A Grey Christmas

It's a Wonderful Life

"What do you mean my company's been devalued to nothing?" I ask from my quickly diminishing seat of power in my office at GEH. It's Christmas Eve and the markets have plummeted. I watch with horror the news ticker tape on a flatscreen overhead reporting devastation across the globe. And worse, it's my company's downfall that started this domino effect. "It's impossible to be worth nothing when you're a billionaire!"

"Your company being on the verge of bankruptcy and collapse isn't your biggest problem, Mr. Grey," Whelan, my banker, says. He never visits me at work unless his dollar is on the line. We must really be in trouble for him to be here on a holiday in a three piece suit. He's either dressing for the hope of turnaround success or my funeral.

"It sounds pretty fucking big to me. How did all this happen?"

I look out the window. Snow is coming down in buckets. When was the last time Seattle had a blizzard like this?—especially on Christmas.

"Seems a deposit was supposed to be made today for seventy million dollars. It never happened and checks were issued and cashed before anyone realized the mistake. The Taiwanese wrote their own checks, so did the Canadians. It snowballed all because of your missing money. Russia is in collapse because of you."

"Russia?"

He nods.

"I don't even fucking deal with Russia."

"Your reach is wide, Grey."

"What the hell were these checks I wrote for?"

"Christmas bonuses."

"I'm paying seventy million dollars in Christmas bonuses? No wonder I'm going under!"

The TV screen reads: Will Christian Grey cancel Christmas? There's some paparazzi picture of me with a Grinch hat photoshopped on and videos of kids crying outside of some suburban Toys R Us.

"There has to be some mistake!" I say.

"No mistake, Grey. And it gets worse..."

This shit keeps escalating. Next thing I know the Feds will be after me!

"The Feds are after you!" Fuck, I spoke too soon. "They think you embezzled the money. You'll have to sell the houses, the boat, the cars..."

"No, not the R8s!"

He nods.

"And not Ana's view!"

He nods again. Each nod a hammer of a nail in my proverbial coffin. He wasn't just dressing for my funeral, he's the director.

"But, I promised her that view for the rest of her life. She's not even 30!"

He leans over my desk, palms flat on the wood.

"Any minute now there's going to be a warrant out for your arrest and that will be the end of yours."

"Wait, I sent Taylor to the bank to oversee the accounts. He'll get to the bottom of this!"

Without saying goodbye to Whelan, I race out my door past Andrea. I stop and do a double take. She's wearing large diamond earrings and a fur coat. She's like Cruella Deville, but more Zsa Zsa alley cat than Dalmatian dog.

"Why are you wearing all that?" I ask, as I grab my own coat.

"I charged it in anticipation of my Christmas bonus, Mr. Grey." She strokes her sleeves. "I want to nab a man in this jacket." I don't think she could nab a hyena in that thing if it was still warm with the meat on it. These bonuses have gotten way out of hand!