 48 hours late. Did you even make the changes Noah wanted before you shoved it in my face demanding it be filed? If not, it may come back, but it won't be right. Anyway, if the material is here, Noah has it. Take it up with him."

"HEY! Why are you two bothering Hanna? Not that either of you actually accomplish anything, don't you both have work to do? We're all swamped with manuscripts and you have time to badger Hanna? I think not. Get cracking missys." It's Marcus to the rescue. He must've snuck out of the meeting, like he usually does. Unfortunately for the Sisters Grimm, he must've snuck out of the meeting, like he often does.

In a tone of the most self-righteous indignation she can muster, Courtney tries to whirl around on Marcus. "We're checking on Ana's progress with the latest reading, Marcus. Don't you have work to do?"

OOOOO. Somebody's gonna be in trouble.

SIP Golden Rule, don't fuck with Marcus Cantor or his team. Marcus Cantor doesn't own the joint, but he's far from insignificant and can make things annoyingly difficult for you if he so chooses. Marcus stares directly at Courtney, over his 1950s black, horn rimmed glasses. She tries to stand her ground, but is visibly relieved when Tyler calls out. "Marcus! Get over here. I need help verifying this relic. You can cuss the little tart out anytime." The whole room begins to laugh, me included. Courtney finally looks over her shoulder at me, but I can't stop giggling. She's pissy because she got called out for being mean? How old are we?

That's what she gets.

I continue with my purpose, ignoring "the little tart". "Hanna, would please come in here?" I don't explain. I turn on my heels and go back to my desk.

When Hanna gets here, she has a confused look on her face. "What's the deal between you guys, Ana? They track you like a jilted girlfriend. I've seen them laugh it up with the other assistants and even the interns, but when it comes to you, they've got guns blazing. What happened?"

"First, I didn't know I was under surveillance. Second, I have no idea why they're so pissy towards me. I thought it might be because I'm seeing Christian, but when I think about it, they've always treated me like dirt. Anyway, forget about them. Did you put this appointment on my calendar?" I show her the entry. She looks as puzzled as I feel. "I know I have to work closely with the authors we sign, but I don't make the initial contact. Has Mr. Roach decided to sign this guy? Did Roach look over my notes? The garbage I was reading wasn't worth the eye strain."

This can't be. This so-called manuscript has no storyline, poor character development and plot holes, good grief Charlie Brown. Swiss cheese has fewer holes, even Baby Swiss. I'm away from my desk making a mad dash to Mr. Roach's office when the Little Tart steps in my way. "Where are you off too so quickly Miss Steele?" I straighten my stance and address the bitch head on.

"Well Mzzz Beckner," I say, turning my nose up, "I'm on my way to Mr. Roach's office to prevent him from making a grave editorial error."

"Hmph. "You don't understand enough about publishing to be able to spot a grave editorial error. Still got those lofty dreams of being Editor-in-Chief of a publishing house, huh, Ana? Even one as rinky dink as SIP?" Instantly, all sound around us stops, which says something about this place. People routinely talk over one another, just to be heard by the person next to them. Now, it's quieter than a cemetery.

Did I hear the sound of someone's ass ripping?

I believe you did, my friend.

I don't give her a chance to recover. "Yes Courtney, even a rinky dink publishing house like SIP. Now, get out of my way." I don't wanna touch her because I don't wanna hear some childish rant about 'she hit me' later on. Luckily, for her, she steps aside. When I see Christian again, regardless of our relationship, I'm gonna fill him in about those two. For now, I'm on a mission.

"Dammit!" When I finally reach Roach's office, the door is open and the room is empty. "Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Claire." The woman actually jumps at the sound of my voice. What the fuck is she doing?

Probably listening in, like the rest of this joint.

"Claire, will Mr. Roach be back or is he gone for the day?" She's staring at me, like I slapped her.

You mean, like you should've done that bitch back there.

Shut up!

"Claire?" I try again, with more than a little frustration. Not only do I not wanna meet with this charlatan, but I also wanna know why I read and reported on this shit only to have my recommendations ignored. "Is Mr. Roach still around?"

"OH! I apologize. No, he's gone for the day. Anything I can help you with, I will." She smiles softly.

"No, that's not necessary. I'll speak with him tomorrow. Thank you." I give a little wave, as I go back to my desk.

All's quiet when I get back to the Lair. Marcus and Tyler are staring at Tyler's computer screen so hard, you'd think they were looking through it. I nod to a few people as I make a beeline for Hanna, who's typing away without a care in the world. "Hanna, what's going on?" I try to whisper, but you can hear dust settle on the floor right now. "Why's it so quiet, not that I'm complaining." It's peaceful. Heaven knows, I long for some peace in my life right now. I better soak this up while I can.

Hanna looks around, then motions to my office. Once inside, she's barely able to speak for laughing so hard. After composing herself, Hanna lowers her voice and says, "No sooner you walked out the door, Logan stepped into Courtney's path and Justin, one of the copy-editors, blocked Melissa at her desk. Logan told Courtney, if she was doing her job, she'd know what you were talking about and how glad he is about you speaking up. He thought it was his imagination, all the ridiculously stupid manuscripts he was getting. Then, he basically slow-walked her back to her desk and dared her to leave her seat. The whole room was in stitches."

DAMN! I missed it. I pout a bit at the thought.

"So, is Roach still here? Are you gonna meet with the author this week?" Hanna sounds as down as I feel about this.

"No, he's gone for the day and yeah, it looks like I'll have to meet this guy. I've never even attended a first meeting before. This'll be interesting" Hanna's nodding when we're interrupted by Marcus popping his head in my office, through the door we failed to close. Oh well.

"Ladies, I'm shamelessly eavesdropping. I'll be in that meeting with you, Ana. Yes, assistants liaise with authors. You do not, however, conduct interviews or interrogations or whatever else Jerry's trying to pin on you. If I'm not mistaken, you have a collaboration meeting with a "real" author, my words not yours, coming up."

I know my eyes are the size of saucers, then he adds, "I hear everything that goes on around here. Especially when you youngsters think the 'Ole Man' is engrossed in some copy." He raises a brow at Hanna, who promptly turns bright red. Marcus chuckles, "Anyway, I heard you questioning the air about how you got the meeting. I have my suspicions and I'll take it up with Jerry. The long and the short of it, I'll be with you at the new author meeting. "Hanna," he looks over at her, still kinda pinkish, "we'll need you there too, for back up notes. I don't want us to miss a thing this poser has to say."

We each nod at him and I smile gratefully, "Thank you, Marcus." I hear the relief in my voice.

He winks at me, "You bet, kiddo."

FOOTNOTES

Frank Farmer

Former Secret Service agent Frank Farmer (Kevin Costner) hired to guard best-selling pop diva Rachel Marron (Whitney Houston) 1992 film directed by Mick Jackson

The Sisters Grimm

Children's fantasy series written by Michael Buckley and illustrated by Peter Ferguson. The series features two sisters, Sabrina Grimm and Daphne Grimm, and consists of nine novels that were published from 2005 to 2012.