Dusk Spank - Chapter 4

OK, it’s a long one today. Sorry about that, but….feeling ranty.

Before we go to chapter 4, here are some thoughts on Chapter 3.

During their coffee date, Christian’s questions about her family confuse and irritate Ana. Family is a fairly standard first date topic, but Ana asks herself why Christian wants to know ‘all that boring stuff’  When she asks about HIS family, she gets annoyed at his ‘reluctance’ to discuss it! Ana in fact only asks Christian two questions about himself, the rest of the time she looks at her fingers and blushes.  

The characterisations of  Ana and Christian are so weak (probably because they are not original creations) that Mary-Sue has to resort to a long and boring conversation between the two of them under the misapprehension she’s written a witty verbal spar to try and demonstrate personalities. It doesn’t work. Ana comes off as being aloof and disinterested, and while Christian seems to be curious in getting to know Ana, his constant questioning without absorbing her answers feels fake and forced. 

I get it – realistic dialogue is hard to write. Want an example good dialogue? This is how it’s done:

Ackley took another look at my hat . . . “Up home we wear a hat like that to shoot deer in, for Chrissake,” he said. “That’s a deer shooting hat.”
“Like hell it is.” I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye, like I was taking aim at it. “This is a people shooting hat,” I said. “I shoot people in this hat.”

'The Catcher In the Rye', JD Salinger

See? It’s natural. You can imagine people talking like that. God, I felt physical pain for Dakota Johnson for having to say, ‘what are butt plugs?’ in the movie version of FSOG. (I actually thought she did a really good job of making Ana likeable.)

I forgot to include the phrase / word counts from C3 so here they are:

Long fingers: 4

Blush / flush: 10

My favourite line: ‘I’m going to have coffee with Christian Grey. And I hate coffee.’

And now, on with the show!

KISS ME, you rich, sexy control freak I implore him with my inside voice.

I have affected him too, I know I have – he is breathing hard and his pupils are dilated. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead he briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head.

‘I’m not the man for you, Annie,’ he says. He sounds genuinely sorry. He is the saddest man ever to hold a wet and willing girl in his arms. My one chance at true love has slipped away, all because I don’t drink coffee and I’m not a sexy blonde. Well, I am assuming those are the reasons for his rejection. Maybe I could learn to like coffee? Maybe I could dye my hair blonde? Would he want me then?

‘Thank you,’ I say, in a haughty tone as I can muster.

‘For what?’ he says.

‘For saving my life,’

‘That idiot was riding the wrong way. I am glad I was here to save you. I am amazed that you have survived to the age of 21 without me around to stop you accidentally killing yourself,’

I’m gonna go home, and like, really kill myself now, I think. See how you like THEM apples, Mr Grey, pretending to be all interested in me and then rejecting me.

I have been such a hopeful fool. Why would he want me? My life is OVER. Everything is POINTLESS now. But…yet….he looks so…anguished….so tortured….like, Mr Darcy or Heathcliffe, or…… someone.

‘What is it?’ I snap irritably in an annoyed tone.

‘Good luck with your exams,’ he says, his voice low and full of some unspoken pain.

GOOD LUCK WITH MY EXAMS?? FUCK YOU! Good luck with your own fucking exams.

‘Thank you’ I say really sarcastically, and I cross the road ALL BY MYSELF without getting mown down on the way. I stomp into the underground carpark of the hotel and I don’t look back at him once.

But before I get to Karen’s car, my legs buckle, and I fall to the ground.  Hot tears pour out of my eyes. Snot streams out of my nose, I can’t breathe because my nose is so full of grief-mucus.

Waaaahhhh I go, wwaaaaahhh, life is so unfair, I never get what I want, waaa-waaa-waaa.

Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Jose and Paul – even though they are obviously punching above their weight liking me, I am sure they have not cried like this over a girl they have only met 2 times.

Waaaaaa waaaaaaa.

After five minutes of rolling around on the ground like a flakka addict....

I get up and wipe the tears and snot on my jacket sleeve. I am a self-contained, mysterious lady, Goddammit. Cullen Grey said so himself. It’s time I started acting like one.

Karen is working on her laptop at the dining table when I get back. Her sweet, friendly smile (GOD stop smiling at me, you utter cow-bag!) soon vanishes when she sees my red eyes and my paler than usual pale face.

‘Annie! What’s the matter?’ she asks. Oh, I really do not the fucking Karen Cartwright Interrogation right now!

 ‘Did something happen? Did he do something to you? Tell me!’ she persists.

‘I wuh-wuh-wuh wus almost hit by a cyclist,’ I tell her.

‘You were almost hit?’

YES KAREN I could have DIED, thanks to YOU.

‘It was really close,’ I say, sniffing.

‘Were you hurt?’ she asks.

‘Only my pride,’ I say bravely.

‘How did it go with Mr Grey?’ she inquiries.

‘Yes, it was fun, but I don’t think we’ll see each other again,’

‘Why not?’ she asks, following me into the kitchen. She knows why, it’s because I’m skinny and clumsy and nerdy, and she is trying to force me to say it because she’s a BAD FRIEND.

‘I just don’t think we’re suited,’ I say, sadly.

‘That’s a shame,’ she says. ‘It seemed like you were really getting on well,’

Yes, Karen, that IS a shame, isn’t it? Now you’re free to wade in there, smelling like fresh, green apples and wearing your tiny camisole and tight jeans, free to charm Cullen Grey with your silky strawberry blonde hair that smells of orange groves, free to gaze at him with your clear green eyes. Free to let him stroke your flawless tawny skin and your peachy breasts with their little pale pink nipples stiffening under my – woah! Where did that come from? Cool down, Annie!

‘You probably don’t want to see the photos, then?’ she says.

No, Karen, no I don’t want to see the photos and be reminded of everything I’ll never had, everything that was so close, so within my sweaty grasp, before it slipped away so easily....

 ‘Actually, I would like to see them,’ I tell her. I pull one of the dining chairs round so I’m sitting next to her.

As I look at the photos, it becomes clear to me just why Cullen Grey will never be interested in me. He’s just too handsome. He’s out of my league. What was I thinking? Now I have realised this, I can move on.

‘Very good,’ Karen, I say.

INTERMISSION

HEY, this is the bit where we do a Family Guy style cutaway. Annie goes to bed after revising for a while, and you know what bedtime means! It means dream time! Do do do do wobbly fade-out….. but as even Annie’s dreams are boring, here’s one from HBO masterpiece Six Feet Under instead.

END OF INTERMISSION

I put my pen down. I have finished my final exam. I am the first to finish, with half an hour to go. I don’t think I’ll bother reading it over, I know Tess of the d’Urbervilles inside out, like the back of my hand, like an old friend. Tess is so like me in so many ways. But I’m not going to think about that now. I am going to look over at Karen and feel sorry for her because she’s still scribbling away.

Karen is just not as bright as I am, and although I try not to make my intellectual superiority obvious, sometimes it’s hard not to.  These exams will have been super hard for her, but for me they were easy. I think about what I’ll say to her when she knows she’s failed.

I look over and she’s put her pen down. She should really be using the last two minutes to check over what she’s written, but she doesn’t. Oh well, Karen, it’s up to you!

It’s Friday night, so we’ll be celebrating later on. I might even get drunk! I’ve never been drunk before, I’d rather be curled up with one of my favourite classic books than drinking. Now I can legally drink in the State of Washington, there’s no excuse!

When we get back to the apartment, Karen says, ‘there’s a package for you Annie,’

Oh and who can the package be from?? Go and put the kettle on, have a cup of tea while you try and figure it out. I’ll just wait here until you come back.

It’s from Cullen Grey.

Three editions of Tess, with a handwritten note:

Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me?

Ladies know what to guard against because they read novels that tell them of these tricks…

‘It’s a quote from Tess,’ says Karen.

GOD KAREN we’ve only just done a 3 hour exam on it! I know that!

‘Tess says it to her mother after Alec d’Urberville rapes her,’ Karen goes on.

GOD Karen, he doesn’t RAPE her, you idiot! Tess WANTS Alec. You really don’t understand the book in the way I do.

‘But what does Grey mean by it?’ I ask, coolly. I don’t want to show Karen’s ignorance up and make her worry that she might have failed the exam. 

‘Annie, I don’t think this is good,’ Karen says shaking her head. ‘When you came back from that coffee with him, you seemed really down and said it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Now he sends you these? I think you should send them back,’

Hmm. I’m starting to think that Karen wants him for herself, and she’s trying to get me out of the way. We’ll see about that.

‘You’re right, Karen,’ I say. I put the books back in the box.

‘Let’s celebrate. I’ll worry about it later,’ I say. She looks like she believes me. I told you she was an idiot.

The bar is loud and I have drunk a bottle of champagne, six margaritas, two jager bombs, two tequila slammers, a pint of Guinness and a G&T. I’m not in the least bit drunk, thought I have thrown up twice (tactical chunder my friends, tactical chunder) and fallen over a little bit.

Jose has come out with us, even though he’s not graduating until next year.

‘So what’s next for you, Annie?’ he says, gazing at me with his nut-brown eyes.

‘Karen and I are moving to Seattle. Her parents have bought her an apartment there –‘

‘Aye carumba, Annie! You are so lucky!’

‘You try sharing with Karen!’ I say. ‘Do you want to know something? I left this Chinese takeaway in the fridge. It was only in there for like, a week, and she threw it away! She thinks that everyone is made of money, like her! And I’ll still have to give her money for bills and things, which I think is totally unfair.  Hey, are you going to the bar? We need another margarita pitcher. Thanks, Jose,’

Jose goes off to the bar and I stagger to the toilet. I sit down and scroll through my call history.

Hmmm, sexy Cullen Grey. I dial his number.

‘Annie?’ he says. Woah! How does he do that? Oh, yeah. I called him before to arrange the shoot, didn’t I? He probably saved my number. You can thank me later for solving that one, Mary-Sue James, ‘kay?

Here, listen to this while Annie and Cullen have a really boring conversation about where she is, if she’s drunk, why he bought the books:

I go back to the table and Jose pours out the margaritas.

‘Annie, I think you should have a glass of water,’ says Karen.

She is always trying to control me and stop me from having fun. She wouldn’t let me paint my bedroom black, she won’t let me borrow her underwear, she wants me to send the books back and now she says I should have a glass of water! I down my drink defiantly.

‘I think you should have a glass of water,’ I say. ‘I’ll even go to the bar and get you one, Buzz Killington!’

But when I get up, I’m all dizzy, probably because I haven’t eaten anything since Tuesday.

‘Here,’ says Jose, ‘let’s go outside for some fresh air,’

My head is spinning and I feel really, really sick. Outside, we sit on a bench and Jose rubs my back. A combination of the fresh air and the back rub makes me gag, and then blurrgh, up comes $70 dollars-worth of booze. Not my $70 dollars, but still. The vomit splashes into my soft brown hair, over my white Converse, and over a raised wooden flowerbed in which are planted a spectacular variety of purple and pink peonies with dark emerald green leaves. Little drops of salt-laced vomit drip off the leaves, like foul-stinking dew.

‘Kiss me, Jose!’ I say, making a grab for his muscular forearms.

‘Ew, Annie! You just threw up! And you’re really drunk!’ he says, pushing me away.

‘C’mon, you know you want to!’ I wipe my mouth on the sleeve of my plain, boring brown jacket, and then launch again, trying to press my breasts up against his chest.

‘You know you want me,’ I say in my sexiest voice.

‘Annie, I did like you, but you’ve made it clear you just want to be friends. I’ve moved on. I’ve got a girlfriend,’ he says.

What the actual fuck. Jose can’t have a girlfriend! He’s supposed to always pine for me while I make him think something might happen by asking him to do things for me all the time. Fuck this shit.

‘I hate you,’ I say.

‘You don’t mean that, Annie. You’re just drunk. Come on, I’ll take you home,’ he says.

‘No!’ I say. ‘I want more drink!’

‘The lady said no,’ a dark voice says from the shadows. Oh it’s Cullen Grey! What’s he doing here? Why?

Let’s speed this shit up

Right, so here we have another FIVE pages of Annie throwing up, Cullen admitting he ‘tracked her cell phone’ (that’s what we call a red flag right there, folks.) Cullen taking her BACK into the club where she slut shames Karen and then…then she passes out. Because chapters always have to end with unconsciousness.

Dusk Spank - Chapter 3, pt 2

For this post, I’m putting the snark cannons away (they’ll be back for Chapter 4, don’t worry) and just trying to do a basic edit on the rest of chapter 3. I’ll pop a link to a pdf in at the end if you want to remind yourself of the torturous original.

While we’re here, I am NOT saying I am a good writer. I haven’t sold any books, and as I am sure a few of you who know me would want to point out, I haven’t even finished my OWN book.

What I have done is read a lot, written a lot and I’m still learning about the ‘craft’. So let’s look at this as a bit of practice for me, flexing some editing muscles, if you like. Excuse the bad formatting, again the original text was copied and pasted from a PDF which makes a transfer to Word and then Blogger a little weird looking. 

As an aside, I started reading both Tess and Twilight. Everyone now knows that FSOG started as Twilight fan-fic, but I hadn’t realised just how much it had been ripped off – and I’m only on chapter one! Comparisons between the three books are something I might write about in a future post, but for now…….

Let’s re-join Ana, Kate and José  at the Heathman Hotel, where they have gone to take photographs of the enigmatic Christian Grey for the student newspaper interview. José  has just finished taking the pictures…..

“Great, thank you again, Mr. Grey.” says Kate, shaking his hand.

“I look forward to reading the article, Miss Kavanagh,” says Grey. ‘Can I speak to you for a minute, Ana?’

“Sure,” I say, I glancing at Kate, who just shrugs.

‘Thank you, José , Travis,’ Grey says, as he holds the door open for me.

What does he want? I wonder as I walk into the corridor.

Grey emerges from the room followed by Buzz-Cut in his sharp suit.

“I’ll call you, Taylor,” he says to Buzz-Cut

Taylor nods and walks away down the corridor. Grey turns to me.

“I wondered if you would join me for coffee this morning,” he asks.

My heart leaps into my mouth. A date? Christian Grey is asking me on a date?

I clear my throat, trying to control my nerves.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t. I have to drive everyone home,’ I say.

‘Taylor!’ he calls. Taylor turns around and walks back towards us.

“Are your friends based at the university?” Grey asks me softly.

‘Yes,’ I reply.

“ Taylor - please can you drive José , Travis and Miss Kavanagh back home?”

“Certainly sir,” Taylor says.

“There. Now you can join me for coffee,” Grey asks, smiling.

“Um, Mr. Grey, look, Taylor doesn’t have to drive them home.” I glance at Taylor,  “I’ll swap cars with Kate, if you give me a moment?’

Grey smiles an unguarded, natural, smile.  He opens the door of the suite and I go back inside, where Kate and José are talking.

“Ana, I think he definitely likes you,” she says when she sees me.  “But I don’t trust him,” she adds.

“Kate,’ I interrupt, if you take the Beetle, can I take your car?”

“Why?”

I’ve still edited this bit, though if I was editing the whole book, I’d actually cut this whole exchange.  José  or Travis could have driven them all to the Heathman in the same car at the start of C3. I haven’t got to this bit in Twilight yet, so I don’t know why all this fucking around with who’s driving who is important.

“Christian Grey has asked me to go for coffee with him.” I tell her.

She looked a bit surprised, then grabs me by my arm and drags me into the bedroom.

“Ana, there’s something about him,’ she says, sounding worried. ‘He’s gorgeous, I agree. But I think he’s dangerous, especially to someone like you.”

“What do you mean, someone like me?” I say, feeling insulted.

‘You know what I mean, Ana,’ she says.

I feel my face getting hot.

‘Kate, it’s just coffee. I’m starting my exams this week, and I need to study, so I won’t

be long.”

She seems to think it over.

‘Alright, then,’ she says eventually, and we swap keys. “I’ll see you later. Don’t be long, or I’ll send out a search party,’

“Thanks, Kate,” I say, hugging her.

I leave the suite to find Christian Grey waiting in the corridor. He looks like a model posing for a glossy magazine.

“Okay, let’s get coffee,” I say, and I hope I’m not blushing.

He grins.

“After you, Ana” he says, holding his hand out for me to go first.

I make my way down the corridor, my knees feeling like jelly, butterflies in my tummy, my heart thumping.

The elevator doors slide open to reveal a young couple kissing passionately. They quickly let go of each other as we walk in, and I struggle to maintain a straight face.. I’m definitely blushing now. When I glance up at Grey, he has a hint of a smile on his lips.

The four of us ride down to the first floor in awkward silence.

When the doors open, Grey takes my hand, clasping it with his cool fingers. I feel a tingling current run through me. As we walk away, I can hear the kissing couple laughing.

“What is it about elevators?” Grey says, shaking his head and smiling.

It’s a fine, May morning and Christian Grey is holding my hand.

I hope he can’t feel me trembling and I try to suppress the great big silly smile I have on my face.

In the Portland Coffee House, Grey says, “Go choose a table while I get the drinks. What would you like?”

“English breakfast tea, please. Bag out.”

“OK. Sugar?”

For a moment, I think I’ve misheard, then I realise he’s asking me if I want sugar.

“No thanks.” I say.

“Anything to eat?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

He heads to the counter and I stare at him as he stands in line.

A couple of times he runs his fingers through his now dry but still messy hair.  I’d like to run my fingers through his hair, I think. All these unfamiliar images keep popping into my head since I met Christian Grey, and I don’t know what to make of them. I’ve never thought about anyone like this before. But is he just being friendly? Am I imagining the way he looks at me?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Grey says, as he sets our drinks down on the table. He sits down opposite me and crosses his long legs. He looks so comfortable, so at ease in his own skin.

I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair.

“Thanks for the tea.” I say, as I plop the teabag into the pot and almost immediately fish it out again. He looks at me quizzically.

“I like my tea weak,” I explain.

“I can see that. Is José  your boyfriend?’ he asks.

“No. José’s a good friend of mine, that’s all. What made you think he’s my boyfriend?”

“The way that you look at each other,”

“He’s more like a brother,” I say.

Grey nods, and peels the paper from the blueberry muffin he has bought for himself.

“Do you want some?” he offers.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry,’

‘Is the man I met at the store yesterday your boyfriend?’ he asks.

“No. Paul’s just a friend. Why?’

“You seem nervous around men.”

“You make me nervous,’ I admit.

“You’re very honest.,’ he says. ‘and you’re mysterious,’

“Oh, there’s nothing mysterious about me.” I say, because it’s the truth.

“You seem very reserved,” he adds.

Am I reserved? I don’t think I am.

“Except when you blush, which you do a lot.  I’d like to know what you’re blushing about.” He pops a small piece of muffin into his mouth and chews slowly, not taking his eyes off me.

‘You seem authoritarian,” I challenge.

He raises his eyebrows. ‘I’m used to getting my own way, Ana,’

“I don’t doubt that. Why haven’t you asked me to call you Christian?”

“The only people who call me Christian are my family and friends,’

Oh. He is arrogant.

I take a sip of my tea, and Grey eats another piece of his muffin.

“Are you an only child?” he asks.

“Yes.” I reply.

“Tell me about your parents.”

“My mom lives in Georgia with her new husband Bob. My stepdad, Ray, lives in Montesano.”

“Where is your father?”

“My father died when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and for a moment, he looks troubled.

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t remember him.” I say. ‘I had Ray. He raised me,’

‘What’s Ray like?’

“He’s a typical dad. You know? He likes football, and carpentry, fixing cars and drinking beer. He’s not very talkative, but he’s always been there for me when I’ve needed him,’

“You lived with him?”

“Yes. My mom met her third husband when I was fifteen. I decided to stay with Ray.”

“You didn’t want to live with your mom?” he asks.

“It was difficult. The third husband lived in Texas. My home was in Montesano. Tell me about your parents,”

“My dad’s a lawyer, my mom is a paediatrician. They live in Seattle.”

‘They must be very proud of you. What do your siblings do?”

“Elliot’s in construction, and my little sister, Mia, is in Paris, training to be a chef,’

“Everyone says Paris is beautiful," I say.

“It is. Have you been?” he asks.

“I’ve never left the USA.” I admit.

“Would you like to go to Paris one day?’

“Of course,” I say, “but I’d like to go to England more,’

‘Why England in particular?’

‘I’d like to see the places that inspired writers like Hardy, Austen and the Brontë sisters. The wild moors, the Wessex countryside. Talking about writers, I should be studying. My exams start on Tuesday,’

I don’t know if I imagine it, but I think he looks disappointed.

“Where are you parked?’ he asks.

“At the hotel,’

“I’ll walk you back.”

During our silent walk back to the hotel, I try to gauge how our coffee morning has gone. It felt more like an interview than a friendly coffee, or like I was being tested.

We reached an intersection, across the road from the hotel.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I thought I’d only imagined saying it, but I have blurted the words out-loud. 

“No, Ana, I don’t do the girlfriend thing,” he says.

What does that mean? Is he laughing at me? He wants to know everything about me, but won’t tell me anything about himself! Was he just teasing me?

I step out into the road without looking.

“Ana!” Grey tugs my hand so hard that I’m pulled against him. The cyclist who has just narrowly missed knocking me down whips past.

“Are you okay?” Grey says. He has one arm around me, holding me against his chest and I can feel the thud of his heart. He smells really good, and I am staring at his mouth, and for the first time in my life, I’m thinking, please, please kiss me.

FSOG PDF

Dusk Spank - Chapter 3, part one

Day: 1,702

I have finally escaped from the basement where I have been kept prisoner by Erika LaLa James since 2012. Though my name appears in the dedications of her best-selling ‘novel’, I want to make it clear that I had nothing to do with it. NOTHING.

In this chapter I hope put right the wrongs, making good use of the red pen and the delete key. For the benefit of this post, and to avoid confusion, I will call the characters by their original names.

This post will also be done in a few parts, as this chapter reaaaallllly long.

Salvation lies within!

Thwarted Editor, FSOG

PS, the thought of typing out this whole chapter made me want to weep, so I’ve copied and pasted from a PDF. That will explain any formatting errors.

ONM = omit needless words

Kate is ecstatic.‘But what was he doing at Clayton’s?’ her curiosity oozes through the phone. This always reminds me of this bit in A Nightmare on Elm Street (just the first 30 seconds from the 1984 original):

I’m in the depths of the stockroom, trying to keep my voice casual. I’m imagining her voice dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

“He was in the area.”

“I think that is one huge coincidence, Ana. You don’t think he was there to see you?” My heart lurches at the prospect, but it’s a short-lived joy. The dull, disappointing reality is that he was here on business.

“He was visiting the farming division of WSU. He’s funding some research,” I mutter. 

“Oh yes. He’s given the department a $2.5 million grant.” Wow. 

“How do you know this?”

“Ana, I’m a journalist, and I’ve written a profile on the guy. It’s my job to know this.”

“Okay, Carla Bernstein, I don’t know who ‘Carla Bernstein’ is. There’s a CARL Bernstein who is an investigative journalist, so is it a play on his name? If this is the case, it seems like an odd choice. I’d have just cut this out because a joke isn’t funny if no-one understands it. keep your hair on. So do you want these photos?”

“Of course I do. The question is, who’s going to do them and where.”

“We could ask him where. He says he’s staying in the area.”

“You can contact him?”

“I have his cell phone number.”

Kate gasps.

“The richest, most elusive, most enigmatic I don’t think you need both elusive and enigmatic here bachelor in Washington State, just gave you his cell phone number.”

“Er... yes.”

“Ana! He likes you. No doubt about it.” Her tone is emphatic. She says emphatically

“Kate, he’s just trying to be nice.” But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true - Christian Grey doesn’t do nice. He does polite, maybe. And a small quiet voice whisers, perhaps Kate is right. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Kate didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment. Kate brings me back to the now.

“I don’t know who we’ll get to do the shoot. Levi, our regular photographer, can’t.

He’s home in Idaho Falls for the weekend. He’ll be pissed that he blew an opportunity to photo one of America’s leading entrepreneurs.”

“Hmm... What about José?”

“Great idea! You ask him – he’ll do anything for you. Then call Grey and find out

where he wants us.” Kate is irritatingly cavalier about José.

“I think you should call him.”

“Who, José?” Kate scoffs. ONW

“No, Grey.”

“Ana, you’re the one with the relationship.”

“Relationship?” I squeak at her, my voice rising several octaves. “I barely know the

guy.”

“At least you’ve met him,” she says bitterly. “And it looks like he wants to know you

better. Ana, just call him,” she snaps and hangs up. She is so bossy sometimes. I frown at my cell, sticking my tongue out at it. Infantilising main character. I’d just leave it at ‘she is so bossy sometimes’.

I’m just leaving a message for José when Paul enters the stock room looking for sand-paper.

“We’re kind of busy out there, Ana,” he says without acrimony. (bitterness, resentment, ill-feeling or hostility.) So, he’s caught her skivving but ‘acrimony’ seems a bit strong. CUT.

“Yeah, um, sorry,” I mutter, turning to leave.

“So, how come you know Christian Grey?” Paul’s voice is unconvincingly nonchalant.

Paul tries to sound nonchalant.

“I had to interview him for our student newspaper. Kate wasn’t well.” I shrug, trying

to sound casual and doing no better than him.

“Christian Grey in Clayton’s. Go figure,” Paul snorts, amazed. He shakes his head as

if to clear it.

“Anyway, want to grab a drink or something this evening?”

Whenever he’s home he asks me on a date, and I always say no. It’s a ritual. I’ve never considered it a good idea to date the boss’s brother, and besides, Paul is cute in a whole- some all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he’s no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is Grey? My subconscious asks me, her eyebrow figuratively raised. I slap her down. I really hate the whole ‘subconscious / inner Goddess thing. I know they are used to represent Ana’s conscience and what I assume is supposed to be her sexual arousal, but no. Just no. CUT.

“Don’t you have a family dinner or something for your brother?”

“That’s tomorrow.”

“Maybe some other time, Paul. I need to study tonight. I have my finals next week.

“Ana, one of these days, you’ll say yes,” he smiles as I escape out to the store floor.

“But I do places, Ana, not people,” José groans.

“José, please?” I beg. Clutching my cell, I pace the living area of our apartment, star-

ing out of the window at the fading evening light.

“Give me that phone.” Kate grabs the handset from me, tossing her silken red-blonde

hair over her shoulder.

“Listen here, José Rodriquez, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your

show, you’ll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?” Kate can be awesomely tough. Or a big fat bully.

“Good. Ana will call back with the location and the call time. We’ll see you tomor-

row.” She snaps my cell phone shut.

“Sorted. All we need to do now is decide where and when. Call him.” She holds the

phone out to me. My stomach twists.

“Call Grey, now!”

I scowl at her and reach into my back pocket for his business card. I take a deep,

steadying breath, and with shaking fingers, I dial the number.

He answers on the second ring. His tone is clipped, calm and cold. As ‘clipped and cold’ = brusque and rude, how can his tone also be calm? Cut calm, or cut ‘clipped and cold.’ You can’t have all 3, EL James!

“Grey.”

“Err... Mr. Grey? It’s Anastasia Steele.” I don’t recognize my own voice, I’m so ner-

vous. There’s a brief pause. Inside I’m quaking.

“Miss Steele. How nice to hear from you.” His voice has changed. He’s surprised, I

think, and he sounds so... warm – seductive even. My breath hitches, and I flush. I’m suddenly conscious that Katherine Kavanagh is staring at me, her mouth open, and I dart into the kitchen to avoid her unwanted scrutiny.

“Err – we’d like to go ahead with the photo-shoot for the article.” Breathe, Ana, breathe.

My lungs drag in a hasty breath. “Tomorrow, if that’s okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?” Foreshadowing, BING!

I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone. I imagine him with a sphix-like smile on his face.

“I’m staying at the Heathman in Portland. Shall we say, nine thirty tomorrow morn-

ing?”

“Okay, we’ll see you there.” I am all gushing and breathy – like a child, not a grown

woman who can vote and drink legally in the State of Washington. Ana can’t vote or drink legally in any other State, apparently. Also, ‘gushy and breathy like a child’ YUCK. I know EL James is trying to say Ana sounds out of breath, but ‘breathy’ means rasping, throaty or gruff. Does Ana smoke 40 a day? Why not say, ‘my voice is husky’? Husky sounds sexier than a child with croup and norovirus.

“I look forward to it, Miss Steele.” I visualize the wicked gleam in his gray eyes. How

can he make seven little words hold so much tantalizing promise? I hang up. Kate is in the kitchen, and she’s staring at me with a look of complete and utter consternation on her face.

“Anastasia Rose Steele. You like him! I’ve never seen or heard you so, so... affected

by anyone before. You’re actually blushing.”

“Oh Kate, you know I blush all the time. It’s an occupational hazard with me. I actually laughed out loud at this, because I imagined a Kristen Wigg SNL sketch where she plays Ana as the world’s most prudish sex toy tester.

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” I snap. She blinks at me with surprise – I very rarely have hissy fits No, you’re normally just really mean about your friend behind her back– and I briefly relent. “I just find him... intimidating, that’s all.”

“Heathman, that figures,” mutters Kate. “I’ll give the manager a call and negotiate a

space for the shoot.”

“I’ll make supper. Then I need to study.” I cannot hide my irritation with her I don’t get why Ana  irritated with Kate. Kate only suggested Ana fancies Christian, which is true. I’m guessing it’s because at this point, Ana hasn’t admitted her own feelings yet.  as I open one of cupboards to make supper.

I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoky gray eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding. Oh, I’m going to look just great tomorrow with so little sleep, I scold myself.  I punch my pillow and try to settle.  James relies on dreams to explain state of mind far too often. And IRL, dreams are never so clear. Do know what I dreamed about once? That there was a lion living at the bottom of my back garden.  Starting and ending of chapters with characters waking up / falling asleep is lazy writing.  Sleeping/ waking was used really effectively in Mulholland Drive because it represented a narrative shift, but in FSOG, it’s really clunky and used because James doesn’t know how to pace a plot.

The Heathman is nestled in the downtown heart of Portland. Its impressive brown stone edifice was completed just in time for the crash of the late 1920s.  Just cut all this José, Travis, and I are traveling in my Beetle, and Kate is in her CLK, since we can’t all fit in my car. Car ex machina! Travis is José’s friend and gopher, is here to help out with the lighting. Kate has managed to acquire the use of a room at the Heathman free of charge for the morning in exchange for a credit in the article. It seems unlikely ro me that students are going to be able to afford to stay at this hotel, unless all their parents are as rich as Kate’s. When she explains at reception that we’re here to photograph Christian Grey CEO, we are instantly upgraded to a suite. Just a regular-sized suite, however, as apparently Mr. Grey is already occupying the largest one in the building. An over-keen marketing executive shows us up to the suite – he’s terribly young and very nervous for some reason.  I suspect it’s Kate’s beauty and commanding manner that disarms him, because he’s putty

in her hands. The rooms are elegant, understated, and opulently furnished.   A room can’t be both opulent and understated at the same time.

It’s nine. We have half an hour to set up. Kate is in full flow.       

“José, I think we’ll shoot against that wall, do you agree?” She doesn’t wait for his

reply. “Travis, clear the chairs. Ana, could you ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments? And let Grey know where we are.”

Yes, Mistress. Clumsy foreshadowing!She is so domineering. I roll my eyes, but do as I’m told.

Half an hour later, Christian Grey walks into our suite.

Holy Crap! He’s wearing a white shirt, open at the collar, and grey flannel pants that

hang from his hips. Where does everyone else wear their trousers?? 

His unruly hair is still damp from a shower. My mouth goes dry looking at him... he’s so freaking hot. Grey is followed into the suite by a man in his mid-thirties, all buzz-cut and stubble in a sharp dark suit and tie who stands silently in the corner. His hazel eyes watch us impassively. What, the suit and tie stand silently in the corner? Is the stubble wearing the suit?  Also, how can Ana tell what colour his eyes are, unless she goes right up to him and stares at his face?

Grey is followed by a man in his mid-30s. The man has stubble and a buzz-cut. He is wearing a dark suit and tie. He goes and stands silently in the corner.

“Miss Steele, we meet again.” Grey extends his hand, and I shake it, blinking rapidly.

Oh my... he really is, quite... wow. As I touch his hand, I’m aware of that delicious current running right through me, lighting me up, making me blush, and I’m sure my erratic breathing must be audible.

“Mr. Grey, this is Katherine Kavanagh,” I mutter, waving a hand toward Kate who

comes forward, looking him squarely in the eye.

“The tenacious Miss Kavanagh. How do you do?” He gives her a small smile, look-

ing genuinely amused. “I trust you’re feeling better? Anastasia said you were unwell last week.”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Grey.” She shakes his hand firmly without batting an eyelid.

I remind myself that Kate has been to the best private schools in Washington. Her family has money, and she’s grown up confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn’t take any crap. I am in awe of her. Ana assumes money = confidence. More Kate bashing.

“Thank you for taking the time to do this.” She gives him a polite, professional smile.

“It’s a pleasure,” he answers, turning his gray gaze on me, and I flush, again. Damn it.

“This is José Rodriguez, our photographer,” I say, grinning at José who smiles with

affection back at me. His eyes cool when he looks from me to Grey.

“Mr. Grey,” he nods.

“Mr. Rodriguez,” Grey’s expression changes too as he appraises José.

“Where would you like me?” Grey asks him. His tone sounds vaguely threatening. But Katherine is not about to let José run the show. No hint that José wants to run the show.

“Mr. Grey – if you could sit here, please? Be careful of the lighting cables. And then

we’ll do a few standing, too.” She directs him to a chair set up against the wall.

Travis switches on the lights, momentarily blinding Grey, and mutters an apology.

Then Travis and I stand back and watch as José proceeds to snap away. He takes several photographs hand-held, asking Grey to turn this way, then that, to move his arm, then put it down again. Moving to the tripod, José takes several more, while Grey sits and poses, patiently and naturally, for about twenty minutes.   

My wish has come true: I can stand and admire Grey from not-so-afar. Twice our eyes lock as Grey poses in the chair and I have to tear myself away from his cloudy gaze. Does he have glaucoma?

“Enough sitting.” Katherine wades in again. “Standing, Mr. Grey?” she asks. ‘Can we have some photos of you standing, Mr Grey?’ Kate says.

He stands, and Travis scurries in to remove the chair. The shutter on José’s Nikon

starts clicking again.

“I think we have enough,” José announces five minutes later.

TBC.... if you can stand it.