Ana's destination is the headquarters of Grey Enterprises Holding, Inc. It's a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It's a quarter to two when Ana steps into its lobby of glass, steel, and white sandstone. Yeah, I’m on time. No big deal. Apart from everything about this place - minus the doors - being built to accommodate giants and not people.
Behind the solid sandstone desk - that must be where the giants scrape mud off their boots - a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at Ana, wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt in existence. The fuck you looking at, Anne Taylor’s Immaculata?
"I'm here to see Mr. Grey. Anastasia Reele for Katherine Kavanagh."
"Excuse me one moment, Miss Reele." She arches her eyebrow slightly as Ana stands waiting before her. I know what that eyebrow means. You think there’s something wrong with my navy blue jacket? Okay, Kate has nice formal blazers, but at least this suits me. Why don’t you take a look over the giant bootscraper you’re hiding behind and check out my skirt. It’s the Only One I own, but - hey - I’ve got some sweet boots. Sensible. And knee-high. What? That’s right. Plus, I’m in a cozy blue sweater top. No ironing or dry cleaner or high maintenance craziness in my entire outfit. Make all the judgey-face you want, you got nothing on me except maybe a killer paycheck.
"Miss Kavanagh is expected. Please sign in here, Miss Reele. You'll want the last elevator on the right, press for the twentieth floor." She wore an amused sort of smile as she watched Ana tuck some stray hair behind her ear and sign in.
Ana is given a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. Ha! she smirked, as if they can’t tell just by looking at me that this is not my natural habitat.
“Thank you,” Ana smiles politely as she walks over to the bank of elevators past the two security men who are both as smartly dressed as the woman at the desk. Do you guys worry about scuffing your $400 shoes should some rando try to do something? Would it come out of your paycheck if you did scuff them up? It probably would. Wearing suits like that your boss has gotta be some sort of fascist creep.
In the elevator, Ana pushes the button for the twentieth floor and the doors close. Oh, would you look at that, twenty is the top floor. Surprise, surpri- oh, fuck. The elevator whisked her up with such velocity she felt as though her bladder were at her ankles. She gripped the wall and watched the numbers light to indicate her ascent, bracing for the worst that could happen. Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Just breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Keep steady. Don’t puke. Get one hand ready to pinch your nose just in case because vomit-in-the-nose is the absolute worst and you don’t want to be making weird faces all through the interview because the only thing you can smell is your own vomit because your nose was just recently filled with the stuff.
The elevator showed no sign of slowing til it reached the nineteenth floor, the sudden change in speed forcing Ana’s stomach into her throat. She instinctively clamped her left hand over her mouth and pinched her nose shut between the knuckles of her middle and index fingers as her right hand continued to grip the back wall she was using by now to support her whole body. The doors opened immediately to another large lobby - again all glass, steel, and white sandstone - with another desk of sandstone and another blonde dressed to match the decor who stood to greet Ana.
"Miss Reele, could you wait here, please?" She gestured to a seating area of white leather chairs, a polite enough smile on her lips as she clearly ignores Ana's awkward do-not-vomit stance when the elevator first opened.
Beyond the seating area is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an enormous dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Its outermost wall is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Seattle skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. Wow, now there's a view you don't see too often ... outside of a plane anyway.
Ana sits to fish the questions from her satchel and get familiar with them. Not even a bio on the guy, seriously? And these questions just leap one from the other, there aren't even any notes how Kate thought this might go. Little Miss Fly-By-The-Seat-Of-My-Pants-&-Get-Away-With-It-Because-I'm-Pretty-&-Pushy is officially un-fucking-professional. She pulls out her phone to check the time; with a few minutes to spare before the interview is scheduled to start, she uses her monthly data-allotment to Google a picture of Mr. Grey and get a better idea of what she had gotten herself into. Short? Big fella? Bald as a baby? 90? Nope. None of the above: brown hair, short and thick; young body, lean and strong; and, one of those classically handsome faces with a nice tan and light eyes you can't tell the color of by a picture on the internet. That is a good-looking guy. Way too good-looking. Old picture? Nope. Some week-old tabloid thing, probably trying to figure out "who's he dating/chasing/got on call for making a pretty appearance?" Alright there, Reele. Don't get your Cumberbriches in a twist. Get down to brass tacks and look up something business-y.
Another elegant, flawlessly-dressed blonde comes out of a large door to Ana's right. And the Stepford trio is complete! Shall we put on a show of The Merry Wives of Windsor, my ladies?
"Miss Reele?" the latest blonde asks as Ana stands to meet her.
"Yes," she answered. Oh, yay, an easy question.
"Mr. Grey will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?"
"Yes, thank you." No no no. Ugh. I'm going to go from mostly professional to casual Fridays when I take my jacket off. Dammit, manners!
"Have you been offered any refreshment?"
"Uh, no?" The latest blonde frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk. Oh, crap, did I just get Miss Immaculate Number Two in trouble? "Tell you the truth the view out that conference room puts refreshments far out of my mind. I probably was offered and just forgot." Dude, that is so obviously not how you talk that you cannot possibly have helped the situation at all.
"Would you like tea, coffee, water?" Queen Immaculate asks, turning her attention back to Ana.
"A glass of water. Thank you." Maybe I can drown myself with it as penance.
"Olivia, please fetch Miss Reele a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Olivia jumps up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.
"My apologies, Miss Reele, Olivia is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Grey will be another five minutes."
Olivia returns with a glass of iced water and offers it up to Ana before returning to her place.
"Here you go, Miss Reele," Queen Immaculate coos as though she had gotten it herself.
"Thank you."
Queen Immaculate marched over to the large desk, her heels clicking sharply on the sandstone floor and the sound echoing off in the vast wastelands of waiting area. She and Olivia sat down and continued their work.
Does Mr. Grey insist on all his employees being blonde? No, no, that'd be terribly illegal and an enormously public trial and scandal even I couldn't miss hearing about. The office door swung open and a tall, attractive African-American man with short dreads walked out as elegantly-attired as any of the women Ana had met thus far. Did Kate get some sort of dress code sent to her and then forget to share it with me?
He turned and called back through the door, "Golf, this week, Grey."
Ana didn't hear the reply. He turned her way and, seeing her, smiled with a sincere friendliness that made his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. Olivia jumped up and called the elevator. If jumping out of your seat in abject terror of screwing up on the job were an olympic sport, Olivia there would have all the medals. All of them.
"Good afternoon ladies," he calls into the wide open space he leaves behind him as the elevator door closes.
"Mr. Grey will see you now, Miss Reele," Queen Immaculate gestures to the office. Okay, now that gesture has got to be a whole friggin' chapter in their training manual. "Do go through."
Ana takes her first and last sip of water, places the glass on the low glass top table to make as little noise as possible, and gathers up her things as she stands. Goddammit, she realizes, that glass of water cost me what little time i had to research anything about this buy other than what he looks like. Fuck. My. Life.
Queen Immaculate paints a kind smile across her face when Ana raises her hand past the door handle. "You don't need to knock - just go in."
Ana took a deep breath and pushed open the door only to stumble through, tripping over her own feet, and taking a real nose dive into the office; during which she hears herself cry out, "Going down!"
