by Anna Roberts
Halfway through the meal Claudia glances over from her table and I can feel her eyes burning into the back of my shoulder. According to Kate she's figured out just who is responsible for the broken statue out front.
"It was an accident," says Kate. "I'm sure they've got insurance. Jeez - there's a freaking helicopter parked on one of the tennis courts over there, and it's blown all the petals off the rose bed."
"That will be the Thomasens," says Crispian's grandma, in a loud partially-deaf old lady voice. "They were always nouveau like that. Although at least they never had a horrible decal on the side of it like you did." She jabs her fork at Crispian.
"It wasn't a horrible decal, Grandmother..."
"Yes it was. It was like those pin-up girls they used to paint on old World War II bombers."
"I don't think I ever saw that," I murmur.
"It was on the other side from you," said Crispian. "Besides, the whole time before we got in you were screaming and begging me not to make you do it..."
"...I get airsick, Crispian."
"Yeah, well - I found that out, didn't I?"
“I thought you said it was a horse,” says Crispian’s grandfather; amazingly, he is even louder than his wife.
“It was a horse. But it was painted like a pin-up girl, you see.”
“No, I don’t see. He put lipstick on it?”
“Yes. And big eyelashes and a skirt. Only the skirt was flying up like Marilyn Monroe’s and you could see its...”
“Irma!” Claudia swoops in and seizes her mother-in-law. “Could I borrow you for a moment? I need your help with the first dance auction.”
His grandmother is named Irma? Oh boy. This could get confusing.
After dinner I escape into the crowd. What am I going to do? There’s a tiny part of me that thinks I’ve made a huge mistake...
...not i said the alderney.
- No, not you.
Or me. There’s nothing tiny about my misgivings.
And if you want to talk about ‘tiny’...
- Shush. All of you. I need to think.
I wander between the pretty white tents to where the orchard meets the lawn. The dance floor has been set up there and the lights are strung with even more glimmering lights. The band are tuning up; little ploinks, parps and bars mingle with the calls of night birds and the faint leathery whisper of bats flying overhead. Everything is so beautiful and I’m so meaningfully alone.
Then I see it – a pale face between the apple trees. Half a pale face. The top half is hidden by a black domino. He puts his finger to his lips but I still have half a mind to scream.
You don’t have half a mind – what the hell are you talking about? You barely have enough mind to remember how to blink, and that’s on a good day.
I grind my teeth and hurry forward. “What are you doing here?”
He grins and holds up a triangle. “I got a job with the band.”
“You did not.”
“I did. For some reason their regular triangle player had to leave town in a hurry and fly down to Tijuana in order to get blind drunk, buy illegal fireworks and catch the clap.” He looks me up and down. “I would say you look beautiful but is that blood?”
“I got into a fight. It’s complicated.” I glance back up the lawn. I think I glimpse Alicia lurking at the edges of the crowd and so I pull us both behind a tree. “You can’t be here,” I say. “You have to go.”
He laughs. “What’s the matter, Hanna? I thought you liked ‘complicated’? You wanted excitement and drama – you got it.”
I shake my head. “Not like this. It was supposed to be romantic.”
“Romantic? You’re at a moonlit masquerade ball with a man who’s crazy about you and you want...”
“...he’s not crazy about me!” I lower my voice. “I don’t think he’s ever been crazy about me. And worse, I met his mother and oh my God she looks just like me and I think I’ve made a huge mistake with a big silly baby...”
He grabs my shoulders and stifles my complaints in a kiss – a real kiss, tender but demanding. He smells of Old Spice and Marlboro lites, with not even the faintest whiff of ham. “Listen to me, you dingbat,” he whispers, urgently. “You don’t need him. You’ve never needed him. He needs you. You’re a prop, a challenge. I know his sort – he’s spent so much time sitting on his ass playing video games that he treats you like another level. Beep, boop, achievement unlocked: Girlfriend.”
I start to cry. Oh God – why did I come down here so far away from all the waiters? I could really use another drink right about now. “It’s worse,” I murmur. “It’s worse than you think.”
“What? He hits you?”
I shake my head again. “No, not that. But he is still drawing dirty fan-art of My Little Pony.”
“For God’s sake, Hanna. Let’s just go. We’ll just leave. How about New York? You want me to take you to New York? We’ll start up our own romance e-press and read bad dirty books all day...”
The tears won’t stop now. I sag against the bole of the tree. “I can’t. I can’t leave him.”
“You can!”
“I can’t!”
“Yes, you can.”
“You don’t understand.”
Timothy Grope pulls off his mask in exasperation. “So make me understand. What is it that makes you stay with him? He’s probably going back to prison anyway. Why can’t you just take off?”
“Because I married him!” I turn away to face the tree. My hair is snagged in the fairy-lights but the sharp tug of pain is only a dim shadow of the roaring pain in my heart.
He says nothing. I can feel his eyes on me, but I know that if I turn around I won’t like what I see in his eyes. Besides, moving makes the tangle worse.
“Right,” he says. “Okay. Well, I guess that’s that then.”
“Yes,” I murmur. “Yes it is.”
“Okay then.” His voice is strained. I hear the snap of elastic as he replaces his mask and the sound of his feet walking away. It’s all very symbolic and I want to run after him but as I turn to run the fairylights trip me up and deposit me facedown on the cool grass. With a small shriek of rage I untangle myself and look for somewhere where I can repair my make-up.
It’s the first dance auction. I didn’t want to do this – I was too upset to fill out the form, so Kate did it for me. As the ladies parade around the floor the band strikes up It Had To Be You and my throat aches with the effort of not crying.
“What’s the matter with the band?” shouts Crispian’s grandfather. “It sounds all wrong.”
“Needs more triangle,” agrees his wife.
The master of ceremonies leers at me as I take my seat. I’m sat next to a bitch-faced blonde in pale green and on my other side is Alicia, huffing like a pug, her dress audibly straining at the seams. She appears to have put her lipstick on in the dark, although I suppose this time I can be grateful that she’s not waving a knife at me.
“It’s that time at last,” says the MC. “The moment you gentlemen have all been eagerly awaiting – the moment when these lovely, lovely ladies are up for grabs.”
“Um...that’s like figuratively,” says Kate. “’Cause if you grab me anywhere I don’t wanna be grabbed I will rip your nuts off and shove ‘em up your nose. Just so we’re clear.”
The MC stares at her for a moment and then laughs a terrible fake laugh. “Wow – as you can see, we’ve got a feisty one here.”
“Sexist.”
He coughs. “Anyway...it’s time to unchain your wallets, gentlemen...”
“...and lesbians. You’re being kinda heteronormative, dude.”
The MC gives Kate a long, loathing look. “Gentlemen and bull-dykes,” he says, through clenched teeth.
“Dude – not cool.”
He ignores her and plows on. “Unchain your wallets and put your credit cards on critical, because I’m sure you’ll all want to dig deep for the pleasure of dancing with one of these beautiful, charming...” He
scowls at Kate once more. “...young ladies.”
The band plays a few bars of Dancing Queen and the blonde beside me reapplies her lipgloss and yawns. I expect she thinks she’s going to the highest bidder.
“First up,” croons the MC. “Is the bea-u-ti-ful Tanya. Tanya’s vital statistics are 36, 24, 34...”
He squirms briefly under Kate’s gaze, as well he might. Kate looks as though she’s been taking staring lessons from my mother.
“...and she lists her hobbies as parasailing, listening to music and oiling up her perky naked breasts in front of open windows late at night. She is also an Olympic level gymnast, if you know what I mean, fellers – and I think you do...”
Tanya stares at him, her mouth hanging open. Several women begin to boo.
“So what am I bid for the lovely Tanya?”
Tanya tries to grab the mic, but he holds it up out of reach.
“I say we bum rush the stage,” says Kate.
“It’s for charity,” squeaks Alicia.
“Like I give a shit. I feel like I’ve come to a world named Gor, for fuck’s sake.”
Tanya smacks the MC round the back of the head and grabs the mic. “For the record, gentlemen,” she says. “I’m a police officer, and I come across anyone peeking through open windows late at night then I’ll have you in handcuffs so fast your head will spin.”
“Oooh, I think we all know what that means, guys!” yells the MC.
The boos have reached fever pitch by now. “The fuck is wrong with you?” Kate says.
“It’s all right,” says Claudia, jumping up on the stage and taking the mic. “It’s fine. Really. I told you this was a mistake, Gerard. You can’t expect local radio stars to compere events – everyone knows they have part of their brains missing.”
Kate beadily eyes the MC. “Oh, are you Emmett or The Bear? Because either way, dude – you are in for a world of pain.”
I glimpse Jesús in the back of the crowd, looking red-eyed behind his mask and even from this distance. Crispian is standing between the two guards, grinning and yet faceless behind his stupid Guy Fawkes mask.
Claudia settles down the crowd and carries on where the MC left off, but this time she reads from the cue cards the women filled out themselves.
“Sonia is a keen outdoorswoman and likes nothing more than hiking through the exquisite temperate rainforest of the Olympic peninsula. She is also an arch druidess and practising polyamorist...whatever that may be. Probably best not to ask.”
“Suzanne spends most weekends deconstructing gender norms...which is nice.”
“Maude’s art takes up the lion’s share of her time. Her work has been variously described as ‘dynamic’, ‘iconoclastic’ and ‘vaginal’. How interesting.”
“Kate’s hobbies include ‘cheeba, Left4Dead and more cheeba’. Her idea of a good night in is ‘faking photographs of Bigfoot’ and she likes Latin men in ladies’ underwear.”
“We’re deconstructing gender roles, yo,” yells Kate. Jesús whistles.
“Yes,” says Claudia, adjusting her glasses on her nose. “Next we come to Hanna.” She reads from the card Kate filled out. “Hanna has thumbs and enjoys staring at them for long periods of time. She is fond of reading, even though it’s taken her four years to finish Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Her hobbies include blinking, biting her lip, flushing and saying ‘holy crap’. Never underestimate Hanna – while she may look perpetually confused, she actually is that confused. And then some.”
Claudia motions to me to get up. My heart is in my mouth as I join her at the mic. Is he still here? I gaze out at the sea of masks. Crispian’s white, moustached mask shines out in the crowd.
I’m not looking my best. While Kate managed to pick most of the broken glass out of my skin, my silver dress is spotted with rusty flecks of drying blood. While I’ve repaired my make-up to the best of my ability, I’m glad of the mask - it saves people from seeing the full horror of my swollen weepy raccoon eyes.
“Gentlemen,” says Claudia. “How much am I bid for the lovely Hanna?” For a moment I think she has forgiven me but then she leans into the mic and adds in a stage-whisper “Just be aware – she bites. And yes, that’s exactly what it means. She’s a biter.”
I hear crickets. Actual crickets.
I want the stage to open up and swallow me.
“Fifty?” someone says.
“Fifty thousand?” says Claudia, looking astonished.
“No. Fifty bucks.”
There is another long, horrible silence.
Claudia brings down the hammer. “Well. Sold.” As I step down from the stage she whispers, “Try not to bite him, there’s a good girl.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my life. The Guy Fawkes mask leers back at me from the crowd. How could he? I’m his wife.
“Next,” says Claudia. “We have Alicia.”
Alicia gets up from her chair.
“Alicia suffers from a form of agoraphobia so severe that it can only be assuaged by shutting herself in confined spaces such as elevators, luxury dog-kennels and dumpsters...”
Instead of making her way to the stage, Alicia starts walking off to the side.
Claudia frowns. “Alicia? Darling? You’re going the wrong way...”
The dumpy black satin figure picks up speed, until she’s moving at a rapid waddle.
“Well, where the hell is she going?” murmurs Claudia.
Alicia tears open the side of her tight skirt and now begins to run towards the tennis court, towards the Thomasens' helicopter.
There is a commotion behind us and I hear the shouts of the federal marshals. There are no shots fired but somewhere, in a strange, unused part of my brain I know what’s happened. As I turn to look at Crispian the Anonymous mask comes off. The fedora goes flying to reveal short, spiky black hair.
She was wearing her cat-ears under Crispian’s hat the whole time.
“Watashi neko-chan, baka gaijin!”
She runs towards the helicopter but it’s too late. It’s already six feet above the tennis court and what roses survived the landing are now denuded by the wind from the blades.
“Crispian!” I yell. “YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”
I glimpse his face for a moment as the chopper ascends. He’s grinning down at us all, his lips grotesquely red with the lipstick he must have inexpertly applied when he switched clothes with his sister.
“COME BACK!” I scream. “COME BACK! DID NOBODY TELL YOU THIS WAS A TRILOGY?”
The marshals fire but it’s no use – he’s flying out over the Sound. There’s no bringing him down now.
“Well shit,” says Jesús. “That’s gotta be a violation of his bail terms.”
“He promised he wasn’t a flight risk!” I sob. “Oh my God, what’s going to happen to him?”
“I don’t know,” says Kate. “But if my guess is right you might want to look away now.”
There is smoke pouring from the tail of the helicopter. At this point I want to faint but seem to have forgotten how to. “They must have winged him,” says Kate.
I watch in horror as the helicopter carrying the love of my life begins to sink lower and lower towards the water. Clouds of thick black smoke belch forth from the tail and as it lands the smoke gives way to fire.
Alicia is screaming in her stupid fake Japanese. Claudia has gone a strange putty colour under her Estee Lauder base. I feel nothing. I am numb with horror. I blink, uncomprehending.
“Oh my God,” I murmur. “He’s dead. He’s gone.”
“Maybe,” says Kate. “Or he’ll come back five pages later perfectly okay.”
“No dice,” says Jesús. “This is the last page.”
I stare at him. “You don’t mean...?”
“Oh yeah. Like you said – it’s a trilogy.”
Well, fuck.
The End
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Bonus Material
I Read Fifty Shades Darker So That You Don't Have To
Nobody should ever have to read Fifty Shades Darker. It is a mindless, unnecessary book about nothing. It’s the literary equivalent of The Human Centipede – it shouldn’t exist, there is no need for it to exist and in a decent, sane world people would be besieging the publishers’ offices with pitchfork and torches, demanding to know why they’ve been subjected to such a pointless, stomach-turning waste of time.
On the other hand, you might want to take a look at what I’ve been taking the piss out of for the past fifty thousand words, and it’s in this spirit that I read Fifty Shades Darker – so that you don’t have to.
Brace yourself. This isn’t going to be pretty.
Prologue
So the prologue is basically Chedward Grullen having a nightmare about the bad man who used to hit Mommy and it’s kind of like Room and A Child Called It had a baby and named it Fucked-Up Bitch. Chedward wakes up to realise his demons are back – you can tell this because he thinks What the fuck? They’re back.
This is a grim foretaste of what’s to come. He’s FUCKED UP! IT’S COMPLICATED! OH MY GOD, HE’S SO INTERESTINGLY AND COMPLICATEDLY FUCKED UP I AM SO FUCKING WET RIGHT NOW.
If this kind of thing is likely to get on your nerves, click your back button now. I wish I could do the same.
Ugh.
Chapter One
Ana is miserable – I know, what’s new? She has a ‘hole’ in her chest since she broke up with Dickfacehead, because he’s magical and the only man in the world and she’s Bella from Twilight. Someone has given her a job in publishing even though she still doesn’t understand Tess of the D’Urbervilles and remains incapable of constructing a sentence that doesn’t look as though it’s been passed through the guts of a sickly Doberman pinscher. Her new boss Jack Hyde also keeps smiling at her, which makes her even more unhappy because she’s still Bella from Twilight and we all know how much notorious vinegar-tits Bella hated random acts of kindness.
