Fifty Shades of Grey by E. L. James
The following day, I call my mom when I’m home from work. It’s been a relatively peace- ful day at the Clayton’s, allowing me far too much time to think. I’m restless, nervous about my showdown with Mr. Control Freak tomorrow, and at the back of my mind, I’m worried that perhaps I’ve been too negative in my response to the contract. Perhaps he’ll call the whole thing off.
My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament which means he’s hobbling all over the place. Honestly, he’s as accident-prone as I am. He’s expected to make a full recovery, but it means he’s resting up, and my mother has to wait on him hand and sore foot.
“Ana honey, I’m so sorry,” my mom whines down the phone. “Mom, it’s fine. Ray will be there.”
“Ana, you sound distracted – are you okay, baby?”
“Yes, Mom,” Oh if only you knew. There’s an obscenely rich guy I’ve met and he wants some kind of strange kinky sexual relationship, in which I don’t get a say in things.
“Have you met someone?”
“No, Mom.” I am so not going there right now.
“Well, darling, I’ll be thinking of you on Thursday. I love you… you know that hon- ey?”
I close my eyes, her precious words give me a warm glow inside.
“Love you too, Mom. Say hi to Bob, and I hope he gets better fast.” “Will do, honey. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I have strayed into my bedroom with the phone. Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up the email program. There’s an email from Christian from late last night or very early this morning, depending on your point of view. My heart rate spikes instantly, and I hear the blood pumping in my ears. Holy crap… perhaps he’s said no – that’s it – maybe he’s canceling dinner. The thought is so painful. I dismiss it quickly and open the email.
My mom is oozing contrition, desperately sorry not to make my graduation. Bob has twisted some ligament which means he’s hobbling all over the place. Honestly, he’s as accident-prone as I am. He’s expected to make a full recovery, but it means he’s resting up, and my mother has to wait on him hand and sore foot.
“Ana honey, I’m so sorry,” my mom whines down the phone. “Mom, it’s fine. Ray will be there.”
“Ana, you sound distracted – are you okay, baby?”
“Yes, Mom,” Oh if only you knew. There’s an obscenely rich guy I’ve met and he wants some kind of strange kinky sexual relationship, in which I don’t get a say in things.
“Have you met someone?”
“No, Mom.” I am so not going there right now.
“Well, darling, I’ll be thinking of you on Thursday. I love you… you know that hon- ey?”
I close my eyes, her precious words give me a warm glow inside.
“Love you too, Mom. Say hi to Bob, and I hope he gets better fast.” “Will do, honey. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I have strayed into my bedroom with the phone. Idly, I switch the mean machine on and fire up the email program. There’s an email from Christian from late last night or very early this morning, depending on your point of view. My heart rate spikes instantly, and I hear the blood pumping in my ears. Holy crap… perhaps he’s said no – that’s it – maybe he’s canceling dinner. The thought is so painful. I dismiss it quickly and open the email.