I cursed under my breath. Looking at my cell, I noticed it was 7:32pm on Friday night. Gail had served the Greys' dinner, then retired to our apartment above the detached garage at their lakefront home. A stylish but warm family focussed mansion on acreage, our quarters there were expansive and enjoyed the same lakefront view. A view I had anticipated enjoying this evening alongside my wife.

I was seconds away from opening a beer, about to enjoy my 7:30pm Friday to Sunday furlough. Now Grey was a family man with two young children, my hours were a lot more stable. Yes, I still protected him and Ana at weekend events as required—however, if there was nothing else planned, I now enjoyed full weekends off with Gail.

My loving wife looked at my cell, although she didn't need to. Grey had his own ringtone, which was now blaring as my phone vibrated on our glass coffee table. And unlike Ana, who considered our weekends off sacrosanct, Grey had no qualms calling me if he felt the situation required it.

"You'd better answer that," Gail said lovingly before putting my unopened beer back in the fridge and turning down the pot on the stove that was heating our dinner. I grunted in response. I didn't want to, but duty called.

"Sir?" I greeted once the call connected.

"Taylor. I need you right now in Phoebe's bedroom. Ana is downstairs in the living room, so come through the front door and up the front stairs so she doesn't see you. She is not to know you are here," Grey whispered urgently.

"Is everything ok?" I asked, my interest piqued.

"In a manner of speaking. Just hurry!"

Gail raised an eyebrow as I stood, pocketing my phone, and picking up my keys. I shrugged before she helped me back into my black suit jacket. Being Grey, it could be anything.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," I promised, pecking Gail on the cheek, and hoping whatever the boss needed today wouldn't end up destroying our weekend.

After five years of living at the Medina property, I knew the reach of every sensor light, and how to reach the main house from ours without setting any of the sensors off. Thinking further, I made a mental note to contact Barney and see if there was some way to remedy that. Ideally, any approach to the Greys' home should see the outside lit up like Christmas. If there was a way that could be achieved, except for security patrols and for myself, then it was worth implementing.

Carefully letting myself in through the front door, I could hear the TV from the living room. I tiptoed across the wooden floor in the vestibule before taking the carpeted front stairs up to the second floor before padding softly toward the children's wing. A stickler for punctuality and routine, the Grey children had their baths at 7:00, stories at 7:15, and were in bed and asleep or close to it by 7:30pm. Especially on a Friday. That Grey was calling me here, without Ana's knowledge, suggested something was up.

I let myself into Phoebe's room, hoping this was not some nefarious plot by Grey to involve 'Uncle Tay Tay' in another dress up and tea party session. While I didn't enjoy Miss Grey's efforts at dressing me in pink boas and subjecting me to cup after cup of tea (water from questionable sources served in miniature ceramic tea cups), I never found the heart to turn Ana and Christian's three-year-old girl down.

"Shhh," Grey hissed softly as soon as I entered the room. He gestured to the over the top, white and pink canopied little girls' bed, and the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty sleeping in it. Mrs. Grey's twin, in every way but temperament, Phoebe Grace Grey had her father—hell basically the entire household—wrapped around her capricious little finger. Despite being 'my word is law' in every other aspect of his life, Grey was a featherweight when it came to his baby girl. The only two really able to stand up to her were Ana and Grace.

I nodded before responding in a whisper, "What seems to be the matter?"

Grey pointed to the hardwood floor, just to the side of the large area rug that covered most of the floor. Looking at the water, glitter and broken glass, then the occasional chair beside it, my eyes traveled up to the shelf where Phoebe's 'precious' items were housed on a shelf supposedly out of reach. My eyes dropping back to the floor, it took me no time at all to work out what lay in ruins.

"It's Ana's snow globe," Grey confirmed, his whisper low and urgent. "The one Ray gave Ana to remember their visit to Disneyland. I don't know how, but Phoebe climbed up and dropped it. You know how Ana is with things from her dad. She's going to be devastated."

There was no point arguing. Grey was right. My Sophie and I were close, but it was nothing on how Ana felt about her daddy, Raymond Steele. The only parent she could count on growing up, she didn't have many mementos from him, so losing one would hurt.

"He bought it for her when she was twelve. It was just before Carla divorced him and married Morton. Ray took Ana to Disneyland for a weekend and Carla stayed behind. Ana remembers it as the last time she had a truly happy childhood. It's not just a snow globe to her..."

My heart sunk. Mrs. Anastasia Grey was the least materialistic woman you could imagine. She never wanted the money or the fame. Despite having billions at her disposal, she still gave homemade jam, with a thoughtful note, to Teddy's kinder teachers for Christmas each year (unbeknownst to her, supplemented by a generous bonus check from Mr. Grey). In fact, the material objects I knew Ana to hold dearest were the simple childhood gifts she'd received from her family and, in particular, her dad.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"I have to get down there, or she'll be suspicious. Can you quietly clean this up, head back to yours, then find a replacement. I can distract her for the weekend, but there needs to be an identical globe back on that shelf by Sunday night. Also, this chair needs to be weighted so Phoebe can't move it again."

Without a fare thee well, Grey stalked from the room, no doubt off for an evening of passionate sex with his wife. It would be annoying to watch if the two were not so devotedly in love. A five and a three-year-old, and they were still all over one another any chance they got. And if Gail was to be believed, Grey was doing his best to make their family of four one of five. A week or so back, Ana had shyly asked Gail to pick up some pregnancy vitamins for her. If Grey had knocked Ana up, we all would have known instantly—there was no disguising his over the top worry, or his proud as punch strut, both times he'd made his wife a mother-to-be—so Gail and I had surmised they were once again 'trying.'

I wished I was at home with a full belly and doing the deed with Gail instead of here picking up the pieces of a snow globe, careful to be silent so I didn't wake Grey's daughter. But if I failed to source a replacement, Ana would be devastated.


"Jason? What are you doing still up?" Gail called from our bedroom. I'd got the full belly I'd been hoping for, but not the loving attention from my wife. No—here it was, 3:00am, and I was scouring the Internet for a snow globe.

"Did you know there are at least fifty Disneyland snow globes from 2001? There's one for each princess, plus ones for Mickey, Minny, and that's the year Monsters Inc. was released, so there's a few for that, too... And you won't believe how much some of these things are worth. There're pages devoted just to Disney snow globes where people buy, swap, and sell. Turns out Ana's is rare and super collectible. Grey's going to have to shell out a pretty penny to replace it."

"It's not like he can't afford it," Gail commented. "Are you nearly done?"

"I wish," I grumbled. "There are none of that particular style listed for sale anywhere. I'm going to have to contact collectors to see if they have one and are willing to part with it."

Going back to the Snow'a'holics page, I thought it sounded like a group for cokeheads, but what did I know? If the pictures were to be believed, some of these people had thousands of snow globes. Making an account I signed in as Jace the Ace and starting with the biggest collectors, I fired off message after message asking whether they had the 2001 Green Gilt Mickey with the Princesses base, or knew anyone else who had. Then I went to the forum and started a topic asking about the same. By 5:00am I had exhausted everything I could do online, so crept into bed spooning Gail, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

It seemed like only twenty minutes later, although it was actually 7:30, when my phone woke me. Grey.

"Sir?" I said, after muttering a couple of colorful words before answering the call.

"How did you go? Have you found one?"

Grey's words were whispered, and echoey. It sounded like he was making the call from the john.

"Not so far," I answered.

"What's taking so long? They sell thousands of them every year! There must be hundreds for sale online."

"Not Mrs. Grey's," I replied with a sigh. "Turns out hers is some super rare collector's item now. I have contacted collectors across the country to see if they have one they will sell."

"Fuck. Well, keep me in the loop. I'm taking Ana and the kids out on The Grace for the weekend. We'll be back Sunday night, and that globe needs to be back on the shelf by then!"

Groaning after Grey disconnected the call, I rolled out of bed to find my wife and a cup of joe, all hope of a quiet weekend now gone. I was just finishing my first mug when my laptop beeped. Pulling it across the table, I saw I had an incoming message from the Snow'a'holics page. Golden Globes Granny, a collector from Miami, had one of the required globes, and might be convinced to part with it! Shit—with priority shipping, I could have this done and dusted and balls-deep in Gail by brunch. I smirked, tapping out a quick response.


"The plane?" Grey asked, again whispering. This time, I know he is hiding in the head so his family would not hear him.

"I'm afraid so, sir. Golden Globes Granny insists on interviewing me before she'll let me buy the globe. She's the only one who's expressed interest in selling, so I don't think I have a choice."

"Then make it happen. I mean it, Taylor—that globe needs to be on that shelf stat!"

Try as I might, I couldn't interest Gail in two cross-country flights in quick succession, so I was alone when I pulled up to the GEH hangar at Boeing Field. Stephan, Grey's usual pilot, and first officer Beighley, were waiting.

"Are we really flying to pick up a snow globe?" Beighley asked, lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. "That's gotta be the most random thing you've ever had to buy the boss."

I snorted, my NDA not allowing me to disabuse her of her misapprehension. In my office Rolodex, I had contacts for almost everything. Graduated hand-blown glass butt-plugs? Not a drama—delivered within the hour. A Chateau Margaux 2000? Piece of cake. A custom-made tool belt to hold a baker's dozen extra-large dildos? Sure thing—what color would you like it? I guess now I could add a contact for Disney snow globes. Still incredulous I needed to be interviewed to buy a kid's keepsake, I settled into my usual seat on the plane, catching up on some zeds as we lifted into the sky.


Stepping out into the Florida heat it instantly reminded me why I lived in Seattle. As far as I was concerned, Florida was home to old people and alligators. Or old people so tanned they looked like alligators. We'd left Seattle mid-morning, so it was 8:00pm local time. Golden Globes Granny said she'd be up until at least 10:00pm, so I'd arranged to go there direct. The car I'd booked was waiting, and I was looking forward to taking it for a spin. Grey liked foreign cars—good safety stats and lower carbon emissions—but sometimes you want to drive something red, white, and blue. What Grey didn't know wouldn't hurt him, so I'd booked a top-of-the-line Chevvy Camaro for my brief visit to Miami. I programmed the GPS, delighted to see there were at least thirty minutes of freeway driving to get to Granny's house.

Twenty-four minutes later, I pulled up outside a modest duck-egg blue clapboard house. Surrounded by similar houses with neat yards and single garages, Granny's garden featured a faded metal pink-flamingo ornament festooned with American flag bunting. The bunting ran around the edging of the eaves, but at the front had fallen off and onto the slightly tilted flamingo. It wasn't a good look.

"Golden Globes Granny?" I asked when she opened the door.

"That's me," a lady who must be at least eighty in the shade answered, opening the screen door to let me in. "You must be Jace the Ace."

"Just, Jason, Ma'am. Jason Taylor." I reached out and shook her hand, before allowing myself to take in my surroundings. Fuck me—she hadn't lied when she said she was a collector of snow globes. Every wall I could see had half-foot deep shelves; each shelf housing scores of snow globes. Looking around, I was literally gob smacked. Taking in my bemused expression, she smiled.

"Would you like to see my collection?" she asked, gesturing towards one wall. "I don't just collect Disney, you know. I collect Universal, Sea World, Hersheypark and Cedar Point. I have over four hundred Harry Potter globes, alone!" she boasted, gesturing to her dining room wall.

"Wow... That's really something," I muttered, frankly bewildered by the amount of tacky plastic shit surrounding me.

"Now you're here about the 2001 gilt green Disneyland, right? It's quite rare, and I wouldn't consider selling except I have two of them." I followed her to a bedroom which, like the other rooms, had floor to ceiling shelves on every wall each filled with globes. "This one is mint, so I'll be keeping that. The other is slightly faded."

I'd never paid much attention to Ana's snow globe, however I can't imagine a bit of fading would be an issue. In fact, when I saw the globe she had sitting on a side-table for my inspection, it looked identical to the pieces I'd cleaned up the day before.

"That looks perfect. I'll take it."

"Not so fast. Before I agree to sell it, I want to know a bit about you. These globes are like my babies—I won't sell one to just anyone. You didn't mention where you're from or why you want this one."

If she knew I'd flown across country on a private plane to buy a bit of fucking gaudy plastic and glass, she'd take me for every dollar she could get, so I lied.

"I'm from Orlando, and it's for my sister. We visited Disneyland in late 2001, and she really wanted this snow globe. It was just my Mom and Ana—our dad was one of the first deployed to Afghanistan and didn't make it. Mom took us to Disneyland to make that first Christmas without him special. She put every spare cent into taking us, so there wasn't the money for souvenirs. Ana has talked about it over the years—the trip and remembering Dad—so I wanted to buy this for her."

"Well, aren't you a good brother," the woman I only knew as Golden Globes Granny replied.

"I do my best," I said, blushing about lying to a sweet old granny.

"I'd really like to sell it to you," she replied, looking uneasy, "but I'm not sure I could sell to someone involved in deviant sexual practices."

My eyes met hers in horror. How the fuck did a granny in Florida know about Grey and his predilections!?

"I've read about those LQRTIF or whatever people. Now I don't mind people doing their own thing behind closed doors, but I'm not sure I want to sell a snow globe to someone like that. I guess asexual is a bit different. Your choice if you don't want to do nothing with no one—but surely a handsome young fellow like you would be better off making some woman happy?"

"Asexual?" I asked, with no idea where she'd got that idea.

"Jace the Ace. Ace as in asexual."

"No!" I said in surprise. "I'm not asexual! It's a nickname from childhood. I was good at running. Jace the ace wins the race."

"Well, I am pleased to hear that," she replied with a satisfied smile. "Everyone thinks Golden Globes Granny is because of my snow globes, but actually it's about something else." She ran a shriveled hand over each breast, giving me a prurient look before her hand snaked around me and squeezed my buttock. Hard!

"I'm also married!" I yelped in surprise, jumping back. Working for Grey brought many challenges, but this was the first time I'd been propositioned by an octogenarian!

"It figures," she said regretfully, taking her damned sweet time to remove her hand from my rear. "Men are like public toilets—all the nice ones are taken, and the rest are full of shit."

It took me another twenty minutes to negotiate the purchase of the globe. $750 later, and Mr. Christian Grey was the proud owner of a new, identical to the old one, 2001 Disneyland snow globe. I high-tailed it back to the airfield, eager to get on board and back to Seattle. Frankly, the further I got from Golden Granny and her seriously saggy globes, the happier I'd be!

"Everything go ok?" Beighley asked when I got back to the plane. She'd slept on the trip here, so would fly us back while Stephan slept. "Got the globe?"

"Got it," I muttered, still put out from being felt up by a little old lady.

"I can't believe you flew all the way for a toy," she said. "But hey—it gets my flight hours up."

"All part of the job," I said, settling into my seat after carefully securing the well-packed globe into the overhead compartment.


APOV

"Gail? Can I have a moment?" I asked on Monday. We'd spent a wonderful weekend aboard The Grace, but now we were back to normal. Normal meaning Christian was at work, Teddy was at kindergarten, and I'd been doing some work for Grey Publishing while Phoebe napped. At three, she was fast outgrowing her nap times, so I was making the most of them while she still had them.

"Of course, Ana. What do you need?"

"Christian acted strangely all weekend. Disappearing to take phone calls and super distracted."

"I'm sure it's nothing," Gail said, not quite meeting my eyes.

"Well, during one of these calls, Phoebe confessed she'd dropped my 'gobe from da shelf'" I said, mimicking my daughter's childish inflection. "However, when I went to check today, it was still there. Admittedly, the glitter is now blue, not pink..." Gail looked like a deer caught in headlights, until I started to giggle. "Do I want to know how much Christian paid to get a replacement?"

"It was $750, although Jason flew to Miami and was touched up by an eighty-year-old to get it," Gail confided, her lips pressed together in mirth.

Over the next five minutes, Gail shared the complete story with me—from Christian's first panicked call through to Taylor's careful installation of the globe back on Phoebe's shelf and the now weighted chair to prevent a second calamity occurring. Gail had a gift for storytelling, and I was crying I was laughing so hard by the end of her tale.

"Are you going to let them know you know?" Gail asked, also wiping her eyes after her detailed account of events.

"No. I don't think I could. Poor Taylor puts up with so much for us—I'll let him keep his dignity. This can be our little secret!"