by Anna Roberts
Shit! Sauvignon blanc – that’s a dry white, isn’t it?
The ‘blanc’ part would suggest that much, yes. Also how does Ana not know a Sauvignon from Chablis by now? The woman spends most of her waking hours half-cut. Maybe she’s one of those downwardly mobile drunks who prefers hobo wine and cleaning products - seems a waste, since she has the talent and the means to be a really high class alcoholic.
...I’m gripped by the uncanny feeling that Christian and I are putting on a show, playing a game together – but this time we’re on the same side pitted against Ms. Matteo.
“Our marriage was a mess until bullying employees brought us together!” Yeah. You’re terrible people.
Ana keeps on about how much Gia is after her husband, but there is absolutely no evidence of this, leading to the unfortunate impression that Ana has finally lost what is left of what passes for her mind.
Mine. Yeah, bitch – mine. My inner goddess is wearing her gladiatrix outfit, and she’s taking no prisoners.
Obviously the imaginary friends don’t help with this impression...
...she briefly touches his arm in a small, flirty gesture.
A tactile Italian – how strange. Never met one of those before.
She makes him uncomfortable. Why didn’t I see that before? That’s why I don’t like her.
Christian Grey – made uncomfortable by a successful, professional woman who is by all accounts really good at her job. Who would have thought it?
They talk about the renovations and there is nothing remotely suggestive said by anyone. Given that E.L. James does subtle about as well as Ana does sober-and-not-crazy, you’d have thought they’d all be smacking each other over the head with crap double-entendres the way Christian and Ana did when they first met in the hardware store. But they don’t, so Ana has definitely gone bye-byes.
Gia is looking at Christian, waiting for him to make the decision. I watch as her pupils dilate and her glossed lips part.
That slut. Look at the way her pupils react to light. Whore.
Her tongue darts quickly over her top lip before she takes a sip of her wine.
So she was parting her lips to drink? Ana, you are so far round the twist you should be upcycled as a novelty corkscrew.
When I turn back to Christian, he’s still looking at me – not at her at all. Yes! I am going to have words with Ms. Matteo.
Taylor conveniently calls Christian away, so that Ana – who has surely been looking forward to this far too much – can unleash the full force of her fury on Gia.
Then, calling on my inner strength and the fact that I’ve been seriously piqued for the last five hours, I let her have it.
I love how she basically admits she’s taking out her frustrations on this poor woman. And you don’t have any inner strength, Ana. You have an inner bully – I’ll give you that.
“You’re right to be nervous, Gia, because right now your work on this project hangs in the balance. But I’m sure we’ll be fine as long as you keep your hands off my husband.”
She gasps.
“Otherwise, you’re fired. Understand?” I enunciate each word clearly.
She blinks rapidly, utterly stunned. She cannot believe what I’ve said. I cannot believe what I’ve just said.
Signs that you’re going round the bend...
“Ana – Mrs. Grey...I’m so sorry. I never - ” She flushes, unsure what else she can say.
“I never realised you were off your meds. I’m so sorry.”
Now that I have the upper hand, I feel myself relax for the first time since my meeting with Christian this afternoon. I can do this. My inner goddess is celebrating her inner bitch.
Gia leaves and there’s a brief mention of Jack Hyde, but Christian tells Ana not to worry about it. They talk about Gia and Christian has a brief don’t-hate-me-because-I’m-beautiful moment and says Gia is a sexual predator. Isn’t it romantic when a couple start sharing joint delusions?
But it’s all fine now even though he bought the company where she works, bought her job, humiliated her at work and is trying to control every aspect of her life.
All my conflicting emotions from earlier resurface. How can I tell him how confused I am? I’ve been confounded and frustrated by his behaviour this afternoon in my office. One minute he wants me to stay at home, the next he’s gifting me a company. How am I supposed to keep up?
You’re not. That’s the point. Isn’t it funny how he gravitates to extremely stupid women with no self-esteem? It’s almost...predatory.
Ana makes a series of speeches about how she doesn’t want him to keep trying to control her life, but it’s all for nothing because you know he’s going to keep on doing what he does and she’s going to let him. Then she quotes King Lear, which proves that she has read at least one Shakespeare play. Or at least that bit of it.
Then they yap on about nothing and he raises the subject of a hair-cut and for the next four hundred pages or more she washes his hair and they play hairdressers together. Then they fuck for another four hundred pages.
Then Ana goes in search of a pair of scissors to cut his hair, even though his hair is probably dry by now because they’ve been at it so long. She comes across Taylor and Mrs. Jones in a compromising position.
Get some, Mrs. Jones. Almost makes up for having to clean the buttplugs. Almost.
Then Ana finds a gun in a drawer but it’s not mentioned again. Somewhere, up in moody Russian dramatist Valhalla or wherever it is they go, Anton Chekhov is so over this shit.
And then they play hairdressers some more and gossip about Taylor and Mrs. Jones, because it is strange and mysterious to them that the slave people from below stairs have feelings just like us.
Then they get into bed and this chapter is never going to end. Ever. She says she’s not sure if she wants to run a company.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s not something that has ever appealed to me.”
“You’re more than capable, Anastasia.”
“I like to read books, Christian. Running a company will take me away from that.”
Name one book you’ve read, Ana. In the last three weeks. Or ever. And Tess of the fucking D’Urbervilles does not count.
“You could be the creative head.”
I frown.
Or you could just do what hubby really wants you to do and give creative head. It’s so pathetically obvious he’s trying to persuade her to give up work.
“You see,” he continues. “running a successful company is all about embracing the talent of the individuals you have at your disposal...”
Christian, you hire – as security – people who are confused by the notion that a man might have long hair and who drive potential arsonists and murderers right up to your front door. I don’t think you’re in the business to talk about recognising talents, let alone embracing them.
“...if that’s where your talents and interests lie, then you structure the company to enable that. Don’t dismiss it out of hand, Anastasia. You’re a very capable woman. I think you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it.”
She couldn’t, but this is the point. She’ll go in there, get totally overwhelmed and give up. At which point she’ll have to come home and become his own little personal, private 24/7 concubine. Then again, she might learn a few things about wine. Like how to drink it.
Not that she needs much help in that direction.
Chapter Nine - I'm So In Love With The Person I'm Turning You Into
Chapter nine opens with Ana waking up, because the author still hasn’t learned how to do any other kind of section break. She’s got her husband wrapped around her like a sweaty octopus and immediately sets to psychoanalysing him.
Oh Fifty. He is so needy on some level.
Some level? How about every level?
Who would have thought? The familiar vision of Christian as a dirty, wretched little boy haunts me.
Yeah, this is the problem,
Ana. You keep thinking of him this way and he’ll never have to grow up at all.
I’m also surprised to discover that the Greys wear nightclothes. Am I being weird in thinking that people who are supposed to be this into each other should be rolling around naked in one another’s arms all night?
Christian announces that he has to go to New York. He wants her to go with him, even though she says she can’t get the time off. For once he concedes and I know without reading ahead that something will happen that means we never hear the end of this.
...a nasty thought pops into my mind. “How are you getting to New York?”
“The company jet, why?”
“I just wanted to check if you were taking Charlie Tango.”
From Seattle? To New York? No, I don’t think so.
We’re reminded of the helicopter accident again and how it was sabotage and Ana is all ‘I wonder if he knows who was responsible?’
IT WAS JACK. NEXT QUESTION.
“That reminds me. There’s a gun in your desk.”
He frowns at my non sequitur and probably at my accusatory tone, although I don’t mean it that way. “It’s Leila’s,” he says finally.
Actually it’s Chekhov’s. Bad-dum tish.
Then E.L. James tries to do a section break that doesn’t involve someone falling asleep. The results are so odd they deserve recording.
“I am just going to brush my teeth,” I mutter. Christian always brushes his teeth before breakfast. I don’t understand why.
So, yeah. Neither do I. Let’s get back to the gun.
Christian parrots some lines about gun control that could only have come from a British author, since there’s no way I can believe that a full blooded American psycho like Christian Grey would not relish the opportunity to scare people at gunpoint if necessary. Ana begs him to learn to shoot. He says no.
The discussion moves around to Leila, the bugfuck crazy ex who broke into Ana’s apartment and tried to kill her in Fifty Shades Darker. Of course, Ana wasn’t so much worried that someone was trying to kill her but was rather more worried that there might be a chance that Leila and Christian were still knocking boots. Because Ana is insane.
Bear in mind this happened in June and we’re now in August. Apparently after a couple of months, Leila was cured of homicidal impulses and set free to enrol in Art School. Who says crime doesn’t pay?
Anyway, hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work they go. You know what this means, don’t you?
YES IT IS TIME FOR E-MAILS FOREVER AND EVER UNTIL THE SEAS TURN TO BLOOD AND THE SUN BURNS HELL RED AND SWALLOWS THE EARTH WHOLE.
It ends with Ana signing off as ‘Anastasia Grey. Now Moist Editor, SIP’. Well, that was gross.
Then a whole day scoots by in a paragraph and the next thing we know it’s Thursday and Ana is sad because Christian left for New York that morning. ‘...and though he’s been gone only a few hours, I miss him already’. You’re pathetic, Ana. Truly pathetic. ‘I fire up my computer and there’s an e-mail waiting for me. My mood lifts immediately.’
Mine, however, takes a turn for the worse.
Despite the fact that I’m going out this evening with Kate, I feel like a chunk of me is missing. At the moment it’s thirty-five thousand feet somewhere above the Midwest en route to New York. I didn’t know I would feel this unsettled and anxious just because Christian’s away. Surely over time I won’t feel this loss and uncertainty, will I?
Yes. Because you are ridiculous and co-dependent. They’re like those ‘three bolt chemistry’ couples in The Sims2 – the ones that follow each other to the toilet and neglect their children and pee themselves because they never stop messing with one another.
Christian phones and says he doesn’t want Ana to go out. She says she’s only going out for drinks with Kate. He says he doesn’t want her to leave the apartment because Jack Hyde is still out there and Ana only has three security guards, including a new woman, Prescott.
Then they actually do that ‘no, you hang up first’ thing because their love is Better Than Yours. Also they are mentally about thirteen.
In the next section Kate shows up and Ana and Kate go for a cocktail at a bar even though Christian wanted Kate to come to the apartment and Ana agreed to this. This wouldn’t be a big deal but this is Christian ‘Shitfit’ Grey we’re talking about.
We’re followed by Miss Belinda Prescott, who’s new to the security team – a tall, African American with a no-nonsense attitude. I’ve yet to warm to her, maybe because she’s too cool and professional.
Oh look. The first black character that Ana doesn’t coo over and want to be friends with. Way to admit you hate all other women who are more capable than you, Ana.
Kate tells Ana that all the Grey family have doubled and tripled down on their security details because of Jack Hyde. Apparently he’s after them too. It’s the first Ana’s heard about it because Christian tells her nothing, although to be fair even if he did tell her she’d probably get distracted by the way his pants hang from his hips or the beauteous stormy grey of his melancholy eyes. Or lint. You know how it goes with Ana.
They bitch a bit about Gia Matteo, who apparently had a fling with Christian’s brother Elliot. ‘She’s a social climber,’ says Kate. Unlike Ana, who five months ago used to work at a hardware store.
Some two hours and four mojitos later, Ana is sloppy drunk and dumber than ever.
Could I be any happier? In spite of all his baggage, his nature, his Fiftyness, I have met and married the man of my dreams.
Sorry? What? You love him in spite of his entire personality? Way to admit that you’re in love with a fantasy version of the man and that it kind of pisses you off when he reminds you what he’s like in reality.
I almost feel sorry for Christian Grey. I say ‘almost’ because I know what’s coming. If you thought his behaviour at her office was atrocious, you ain’t seen nothing yet.
Ana checks her BlackBerry and finds Christian flipping his wig as expected.
“Sawyer tells me that you are drinking cocktails in a bar when you said you wouldn’t. Do you have any idea how mad I am at the moment?”
Yeah. He’s probably pretty miffed. Actually he’s probably so far past miffed that he’s busting blood vessels and holed up in the bathroom right now, angrily flogging his hot little dong while his eyes turn red and a turgid vein throbs wildly at the sweaty edge of his temple. He gets off on this, doesn’t he?
“What time did Christian call you?”
Sawyer flushes. “About nine thirty, ma’am.”
“Why didn’t you interrupt my conversation with Kate so I could speak with him?”
“Mr. Grey told me not to.”
“Yeah, don’t tell her I called. You hear me, Sawyer? You hear me? Unf...yeah...oh yeah...hell yeah. I’m so fucking angry right now...fuck yeah. I’m a big man, bitch. I’m a biiiig man...”
Gasp. Sweat. Splut.
You know it happened like that.
But yeah – back with the plot – Ana goes into the apartment and shock-a-doodle-doo, it’s been broken into! These people have the worst security team since Caligula.
Ryan is standing at the entrance of the great room. A cut above his eye is bleeding, and there’s another on his mouth. He looks roughed up, his clothes dishevelled. But what’s more shocking is Jack Hyde slumped at his feet.
Nearly as shocking at the fact that the above paragraph made it into an actual finished book.
Chapter Ten - A Storm In A Cocktail Glass
My Kindle says I’m only 36% through this mess and the main antagonist is already unconscious on the main character’s living room floor. I don't hold out much hope for the rest of the plot.
According to Ryan (Incompetent Security Guy #3) Jack Hyde came up in the service elevator and having spotted him on the security camera, Ryan decided to let him in. ‘That way I knew we’d have him’.
I don’t like you, Ryan. 64% - does that number mean nothing to you? That’s how much book we have
to go.
They decide they need to tie Jack up and Ana is embarrassed when they use cable ties. Because cable ties have never been used for anything other than crap bondage. And it’s not like the apartment has a room full of handcuffs or anything.
Then I notice the Glock on the floor with a silencer attached. Holy shit! Jack was armed?
