Shades of Grey
Book Two of the Alexis Stanton Chronicles
by
J.C. Phelps
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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PUBLISHED BY:
J.C. Phelps at Smashwords
Shades of Grey
Copyright © 2006 by J.C. Phelps
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Special Thank You:
Alexandra
Edy
Lynn (of course)
Rachel
Rick
Robert
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This book is dedicated to my mother, for without her, I would be nothing.
I love you Mom!
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Chapter One
Almost everyone has at least one “moment” in their lives in which they can remember exactly what they were doing, where they were, even what their fleeting thoughts were at that exact “moment.” I have a few but the most recent and life altering was the day I walked into White and Associates looking for a job. I was Alexis Stanton then. I was thinking only of adventure and excitement and not realizing the meaning of either.
I am not the same person I was when I first walked into that office. Not only have I received a name change to Ms. Grey but I’m also much more controlled and actually realize I’m not “all that”. Of course I’m not going to tell anyone that, especially not the men I work with. They are all very competent and quite cocky, at least on the outside. I suppose I fit right in.
Mr. White, the “boss,” is the company’s founder. I met him first. I’ll never forget the moment when I saw him standing in his office in his t-shirt and jeans. He would have looked out of place if he didn’t exude confidence. Mr. White is, without a doubt, the best looking man I have ever seen. He is the epitome of the word “stud.” Actually, in my personal dictionary you will find, stud: Mr. White, AKA Rick Malone.
That’s another thing, all of “us” have aliases, not just me. For example, Mr. Black’s real name is Adam Quinn. I generally call him Mr. Black, but we’re friendly enough that I could use his real name as long as we weren’t on a job. Mr. Black is quite the gentleman. For one thing, he opens doors for me. Don’t take me wrong; I don’t get any special treatment. He’d open doors for any woman.
You wouldn’t suspect him to be a gentleman by just looking at him though. He supports a shaved head, for what reason I don’t know. He could be balding, but I doubt it. He’s a bit on the large side, and quite possibly the most buff man on the planet. He can do it all as far as I can tell. The only flaw I can find is that he’s not as quick in hand-to-hand maneuvers as I am. Although he is definitely much faster than any other man his size, what little he lacks in speed he makes up for that in strength.
When I first came to the company I spent a lot of time with Mr. Black. He was my teacher and my champion. I know the men all had, and probably still have, reservations about having a woman in the company. All except Mr. Black. I think he knows this and also knows I need to prove myself more than a man would, therefore his expectations are high and I just couldn’t disappoint him.
I’ve spent almost no time with Mr. Blue. He’s a doctor of sorts. I’m not aware of how much formal training he has, but he seems to know what he’s doing. When I was shot in the leg, he’s the one who patched me up and I’m doing just fine today, with a hardly-noticeable scar. There is something about him that is a bit ominous though. I don’t think his only trade is doctoring.
Mr. Red does the “interrogation” in the company. From what I understand he has some sort of degree in psychology or related field. I’ve been introduced to him but have never had a conversation with him. He is fluent in several languages and walks around with his head held high. He is exceedingly confident and has an air of superiority about him that’s a bit intimidating and bothersome at the same time. My impression of him is that he thinks very highly of himself. I have not seen him do this, but he seems to be the type of man who, when walking in front of a mirror, just has to stop and admire himself. I think he likes me the least of all the men. Well, maybe not me personally, it might just be the idea of having a woman as part of the company.
Then there’s Mr. Green. I was introduced to Mr. Green once and the only impressions I got of him were that he is probably a very nice man and that he doesn’t really fit in with the rest of these other strongly built men. He is a wiry fellow with a very forgettable face. I can’t describe his facial features, except by guessing he isn’t ugly because I would have remembered that and he isn’t particularly good looking either because I would have remembered that as well. He seemed like a quiet man, one who probably hangs out in shadows. I have my suspicions on what he does for the company, however, I could be wrong; Mr. Green may possibly be the janitor.
Lastly, we come to Mr. Brown. I‘ve spent the last three months exclusively with Mr. Brown at some unknown airfield. For lack of a better job description, he’s probably labeled the company’s transportation expert.
When we first met I wasn’t terribly fond of him. He has a boyish quality to him, not just found in his looks. He’s carefree and a bit too bubbly for my tastes. Mr. Brown has a knack for annoying me with his happiness and reckless comments. He’s constantly making some kind of joke, whether it’s funny or not, but I will concede that his smile is infectious.
Over these past months I have gotten to know him much better and, even though we got off on the wrong foot, I’ve come to enjoy his company very much. He’s much freer with himself than either Mr. Black or Mr. White has ever been. I didn’t have to ask his real name, he told me the first full day we spent together.
“Well, Alex. Can I call you Alex?” he asked and I nodded my head yes reluctantly.
“Yeah, Quinn said you prefer Alex to Lexi. Since I know your name, you should know mine. I was born Joshua Braun in North Dakota. You can call me Josh. How much do you know about engines?”
That was how our three months began. I knew more about engines than he thought I did. I love knowing more than people think I do. That look of shock when you know something that they were just sure you didn’t know is great. I have to admit I do know my way around gasoline engines but I have never worked on aircraft before. The first two months were working on and learning engines of all types. I had considered myself a decent mechanic before I spent time with Mr. Brown. However, if he considers himself a “decent mechanic,” I’m just getting by. He knows every type of engine inside and out. I would have to study hard for at least a year or two just to catch up with him.
Not only did he refresh my memory on grease monkeyism but he also taught me a bit about avionics and then of course there is the art of driving and flying. The avionics was not really to my liking. I don’t understand it. I have always considered my
self a quick learner and an active learner, but when it comes to working on aircraft, who cares. It does not interest me at all and I think that’s the reason I learned only the basics.
To Mr. Brown’s credit, if I had been concerned with the workings of aircraft, I think I would have become a master. One thing I did master was driving. I’ve never been one for driving much. I do own a 1967 Mustang. It’s a putrid green color but I love the car. I would rather ride in the thing than drive it, however. I normally call a cab every chance I get to avoid driving, but I have a new appreciation for it now.
Mr. Brown spent some considerable time teaching me driving maneuvers. Of course I had my basic defensive driving skills that I needed some work on, but then we moved up to being more and more aggressive until I could take part in a police chase, and if need be, I could out drive them. I also believe that I could enter a major car race like the Indy 500 and have a good chance of winning if I had the right car.
Mr. Brown and I finally came to the flight instruction. He told me I should be able to fly the chopper and airplane alone with just a couple of weeks training. This is what I had been hoping for when I was first sent off with Mr. Brown. Flying is something I’ve always wanted to learn.
I had been training for over a week and he still wouldn’t let me fly. No matter how I begged, he wouldn’t let me handle the controls alone. I think I made him nervous. Yesterday Mr. Brown said he was going to let me to land first. I always thought that would come last, but for safety’s sake maybe all flight instructors teach landing first.
I had made a pot of coffee for myself and already swilled down three cups, which was strange because Mr. Brown was always at my room before I finished my first cup. He likes his morning coffee too. Well, my morning coffee. I wonder what’s keeping him this morning? I was getting worried. He wouldn’t have gone to get the helicopter ready without me. I need to learn everything, not just the actual flying. I was about to go looking for him when he walked right into my room without knocking.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said as I poured him a cup of coffee.
“What have you been doing?”
“I was on the phone with White. We’ve been called back to the office,” his normal cheerful demeanor was gone.
“A job?” I couldn’t contain the regret in my voice.
“Not sure. I think he just wants us back. We’ll fly out in a couple hours.”
“I can be packed in thirty minutes,” I said with hope.
“I suppose I can give you a crash course if you promise not to crash,” his frolicsome humor had returned.
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Chapter Two
I was an expert at quick departures thanks to these guys. I was packed in less than thirty minutes and out the door. Mr. Brown was standing right outside waiting to haul my luggage.
“Is that all?” He said nodding to the single backpack I had slung over my shoulder.
“Yep.”
“I thought girls always packed tons of stuff.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m not like other girls.” This last part I said with a hint of sarcasm and a bit of an emphasis on the word girls.
Mr. Brown had learned when to stop since we had been together. I didn’t let him get away with much. If I were unhappy with anything he said, I surely let him know. When I first started with White and Associates, Mr. Brown would allude to sexual conduct between either myself and Mr. Black or Mr. White. This deeply offended me and I told him as much. I think he truly wondered at my roll in the company before we came out here and then he learned a little about me. He no longer purposefully offends me, at least not too often.
We had gotten into the chopper and were strapped in when Mr. Brown told me to grab the controls. He talked me through the lift off. I took us up a ways and then he showed me how to set her back down. We did this as many times as half an hour would permit and then we were on our way. I was allowed to take the controls once or twice while in the air, but I could tell I made Mr. Brown nervous. Well, I shouldn’t be the only one that’s nervous, I thought to myself.
We hovered over the offices of White and Associates and Mr. Brown reluctantly said, “I’m going to let you land. This is a bit different though, you need to be a bit more steady.”
I can do this, I told myself. I took hold of the controls and began the descent toward the building. I managed to set her down without toppling off the side of the building. It wasn’t the smoothest landing, but we were able to walk away from it.
We rode the elevator down and I saw Gabriella, our part time secretary, in the front office. She greeted us with a relieved smile.
Mr. Brown walked directly into Mr. White’s office, but I remained to speak with Gabriella.
“How are things?” I asked.
“Boy am I glad to see you. Mr. White is upset.” She jerked her head toward the back office.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“You tell me. He’s just been horrible for the past month. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” This was the closest to angry I had ever seen Gabriella.
“He’s been stomping around and slamming doors and I think he and Mr. Black are mad at each other again. Mr. Black hasn’t come to the office in over a month.” I could hear the disappointment in her voice. Gabriella has a thing for Mr. Black, but she’s a bit too old for him.
“Ms. Grey?” Mr. White said a bit too forcefully. “Are you going to join us?”
“You weren’t kidding,” I said in a low voice to Gabriella as I walked to the back office.
I shut the door behind me and waited to be told to sit. Mr. Brown was standing next to me with an uncharacteristic serious look on his face.
“While you were off playing…” Mr. White looked at both of us with a scowl. Then he took a deep breath.
“Alright, I’m in a bad mood and I don’t mean to take it out on you two. I’m holding a meeting in this afternoon. Be back then,” he dismissed us with a wave of his hand.
We shut the door behind us as we walked back into the front office.
“What’s up?” Gabriella asked me.
“I don’t know. We have to come back for a meeting later today.”
“I’m getting tired of his attitude. I hope I didn’t do anything to make him mad like this,” she sounded worried.
“I don’t think it’s you Gabby,” Brown reassured her. “I can tell he has something on his mind and if it were you, I’m sure he would talk to you instead of having a company meeting.”
“I hope so.”
Brown left Gabriella and I to chat. We visited for only a few minutes before an older gentleman with a rugged face came into the front office.
“Can I help you?” Gabriella asked him.
“Yes, Victor Strom to see Mr. White.” He replied.
Gabriella called into White’s office and announced Mr. Strom. White’s voice came over the speaker and told her to send him right in.
Victor Strom was the man to be, according to all the national media. He was extremely rich and influential and almost everyone loved him. “Anything Mr. Strom wants, Mr. Strom gets.” That was the saying he made famous a few years earlier.
Mr. Strom had made his money by investing in other people’s business ideas. Some people thought he was just a user, but he didn’t take other peoples ideas and make them his own, he helped people take their dreams and ideas and make them reality. Of course he did expect something in return for his work. He owned shares in almost everything it seemed. Somewhere along the line, if you were getting money to start your own business Victor Strom was involved.
Strom, being a man with means, was always subject to public criticism and one of the biggest complaints against him was people didn’t think he was fair to other nationalities. He seemed to concentrate his efforts on the Caucasian community. I didn’t know if this was a truism and I really didn’t care either. I had never given it much thought before because I had no dealings or interactions with the man and didn’t expect to have any.
/> Strom entered White’s office and Gabriella and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows.
“Do we need money?” I asked her.
“I don’t think so, but White does the books, not me. All I know is, now I can say I’ve met the Mr. Victor Strom.” She grinned.
We gossiped a little more about the reason Strom could be here then I took my leave.
Within half an hour I was at home. I was lucky; Mom and Dad allowed me to live in their guesthouse and gave me all the privacy I could want. I unpacked and headed to the main house to let my parents know I was back in town.
Dad was in his office as usual. It was tucked away off the side of the library. I knocked and heard his characteristic “Yes?” come through the door so I went in.
“Ah, I see you’re home,” he said with a warm smile.
“Yeah, got back about an hour ago. Anything new going on around here?”
“Nope, your mother is around somewhere. Have you seen her yet? She’s all excited about your job; it’s practically all she talks about when you’re gone. You know you should call her at least once a month so she doesn’t have to wonder what it is you’re doing out there.”
I had thought my mother would have been against me taking a job like this one, but she was much more accepting of it than Dad was. Her being worried about me out in the field was news.
“You and Mom don’t have to worry about me.” I said.
“Your mother doesn’t worry, but I do and the things she suggests that you might be doing really bother me. I wish you would call her so she could ask you straight out and wouldn’t have to guess with me in the room.”
“Okay, I’ll keep in better touch if I can.”
“Oh, I want to talk to you about your paychecks that keep coming here. They have been piling up since you’ve been gone. You really ought to have that company of yours do the direct deposit thing, unless of course you don’t care if your mom knows exactly what you’re making,” Dad said with a grin.
Shades of Grey: Book Two of the Alexis Stanton Chronicles Page 1