Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 4
Heanswersonthesecondring.
“Anastasia?”He’ssurprisedtohearfromme.Well,frankly,I’msurprisedtobecallinghim.Thenmybefuddledbrainregisters…howdoesheknowit’sme?
“Whydidyousendmethebooks?”Islurathim.
“Anastasia,areyouokay?Yousoundstrange.”Hisvoiceisfilledwithconcern.
“I’mnotthestrangeone,youare.”There—thattoldhim,mycouragefuelledbyalcohol.
“Anastasia,haveyoubeendrinking?”
“What’sittoyou?”
“I’m…curious.Whereareyou?”
“Inabar.”
“Whichbar?”Hesoundsexasperated.
“AbarinPortland.”
“Howareyougettinghome?”
“I’llfindaway.”ThisconversationisnotgoinghowIexpected.
“Whichbarareyouin?”
“Whydidyousendmethebooks,Christian?”
“Anastasia,whereareyou?Tellmenow.”Histoneisso…sodictatorial,hisusualcontrolfreak.Iimaginehimasanold-timemoviedirectorwearingjodhpurs,holdinganold-fashionedmegaphoneandaridingcrop.Theimagemakesmelaughoutloud.
“You’reso…domineering.”Igiggle.
“Ana,sohelpme,wherethefuckareyou?”
ChristianGreyisswearingatme.Igiggleagain.“I’minPortland…’salongwayfromSeattle.”
“WhereinPortland?”
“Goodnight,Christian.”
“Ana!”
Ihangup.Ha!Thoughhedidn’ttellmeaboutthebooks.Ifrown.Missionnotaccomplished.Iamreallyquitedrunk—myheadswimsuncomfortablyasIshufflewiththeline.Well,theobjectoftheexercisewastogetdrunk.Ihavesucceeded.Thisiswhatit’slike—probablynotanexperiencetoberepeated.
