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 8 | Cause & Effect
GREY
You mean there's morrre.
Quit your bitching. You sound like a little girl.
(Silence)
Thank you. Yes, there's more.
I emailed Welch, during lunch, for an update on this Christopher kid. Welch claims, the boy has only seen Lincoln's a couple times, since I outed the old cow. Undoubtedly, there have been and will be more contacts. I shot Barney a text telling him to run diagnostics on my phone because I'm not getting all of my messages. He'll get right on it.
Eventually, I'm gonna hafta reach out to Taylor. He's sent hordes of emails since his original threat. The only person keeping him on his side of the globe is Gail, I'm sure of it. Ana keeps saying people need a break. She constantly wants Gail and Jason to have at least a week of vacation, every year. The ladies even conspired, quite a while ago, for this to happen. All I did was comply, so I could sneak out of the country, of course.
Then there's my family. I have no security in sight. Elliott's learned how to scan the background, looking for an 'out of place' in the crowd. It was Taylor's fault for teaching my photographic memory brother. Taylor would say it wasn't the appearance of the person, but their expression would give them away.
Elliott can look over blueprints for hours at a time and never get bored. I asked him what he saw that was so fascinating. "I envision the rooms, one by one, from start to finish, so I can follow the drawings from memory." Elliott's a big, dumb, schmuck until it comes to construction, architecture and design. Albert Einstein didn't focus on quantum mechanics as closely as Elliott focuses on all things building and design related.
Elliott once joked with Taylor, "Your guys are gettin' sloppy T," then showed Taylor a press release where Elliott circled the security detail's faces. Taylor was furious. Elliott managed to save the guy's jobs, but the security team was on punishment. Elliott still finds the shitheads in a crowd. He tells me, and sometimes Dad, to relay the message to Taylor however we like. I laughed it off then and I laugh it off now. Taylor, like most people, judged Elliott by his cover. Wrong move world.
Mom, and maybe Dad, aren't gonna be pleased when I tell them my new life plan. Dad's more practical than Mom. In his profession, emotions aren't involved. It's strictly business. Mom, on the other hand, being a pediatrician, has to have sympathy for her patients and their families. She can't be a ball-buster and function in her branch of medicine, so she's almost all feelings.
For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I seem drawn to the temples. I guess it's because there are so many located in the city and I can get to them relatively easy. Since I made my fortune, I don't stay in one spot very long, especially not long enough to take in the sights. This time's gonna be different.
I've got fucking idea how to tell them I'm not coming back to Seattle anytime soon. I told Mom I was going away on business. She always understands business. This time, I've been photographed meandering around the city, wearing Joe Shit the Ragman
When I reach Bao' An Temple, in the Dalongdong village, it's a little later in the day. Not too late for a visit, but after the tourist rush. I'm able to, quietly, roam around, take in the architecture and decorative elements, to better appreciate their historical meaning. The temple is extremely ornate and is a national treasure to the people of Taiwan, having achieved the status of a level two historic monument and being recognized by the UNESCO Asia-Pacific Heritage Awards for Cultural Heritage Conservation.
The detailed door paintings and unusually high three-beamed entrance hall ceiling welcome visitors. The middle gate is painted with "celestial governors" Yu Chigong, who has dark complexion and Qin Shubao, who has lighter skin. Each door god represents prosperity, good fortune or promotion. When our family came here, just before Elliott graduated high school, the fucker said a prayer to each god asking them to help him get into the Architecture program at California Polytechnic State University. When the bastard made it in, he got on his knees and thanked the gods again. It was hilarious.
Elliott had some time off and came with me on my first business trip to Taiwan. Matter of fact, I was buying another shipping company. He convinced me to come back here with him, so he could thank the gods properly. He seemed pious the second time around, saying he truly believed they were the reason he made it in, and he'd never forget it. I dunno how true it is, but these door gods mean a lot to him, even now.
The temple has seen some hard times, attacks from the north, damage by a munition's explosion in 1895 during the Japanese occupation of Taipei and later being turned into a language school.
It didn't escape World War Two unscathed, either. The structure became a target of the allied bombing campaign against the Japanese, which left parts of the city in ruins.
In the late 1940s, early 1950s, with the loss of the Chinese Civil War, families fleeing to Taiwan from China with the retreating Nationalist Army took shelter in the temple. When the housing situation improved, refugees were moved and renovations began, which lasted about twenty years, until funds ran out. It took about fourteen years to raise enough money and resume the temple's restoration, which still took three or four years to ultimately finish.
I mindlessly wander everywhere a tourist is allowed, although mostly outside. It feels peculiar interrupting people as they worship. I'm flabbergasted at how much this aesthetic building has had to endure. It's an elegant site and the cliché thought crosses my mind, again. Ana would love it here. I take pictures of the dragons on the East Wing, as well as the Main Hall and the Rear Hall. After a few more pictures. I realize, I've texted each one to her, with a description of what it is and where I am. Dammit! Why isn't she responding to me? Fuck this, I'm too worked up to go anywhere else, at least I thought so.
I'm not far from Hsinyi Road, so I walk and plead with the voice in my head to leave me alone, at least for tonight. I chuckle as I press the button on the lift because he's uncharacteristically quiet. General admission is NT$350, which is about $11 USD. The fucker wakes up when he realizes where we are, Taipei 101 Observatory.
Originally known as the Taipei International Financial Center, 101, so named because of its one hundred and one floors, the observatory deck boasts a 360-degree view of Taipei City. Reaching its home on the 89th floor is a breeze in the record-breaking pressurized elevators. Something like 37 seconds.
I'm awed by the city lights, on a backdrop of mountain ranges, a cross between New York City and Seattle. The sight makes me a little homesick. It's only been something like forty-eight hours, in somebody's time zone, but it feels like a lifetime. I take a deep breath in and release a heavy sigh. I sent Ana another text message, but I need to hear her, even if it's just her voicemail.
Ring… Ring… Ring…
Hello, this is Anastasia Steele. I'm not available to take your call right now, so please leave a message and I'll contact you at my earliest convenience. Beep.
I called to hear her voice, not leave a message, so I hang up. My heart misses her. Amazing. I thought I didn't have one, then just as it's found, it's broken. I guess I'm not the flavor of the month. Maybe Elena's right, I should go back to my usual modus operandi? Calm, cool and in control. No emotional attachment. No messy goodbyes.
Look, I'm the first one to tell you when you fuck up, even if you won't listen. I don't believe you're wrong, this time. Steele asked for time and space. I'm impressed and proud of the fact you honored her requests.
Yeah, but I think I've lost her, and I really don't wanna go back to Seattle if I can't be with Anastasia. I don't want anyone else. I've never felt this shit before and now, I'm reminded why I stayed in the lifestyle and away from hearts and flowers.
*You're a good guy who committed himself to a good girl who wasn't ready. You both fell hard and fast. She's not interested in world acceptance, you know she's not. If absolutely nothing else, Anastasia Steele is not superficial. She isn't ready and doesn't know how to work with the new hand she's being dealt, that's what this is all about. When she's ready, she'll be back. You hafta let this play it out, her way. Let her be the Independent Woman you love, no matter how hard you pull on that shit you call hair. Remember this, and you'll be fine.
For once, I hope you're right.
I take one last glance at a brightly lit Taipei City night, then turn to leave.
OOF!
"OH! Shit!" I'm stopped in my tracks by a five-foot nothing woman who was looking down at her phone. She ran face-first into my chest. Without thinking, I quickly reached out and caught her by the waist. She drops her phone and shopping bag to grabs onto my biceps.
Winded and a bit embarrassed, she quietly says, "I apologize. I didn't see you." I chuckle. As big as I am and she didn't see me?
"I could say the same for you, Miss…" I wait for her name.
A flawless face, with black-diamond almond shaped eyes and long lashes, looks up at me. Instantly, I'm mesmerized. There's no blushing, no fluttering, no stuttering when she replies, "My name is Liu. Ya Liu. I apologize. I should've paid closer attention to where I was going."
We release each other and I bend down to pick up her phone and shopping bag. "No need to apologize, Miss Liu. Are you alright?" I feel bad. She's a tiny little thing compared to me. I hand her belongs to her, still caught in the spell of her beautiful onyx color eyes. They sparkle.
"You're very kind." She says. "Thank you and I apologize again." I can't find my words, so I nod as she continues her trek. I watch her, petite and demure with gorgeous, long black hair, and her ass switches a little as she walks away from me, then I hear it.
Click… Click… Click… Click
Click… Click… Click… Click
Click… Click… Click…
SONOFABITCH
Come on, Grey, let's head back to the hotel and wait for the article.
Swimming has never been my thing. However, I noticed an unoccupied rooftop infinity pool after my run morning Sunday. Monday morning, I figured why the hell not. It's all about doing something different, right? I throw on the trunks and flip-flops Carolyn packed, grab a hotel towel and robe, then head off to do a few laps.
Why did you pack these loud ass things if you didn't intend to use the pool we knew was here?
Well, let's review, shall we? I didn't pack anything, since Gail was on vacation and I was sneaking away, Carolyn packed my clothes. She was shocked when she saw me picking the bags up myself. It was too funny. Whatever's in those things, and at the house for that matter, will be a surprise for me too. I didn't tell her I wasn't gonna use the pool, which every fucking hotel on planet Earth has, I said, to you just now, swimming wasn't my thing. I know how, motherfucker, and there's a pool and ocean at the new house, remember? Skinny-dipping is reserved for Ana's eyes only. So shut up.
Okaaay. Keep in mind, I got a bad feeling about this.
You don't like the water temperature, that's all. Chicken shit.
Laugh it up, asshole. Mark my words, this ain't gonna end well.
I swim my laps with ease, in the peace and quiet of a vacant pool. The lifeguard peaked her head in and smiled at me. She couldn't be more than five foot four inches and slender with long black hair. I smiled back at her and immediately thought, if I start to drown, how the fuck is that little thing gonna save me. Buoyancy be damned.
Back in my room, I've showered, shaved and had an American-style breakfast of egg whites omelette, wheat toast and fresh fruit. I'm drinking my requisite cup of coffee when I see Andrea me texted while I was swimming. She wants to know how I'd like to receive Kelly's documents. Everything is ready, which means she worked all day Saturday and is now working on Sunday night, so I can get this shit on time. She deserves a spot in heaven. Once I'm settled in Townsville, Andrea and I need to discuss getting her another assistant. Olivia has problems with keeping Pacific Day Time straight, she's religiously late, so Australian Eastern Standard Time is gonna be virtually impossible. I'll let Andrea decide how to handle it. Whoever she hires, has to take orders from her anyway. If I find someone here, I'll offer a suggestion, but the final word will go to Andrea. I'll bring it up to her the next time we speak.
Kelly's sent me an invitation for a conference call later today. Ain't gonna happen, shithead. It's Signing Day for the shipyard, and Lei is known to have celebratory plans following the meeting. He makes an 'event' outta anything, which is why the shipyard is failing. Some people should acknowledge they aren't interested in conducting business and sit on the sidelines. Although, I guess I shouldn't complain. I wouldn't be a rich man if inferior businessmen didn't attempt to be in business.
Since no one at GEH is gonna respond to the fucker, I do the honors. I click 'decline' and immediately follow up with an email. Sure to copy Ros and Andrea, I tell him to fuck off and wait.
From: Christian Trevelyn-Grey
Date: November 07, 2011 09:00 TST
Subject: Conference Call
To: Oliver Kelly
Cc: Rosalind Bailey, Andrea Petersen
Mr. Kelly,
This message is further confirmation, I will not be available to speak with you today. You are welcome to submit a new request, which will be taken under advisement.
In addition, my scheduled arrival in Townsville is further delayed, until Friday, November 18, 2011, no change in time or location. In the event these actions are not affable, ECO Blue Steel is welcome to explore other options for its organization.
Sincerely,
Christian Trevelyn-Grey, CEO
Grey Holdings Enterprises, Incorporated
I gives a rat's ass about this fucker's attitude. If he's pissy about this, he's really not gonna like it once I get to Townsville. I've got a call scheduled with Ros. We'll discuss the records Andrea's amassed, and I'll let Ros know what's gonna happen next.
An hour or so of meeting prep, including another review of the shipyard agreement, and I'm ready to sign. I've taken the time to send Andrea, yet another, email, telling her I wanna go hiking before I leave Taipei. Mount Huangzui or Mount Qixingshan are wonderful to see this time of year. If not either of those, then whatever she can arrange will have to do. I send her the few local tour company names I found and the contact information for the hotel concierge's desk. She'll figure it out.
Carolyn Acton outdid herself. I know she dresses Ana beautifully. I had no idea she could extend her talent to suit me, pun intended. Brioni Essential Virgin Wool Two-Piece Suit, Dolce&Gabbana solid dress shirt, Eton Men's Textured Solid Silk Tie, ZEGNA Torino Oxfords, all pretty much the usual suspects. My jaw drops when I see the SPANX Ultra Sculpt Seamless Crewneck T-Shirts. Part of me wants to call and ask if she was trying to tell me something. I take a good before and after look in the mirror, once I stop fuming and put the damn thing on. No difference. As there shouldn't be. It's comfortable, and it does feel better than a traditional t-shirt. Even my athletic cuts get on my nerves after a while. I guess Ana's right, again, I should let people do their jobs.
As I'm putting on my tie, the "offensive electronic device" begins to convulse, with what? You guessed it. Headlines. I'm expecting a photo journal of my sightseeing mission or even the scandal will be Taipei 101. Imagine my surprise when I see old bullshit from Seattle. Picture after picture of the places I've been, before I left home.
"Where Is Miss Steele?", "The Bachelor is Back!" and "Ladies of Seattle Can Relax"***
I almost fucking choked myself, and had to loosen my tie, when I read the shit about Anastasia. Some fucker got a shot of her walking back to the office, presumably after lunch, the headline read, "Fallen Out of Favor".
Another birdcage liner had the gall to write "Guess He Changed His Taste", which included a picture of me shaking hands with a blonde-haired woman at one of the numerous charity events I attended without Anastasia by my side.
The nail in my coffin was "Flavor of the Month" with a shot of Elena strolling out of Grey House, after our showdown.
Why are these old-ass stories coming out now? Those events were weeks, even months ago in some cases. Who spends time casing Grey House to get an impromptu visit shot of the Bitch Troll leaving my building? I don't like the press, its intrusive pictures, disparaging stories, nothing, and the presence of this last shot makes my hair stand on end. It doesn't take rocket science to figure out the Bitch Troll staged the last photo. My question is, why bother to run the old shit? The shot of Ana looked current, but knows. I shoot a text to Welch, telling him to find out the reason for the stale press.
No sooner I put the fucking thing in my pocket does it go off again. If this shit keeps up, I'm really going out of character and leaving the little bastard in the room. I look at the screen and immediately, my head hurts. Fuck me. Really?! Like any other cause and effect scenario, unsolicited press results in a call from mommy. I'm tempted to let the call go to voicemail.
Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…
Screw it, let's get this over with, "Hi mo…" that's as far as I got.
"Christian Trevelyn-Grey!" Am I in grade school?
I try again, "Hi Mom. How are you?" I'm gonna keep the conversation light because I know what's coming.
"What's going on?! I've read more than my fair share of articles about you since you became rich and famous, but the trash troves on the market today are ghastly. Where is Anastasia and why is that Lincoln woman leaving your office building?!
Well, I'd like to know where Anastasia is too Mom, but I don't because she's not responding to my texts or emails. I'm not sharing the topic with you though. As far as the Bitch Troll goes, she's leaving because I walked away from her after an unfriendly conversation. The presence of that photo is being investigated, another not share.
Evidently, my response was too slow because she practically shouts, "I'm waiting Christian!"
I take a deep breath and begin to ramble, "Mom, you know the press. They don't have anything better to write about, no alien sightings, no crop circles, and they'll never figure out Stonehenge. Besides, this is ancient history. The blonde is Claudia Roget, from the Seattle General Hospital event, remember? Skipping the Bitch Troll entirely is a deliberate action. The first syllable of that cunt's name will set off a reaction I'm not interested in facing. This is ridiculous. I'm a grown man, out of the country on business, and Mommy's grilling me about shitty press clippings from across the fucking pond. Calgon, take me away!
"Don't get smart with me Christian. Where's Anastasia and where are YOU for that matter?!"
Is she for real?! Doesn't anyone listen to voicemail? "Mom, I'm in Taipei, remember? I left you a message about my coming here on business days ago. Ana's there in Seattle. She's busy at the publishing house and couldn't come with me." Not a complete lie, once more not sharing.
"What's the meaning of these articles, Christian? There are speculations you and Ana are no longer a couple. There aren't any pictures showing the two of you together, and she looks so sad in the ones I see of her alone."
Mom's right. Ana looks like she's on the verge of tears in one of the photos. It's heartbreaking. "Mom, my PR Department is dealing with the press and 'No Comment' is the Golden Rule. You don't have anything to worry about. It's just the usual shiii… I mean, stuff they like to stir up." I've had enough of this conversation. Bad press has been my nightmare since I became rich and famous. Adding Ana to the mix ruined her freedom and, possibly, our relationship. Trying to shake the Bitch Troll is like dealing with a shitty case of athlete's foot. She's worse than any jock itch imaginable. I'm not explaining my life to anyone anymore. It's about me, and hopefully, Ana. Can't we just be happy?
Time to end this lil episode before it becomes a drama Grey. CEO mode is needed for the next six to even eight hours, so let's go.
He's right. Time to use the ultimate scapegoat. "Look, Mom, I've got another meeting right now. I'll talk to you soon, and please, try not to worry, ok? Bye." I stabbed the End button so hard, I think I punched a hole in the phone.
Signing Day is never boring.