Alright. Here's the start of a new A/J Story! I was really weird on the title, but hey, it can't be that bad, right? Just so you know, this story is not at all associated with the song by Lady Gaga. That's just a weird coincidence.

Please notice that this fic is M for language and stuff, so read with discretion. That is, if you're not the "bad word" type.

Disclaimer: All rights go to Summit and SM. I don't own any of the characters...but I do own the story so please don't steal it :)

The song you should listen to with this is called "Her Morning Elegance" By Oren Lavie.

Chapter 1: Wake up

Alice POV

Mmm. Relaxing, quiet mornings to yourself. Peace. Silence. Just what I need. No troubles, no problems, no obstacles. No loud, awful interruptions or rude awakenings. Man, I love Tuesdays. Just me and solitude. Just me and myself. Just me and-

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

Fuck.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

Shut up, Shut up! I took my pillow and threw it over my ears, holding it firmly. Not today. Not today. This was my day off, that means no work, no phone calls, no anything. Why, why, why, does everything disagree?

I hear my voicemail go off, and with a sigh, I knew that somewhere, this person actually thinks I'm going to listen to their message, and call them back. Unless... I hug the pillow closer to my ears and wished to God it wasn't him. Not him.

"Hi! You've reach Mary-Alice Brandon! Unfortunately, I'm not here at the moment, but probably messin' with my camera. Just, leave a message after the beep, and I'll get back to you!"

Yeah, right.

Beeeeeeeep.

And there I sat, with the worst kind of anticipation, holding my pillow close to my stomach and watching the phone intensely as if some magic mouth would scream at me and tell me that it wasn't him.

Ah, but as hard as I wished, his irritating, obnoxious voice rang out. Y'know, I regret picking up all the pennies that were bottoms up. I think that's why my luck's shit.

"Alice! Get your ass up and get over here! I don't pay you to sleep all day, and I'm sure as hell not gonna put up with your grumpy morning shit! Get up! Call me when you are, so I can check my list off of days I should fire you. You got work to do, and I've got work to do, so don't fuck around!" His voice boomed from that damn machine, the message leaving as swiftly as it started. I was left half awake on my large bed, unable to truly wake up, or go back asleep. Ahhh.

I hate phones. Officially. And Tuesdays...I hate Tuesdays too...officially.

I got up off my bed, stretched in an uncomfortable position, and started off into the bathroom. Normal routine. Flop over to the bathroom, brush teeth and take a shower. Usually, those two things may happen at the same time, but I didn't feel the need to do that today. On my way to the shower, I stopped over at my round, scarred mirror, which was oddly a tinted brown color. You know when you make a to-do list, and you think you've got nothing better to do, that buying a new mirror would only take ten minutes of your time? Well that happens to me a lot, and eventually I figure I do have something better to do, and I don't have ten minutes.

Opening my eyes wide, I examined the hazel color with blue roots. Squinting them, I picked at the faint freckles that dotted lightly against my flushed morning face. Sticking my tongue out far and coughing a few times, I smiled and picked up my toothpaste.

With the brush still in my mouth, I slumped over to my old, hated, black phone that some cheap-o sales guy sold to me for a ridiculous 40 bucks, and quickly dialed his number.

"Stupid, frustrating man." I grumbled. I slumped back onto my bed, picking up my stuffed bunny, Shelby. A secret of mine. I like to cuddle with old stuffed animals.

Yes, I've been dealing with him for the pass three years, as a loyal employee. Yes, he is my boss, and no, I do hate him. Yes, I take my job seriously. No, I don't take him seriously. Yes, I did have a relationship with my boss. And no, I won't explain. It's one boring story I don't want to tell again, and a long road I'd rather stay away from. Let's keep it at we are now professional acquaintances. And no, he's not that nice to me, but yes, he takes my job seriously. Ah, no, he's not at all patient, but yes, the job pays incredibly well, and it's worth it.

I would like to be called a photojournalist like my job title is correctly written, but ah, I'm just called that local photographer girl that strolls around the streets of Philadelphia snapping pictures of strangers that happen to be printed in the Philadelphia Bell. No, it's not the greatest paper in the world, but hey! It's printed in color!

And yes, I love it here.

Holding the phone firmly to my ear, I waited for his annoying voice.

"'Bout time you got up!" He screeched.

I sighed and leaned on my dresser. "Good Morning, Jimmy." I snort at the little nickname I gave him years back, and could practically feel the anger radiating through the phone. And three...two...one...

"That's not my name! It's James, Alice. James. You need to get down here ASAP. That is, if you care about your job."

I frowned into the phone. "I love my job."

"Well, you may not have one for long. I got a story I need you to cover. It's important." And with that, he hung up the phone.

Hopping quickly into the shower, I washed my short, cropped almost-black hair, and quickly jumped out to get dressed. I have an obsession with bright colors. Yellows, greens and reds all mixed in a satisfying fashion; so much that I just smile at my reflection.

But today, I decided to keep it dark. Dark black tank top over a wrap grey sweater. The fall wasn't so kind to the tiny, and cool, harsh, sudden winds like to attack from time to time.

I slipped on my little gray boots which go just above my ankle but over my dark blue skinny jeans. I threw on my trench coat, clutched my camera and purse and was on my way out.

Ah, there's something about Philadelphia in the fall. The leaves, the colors, the whole are is beautiful. I happen to live on South 3rd street, near Penn's Landing, where the houses are old but renovated, and the cost of living in one of these legendary houses are well hundreds of thousands of dollars a year.

I mean, think about it, someone like, Benjamin Franklin's cousin could have lived in your house! Cool right? That should be worth half of your year's pay!

I snorted. If that were the case with me, I'd be homeless.

My apartment is over an old book shop, which I love. The romance books are what I indulge in, and the shop owner has to be the sweetest old woman I have ever met, But I must admit, her name does slip a bit...

What I dislike the most has to be, well, the place is green. The shop, I mean. The entire outside of the shop, including MY house, is green. I hate that color. Hate it. But Mrs...What's her face...Russi? Loves the color green, and I must respect her wishes, knowing that she's the reason the rent on my place is so cheap.

Edward, my brother, helped me buy it. It was a dump, completely, and we gutted the whole pace out and fixed it. He even helped me build a fireplace! It took 4 months, and we had to drive all the way back to Delaware to where he live just so I could sleep in a real bed for a day, but looking at my fabulous house now, it was worth the time.

I opened my door grabbing my purse and marched down the steps and past the Carousal Books entrance. Should I walk? Walking hasn't been my favourite thing to do. I mean, could remember being teased for having short legs and a quick stride. But now, I love to strut and show everyone my new things.

Well...when I actually have new things.

Pulling out my bike from the local rack, I quickly unlock a few locks I have tied up on the frame. Hopping on, I whizzed my way to work enjoying the deliciously crispy cool air.

Y'know...I'm glad I don't have a car. This way I can actually appreciate the scenery. But, I do want a Vespa. Or a mo-pad. I think I could get around a bit easier. I parked my bike quickly in front of that dear sandwich store call Stanley's and went in for a quick breakfast sandwich and maybe a coffee.

Jessica, a waitress, daughter of the owner and a really good friend of mine knew my routine and had my order ready before I even came in.

I was out just as quickly as I came in, and I was munching on the sandwich and gulping down the coffee, quickly throwing the wrappers in the garbage. I jumped on my bike in my haste to get to work.

I pulled up in front of my job, a little building, tons of blocks away from my apartment, and locked up my little baby properly. It was a gift from Edward, so I kept it in good condition.

Striding into the building, I quickly flashed my work ID to the security guard, Demetri. I never really get to talk to him, though I really want to. When I come to see him, he's always off or at lunch, or something. Makes me wonder what would happen if I had an actual conversation with him.

Skipping into the elevator, I sighed in content when I heard the elevator music. Even though it tasteless and corny, I mentally did the waltz with Leonard DiCaprio. Perfect moment. We dipped and twirled, completely at peace with the moment. He dipped me and I lifted my lovely foot as he leaned in to kiss me...

"...Alice?"

I jumped and hesitated like a child caught with its hand in a cookie jar. I stuttered and blinked rapidly, a tick that I have when I'm nervous, and looked up from the floor to see who was calling me.

"You might want to step out of the elevator before it closes again. Someone else might want to get on, yes?" Isabella said. I nodded like an idiot and awkwardly stepped out, and tried my best to move past her.

Isabella is the new girl, very pretty but incredibly awkward. She's a writer, one who I occasionally see wrapped up in some romance novel, smiling and laughing in her crowded little cubical but completely stone-faced when she's near others. It is very frustrating, especially when you're doing your hardest to get a word out of her. And even more embarrassing when the one moment you don't, she's right there.

I know everyone here, talk to them, get to know them better, but Isabella seems to be a mystery. Every time I get to try to know her better, she coils away like a groundhog that's seen its shadow, telling me that she has something to do, or another priority.

Come on. I can't be that bad. I mean, I can't be any worse. Right?

Instead of rushing away like she always does when I try to look her in the eye, she just stands there giving me a weird look.

"...Yes?" I ask, unsure of exactly why she was gazing at me that way.

She opens her mouth then shut it again. Can we please have one normal conversation? "I like your...shoes." Isabella mumbles. She turns to walk away, when I say 'thank you', and earn a little smile. There we go! Human interaction!

I fly over to my little cubical, all filled with energetic spark glazed over in a morning haze and a caffeine rush. My desk it very wide, covered in papers and pictures of office parties and family. It was covered in tickets from Showcase plays from Philly, and some of my finest articles. I even had a few pairs of shoes in my desk, so when a heel pops (which happens more often then you'd expect...) I'd have another pair just waiting for me.

I sit at my desk, turning on my computer and slipping my drive in. I have a couple of stories I'm working on, a couple that were assigned a few days ago. I also have the most fabulous pictures I took that would look amazing with them... and the cutest little head lines...

I wait until I'm actually comfortable, sitting in my bright blue chair, and slip on my black, thick framed glasses.

And three...two...one...

"Alice!" James yells, as he marched over to me, his tie a really ugly shade of green. "What the hell took you so long?"

I open my mouth to answer, and then close it, knowing it won't matter.

"Are you finished yet? That article I asked you to write..." He snaps his fingers as if he's trying to remember, and I interrupt.

"The one about-"

"I remember! The one about the strike for Septa, the bus company. I gave that to you three days ago, I need it now." He demands, and folds his oh so muscular arms.

"Sent it already." I say matter-of-factly and sit back in my plushy chair.

"You..." He blackberry bleeps, and his quickly brings it up and checks it. Clearing his throat, his glares at me and raises an eyebrow.

"Well then, I want a 300 word piece on Hotdog Stand location rights. I need it by this afternoon, just after lunch, a clear photo and a tasteful title. Or I'm giving it to Vicky." He turned on his heels, and walked into his secluded office in the far right corner of the room

I stick my tongue out in his direction as he walks away, giving me the complete satisfaction of him not knowing that I just mocked him. Then I gave a quick glare at "Vicky" was scowling at me from across the room.

Victoria. Victoria Reed to be exact has to be the most horrible person I have ever met. Sure she was a writer for the Philadelphia Inquirer, but it doesn't give her the right to be a complete bitch to everyone. Especially me. Apparently, she wants my job, and does everything in her power to get it. And she's -according to everyone here at the office-is a bit too obvious about it. She has the world's fakest red hair that she gets unprofessionally dyed, and tons of cheap jewlery she likes tp put on everyday.

I sigh and start my research, quickly searching random things up in Google, hoping to find anything of interest. The thing with me now is that I get all the boring projects. I wish he'd give me the exciting news, the big stuff, the kind of lick-your-fingers-and-turn-all-the-way-to-page-three-to-read kind of exciting. I used to, when Jimmy and I went out. Every since, we split, he's been a ass hole. Eric, the world's cutest writer and probably one of my best friends, scooted over and gave me his 'gossip at pull steam' smile.

"So, you wouldn't guess what I heard James say yesterday to our unfriendly red-head..." He said, raising his eyebrows. God, I love this guy.

"What?" I asked, trying to bite a smile back.

"He told her a promotion is just 'one night out' away..." He wiggled his eyebrows. People tend to make the mistake of assuming Eric's homosexual. I just think he's incrediblely lovable.

"Do you think she's fall for that?" I chuckle out. I mean seriously. James has tried that date promotion thing on too many employees. She can't be that shallow.

Before he could answer we hear something fall onto the floor, and the newbie Isabella rushing to pick it up. Eric gives me a look and sneaks away before I could snatch his collar and pull him back. When that Isabella girl passed, an opportunity of getting to know her better rose, and I motioned her over. I couldn't let it get away.

"Hey, talk to me, I'm incredibly bored." I groaned and sat back in my chair. "Anything happen lately?"

"Uh..."

"Oh, c'mon. I know you're not a shy one! I mean, look at your eyes! They're so twinkly!" I wiggled my fingers I pulled out a chair, hoping she'd sit. She looks around her as if beckoning for help, but sits anyway. I can't explain the sudden rush of energy that bubbled when she did. It made me feel as if I accomplished something.

Well I did. I made and non-sociable girl with drabby clothes say something to me twice in one day.

"Ok, I'm not. I just like to be quiet on my first days. Get to know what kind of people I'm working with, y'know?" She said, crossing her legs. She looked up at the ceiling and shrugged, answered my unsaid question.

"You've only been here a month." I say, laughing when she gave me a wry look. This is when I notice her brown hair and eyes a bit more closely. Isabella bit her lip and played with her fingers.

"It's way better than where I'm from. I'm from Forks, Washington. Loved writing, loved journalism. Liked traveling. Came to Philly and fell in love with it. So I got a job here." She smiled which resembled a grimace. Isabella-a name that I'm starting to dislike- rubbed her hands together and tried to avoid me again.

"So, why here?" I ask. Before she gets up and hides or something.

"That's the thing. I've heard Philadelphia is quite the comfort place. Cheese steaks, pretzels, hoagies..." She trailed off, blushing.

"All you here about Philadelphia is the food?" I asked, laughing. She laughed too, which I noticed was really sweet. There we go! We've gotten somewhere!

"Yeah, pretty much, and the history. It's really pretty out here! Like you just stepped into a different century."

"I agree." We were silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. She got up, and walked around to her cubical that happens to be right across from me-how convenient-, and pull over her chair that was obviously more comfortable

We talked some more, minutes going by, which are so valuable when you're a writer. She talked about her family, how her mom and step-dad live in Florida and her dad lives all the way in Forks. We weren't even concentrated on the work, until James appeared behind Bella.

Yea, my new nickname for her. Isabella's too...formal. Just when we started to really make a conversation, James storms over with the scowl I think is permanently etched on his face. Unfortunately, I can't help but to ignore him when he stands there for the next three minutes.

"Please, tell me you're done, Alice." James glared at me. Unable to hold back a smile, which seemed inappropriate for some reason, maybe because he was furious with me? I shook my head.

"Do you even have an outline?" He asked.

"Uh...Yes." I showed it to him on the screen and pointed.

James blew out a breath, tapped his foot, and clicked his teeth. "Alice." I didn't even care to answer, knowing he'll say whatever he wants to say. So I waited. "I suggest you go out and get your quotes, or I may never get the story completed in time. Yes? No? Vicky would love to have it." James turned and smiled at her.

He didn't even wait for my reply, instead just, again, turned on his heels and strode back to his office. Sometimes I wish he was the way he used to be. Before, he was...more...life like.

Some times I wish I had a bit more confidence, and tell exactly where to stick his damn quotes. Sighing, I put my jacket back on, closed my laptop, turned my phone on and turned the volume up, started out the door, waving at Bella and Eric all at the same time. Running back to my desk really quick, I snatched up a pen and a mini notebook. I'm used to do things a bit traditional.

And, Three...two...one...

"Oh, and Alice?"

I turned, cocking my head to the side.

"I need those quotes for editing in 30 minutes." He smiled, and disappeared back into his office.

I sighed again, but was truly expecting at least forty five minutes. How is someone supposed to interview three of four working people 10:00 in the morning? And to top it, find them, decide which quotes are usable all in about ten minutes, ride my bike back to the building and up to James all in a half an hour. Impossible, right?

Unlocking my bike, I mentally created a schedule. Find three vendors, get seven quotes all in fifteen minutes. In between, snap photos of vendors and have it all ready for James five minutes early. Sighing, I hopped on my bike, and started down the road.

I hope some one else is having a better Tuesday than me.

So...what are you thinking right now? Liking it? Well, if you do or don't, there's a review button just below there and you...you guessed it! You click it!