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 13 | File Thirteen

STEELE

Courtney had a LOT of explaining to do. She seems to be under the impression, what's my success is hers and what's her responsibility is mine. Hanna and I pulled a Marcus move and loitered outside the conference room door, while Noah dispelled those myths and put Courtney on notice, "This won't happen again, Courtney. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. If I get any inkling you're trying to encroach on anyone's author again, you'll be out of a job. Do you understand?" She must've nodded because neither Hanna nor I heard a response. The two harpies stayed on their side of the Lair for the rest of the day. Plotting. Each time I stuck my head out my office door, or looked their direction, they were blatantly staring at me. If it weren't for Luke, I might actually be concerned.

It's been a long, unwanted, eventful day and my ride home ain't making me feel warm and fussy. "Whereto Rachel?" Luke's question brings me back to the here and now. Since he basically saved my career this afternoon, I've gained an unofficial, or maybe official, nickname. I don't care. As long as I get to keep my real author.

"You pick, Frank."

He raises a brow at me, "Really?" I nod. "Anywhere, anything I want?" I nod again. "Well, then, I pick you go back to Escala, cook dinner, for one, then go to the library and work, peacefully, for about an hour. When you get sick of reading, then follow whatever nighttime routine you have, from the sanctity of the Escala penthouse, before drifting off into a deep, restful, serene sleep, that's what I pick."

I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head at him. When I see him in the rearview mirror, rolling his eyes, I know I've won. "My home, Frank."

He lets out a frustrated sigh, "Fine, Rachel."

We pull up in front of my Pike Market Place apartment building. Luke cuts off the car, gets out and quickly walks to my door. When he lets me out, I get a curt nod and a "I'll see you in the morning Miss Steele," before he practically runs back to the driver's door, jumps in and peels off. I'm left on the sidewalk, stunned. What the fuck just happened? All because I wanna go back to the place where I pay rent? Really Luke? Fine! I stomp up the steps, fumble in my purse for my key then storm to the elevator and my next ride to hell.

The lights are on when I walk into the apartment tonight. I guess there's no sneak attack pla...

Guess who spoke too soon this time.

On the kitchen island, with its headline facing the door, clearly visible to the naked eye, is another article.

Taipei Eyez - Business or Pleasure

Seated here, Mr. Christian Grey is being entertained by executives from a local shipping company. Who are the mystery women? How many assets does Mr. Grey have, in Taipei. From the looks of things, he certainly has a diverse portfolio. We'll keep watching.

It's a picture of Christian at what looks like a business dinner, he's sitting between two young Taiwanese women, who are sitting beside two other men, who could easily been their husbands or boyfriends. Of course Kate saw it differently, which is why it's sitting pretty out here.

Christian looks sharp as a razor in his business suit. There were a couple pictures of him socializing with some other people at the event, including a picture of him having a drink with another Taiwanese woman. There were no captions or further comments in the article, only the usual 'We're watching you Grey' stuff. I nod my head at the segment, then, place the paper back on the counter. Kate snuck up behind be while I was reading, but the lights are on so I'll give her a pass. Still looking at his picture, I comment, "He looks really good in that suit, doesn't he?" She gasps and takes a few steps back away from me. Once again, her eyes swell. The shock on her face is too much, I burst out laughing.

I'm not in the mood for her. As I tread back to my boudoir I hear her mumbling, "I'm worried, I think she's having a nervous breakdown... Yeah, I showed it to her… Just that the bastard looked good in the suit… No, I didn't push… Because… Whatever." I believe I know who's on the other end of the line. She did good to keep her mouth shut, although I knew her intent. I'm tired. It's been a long and drawn out day. She and Courtney should get together and compare notes on how to aggravate Ana.

Are we gonna brave the bullshit and eat? I'm not particularly hungry.

Neither am I, so no. Bath, unanswered text to Christian, then bed.

'I've called this meeting to address the growing concerns regarding the caliber of material being assigned. We must remember, this is our chosen profession. Not everyone who writes a book will have it published, but every published book had to be written. As editors and assistant editors, it is our job to identify what should and what shouldn't be published by Seattle Independent Press. We accept the manuscripts, we read and give our opinions on the material, then it's up to the editors, and ultimately me, to decide if we'll sign a deal with the author. The only way to identify a book we shouldn't support is to read its manuscript. All of that aside, please voice your concerns."

Another meeting I'd like to skip.

"Marcus?" Oh, boy. He's been pissed at wasting his time on what he finally determined was a fake reference. He took his kid's advice and went from zero to sixty in two point two seconds.

"Mr. Roach." Oops, last name basis huh? This should be interesting. "We're all well aware of the duties inherent in our chosen profession and the tasks entailed in keeping our jobs. The issue is the amount of resources devoted to substandard material. There are those who have read four and five of these copies each week for the last two weeks. Before anyone asks, no I'm not one of them because I return the piles of paper when I feel it's a lost cause. What parameters are we to follow if this is to continue? Tyler and I chased one relic for two days, before discovering it was a fake. We have several legitimate writers who deserve that time."

The various nods and mumbles around the room indicate there are others who agree with Marcus' politically correct description. Except… "Well Marcus, perhaps you should find new sources. Better yet, considering your tenure in editing, surely you've earned the right to retire. Ms Bailey, or even Ana, can work with you on your options. Isn't that right, Ana?" Her sickly sweet tenor and sunshine bright smile make me wanna vomit.

Marcus and I are the only two people in the room who don't gasp. Even Melissa looked surprised. Although, I loudly slap my hand over my mouth because I knew what was coming.

BITCH!!

Was on the tip of my tongue. Marcus doesn't say a word, doesn't move a muscle, nothing. He looks at her, with a frozen expression of indifference.

"Courtney, in my office, now." Noah growls. His eyes are on fire.

Courtney gets up and saunters to the front of the room. With her hand on the doorknob she looks over her shoulder at me, then lets loose, "We're all in this meeting because she's whining about having to do her job. Not as glamorous as you thought it would be, huh Ana? Christian not here to lighten the load for you? It's tough caring your own weight, isn't?" Then, she looks at Marcus, "He's only complaining because she's complaining. She's trying to steal my author. Are we gonna address that too?"

Now, I'm mortified. Everyone in the room is staring at me in disbelief. I wish the floor would open up and swallow me. Noah gets out of his seat, snatches the door open, then unceremoniously escorts Courtney out of the conference room.

Roach finds his voice and begins to dismiss us when Tyler stops him, "Aren't you even gonna defend her, Jerry?" Tyler spins around looking at each face in the room, "Ana did no such thing. We all know who works with Mr. Furuya. We all know who's helped him showcase his talent. Courtney tried to take that away from Ana yesterday and if you don't believe me look at the schedule metadata." I have another hero. Tyler looks Roach up and down, disgust clear in his expression, "I'm disappointed in you Jerry."

The only thing let for Mr. Roach to say is, "Meeting adjourned."

I almost don't wanna step outta the conference room when I hear, "Deep breaths Court. Reviews'll be released Friday, then she'll be out on her little, narrow ass." Melissa is trying to calm Courtney's ego. Apparently, it's not enough.

Tyler puts a hand on my shoulder and nudges me pass the Pissy Princess, into the Lair. "Bitch!" Courtney snarls as we go by.

Don't look her way or I REFUSE to be held responsible for my actions.

I don't get a chance to acknowledge Sheila before I hear, "Talkin' to yourself again Beckner?" Tyler never missed a step and never looked back. When I began to giggle he said, "I've got plenty more where that came from sweetheart."

I sooo wanna go home. Kate shouldn't be there this time of day. Maybe I'll ask…

"Ana?" Noah's standing in front of me. I didn't even see him.

I look up, "Yeah, Noah. What can I do for you?" My voice sounds weary to my own ears.

"Go home. It's been a long day, already. Marcus and Tyler think I'm blind. I know how hard you work. Only the interns fall for the garbage Melissa and Courtney spew. We ALL know the truth. You deserve the day off after that ridiculous episode, not to mention yesterday's performance. Jerry should be on his knees in thanks to you for saving the day with Mr. Furuya." Noah's a gorgeous guy. He's tall as hell, with sandy brown hair, ocean blue eyes and a Colgate smile. His personality is befitting that of a saint at times. Although, he's in no way a pushover. Noah will give you just enough rope to hang yourself, then kick the stool out from under you and watch as you swing. To me, he's the best boss ever.

"Thanks Noah. I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer." I collect my messenger bag, purse and laptop, then head for the door.

When I reach the front desk, Luke springs to his feet, "Ana? Are you ok?" I know I look horrible and I feel like I could cry a river. All I can manage is to shake my head no. "Then let's get you outta here. Bye Claire."

Claire looks from Luke to me then back to him, "Bye Luke. Bye Ana."

I called out sick today. I'm up to date on my assignments and have the sick time I always refuse to use. However, an Ana Mental Health Day is well in order. I assured Luke I wasn't leaving the apartment, so he gets a pass today too. He said to call him if I change my mind. I didn't even get outta bed to have breakfast. Kate left another article on the counter last night. Little did she know, I was already in bed. The damn thing was front and center when I finally got up to get some tea.

Christian's towering over a pretty Asian girl. There's no doubt in my mind this is being taken out of context. What happened before someone snapped that shot? What led up to that scenario? Christian doesn't let strangers get close to him, let alone touch him. The accompanying article was absolutely no help.

Taipei Eyez - Grey Gets A Geisha

What is American entrepreneur Christian Grey really doing in Taipei? And who is he "doing it" with? Seen, above, at the Taipei 101 Observatory, Mr. Grey was reportedly star struck by a gorgeous, young Taiwanese woman. Caught in her spell, we're told, Grey was unable to look away. Isn't he engaged? Doesn't he have a brown haired beauty in the States? Guess the methods of International Business aren't too bad afterall. Interesting Mr Grey. Very interesting.

The press has its spin on words and photographers will sway your opinion based on their camera angle. I mean, look at the stories around here. None of what they said was true and as far as the pictures went, the one of me walking back to SIP looking like a lost lamb or something was ridiculous. I'd just sneezed and tripped, stepping onto the curb. The photo and bullshit article caused my dad to call and check on me.

I waved my hand at the damn thing and continued with my tea.

Ring… Ring… Rin…

OHMYGOSH!

Of course, when I have a mouthful of toothpaste, my cell would go off. I spit so hard, water splashed up in my eye. I even bumped into the foot of the bed trying to reach the phone before the call went to voicemail.

"HELLO!" Phew, made it. Winded and trying not to sound like I ran a marathon, my smile fades a bit when I realize who's calling.

"Hey Baby Girl, how are you? Haven't heard from you in a while. I wanted to be sure you were still alive and kickin'."

I take a deep breath. While I truly wished this was Christian, I do need to talk to my dad. I'm driving myself crazy, and Kate goes off the deep end at even the hint of a Christian Grey conversation. It's so bad, I quit talking about him altogether.

What's going on between you and that young man of yours?"

Immediately, the dam bursts. "Daddy, I think I chased him away" and it's Crying Time again. I've got so much on my mind, keeping up with the multiple manuscripts I somehow manage to acquire, this fucking evaluation tomorrow, Kate raging about Christian, Jose pestering me to go out and I miss my fiancé. I've gotta get this out to someone who'll listen.

"Sweetie, why do you think that? What's going on?"

I pour my heart out to my dad, telling him what's going on around me. My being upset with Christian for buying SIP. How I don't believe a personal assistant and close, personal security are necessary. I'm aggravated at Christian for treating me like a two year old kid who can't reach the fridge door handles. His business trip was so sudden it made my head spin. Kate, Jose and Ethan's drunken confab and all the conversations in between. As well as the news articles Kate's constantly putting in front of me.

"You know why you have security, Ana. You both explained it to me when I questioned you. He cares and doesn't want you to be hurt, especially if someone's bothering you because of him. He'd die a thousand deaths if something happened to you and I believe even Taylor couldn't keep him in line if something happened to you because of you being associated with him."

I think you're mistaking his doting and caring for controlling and manipulating. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure you give him what for about almost everything, if not everything. You've taken care of yourself for so long, you don't know how to accept someone doing it for you. You oughta relax and try it sometime babygirl. Let him do the driving so you can sightsee. Enjoy what he wants to do for you. Who else is he gonna devote his time to, huh? Pictures of him with various beautiful women pop into my mind's eye.

"As far as the publishing house goes, you're gonna hafta explain that one to me because I don't see the problem with him buying the company."

"I didn't earn it, Dad. I've been at SIP twelve minutes and I have an office and a personal assistant. I feel like others are talking about me, some actually are." Melissa, Courtney and their cabal come to mind. "I don't like it. What's wrong with me earning my way, just like he did?" I sobbed into the phone some more. Kate's nosey ass heard me crying and burst into my room, mouth blazing. It took me, and my dad, to get her to go away.

Once things quieted down my dad put me in my place, "Ana?"

"Yeah Dad." I sniffled.

"First, you have to stop letting other people into your business, namely Kate. I know she's your friend, but she's not the one you wanna grow old with, is she? He doesn't even wait for an answer, The way I see it, she's got some kinda grudge against that young man for wooing her best friend. You've always been in her corner when it came to those losers she brought home and if I recall correctly, her family ain't all that great either, so howsabout you deal with Christian and let Kate deal with Kate. She'll have her hands full, that's for damn sure.

Next, how did Christian start his company?"

"Huh?"

"He was young and his folks weren't all that helpful, from what you all told me. He and his father even fell out about him dropping out of school if I recall correctly?

"Yeah Dad. You've got it right.

"So, did he shovel snow, cut grass or rake leaves? Did he wash cars, have a paper route or work at a fast food joint? Hell, did he sell lemonade as a kid to get the money to start his business? I'm no hotshot, bigwig moneymaker, but even I know it takes money to make money. How did he get his start-up funds?"

Um. "He got a loan."

"So, someone gave him the money?"

Kinda. "Yeah, Dad. Someone gave him the money. What are you trying to say Daddy?"

"I understand where you're coming from Ana. No doubt he had to work to get where he is now and no doubt he had his share of downfalls. What I'm saying to you is everyone, even The Great Christian Grey, had help."

"Ana, would you please come into my office?" I look nervously at Hana who crosses her fingers and mouths 'Think positive'. I nod to her and mouth back, 'I will.' On my way to Mr. Roach's office, I hear Courtney bitching with Melissa, about how she felt her evaluation score was "ridiculous".

"Why am I only in the 45th percentile range on this stupid ass graph. They give this shit to high school kids after they take their SATs and ACTs? What the fuck do you have to do to be in a higher range? I asked to see the criteria and it's absolute bullshit. What production metric? This isn't a factory. What accuracy? Is someone at GEH gonna re-read a manuscript I read so they can check my edits? And what the fuck is a Management Touchpoint Model? This is a publishing house, not a fucking customer service call center!"

She's so busy pissing to Melissa about her score, she doesn't see Mr. Roach giving her the evil eye. "Ms Beckner!" Courtney jumps at the sound of his voice. "As you were told, there are dispute and appeal procedures to follow in order for your review determination to be reconsidered. If you have no intention of following protocol, then GET BACK TO WORK!" He shouts and raises his arm, gesturing in the direction of the "Editors Lair". The two women stand still, their mouths gaped open. "You've got two more seconds." Coming back to themselves, the she Bitch Sisters blink at Roach, then look at each other before managing to scurry away without another word.

"Miss Steele?" Roach gestures to his office door. I step in, more than a bit nervous, especially after witnessing the Courtney Catastrophe. His mouth starts running as soon as the door closes behind him. "I have some concerns regarding your review. Please, sit down. An issue centering on work distribution and project completion came to the forefront. I've been advised on how to proceed, under the new company guidelines. However, I like to do some things the old fashioned way."

I don't take my eyes off his face as he drones on and on about some skewed ratio of work versus the turnover ratio versus accountability versus, versus, versus. When I finally get tired of the rigamarole, I ask him flat out, "Mr. Roach, what does any of this have to do with my job performance? Are you accusing me of not doing my work, or worse passing my assignments off to someone else?". I know I'm an assistant editor, doing business as an acting editor, but I still follow protocol and carry my share of the load. Even though Noah said I could, I don't even attend the Editor's Meetings because I don't feel it's right. So what is he saying? "None of what you're saying makes sense to me and what do these ratios have to do with my performance?" I'm trying not to yell. However, I am offended by him trying to say I'm not doing my job. It's one thing to say I make too many mistakes or I'm too slow, both of which I worry about plenty. It's an entirely different barrel of bullshit to say I'm not working at all!

He looks at me like the surprised emoji, raised eyebrows, wide eyes, open mouth and all. He clears his throat and continues, "No Miss Steele I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm not permitted to discuss details, suffice it to say assistants have handed work off to you and took credit for your efforts."

Now, I'm frowning, hard. I can tell my eyes are squinting at Roach. There's more to this than he's letting on. He still hasn't told me how it affects my performance. "Sir, how did this happen? How do you know for sure it did happen and, again, what does it have to do with my performance?"

He sighs, like a petty little girl, "Miss Steele do you understand what I said to you? One, or even more than one, of your coworkers have pawned off their assignments to you. Doesn't that bother you?"

"Of course it bothers me, but first and foremost how is my performance? You and GEH can handle any investigation or further research or whatever. You know who the parties are?" He nods. "Then handle it. You're not gonna tell me who they are, right?" He shakes his head. I wave my hand like it doesn't matter, because, to me, it doesn't. "Then what does it matter? What good is my getting upset gonna do, other than lead to a hostile work environment, which it already can be, in case you missed it. I want to know how well I did on my performance review." I've had headaches, eye strain and all but chewed my fingernails off over this and he wants to piss about me doing the job of multiple assistants. All I know is this shit better be good.

Mr. Roach, softens his voice as he tells me, "Your overall performance is fine Miss Steele, it exceeds expectations. The fact that you've been able to handle, in a timely manner, the workload of multiple people speaks to your productivity. There were three errors found in one of your submissions, which was offset by the fact that you were completing the assignments of two additional people. Regarding accountability, all the projects were completed on or before their deadlines. The Self-assessment is included, but doesn't affect your score. My assessment, however, is in stark contrast to yours." He hands me several typewritten pages. "Read it by this afternoon, sign it and return the document to me, personally, before you leave for the day." Just like that, my worry is over. He returns to whatever he was doing, typing away on his computer, not giving me another thought.

I look at him for about three seconds then raise from my seat, turn around and head for the door. When my hand touches the doorknob he says,"You've been promoted to full editor, effective immediately. It's all in the review." I look down at the papers in my hand, then back at him, before quietly leaving his office.

Once again, outside Roach's office I run face first into Courtney and Melissa, both women eyeing me up and down.

What the fuck is their problem?

I dunno and I don't wanna know, so be quiet.

No promises.

I roll my eyes and step around the dumbass duo. I almost make it to the Lair when Courtney yells down the hall, "Whatever lies you told Grey won't help you keep this job Ana. He's tired of you anyhow. Now the office will see what you can't do on your own." The Terrible Twosome giggle at her statements then stop abruptly.

From behind me I hear, "Ms Beckner, Ms Hall, please follow me." I turn around and see Roach is standing beside the two women, steam jetting out of his ears.

Her deceptive smile in place, Courtney begins to placate Mr. Roach. Somehow, this time, it's not working. "Is there a problem sir?" Her voice is so sweet it's giving me a toothache. I'm not interested in the show. I continue my trek and open the door to the Lair. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I DO MY OWN FUCKING WORK!" It came out of nowhere. The editors, assistants and interns inside are looking out at me, while I'm looking over my shoulder, again, at the mean girls.

"Apparently not Ms Beckner, nor you Ms Hall. GEH reviewed SIP's production, as was mentioned in our editors meeting." By this time, people are filtering out of the Lair into the hall. "It was determined, you and Ms Hall have a disproportionately light workload, lagging turnover time and a greater number of errors from that of your peers." He looks up the hall at all the eyes looking at him and addresses us collectively. "These were the actions prompting the performance reviews." He look back at a flush faced Courtney and an ashen faced Melissa. "GEH provided SIP with pseudo-manuscripts. Based on Cloud Lair metadata of the submissions, edits made on the projects assigned to you and Ms Hall were made by Miss Steele." Now, all the staff and editors are standing in the hallway and peaking out the doorway, looking at Courtney and Melissa.

Behind me, I hear Marcus remark about how he knew something was wrong with those documents he's department was given, "It can be difficult, but not absolutely impossible to verify an artifact's source. I owe my youngest a hellofa pizza and ice cream dinner. She called it.

Apparently the partners in crime were passing off work to several Fiction and Nonfiction assistants, not just me. The difference was I finished the projects, as worthless as they were, while the other assistants took the things back to their editor. The editor then took the document to Roach and questioned why they were given double work. Evidently, those writings ended up on my to do list as well.

Out of the blue, the last person I expected to hear speaks, "Ladies, your work areas have been cleared. The possessions in plain sight have been boxed and are waiting for you at the front desk. After a thorough review, any non-proprietary items will be returned to you. Remember the NDA you each signed, here is a duplicate for your reference, leave quietly and leave now." Ros growled her entire soliloquy, in true Christian Grey fashion.

Neither woman looks back as they leave. Each with a NDA in hand.

FOOTNOTES

Crying Time, a 1964 written and originally recorded by the American country music artist Buck Owens, made successful by R&B artist, Ray Charles winning two Grammy Awards in 1967.