Take place after Edward left Bella in New Moon, some months later.
Song: Monday Morning by Maria Mena
Chapter 1: Monday Morning
"Breath," I told myself. "It´ll be fine, you can do this!"
I could hear the crowd out there, screaming at the unfortunate (and untalented) male singer that had introduced himself as Jimmy Bold. I felt sorry for him, but I was more concerned that I would meet the same faith when I was going to enter the stage.
"Oh Bella, this was really stupid of you, REALLY stupid. You should just turn around and walk away and forget all this. You´re not an entertainer, you´re a broken..."
"OK people, let´s all hope that the next performer is a little more... after you´re taste," the announcer said in a deep voice. The crowed laughed and cheered. Shit, too late. Why had I joined this open mic-night-contest? I had found my dads old guitar while cleaning out the basement, and now, a month later, I thought I had what it took to go on stage and preform a song that I had written myself? Could someone PLEAS kill me now. Or kill Jacob, he was the one that had made me play the stupid thing in the first place.
"So, let´s all give a warm welcoming to our last contestant, Isabella Swan!" The crowed cheered. No, I couldn´t do this, I was going to make a complete fool of myself! But I didn´t get any chance to run away, because right then someone pushed me firmly on to the stage, and the blue stagelight, blinded me instantaneously. I almost dropped my guitar, but I somehow managed to stumble over to the bar chair standing in the middle of the stage. I heard someone laugh when I hit the microphone rack with my foot trying to sit down on it, and I blushed like a teenager that had been kissed for the first time. A man working backstage calmly lifted the microphone back to it´s right position
"Thank you," I whispered to him, put the mic was now turned on, and I jolted in surprise when I heard my own voice echoing from the monitors. More people laughed, and I could feel myself blushing even more and starting to shiver. The man that had helped me, put a hand on my shoulder and put his head next to mine, his face away from the waiting audience. "You´ll do just fine. I heard you warming up before, and they´ll love you." The man withdrew his head, and I looked into the kind, brown eyes of a man in his early 40´s. His words calmed me, and when he smiled at me, I smiled back. Then he walked away, and I was alone. I was still scared, but I wasn´t shivering anymore.
"Ok people, emm... I´m Bella, and I really don´t know if I´m any good at this," people laughed, but this time, it was a cinder laughter. "But I´ll let you decide that. I wrote this song myself, and it´s called Monday Morning.
The room went quiet in anticipation as I readjusted my guitar. I had to do this, to get him out of my system. So I took a deep breath, and hit the first chord. I had to smile. I really loved this guitar. I liked my lips and sung.
Monday morning came too soon
It's entering my forgotten room
Disguised as the morning sun
and I should be on the run
But I'm here
Waiting for you
To come and rescue me
From this awful blue
Looks like another day
In another way
Through another place
Too many lonely days
I'm not here for sure
Just here for more
You wont walk through that door
Cause you said you didn't need me anymore
Anymore, Anymore
Monday morning...
As I sang, all the feelings I had felt while writing this song, resurfaced. How I had been falling apart for months after he left me. The confusion, the sadness, how indescribably awful it had been to waking up monday morning, knowing that he would never walk into my bedroom anymore. I pored my heart out on the stage, singing with all of my being.
Then, the song ended, and there was silence. I closed my eyes, waiting for the giant hole in my chest to reaper, but it didn´t. My heart didn´t feel like it was healed, but on the mend, and for the first time since he had left me months ago, I felt hope. A hope that maybe I could be put back together again.
Suddenly, I heard someone clapping. And then another one, and another. I had all but forgotten the people watching and listening, but now I got hyper aware of them as they all stood up and clapped like it was a baseball mach, and I had just hit a home run. Someone were wolf-whistling, and I was pretty sure that was Jacob. They liked me. They liked my song! Oh. My. GOD!
"Ladies and gentlemen, I think we have a winner for the open-mic-night competition!" said the announcer as he walked onto the stage, his blond hair shining blue and his white teeth sparkling. He stopped beside me, and but a hand on my shoulder. "You, Ms Swan, is one of the most talented amateurs the jury have ever seen on this stage, and I think it is safe to say that the crowd will agree with them, and me, on that?" The announcer looked with mock-questing look at the audience, that all started to clap again. What, wait, did this mean that I´d won? No, that coulnd´t be, this had never been about winning, it was just about me letting go. "Getting this out so you can start living again," as Jake had said when he made me sign on to do this.
I was in shock. The announcer shoved some flowers in my my hands and a pice of paper that I didn´t clearly comprehend what was. Three people whom I didn´t know shook my hand and said that I had done a great job. Then the nice man that had helped me earlier had the sense too take my hand and firmly guided me backstage.
He sat me down on a chair, and got me a bottle of water. I noticed that his hands were almost as dark as his shirt when he handed me the bottle, and he had to snap his fingers in front of my face to make me get out of the trace-like state I was in.
"T-thank you," I mumbled as I took the bottle. My mouth felt so dry that I downed the whole thing right away. The nice man sat down opposite me, and laughed. "You didn´t expect that, did you?" he asked in a warm, friendly tone. I shook my head. "Not at all," I muttered. "Honestly, I thought I would make a complete fool of myself. I´m not sure it this is any better though..."
The man shook his head in disbelief. "Ms. Swan, you were amazing out there. You have something that every musician need to be in possession of in order to succeed. You´re maybe not the best singer or the best guitar player. But you got something more, something that is even more important than being the best musician."
I looked at the man, his eyes were shining with the intensity of what he was trying to explain to me. "He has to be mental or something," was the only thing that ran through my mind. What was it that I had that was so special. I was nothing special. He had told me that, and I believed him.
Like he had heard my thoughts, he said: " You got something I like to call soul. You don´t preform the music, you are the music." Yup, clearly mental.
Right then, the door to the back alley burst open with a bang, and a huge boy with dark skin and a huge grin on his face, ran up to me and lifted me up into the air in a tight hug.
"You won Bella, you won! I told you, I TOLD YOU, you´re amazing!" Jake hugged me so tightly that it was hard to even talk. Man, that boy was strong.
"Jake. Need. Air."
"Oh, sorry Bells," my best friend said without sounding sorry at all. "We have to go celebrate!"he said without missing a beat. "Drinks on me!"
I frowned. "But Jake, you´re not old enough..."
"Come on Bella," Jake whined. "You won a HUNDRED dollars in cash, let your hair out for just one night!" Oh so that was what the pice of paper was. I opened the pice of paper, aka. an envelop, and sure enough. 100 dollars in cash.
Jake was right. I had to let loose a little. I was slowly creating a new me, and I was starting to like her. What could be so wrong with "letting my hair down" as Jake had put it.
"Ok Jake, I´m in," I smiled.
Jake threw a fist in the air and said that he was just going to get his jacket, and he left me, promising to meet me outside in ten.
"He seems like a nice fellow."
I had forgotten the nice man sitting not far away.
"Ehm, yes, he is my best friend," I said as I started to put my guitar away and gather my stuff.
The man got something out of his chest pocked, and gave it to me. I stopped and looked at the little business card:
North Star Records
Owen North
Producer
"Oh Mr. North, I´m not looking for..." the man, Mr. North interrupted me by putting both his hands in front of him, palms facing me.
"That´s OK, my dear. Just thought I´d give you my card. My phone number is on the back. My studio is located in Seattle, near Union Bay. Give me a call if you change your mind. I´d love to work with you any time," me smiled. I wondered if he ever stopped smiling. I hoped not; he had such a calming smile. I studied the card, feeling a little tempted. But I was no artist, this was a one night-thing. Even so, I put the card in the back pocket of my jeans.
"Sure sure," I said. I grabbed my guitar and my handbag. "And thanks again, for everything." Mr. North nodded, and I walked out the back door where Jake waited excitedly.
"To Port Angeles finest bar!" he laughed. I was going to be so sorry the next morning.
A.N
Sooo, what do you think? As you might have guessed, English is not my native language, so please, if someone want´s to be my beta reader for this story, I would be very happy.
Tell me what you think!