NEW YORK
I can’t with any conscience
argue for New York with anyone. It’s like Calcutta. But I love the city in an
emotional, irrational way, like loving your mother or your father even though
they’re a drunk or a thief. I’ve loved the city my whole life — to me, it’s
like a great woman.
Woody Allen
“Ana!” I chide her. “We’re going to
take off in ten minutes. You need to turn off your Blackberry.”
“I know! I know! But, Hannah has to
bring some important manuscripts that I forgot to pack. I don’t have them in
the shared drive so I can’t access them from outside, not with all the overhauling IT guys have done. And we needed those for
introducing some of our up and coming writers. So, she’ll have take a flight late
tonight or early tomorrow morning.”
“Will
she make it on time? Do you want me to come with you to the Symposium? My offer still stands,” I say to Anastasia. If the
assistant isn’t there, I need someone in very close proximity to her. Anastasia
rolls her eyes.
“No,
Christian! She’ll make it tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Even if she doesn’t
make it which is unlikely, I think I can handle myself. Besides, I should be
able to show the others I can do well alone.” Then she lowers her voice.
“I
told you, you’re a distraction to others, and I want them to pay attention to
what I have to say instead of ogling my husband.” I pout in her remark knowing the effect.
“I
think Melissa can play the role of my assistant for one day if Hannah can’t
make it to the Symposium on time.”
“Okay.
I can live with that, though that is not what I desire. Since I’ve compromised,
I think you owe me big time, Mrs. Grey.”
“Big
time?” she asks her eyes widening.
“Yes.
Carte blanche kind of big time.”
“Carte
blanche,” she says trying the word for size, suddenly breathless. I reach and
take her Blackberry off her hand and turn it off without looking at it, and
drop it into her purse.
“Yes,
last time I was here, I went to a business meeting all by myself. I was
distracted with your disobedience and I was accosted with the most unwelcome
advances by both female and male vultures.” Her head snaps up.
“You
never said anything about that!” she says, her voice accusatory.
“I
was preoccupied with the thoughts of my wife. Nothing to report, but since I’m
attending to a similar meeting, I am quite sure the business guests would be
part of the same crowd. But this time…” I say pausing; I want my wife in my arm
showing her presence with her spectacular body and with her sassy and in charge
self, showing her possession of me, and I of her.
“…this time, I want you with me
and I don’t want anyone have any doubt about who I belong and who
belongs…to…me.”
A loud female voice interrupts our conversation. The flight attendant is giving the
spiel for the aircraft safety. This time I pay close attention to it, because I
have the two of the most precious cargo with me: my wife and our baby in her womb.
Yet, in that moment, Anastasia’ reaction to what I just said to
her doesn't escape my notice. She first blinks then her lips part as if to say something. Oh shit! This could go either way. Is she mad? She turns
her head to the flight attendant with her eye brows crossed. Once the mandatory
safety instructions are over, I fix my gaze on Anastasia. She takes a deep
breath getting ready to collect all her wits about her so she can deliver her
most forbidding speech.
Then
she opens her mouth to say whatever has been brewing in her mind within the
last few minutes, but she’s interrupted by Stephen’s voice echoing through
the speakers cautioning us to fasten our seat belts and that we are in line
for the take-off. The word ‘take-off’ puts the fear of God in Anastasia. Her
hands automatically hold onto her seat, her knuckles going white. I can see the
anxiety rising in her. I immediately reach out and hold her hands, and run
comforting circles on the back of her hands and her palms. Our brunette flight attendant comes and quickly
collects the empty glasses and plates from the seats. I hear collective clicks
from Taylor, Sawyer, Melissa and Reynolds’ seats in the back. My company jet
starts taxiing on the runway first slowly then comes to a full stop taking its
position in line with the other airplanes for take-off. Then I hear the last
click of a seat belt from the back of the jet. It’s probably the flight
attendant. Stephen’s voice comes up again.
“It’s
11:06 a.m. local time. We are the third airplane in line for take-off. Please
observe the seat belt sign until it is turned off. We are going to arrive in New
York City’s John F. Kennedy Airport at 8:38 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. The
total estimated flight time is 6 hours and 32 minutes. As always, it’s a
pleasure to serve you. Please, sit back and enjoy your flight!”
Anastasia
continues to breathe rapidly.
“Relax,
baby. I’m here. Focus on me…” Anastasia blinks a few more times.
“Ana,
look at me,” I say softly. The last thing I want is my wife going into early
labor because of her fear of take-offs. When she looks at me, I give her my
most dazzling smile to keep her focused on me instead of her fears. The best
technique is the distraction technique for Anastasia.
“What
were you upset a minute ago?” I ask.
“Oh!”
she says first frowning. “That I didn’t bring any party clothes,” she says with
a contemplative voice. “You have to take me to shopping, so, I can look my best
when I kick the asses of those who wanted a piece of my husband!”
“Mrs.
Grey, are you jealous?” I ask, my eyes darkening.
“A
bit! You are mine just as much as I am yours, Christian. I can’t believe you
didn’t tell me anything about it!” she says distracted.
“There
was nothing to tell except that I deeply felt your absence. It was one of the
worst days of my life and there were so many other emergencies to deal with
then, I had not remembered it until today. But I still don’t want to talk about
that day. It’s… unpleasant,” I murmur remembering Hyde's break-in to our apartment.
“Okay,
Mr. Grey. I guess I won’t let you out of my sight when we go to your business
meeting. Is it a meeting?” she asks with an afterthought.
“It’s
hobnobbing with other big money and businesses from continental U.S., Canada,
South America, Europe and South East Asia. Meet and greet, make connections,
make business deals while socializing. Normally, it’s quite boring actually but
since you will be coming, my night is looking so much better,” I say grinning as
the jet speeds up on the runway with terminal velocity and Anastasia’s grip on
me gets stronger. The second the wheels of the jet loses connection with the
ground, and the nose of the plane is at a steep angle climbing up, Anastasia’s
eyes widen.
“Breathe,
baby, breathe. It’s just the take-off. We will soon be at cruising altitude,” I
say looking for something to distract her again. “How did you like the crib we
chose? Were you just acquiescing with me for my sake, or did you really like
it?”
She
thinks for a moment. Oh oh. That can’t be good.
“I
like it,” she says nodding.
“That’s
it?” I probe.
“Yes.
I don’t think he would appreciate a girly bedroom, and I’m just as anxious as
you are for his well-being. Since we are first time parents and neither one of
us know anything about parenting, I’d like to think that any little thing that
can give us a hand or a leg up is welcome. We’re going to get a nanny; we've discussed that, but I want us to be hands on parents. I think it was actually
extremely sweet that you had researched it beforehand to know what exactly you
wanted, Mr. Grey,” she says.
“What?
How?” I ask surprised.
“Oh,
I think I’m getting the measure of my own Grey man and I must say, I love this
anxious, protective parent side of you. It makes me proud to know that you are
going to be a magnificent father.” She’s smiling and completely sure of
herself.
“God!
I love you Mrs. Grey! You are the center of my entire universe. Everything rights with you
and somehow finds its bearing,” I say kissing her hand. At that moment the
overhead lights dings and Stephen turned his seat-belt sign off.
“This
is your Captain speaking. You are now free to roam in the cabin.”
“See,
piece of cake,” I say grinning at her.
An
hour into the flight, Anastasia gets sleepy. Her two naps are now firmly in her
schedule. The growth of the baby is taking a lot out of her. So, I walk her
into the cabin with the bed.
“Will
you lie down and hold me Christian?” she asks yawning. I have to go over
business documents, but my wife is more important than those.
“If
I lie down with you, I don’t know if can keep my hands off you long enough to
let you sleep,” I say truthfully.
“I’d
rather have you with me than not even if you can’t keep your hands off me, Mr.
Grey,” she says and yawns big again.
“Agh!
Fuck it!” I say and take my shoes and socks off. I slide my jacket off and
drape it over a chair. Finally pull the duvet cover up and tuck my wife in it
and lie down next to her. I turn the lights to dim and pull her into my arms.
The last time I was in the plane was when I was flying back from New York,
livid, completely beside myself, just intent on reaching to Anastasia in
Seattle. Here she is, in my arms. I hold her tighter.
“I
love you too, Christian. Night,” she says with a smile in her sleepy voice. I
kiss her hair.
“Sleep
tight baby,” I whisper. “I love you more.”
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
Our
driver meets us at baggage claim with a sign in his hand that says “MR. TAYLOR”.
Taylor raises his index and middle finger like the Boy Scout salute and gets
the driver’s attention. He’s in his full driver regalia down to the chauffeur’s
hat.
“Welcome
to New York, Mr. Taylor, sirs, ma’am, ma’am,” he says individually and
collectively greeting us. “I’m parked in the parking garage.”
“How’s
the weather outside?” I ask.
“It’s
about 26 degrees at this hour. I wasn’t sure if your flight would be on time given
the weather conditions of our fair city. We have only had moderate snow,
expecting heavy snow in about a week, but I think it’ll come down by the end of
this week. It’s very cold outside. You might all wanna put your coats on.” he
says. When we exit the warmth of the airport into the covered but freeze-your-ass kind of cold airport parking,
the onslaught of cold blasts rushes in from all sides; the bitter wind whistles. I wrap Anastasia tighter in her coat. She
wraps her scarf to cover her reddened face. Our breaths are smoky wisps. The
driver quickly locates the limo and unlocks the doors.
“Brrrr!
It’s so cold! I’ve never been in such cold weather!” Anastasia says.
“That’s
New York in January, ma’am,” says the limo driver whose name tag reads “Barney J. Harrigan” as he’s opening the door. He has salt and pepper hair appearing to be
in his late 50s.
“Pardon the expression ma’am, but when we get into the city
you’ll see that people are like rats scurrying in such an overflow and in a hurry in
this cold weather. Because everyone wants to get out of it and find some warm
corner to heat up.” I help my wife in while the driver helps Reynolds, Sawyer,
Taylor, and Melissa to load the luggage. Everyone files into the vehicle and
the driver moves. The limo is cold, but Barney turns it on and blasts the heat.
Manhattan - Rod Stewart
The
city looks gritty, dark and hard at around 9 p.m. at night. As the limo speeds
through, Taylor is recapping the logistics with the group of security. Ana is
curiously looking outside trying to observe the onslaught of the city that is
New York. The traffic is rushing scornfully and Anastasia looks mesmerized with
the smoke billowing from the manhole covers. When we stop at a red light, the
ground underneath us rumbles making Ana startled.
“It’s
the subway,” I remind her. She nods as her mouth is open.
“Lights
are everywhere and they’re so bright! Wow! I don’t think the inhabitants of
this city have seen the stars or the moon in ages with this much light
pollution!” she says trying to twist her head to get a glimpse of the sky. Her
eyes are alight with a drunken excitement everyone gets upon seeing the city of
New York for the first time. The look says it all: a lot of awe and some
intimidation, but mostly expectation. As we drive through the city towards our
apartment, Anastasia notices people outside. Some are just looking straight and
continuing on their road rapidly, oblivious or uninterested with the going ons
around them. There’s that few who occasionally look up.
“Hmm…”
Anastasia remarks. “If my observations from Seattle are correct, those who rush
by oblivious of the beauty around are local New Yorkers. And those who are looking up every so often
like the city is going to grow another skyscraper from the ground are visitors of the city.
“You’re
right. No Native New Yorker would stop in the middle of the road to stare up.”
“I
never asked you, Christian. Where’s your apartment?” Anastasia asks her eyes
alight.
“Our
apartment,” I emphasize, “is in Manhattan’s Upper East Side.”
Anastasia
looks tired, but she tries to fight it off with her excitement of being in the
city of New York. The limo driver navigates his way through the one way
streets, and turns into the street where our apartment building is located.
When the limo pulls in front of the apartment building he carefully slows down
and comes to a complete stop. A doorman rushes to open my door. Taylor lets
himself out from the other side and our security detail piles out quickly taking
different positions scanning the area then proceed to get the luggage. I help
Anastasia out of the car.
“Careful
baby, there might be ice on the ground and you have heels,” I says mentally
kicking myself. I should have made her wear sneakers or something. This sort of
weather is not for podiatric excellence. When the doorman sees me, he beams.
“Mr.
Grey! How nice to see you back in New York, sir. Welcome, ma’am.”
“Thank
you, Donald. This is my wife, Mrs. Grey.”
“Pleasure
to meet you, ma’am. Let’s get you into the warmth of the building. The weather
has been unpleasantly cold even though we haven’t had much snow,” he says as he
opens the door into the building. I palm some money into Donald’s hand as the
gush of warm air greets us, welcomingly. I press the button to call the
elevator. Taylor sidles up to me, and discreetly clears his throat. I raise my
eyebrows to look at him.
“I’ll
take the service elevator with Reynolds to quickly do a sweep, sir. I’d appreciate
it if you could delay reaching the penthouse for about three minutes. Let me
secure your living quarters,” he says. I give him a sideways nod imperceptibly
and he looks at Reynolds and they leave in quick steps.
“What
was that about?” Anastasia asks.
“Nothing
to worry about, baby,” I say. “Are you tired? Or well enough to go out to
dinner?”
“I’d
love to go out, but I feel bushed.”
“Okay,
we’ll order in, then. There are some wonderful restaurants with excellent cuisine
here in the neighborhood.” The elevator doors ding open. Three young people
cheerfully chatting exit the elevator and head for the door after tightening
their coats and scarves.
“We’ll
wait for the next one,” I say as newly arrived residents get into the elevator
holding the door open for us. The businessman shrugs and lets the doors close.
“Squeamish
to be with others in the same elevator space, Mr. Grey?” Anastasia asks. I roll
my eyes in response and press the call button for the elevators again. Once the
elevator arrives into the ground floor and the doors ding open, I hold
Anastasia on the small of her back and lead her into the elevator space. Both
Sawyer and Melissa enter into the elevator after giving a cursory glance into
the foyer of the apartment to make sure no one threatening is there. I press
the button for the penthouse and enter my key. As the elevator takes us up,
Anastasia laces her fingers with mine. When we finally reach the penthouse, the
elevator doors slide open. Sawyer holds the door open, and Melissa quickly
steps out and scans the foyer. Anastasia rolls her eyes, and as she tries to
step out of the elevator, I stop her and scoop her off the floor in my arms.
She’s surprised and holds onto me with her arms wrapped on my neck.
“I
have to get my wife through every threshold.”
“Mr.
Grey, you’re a true romantic,” she whispers.
“Only
for you baby,” I murmur and land a chaste kiss on her lips. Taylor comes to
the foyer and nods imperceptibly.
“Would
you like something to drink?” I ask. The refrigerators should have been
stocked.
“I’m
actually famished. I have a craving for lamb like you got from the deli I found
on Pike district.”
“Taylor?”
I call.
“Agora
Restaurant has a similar cuisine,” he says.
“Then
order lamb skewers, yogurt sauce, hummus, stuffed grape leaves, rice, salad and
bread for two.”
“Yes,
sir,” Taylor responds and walks away.
“Come,
let me show you our room,” I say pulling her behind me. The bedroom is in the
shades of white and accented with cream color. Seeing two walls with steel
framed floor to ceiling glass she opens her eyes wide and gaze into the Manhattan
skyline. There’s a wraparound balcony outside. She surveys around and her eyes drift to the ornate ceiling.
“Very
fancy,” she says softly.
“The
apartment was built in 1933. Prewar architecture. It was remodeled consistent with
its former glory but with modern amenities.”
“The
walls are quite high…” she murmurs absently. What’s wrong with her?
“Yes,
bedroom walls have twelve foot ceilings,” I say taking a step toward her. I
stand right before her and turn her to me.
Breathe - Anna Nalick
“What’s
wrong, Ana?” She shakes her head.
“Ana!
Please! You were fine during the flight, and even during the ride here. And as
soon as we got to the apartment, you don’t look well. What. Is. Wrong? Before I
assume the worst? Please, I’m going crazy!”
“Oh,
Christian. I’m feeling so insignificant! All this,” she says gesturing around,
“all this opulence. And you, this magnificent man! Hearing about others hitting
on you, women who actually belong to this sort of life… I’m feeling a bit
overwhelmed.”
“There
are many reasons why I love you Ana, but one of them is this… that you are
completely unaware of your own worth or that you don’t care what I have and you
don’t love me for my wealth which is all the more reason for me to want to
spread the world beneath your feet. All these other people, women,” and
occasional men, but no need to mention that to her, “who salivate behind me, do
so because of this package. It’s about what I have and how I look. What do they
know about me? Nothing! They like the persona, they like a good fuck, they like
to be seen with a billionaire and show up in the gossip magazines. But, you…” I
say softly lifting her chin up to meet my gaze, a smile tugs at the corners of
my lips, “you are unlike anyone. You’re my reason for being, for existing. You
are the love of my life! The minute you entered into my life, you dimmed every
star, because you’re my sun! I’m blinded to all that is around me. You first
spun my life out of its orderly orbit then pulled it back into yours. I never
wish to be without you again. You’re my life now.
What
you see here… all this is yours. I’d give you this and more, Ana.”
She
gives out a heavy sigh. “All I want is you.”
All I want is you - U2
“I
know, but I come with this package,” I say shrugging.
“Thank
you for your love Christian. I love you so much, sometimes, I feel like I’m
going to wake up from this dream and you’ll be gone.”
“That’s
not gonna happen baby,” I grin. “I can prove that to you right now if you so
desire.”
“Well,
you can demonstrate your love in the shower, Mr. Grey,” she says biting her
lower lip.
"With pleasure, Mrs. Grey!" I say as I slowly peel off her coat and her scarf.
"In fact," I say and lift her off the floor cradling her in my arms, I walk into the master bathroom. I turn the water on hot and walk under the cascading waters with my wife in my arms.
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
Hannah
“Ohmigod!
Ohmigod! Ohmigod! I’m gonna miss my plane!” Hannah cries out to no one in
particular as she runs as fast as her Manola Blahnik clad feet could carry her
through the newly waxed airport terminal. She is making a mental inventory as
she is rushing through. Her Hermes purse contains her personal items, her
smart phone, tickets, wallet, ID, as well as the manuscripts Ana forgot. She
could of course just look at them on the laptop but she felt the needed to
print them because she needed to mark and highlight them for Ana, and they
needed those for this symposium. It’s important for her to get Ana’s approval.
She, after all is married to the Boss’s boss’s boss’ boss. An opportunity like
that comes only once in a lifetime.
Hannah reminds herself to go over the manuscripts
twice on the plane and summarize them for Ana. Oh wait! Did she remember to pack the
thumb drive? It would be a monumental fuck-up if she forgot that! That was the
reason she is now taking a commercial flight as opposed to flying in the Grey
Enterprises Inc. jet along with Ana's panty-dropping type of good looking husband. She has her personal items in her a carry-on, her laptop
bag complete with the charger, mouse and the thumb drive and of course her coat
is hanging from her arm among many items she is carrying with her. But she is having second thoughts on having worn a pencil skirt and silk blouse. Very
business-like, but not airport worthy when you are flying cross country. Just
as she nears the airline counter she collides with another passenger who is just as much in a hurry as she is.
“Shit!
Fuck! Sorry! I’m soooo going to miss my plane!” she complains and goes down the
floor on her knees and to collect her scattered items.
“I’ll
help,” says the stranger’s voice. That's the least you can do for colliding with me, she thinks but what comes out of her mouth is, “I
got it!”
“No,
you haven’t," says a husky voice. "If you’re going to be on that plane to in such a short time, I'll have to help you. Let me make amends for my carelessness. Have you even checked in?"
“I
checked in online!” she retorts but getting a good look at him, her eyes widens and she softens.
“Suit
yourself. But they aren’t gonna let you take all these items on the plane,” he says collecting a lip gloss carelessly rolled on the floor and tosses it into her Hermes bag. He then quickly collects a few
other items still spread around the floor.
“Ohmigod!
Ohmigod! I think my phone broke!” Hannah laments, now completely anxious.
“It’s
okay. I think just the case came undone.”
“Oh no! The battery is gone!”
“It’s
right there,” he says pointing a few steps to her right, and she reaches to get it, just a tad bit relieved. It would be the biggest, most horrible kind of fuck-up if she damaged her phone! He quickly places the little chip
under the SIM card while she's retrieving the battery. She extends her hand for the phone and he hands her the smart phone, the backing as well as the cracked the plastic case. Her hands shake.
“Please,
let me,” he says and gently takes it away from her. He swiftly places the
battery on the back of the phone, secures the cover then clicks the case in place. He finally presses
the power button. The screen flickers to life. He imperceptibly exhales a sigh
of relief, and hands it to her.
“Good
as new!”
“Thank
you! I better hurry!” She says halfheartedly, slings the Hermes purse, the laptop bag, and drags
her carry-on.
“Your
coat?” he says smiling under his Seattle Seahawks cap, extending her stylish coat to her.
“Oh,
yes! Thanks! On the second thought, I better check this in!” she says and quickly head for the bagged check-in.
***** ❦ ♡ ❧ *****
The
flight attendant is about the close the door.
"Wait! Wait! I need to get on that flight!" she calls out desperately.
“You’re
the last person to make it to the flight, ma'am. We were getting ready to close the
doors.”
Hannah
hands her boarding pass and the flight attendant wishes her a safe flight and
sends her on her way. With the top speed Hannah rushes down the gate and makes it
into the airplane. She’s flying business class today. She locates her seat
right away, and places her coat on her seat. Then she places her laptop bag
into the overhead bin. She will get it down once she’s marked everything on the
paper. Then she exhales a well-deserved a sigh of relief.
After
removing her coat from the seat, she sits and buckles her seat-belt draping her
coat over her legs. Then she gives a cursory glance to her surroundings and her
fellow passengers. Her eyes widen when she sees the young man who helped her
earlier in the seat across the aisle.
“You!”
she says.
“Well,
I’ve been called worse names than that, but I prefer to go by John.”
“I’m
sorry, I apologize,” she shakes her head. “I’m Hannah. You’re a lifesaver. I
didn’t get a chance to properly thank you other than just muttering. I’m
usually not that uncoordinated or rude.”
“This
must be an off day then.”
“You
can say that. I had too much to do and a short time to do it.”
“Glad
you made it on time. It’d be unfortunate to be deprived of your beautiful
company during this flight." Hannah blushes with the unexpected compliment. She looks at John and
realizes that he’s a ruggedly handsome man, with green eyes, slightly overlong hair. There’s something hard in him though, just
like the muscles he’s hiding under his t-shirt.
After
the usual spiel of how to buckle and unbuckle your belt or how to save yourself
or your fellow passenger in the unlikely event of a plane crash…blah blah blah…
Hannah isn't listening. She wants to look at the man sitting in the next aisle
without appearing like a man-hungry dork, of course.
The
plane taxies and takes off. Hannah finally takes out one of the manuscripts and starts highlighting and annotating the parts of it. Just as soon as the flight
attendant gives a green light, the passenger who calls himself John opens his iPad. He then searches for the icon that looks like a chess piece and locates the exact device he is seeking. He double clicks it, and
activates it. CIA couldn’t pay him enough for the skills he possesses. He is
going to make a shitload of money after this job is complete. The horse is
delivered. Now onto the next step. He closes the icon, and opens up his Kindle
app. He can afford to relax a little now with a very imperceptible smile
tugging at the corner of his lip. He hasn’t been to New York since he took this
contract. He missed the frenetic energy of it. What did George Carlin say about
New York?
“Of
course, in Los Angeles, everything is
based on driving, even the killings. In New York, most people don’t have cars,
so if you want to kill a person, you have to take the subway to their house.
And sometimes on the way, the train is delayed and you get impatient, so you
have to kill someone on the subway. That’s why there are so many subway
murders; no one has a car.”
He
thought those were the idiotic murderers. There is an art even to killing. Even
though he found it distasteful learning about his prey, his current client seemed to get off and draw some sadistic pleasure in getting to know his victims, he didn't care. Whatever floated his psycho boat as
long as he paid him on time and regularly. That sick bastard got a lot of satisfaction in studying and
stalking his prey…through him of course. The client liked to learn their habits, their
natural habitat, almost to fuel his despise of them to have more reason to make
his crime personal and he wanted to watch life snuffed out of them. John, however didn’t
like that sort of personal shit. He didn’t like to know who his victims are,
what they like, where they dine, or even their names. Just an image. Then it
was only business, impersonal, just a notch on your very accomplished belt. But, he’s seen sicker shit, has done his own kind of
sadistic crap in his mercenary days. He didn’t care one way or the other. It
wasn’t personal for him after all. Just business. Juuuust business, and leans back in
his seat reading his favorite author: Stephen King. When the flight attendant
comes by to take his drink order, he replies:
“Grey
Goose. Make it a double,” and without looking back to her he goes back to his
story, “Survivor Type”. He has a few hours to kill after all.
