The Incredible Mister Cullen - Chapter 1

This is a new story that I am working on. It's basically Twilight but with "The Great Gatsby" mixed in. It's relatively easy to pick out the characters and there are a lot of changes that you can see easily. The characters are pretty easily to decipher. I hope you guys like it! And for those who read "Salvation", don't worry. I'm still working the sequel and it will hopefully be up really soon. :)

I do not own Twilight or "The Great Gatsby" and I am not trying to profit from either story in any way.

"These violent delights have violent ends,

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder…"

-From William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet"

Act II, Scene 6

Chapter I

When I moved to Forks, Washington, I didn't expect much. It was the rainiest place in the continental United States, but I promised my boyfriend that I would go there with him for the summer. My boyfriend, Mike Newton, and I had been attending a university in Phoenix, Arizona, and I had been looking forward to summer. I was as pale as a vampire, but I did love the sun. I loved the feel of it on my skin and loved its warmth; however, I couldn't tan to save my life. My skin didn't darken; I just turned red like a lobster, then peeled to be all white again. I had learned long ago to give up the dream of having a nice, sexy tan for the return to school. The only advantage of moving to Forks in the summer was that I would fit in with other people up there who looked like me: chalky, pasty white. Nevertheless, Mike had parents in Forks, and insisted that I went with him to meet his family.

My mother had also encouraged me to spend the summer there, thinking that Mike and I would spend our time doing recreational things like hiking, fishing, and spending time outdoors. Yet, there was another motive my mother had that I didn't find out about until she saw us off on the plane three days after school ended. "Go visit your cousin Esme Evenson and her husband, hmm?" she suggested in the quiet, furtive way she usually does when she hints at something she wants me to do.

Esme Evenson, formerly Esme Platt, was my older cousin. She'd gotten married five years ago to a man named Charles and the pair had moved up to Forks shortly after the wedding. I hadn't seen her since her wedding day, and really hadn't intended to. Esme and I had been relatively close when we were little, but she was about thirteen years older than me, and, I was eighteen years old when I moved to Forks, and Esme was thirty-one. Despite the age gap, we always seem to get along well, but it wasn't as if we were best friends or something. However, I knew that my mom would like me to renew old friendships if the opportunity was present.

When we did get to Washington, it was raining, and I was reluctant to exit the airport, but Mike eventually coaxed me into the taxi when it arrived. We had landed in Seattle since Forks had no airport of its own, and now had to endure the hour-long drive to the dreary little town that didn't even show up on a map. Mike was ecstatic about going back to his hometown and getting to see his old friends again. I wished that I could have shared his enthusiasm.

The thing about Mike Newton is that he was just so hyperactive; he was a ball of energy twenty-four seven. He was radiating vitality all the time—rain, snow, or shine—and it had a way of contaminating everyone in the room. I guess that that was one of things I loved about him; his endless supply of vigor. He wasn't bad looking either with short blond hair and baby blue eyes. Mike was just… a warm person who welcomed anyone and everyone in with open arms and a pat on the back. He was just a wonderful, eccentric, hilarious, loveable lunatic.

When we pulled into the town of Forks, we didn't even see buildings; just woods. But, hidden among that myriad of spruce trees was a miraculous white mansion that neither of us saw until we came into a break in the foliage. Here, was a massive driveway barred off with large, magnificent ion gates bolted to two pillars of marble. Beyond the iron gates was a colossal, snowy mansion that was at least four stories tall. It looked almost like a castle built with Victorian architecture, high towers, and lavish landscaping. It was absolutely awe-inspiring! Inside one of the pillars, a man sat flipping through a magazine. He looked up at us as we drove past before casually returning his attention to his reading material. We could now recognize the iron fencing that wove through the coniferous forest, branching off from the gigantic gate.

"Jesus Christ," Mike explained, still trying to catch a glimpse of the gates as they disappeared into the distance behind us. "Who lives there?"

"Oh, a fellow by the name of Cullen," the taxi driver explained. He glanced at us once through the rearview mirror before looking away again.

"Do you know his full name?" I asked. I was curious about the owner of that unbelievably beautiful mansion. What millionaire would take residence in the unimpressive town of Forks?

The driver shook his head ruefully. "I don't, I'm afraid. Everyone knows him as Cullen. I've been to a couple of his parties though. He throws him every weekend, all weekend! They're quite a riot, actually. You kids would probably enjoy it."

"We might have to go one day," Mike replied ardently, smiling out the windows at the trees that rushed past.

I nodded weakly. As much as I loved his energy, every now and then it just brought me down. I, like every inormal/i person in this world, got tired, and his endless supply of excitement just got to me sometimes. That moment, was one of those times. With him, the rain, and just the fact that I was in Forks and probably the farthest away from the sun I had ever been, I was in a pretty terrible mood.

The drive stopped not too far up ahead, and turned into a driveway on the same side of the road as the mansion was on. As we drove back through the winding path that meandered through the trees, the white mansion came into view again, and so did our house.

Cottage was a better word. It was small, quaint, and, from the outside, only seemed to have the bare necessities. Mike paid the cab driver while I moved toward the house. I stared at it a while, but soon lost interest; what really interested me, was the looming mansion that towered next to us. As the taxi driver sped away and Mike trudged over to me with our bags, I couldn't help but feel as if I were being watched.

"Bella! Come on!" Mike called from the porch. He set our bags down and began fumbling through his pockets searching for the keys to our new home. Still feeling mildly paranoid, I turned away from the great mansion next-door and slushed over through the mud to my boyfriend.

Mike finally found the keys in his coat pocket and opened the door for us. Inside, the house was surprisingly furnished. The vestibule was small, but it was nice with a long table along one wall with a vase of fake flowers on top. On the other wall, there was a coatrack that Mike immediately took advantage of. I wandered further into our three-room cottage, exploring where I would be living for the next four months. To my right was a small living room with one long couch, a small loveseat and a coffee table in the center. A piano was on the left wall of the living room and flowers adorned many of the tables. It was a nice, welcoming room with warm, reassuring colors. To the left was the kitchen-the least impressive room. It was small, crowded, and would definitely invoke my claustrophobia whenever I was inside it. I strategically avoided that room and walked down the hall until I reached a dead-end. A door barricaded me from traveling further, and I guessed that this had to be the bedroom. When I opened the door, I was greeted with a two-person bed with an aqua-blue quilt and a small closet on the left wall. To my right was a small dresser with a mirror hanging above it.

This was my house.

I heard Mike enter—his boots creating heavy sounds against the hardwood floor. His arms slid easily around my waist and pulled me to him. "Do you like it?" he asked quietly. He didn't kiss me-Mike rarely showed outright affection like this-just held me close to him.

I shrugged my shoulders, leaning against him. "I guess... I'm really not sure yet."

He smiled. "You will, Bella. I promise. In the next four months, I will make you love this place!"

The first day, we focused solely on unpacking, and by the end of the day, we weren't even close to being done. The next day, a Thursday, we spend the morning finishing what we had started, but we could not entirely devote ourselves to the task. At 4:30 PM, we departed for Mike's parents' house. When we arrived, Mr. and Mrs. Newton-well at least Mrs. Newton-rushed out of the house to greet us. Fortunately, it wasn't raining, allowing her to come all the way out to the car.

Mrs. Newton was a short, overweight woman with short golden hair and blue eyes. Her nose was abnormally large and often wore small, round spectacles. The only outward traits that Mike had inherited from her were her hair and her eyes. Their personalities were relatively similar-they were both constantly bursting with energy-but Mike seemed to slip in an odd depression when in her presence. Mike got most of his physical looks from his father; Mr. Newton was a very tall, muscular man with a rectangular face, a long, hooked nose, and a jutting chin. Standing side by side, Mr. Newton and Mike looked frighteningly similar. The only real differences were the hair color, eye color, and the fact that Mike's face was spotted with acne. Overall, Mr. and Mrs. Newton were a nice couple.

Mrs. Newton welcomed me instantly, showering me with praise and complements. "Mike never stops talking about you!" she exclaimed. "Every time he calls he goes on and on about you!" Mike blushed a deep shade of red and remained silent as Mrs. Newton continued to gush over me. Mr. Newton remained somewhat detached from us, but shot me a reassuring smile whenever we locked eyes.

For dinner, we had some kind of casserole. We sat around the mahogany table; we were all quiet apart from Mrs. Newton who chattered and gossiped away between bites. "Mike, do you remember that girl you dated your junior year? That Jessica Stanley? Well, I heard that she's dating some hoodlum in Seattle now, and he knocked her up just last autumn! I am so glad you dumped her, Michael. Bella is a much better girl than that old tramp, don't you think…?" Mrs. Newton went on and on, leaving little room for other conversation, or for anyone to comment on her never-ending monologue that was slowly turning into a soliloquy. Mike and Mr. Newton had given up trying to listen to her long ago, but I put in some effort to pay attention. Eventually, though, I gave in and focused only on the food that was on my place, blocking out the garrulous woman's words.

Our night with the Mr. and Mrs. Newton abruptly came to an end around 8:30 that evening when Mrs. Newton tried to bring out the family photo album to show off pictures of Mike as a baby. Red-faced and furious, Mike forcefully put his foot down and ushered me out of the house before I could see any pictures of him swimming around in the bathtub pretending to be a scuba diver.

When we arrived back at the cottage, the first thing we noticed was the miraculous mansion lit up brightly. It looked as if it was preparing for some grand festivity, but not a sound came from the adjacent property. There was no rain that night, but clouds were still crowded up in the sky, blocking out the moon's sliver light. Nevertheless, the mansion looked spectacular. I couldn't wait for there to be a clear night so I could truly see how it looked in the darkness. I couldn't imagine how beautiful it would be then.

Mike shook his head at the brilliant sight and paid the taxi driver. "How are we going to sleep?" he prompted as the cab sped off down the winding drive. He led the way, squelching through the saturated ground from the previous day's rain.

Greeting us on the porch was a beautiful bouquet of flowers consisting of lilies, carnations, and other delicate beauties. They sat in a porcelain vase that was painted a dark shade of blue with an emerald-green design over top of it. Onto the vase, a small card addressed to us was taped. Mike was going on and on about how we didn't know who they were from and with all the psychos in the world, they could be dangerous, but I ignored him and opened the card.

Inside, a short messaged was scrawled out on the paper in heavy ink and elegant script.

Dear Mr. Mike Newton and Miss Isabella Swan,

I wish to welcome you to the fine town of Forks, Washington. Consider the flowers a housewarming gift. I am pleased to be your new neighbor, and cannot wait to meet you in person.

Sincerely,

C. Cullen

The next day, a Friday, Mike called a cab and we headed out to the other side of Forks. All the way on the opposite side of house was another relatively large house—nowhere near as grand as the Cullen mansion, but still a sight worth beholding—where my cousin Esme lived. The house was right near the driveway, so we didn't need to wander back through the thick forest. It was large, but not as breathtaking as the Cullen mansion, and had traditional black shutters on every window, and had luscious shrubs and trees composing its landscaping. The porch was made up of mostly marble with two pillars on either side of the door to match. Right above the veranda was a large balcony that extended from the façade. Though not up to Cullen standards, it was still a striking house.

Upon exiting the car, the front doors flew open at once, and my beautiful cousin emerged. She wore a short, purple dress that clung to her curvy figure and a pair of white pumps. Her long, copious, caramel-colored hair billowed around her face as she descended the stairs toward us. Like always, Esme's face was clear of blemishes and she looked just as dazzling as ever. She embraced me instantly and squealed with happiness. "Oh, Bella, I've missed you!" she declared, pulling out of our hug. Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled as they stared at me a moment longer before turning their attention to Mike. "And this must be the famous Mike Newton Renée always tells me about!"

Mike smiled widely and shook her hand in a gentlemanly fashion, appearing to be pleased that his name was famous in my family.

"Come on, both of you! I can't wait for you to come inside!" Esme said, tugging at our hands gently. We both followed her seemingly entranced by her warm hospitality and her charismatic smile. There was something about my cousin that just drew people into her and made you want to be her friend. I had forgotten how enthralling she was in all the years we had been apart and just felt warm and fuzzy being in her presence again; she was definitely the life of the party.

Inside, her house was painted with whites and beiges, and hard hardwood flooring throughout the entrance hall. Esme led us down an ornamental corridor to the parlor. The parlor was tiled in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern. We had entered on the southern side of the room, and on the eastern side, there was an elaborate bar full of all different sorts of liquors, and on the western side was a set of white double doors that were predominantly glass. Most of the windows in the room had been opened, and the curtains curled around the room gracefully. There was a small couch facing away from us, and a few, expensive, leather chairs surrounding a glass coffee table. In one of the chairs was a handsome man with bronze hair and inviting green eyes. He looked up at me, but didn't smile; he simply looked away, uninterested. There was another man in the room—this one at the bar. He was tall with suntanned skin and light brown hair that reminded me of milk chocolate. He turned to face us, his eyes a few shades darker than his hair. His face was hard and square-shaped. His nose was large, but confined closely to his face. His skin looked leathery from the sun, and seemed to be stretched tightly over his broad-shouldered, erect body. He stood straight and displayed restrained movements as if he were struggling against bungee cords. He smiled, but didn't show his teeth, and simply raised his glass at us in greeting.

"Bella, Mike," Esme addressed us before motioning to the bronze-haired man in the chair. "This is Edward Masen. He went to the same university Charles did. And this"—she said motioning to the other man—"is my husband, Charles."

Charles came over to us and handed a drink to his wife. "Would either of you like one?"

"No thank you," I answered, shaking my head. "I can't drink; I'm only eighteen."

Charles shrugged his shoulders. "Who cares? It's not like you're driving home! Ol' Edward over there had one and he's eighteen too, you know."

Again, my eyes drifted over to Edward. He sat still in his chair, gazing out the two doors, aloof from the conversation. He didn't seem to enjoy the fact that he was here, and I couldn't help but wonder why he was so quiet and willingly remained a good distance away from the rest of us.

"I still think I'll pass," I said, returning my attention to Charles.

"Anyway," Esme interjected before Charles could pressure me any further. "Dinner should be ready by now, so why don't we all move this conversation into the dining room, hmm?" No one objected to Esme's suggestion, and we all followed her accepted lead to the dining room.

Dinner was served relatively early—it was only 3:00 PM—but it tasted delicious. Esme explained that she and Charles enjoyed fine dining and had had fish shipped in from the coast. I forgot what the name of it was—Esme spoke it too fast—but the seasonings on it made it delightful. In the middle of dinner, Mike excused himself to the restroom, which didn't surprise me. Mike always had a weak stomach, and fish rarely agreed with him.

Trying to ignore his absence we ate on, Esme and Charles doing most of the talking. "What exactly do you do, Bella?" Charles queried before stuffing another piece of fish into his mouth.

I looked at him briefly before returning my attention to my plate, focusing on cutting a piece of broccoli with my fork. "I'm currently a student at a university, but I intend to be a writer. Right now, Mike and I are employed by his mother who live in town. She owns "Newton's Olympic Outfitters", it's a sporting goods store."

"Oh we're familiar with it," Esme enthusiastically stated. "Charles and I adore the outdoors and often go hiking up in the mountains. Do you hike, Bella?"

Smiling, I shook my head. "Mike and I hiked once out in Phoenix. We went up to this plateau and on the way down I scraped my knee. You should remember how clumsy I am, Esme! Me and the outdoors don't really get along."

Esme gave me a knowing smile, clearly remembering all the times I used to trip, fall, or injure myself when we were children. "How about you Edward? Do you hike?"

The usually quiet man shrugged his shoulders. "A little," he confessed. It was the first time I had heard him speak all afternoon; his voice was deep and husky. It sounded as if his throat hurt him terribly and he had to rasp his words.

My cousin opened her mouth to say more, when the telephone rang. Everyone at the table went silent as the butler picked up the phone just outside of the dining room. "Hello?" we all heard him say. "No, Mr. Evenson is unavailable right now, may I take a message…? Okay… Kate Wilson… Got it…"

Charles let out a lot, disgusted sound that sounded like a growl and excused himself before rushing out of the room. Esme stared at the vase of flowers in the center of the table before swallowing. It looked as if someone had just slapped her across the face, or punched her in the gut. She looked at me and then Edward. "Excuse me just a moment," she whispered before shuffling out of the room after her husband.

Once she was gone, I decided to try to strike up a conversation with Edward. "So, how long have you—"

"Shh!" he instantly admonished, looking at the door where both of them had disappeared.

"I beg your pardon—" I began again, outraged that he felt he had the authority to shush me.

"Shh!" he hissed again. "I want to hear what happens."

I shot a glance at the door; neither were in sight but I could hear the quiet bickering. "Is something happening?"

"I thought everyone knew," Edward confessed, averting his gaze to me just for a moment. "Charles's got another woman in Seattle. You'd think she'd have the decency to respect mealtimes, don't you?"

Even though I knew the question was rhetorical, I couldn't help but reply. "I suppose so."

After the words left my lips, Esme came back into the room, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. "Well," she said as she sat down. She held her head up high and put on a smile as if nothing had happened. "After dinner, Bella, I want you to meet our son, Charles Junior. We call him Charley so no one gets confused."

Charles returned and sat in his seat without a word. Edward and I exchanged a glance, and I suddenly felt as if there was a secret between us now—we were, in a way, in cahoots, and it wouldn't be the last time either.

"Charles, I was just saying that I want Bella to see Charley after dinner," Esme told him.

Charles shook his head once. "Actually, I was planning Edward, Bella and Mike to Seattle."

Esme shot him an uncertain look. "Am I not invited?"
"Who will take care of Charley if you go?"

"We have a nanny, Charles," she reminded.

He clearly didn't want Esme to tag along. "Well… Charley likes having one of us home at night, and I thought you two liked spending the evenings alone together."

Esme looked away from him. To anyone else, her face would look impassive, but I remembered that face from when we were children; she was very angry, not close to bursting, but still furious. "As you wish, Charles," she surrendered, but her voice was strong.

A few moments later, Mike staggered into the room, holding a hand over his stomach. "Bella… I think I need to go home," he admitted.

"We can drop him off on the way to Seattle," Charles offered.

"You're going to Seattle?" Mike inquired. He was sweaty, out of breath, and there was spittle on his shirt; this was one of the times when I didn't love him as much as usual.

"Charles invited us, but I don't want to go if you're not coming," I lied. I wanted to see Seattle. I wanted to be back where there was life rather than small towns and rainy forests. I wanted to be around people again and have a party. Nevertheless, I had to stick by Mike's side. He stuck by mine whenever I was sick, so I had to do the same.

Mike, to my relief, shook his head. "No, you go ahead Bella. I know you like the city. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Besides, I know you don't exactly leap at an opportunity to spend the night with me when my stomach acts up."
I smiled at him. This is why I loved Mike Newton. "Thanks, Mike. I appreciate that."

"Well, what're we waiting for?" Charles prompted, rising from his chair.

Esme rose too, struggling to get us to stay. "You haven't even finished eating yet!" she protested. "Oh, please just stay a moment longer! Please—Bella, surely you want to see Charley... Oh, and Edward, Charles promised he'd show you the stables!"

Charles ushered us all out of the room leaving Esme standing there, tears brimming in her eyes. I wanted to stop. I wanted to go hug my cousin and spend the night with her, but Charles was herding us like we were cattle. Before I even knew it, we were outside. Thunder was booming overheard and the sky was darkening with the oncoming storm.

Esme stood on the steps looking defeated. She watched as pile into Charles's car and speed off toward Seattle, leaving her all alone. I watched helplessly as my cousin disappeared in the distance, agonized with the fact that she knew her husband was going to go cheat on her, and drag me into the whole affair.

A/N: Did you like this chapter? Leave a review and let me know! Remember that if you've liked what you've seen here and you wanna see more, click on my username to see more! 3