Page 110 of Pierced

I stare at him and he raises his eyebrows and smiles.

After a moment, I nod. “Yeah…” I say.

“Go,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“It’s been three whole days. I don’t know if I can walk this one back.”

“I hear there’s a seventy-two-hour grace period. You’ve got”—he bends my wrist and looks at my watch—“about an hour. Just go.”

I twist my neck because… fuck me. Then I nod, pat him on the arm and head for the exit that leads straight from the kitchen to the back hallway. I’ll have to take the service elevator down, but I really don’t feel like getting more abuse from Eden on my way out.

Just as the door is about to close behind me, I turn back to Andrew. “Hey…”

“Yeah?” he says.

“What is your middle name?”

He smiles. “It was a trick question. I don’t have one. But I’m thinking of having something added, legally. The frontrunner at the moment is Cransfandimmelberg.”

While I am aware there is no seventy-two-hour grace period, I keep looking at the clock on my dashboard anyway. It’s now in my head that I have to make it to Myrtle’s within the hour as if she’s Cinderella and if I don’t get the shoe on her pumpkin in time, she turns into a broom. Or whatever. Nobody really read me that stuff as a kid.

When I pull up to the edge of the long driveway that leads down to the wrought iron gates, I pause and let the car idle for a moment. I think about the first time I came here and how I didn’t know what to expect. I have a similar set of feelings now. Just for very different reasons.

I roll down to the guard gate and find my old friend Samantha reading the same novel I’ve seen in her hand every time I’ve been here.

“Hey, Sam. Still reading the same book?”

“No. This is a different one.”

“Really?” She nods. I twist my neck to see it better. “It looks the same. Shirtless dude on the cover.”

“It’s a Scarlett Savannah erotic novel. They all have shirtless dudes on the cover. Can I help you?”

“Yeah. I need to see Myrtle. Can you let me in?”

She looks down at her clipboard. “I’m sorry. Your name is not on the list.”

Are you fucking…? “Samantha? Don’t do this, okay? Please. Just call inside and tell her that Pierce is here.”

“I’m sorry. There is no Pierce on the list.”

“Goddam—!” I take a breath. Then, slowly, “OK… Anastasia—”

“There is no Anastasia Steele on this list either. There are no names on the list. Nor do I imagine there will be for the foreseeable future.”

“Fuck does that mean?”

“I’ll welcome you not to swear.”

I slam my head back into the headrest. Samantha places her hand on her night stick.

“OK. OK. Fine.” I grab up my cell and ring Myrtle’s number. Or I try to ring her number. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again. Same thing.

“Where’s Myrtle, Samantha?”

“I have instructions—”

“Can I tell you something?”