(Call with Christian about not hiring Ana.)
Itโs almost spring. Stepping through the pristine glass doors of my building, I notice for the very first time that the morning air isnโt filled with the crisp bite of winter. The sun shines unimpeded over the shiny black surface of my town car, and there are birds chirping in the still barren trees overhead.
Itโs all a sign of good things to come.
โGood morning, Ms. Gallagher,โ my driver greets me, a broad grin stretching across his stubble spattered cheeks as he pulls open the back door of the car.
โGood Morning, Hugh.โ I wink as I duck below the roof and settle into the wide leather seat, already warmed for me. The cup of coffee I need to start my day is sitting in the cup holder, along with a newspaper. I nearly roll my eyes as I look up and meet Hughโs in the rearview mirror. He chuckles to himself as he pulls off the curb.
โThe problem with people today is that no one reads the damn newspaper.โ
Heโs said that to me countless times, and so, as we sit in traffic, I drown out the sounds of horns and the pedestrians passing by my window by doing my part to solve the problem, and read the paper. Itโs dry mostly. The stock market is performing fine, the Governor signed a new bill about healthcare, and Syracuse is advancing to the next round of the March Madness tournament. The world seems to be turning just as it always does, but when I turn the page and see a very familiar perfect coif of bronze hair shining at me like a Pantene ad, I scowl.
Itโs seems, once again, Grey Enterprises Holdings has broken new ground in the technology industry in New York. A quick cursory glance of the article, though, tells meโฆ itโs not in fiber optics. Greyโs acquired some green energy think-tank that just had their funding pulled by NYU.
โWhat are you up to?โ I wonder aloud, narrowing my eyes at the paper as I search for answers.
I first met Christian Grey in 2009. His company was starting to make waves on the West coast but Grey Enterprises Holdings wasnโt even a blip on my radar back then. The fiber optics industry was like the Wild West during the gold rush. Open. Lawless. Filled with possibility. There was no competition yet, and the money came pouring in.
I went to a conference about fiber optics technologies advancements hosted in Los Angeles that winter, both to make sure I really was providing a product as cutting edge as I thought I was and because a streaming company was quietly shopping for upgraded fiber optics service. Iโd gotten the tip from my old college roommate, who was VP at the time, and sheโd assured me no one else knew. So, I floated around that conference like I owned the place, sipping champagne as I mingled with the other names in the industry.
When I first saw Grey, I thought he was an intern. He was barely old enough to drink, and he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the 30 and 40 somethings I was quickly growing tired of having the same inane conversations with. When his business partner finally made her way over to introduce herself, I gave her a gracious smile and my name, and to my shock, Christian Grey knew exactly who I was. He started listing off my companyโs biggest achievements as though heโd had them written on a note card. It put me at a disadvantage because I didnโt know what he had done. I didnโt know what he was like. And I didnโt know the speaker we were all waiting on ran his god damn R&D department. All I knew is how utterly charming he was, and I let him take me for sucker that night.
Because the next day, I found out about Christian Grey. I met my friend for lunch, where sheโd planned to take me to speak with the CEO about Gallagher Corporationโs fiber optics service. She smiled sweetly as she walked right past his assistantโs protests and opened the door to find him sitting across the desk from the same smug smile Iโve grown to detest more than anything else in the world.
I walked in just in time to see their handshake.
And thatโs the story of our relationship. Heโs one step ahead, one phone call in front of me. Always. Itโs like being in traffic, not able to move, not able to go back. If I could, I would ram him out of my god damn way, but every time Iโve tried, itโs bit me in the ass. Heโs ruthless. He comes for you. And after heโs done all the destruction he can, some sweet gesture of good will follows a few days later. Like a wedding invitation.
The car comes to a stop as I roll my eyes, remembering the announcement that Grey wouldnโt be making an appearance his own wedding that Iโd flown 3,000 fucking miles to attend. I tuck the paper in my bag and flash another grateful smile to Hugh as he helps me out of the car.
The moment I step through the doors of Gallagher Corporation, Iโm swept up in a whirlwind of busy. Thereโs a service outage all across the East Village that takes two hours with my tech team to resolve, Iโve got two client meetings to get in before lunch, and my accounting team weighs down my afternoon with less than desirable news about our Q1 revenue streams. While Fiber Optics continues to boom, almost a quarter of my divisions are underperforming, and there isnโt a division sinking our profit margin more than publishing. As I look over the financial reports the advisors in front of me have drawn up, laying out the dire financial situation of Greenwich Small Press, I feel myself grow hot.
The Seattle branch is bleeding, and Wallace still hasnโt found me a director.
Gathering the reports, I storm back to my office and shout for my assistant to get Scott on the phone. The ping that heโs waiting on the line for me comes through before I even take my seat behind my desk.
โAnother quarter, another loss,โ I say without greeting. โYouโve got some explaining to do, Scott.โ
โI know, itโs rough. Iโm trying, but our press is being pushed to the limit and Iโm spread so thinโฆโ
โSo whereโs the Seattle director? I asked you to find me someone weeks ago.โ
โI have found someone. I actually just had a, uhโฆ meeting with her the other day. A real giant in the industry I think will bring a fresh perspective and experience.โ
โWho?โ
โIโm sending you her resume now.โ In the span of a breath, my email pings and I see the attachment clipped to the message with Scottโs name. At the same time, my assistant comes through the door with a stack of papers in her hand and an overwhelmed look on her face.
โGreat, Iโll review it and get back to you,โ I tell Scott, dismissively. Then I hang up and turn to face the girl struggling toward my desk. โHere, let me help youโฆโ
After hours reviewing the audit reports for the data exchanges we send to our third party vendors, I return to the email Scott sent and open the attachment without reading the name attached. It doesnโt actually matter much to me who this person is, only if theyโre going to make me money. And their resume is promising. Harvard graduate. Best-selling author. Experience interning with Seattle Independent Publishing.
Something about that makes me furrow my brow, but my concerns are wiped away by the metrics theyโve provided on the very next line. Forty thousand units moved in two months.
My eyes are just moving up to read the name of this diamond in the rough Scott has found when the phone on my desk pings and my secretaryโs voice fills the silent room. โMs. Gallagher?โ
โYes?โ
โYouโve uhโฆ got Christian Grey on line one.โ
โWhat?โ
โYeah, should I patch him through?โ
I let my head fall back and sigh, not quite prepared for the fight I know is waiting for me behind the blinking light next to the button for line one. Itโs always a fight with him, and whatever reason heโs calling now has to be badโฆ
โYeah, Iโll take it,โ I tell her. Then I pick up the phone, press the button for line one, and prepare myself. โThis is Carmen Gallagher.โ
โHold one moment for Christian Grey, please…โ a female voice responds. Thereโs a click, and music begins to play.
That motherfucker put ME on hold?
โYou really love pissing me off, donโt you, Gallagher?โ His irritated voice breaks through the music a few moments later.
โUsually. But I actually donโt know what youโre talking about this time, Grey. Would you like to elaborate before you start to scream, or do you expect me to catch up?โ
โIโm talking about my wife.โ
โAnastasia? I havenโt seen her since your gala last New Yearโs Eve.โ
โDonโt bullshit me, Gallagher. Youโre interviewing her on Friday.โ
โWhat?โ My eyes turn back to the screen in front of me, and I quickly scroll up until I see the name typed in bold face at the top. Anastasia R Grey. And suddenly, I realize why the intern position at SIP on her resume stuck out to me. Sheโs the reason I kicked my old R&D coordinator to the curb when he couldnโt produce an eReader that could compete with the one churned out of GEH. Sheโs the reason Greyโs publishing arm was able to explode so quickly and corner the market on any West coast talent guaranteed to draw in huge sales. Sheโs the reason my Seattle branch is bleeding.
How could I have forgotten that same fucking intern married my nemesis?
โSheโs very highly qualified,โ I continue, as though this information hasnโt completely blindsided me. I can hear him drum his fingers impatiently on his desk, which honestly only makes me concerned for the quality of the manicure Iโm sure heโs paid top dollar for.
โYouโre not going to hire her,โ he says firmly. โIf fact, you are going to express extreme remorse over missing out on such a valuable talent, but respectfully decline to make an offer. You can lie and say the position has been filled if you want.โ
โAnd why would I do that?โ
โBecause youโre not an idiot.โ
โOh, how very generous of you,โ I coo back, the hard, icy edge to his voice igniting the joy in mine. The one thing I truly have to give this man after all the time Iโve spend fighting him over the last few years is his sense of resolve. Once heโs set on something, he gets it. Usually that works against me, but as I hear the echo of that resolve leak into the anger heโs put on full display for me like a peacock in heat, I catch the undeniable scent of opportunity.
โIโm not fucking around, Gallagher. This is not a request. I expect her to leave that interview on Friday glowing with pride over her incredible accomplishments and success, all of which you will profusely remind her of again and again. I also expect her to leave unemployed.โ
โBecause youโre afraid sheโll finally put Greenwich back on top?โ
โPlease,โ he snorts. โI have exactly zero fucks to give about Greenwich Small Press. I havenโt even cared about my own publishing house in years.โ
โSo then, whatโs it to you what your wife does?โ
โItโs everything to me,โ he says, flatly. I hear him take a deep breath, and the weight of the silence hanging on the line makes my heart thud with excitement. Heโs pausingโฆ heโs breaking. Iโm winning. โGallagherโฆโ
โYes, Grey?โ I reply in a saccharine tone.
โIt would be wise of you to do this for me.โ Even through the phone, I can tell the words come through bared teeth.
I grin. โReally? Whatโs in it for me?โ
โWhat do you want?โ
โYouโre just gonna offer me a blank check like that? Fuck, Iโm going to need some time to thinkโฆโ
โYou donโt have time,โ he snaps. โIโll owe you a favor, Gallagher. Consider how valuable that is.โ Thereโs a click and the phone goes dead. I pull the receiver away from my face, and stare at it for a moment before resting it back in its cradle. Then my eyes return to the resume still open on the screen in front of me.
Itโs difficult. My publishing house needs talent like Anastasia Grey. Unlike her husband, I actually do care very much about the profit line from my publishing houses, and if something doesnโt change soon, Iโm going to have to cut the whole damn thing to protect my other assets. Sheโs my missing piece.
But heโs right. A personal favor from Christian Grey is nothing to balk at. Especially knowing that he and I are going to clash against each other in a few weeks over a fiber optics investment the Texas state government is looking to make by Q3. That could be mine, and so, with doubt plaguing my every movement, I drag my mouse to the X at the top of the document, and close the window.
How rare could a talent like Mrs. Anastasia Grey be anyway?ย