Fifty Shades of Shade - "The Fifty Shades of Grey Parady" Read Free Page A

Portland area, which somehow includes Washington state. I’ve been here for years and I still know nothing about hardware.
                  I’m glad I’m there because it’ll keep me from thinking about Sebastian Shade. We’re busy—it’s the start of busy season and local folks are looking for all sorts of crazy, quirky items, such as “tools” and “equipment.” We have such an eccentric customer base.
                  Mrs. Ricklin looks glad to see me.
                  “I’m glad to see you,” she says.
                  “I can do a co uple of hours,” I assure her.
     
                  When I get home later, Melissa is wearing headphones and working on her laptop. The foot-and-mouth disease seemed to be gone. She has her teeth into a story (cliché #4) in an intense manner.
                  “You’ve got some interesting stuff here,” she tells me, taking off her headphones. “Why didn’t you let him show you around? He obviously likes you likes you.”
                  My heart rate came back again. Don’t know where the hell it went. Shouldn’t it always be there?
                  “I think I’ll make a decent article out of this. Shame we didn’t have any stills. Good looking son-of-a-shit, isn’t he?”
                  “I suppose so,” I say, trying to sound disinterested.
                  “Oh, come on. Even you have to get a girl boner from his good looks.”
                  Crap cheese! I feel my cheeks heating up again. I try flattering her to get off this topic. “I’m sure he would’ve had a boy version of a girl-boner for you, if you had gone.”
                  It didn’t work. “What did you really think of him?”
    “I can understand the fascination.”
                  She snorts, a tiny snot bubble popping in her nostril. “You? Fascinated by a man? Hah!”
                  “Why did you want to know if he was gay? I was mortified.”
                  She slaps her head. “Is that what I wrote? I meant to ask his opinion on the entrepreneurial spirit. Whoops.”
                  “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad I’ll never get to see him again. I’ll-never-get-to-see-him-again.”              
                  “Why did you say it twice, and slower the second time?” Melissa asks.
                  I thought about it. “Y’know…I’m not sure.”
     
                  For the rest of the week I throw myself into studying and doing whatever it is I do at the hardware store. Melissa was busy, too, compiling her last student newspaper as editor.
                  I call my mom in Alabama. The one in the South. She starts talking to me about her life or some crap and I get bored. My mother. Always doing life stuff.
                  “How are things with you, Chastity ?”
                  I hesitate. “I’m fine.”
                  “ Chastity ,” she notices, “have you shot a bear recently?”
                  “Um…no.”
                  “Oh,” my mother pauses, thinking. “Then have you met someone?”
                  How does she do that?
                  “Mom, it’s nothing.”
                  “ Chastity , you really need to get laid more.”
                  Oh, moms . Later I call my mom’s second husband, my stepdad Rick. I consider Rick more of a non-stepdad dad. In other words, a dad. But he didn’t really say anything back. In fact, he hung up while I was in mid-sentence. Rick always gives me the best advice.
                  Friday night came and Melissa and I needed a break. Suddenly, our friend Ramiro showed up at the door with a bottle of