Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the characters

This is going to have some sex later, so it's rated M. Also, be warned: This is not a realistic story. AT ALL. In any way. This could never happen in the real world, I know. So no complaining later.

XXX

"So, what do you think?" Jessica gave a twirl, making the flowing dress she was wearing wave, and looked expectantly at me. "Hot or not?"

I pretended to think and eyed the dress critically, knowing full well she would get the dress whether I said yes or not.

"Hot. Mike's going to love it. Pink is definitely your color."

Jessica laughed "You know what, I think so too! Okay, let's buy it," she decided, stepping into the changing room and closing the door. "You sure you don't want anything Bella?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure, Jess. I…" Okay, Bella, deep breaths, she won't kill you, breathe in, breathe out. Here goes nothing… "Um, see, I don't…I don't know if I'm going anyway," I rushed out the last part, and then waited for her reaction with bated breath.

3…

2…

1…

"WHAT! Isabella Marie Swan, you are going to the party if I have to get Emmett to drag you by the hair and sit on you to stop you escaping!" Jessica fumed at me, outraged that her claim to fame would be deserting her at the one party where the paparazzi were sure to be.

Jessica and I had been 'friends' for the past year or so, and although I suspected that she didn't like me one bit and only used me just so that she would get an occasional picture on the front of some teen magazine, I didn't complain. Jess was nicer than some of the other bitches that followed me around, and at least she was completely up front about using me for publicity. She never denied the fact that she wanted me at parties so she could climb the social ladder. And at least she didn't drool over Emmett, my bodyguard.

I first met Emmett when my dad and I conducted interviews with tens of thousands of applicants from all over the country. Apparently, being my bodyguard is a very desirable job to have. We had just finished interrogating a guy who, quite frankly, scared the crap out of me, when Emmett walked into the room wearing a shirt that said 'FBI: Female Body Inspector'. He walked right past the chair across from my dad and me and plunked himself down on the sofa next to me.

The first thing that sprang to my mind when I saw him was Oh God. The Hulk reincarnated. My father passed him a form and asked him to tell us about himself and his hobbies; Emmett replied that his name was Emmett and he liked girls, margaritas and Sex on the Beach.

"I'm sorry, what?" Charlie had asked, clearly praying that he'd misheard and that Emmett would turn out to be a normal guy looking for a slightly abnormal job.

Emmett leaned forward, and said, very clearly and very slowly: "My name is Emmett Cullen. I like girls. They are the female equivalent of Superman without his cape and tights. I also," he continued, winking at me, "like Sex on the Beach. It is a drink. It is also something you do on the beach. I like both. Do you have any questions?"

He caught me laughing and turned to me. "I think Charlie Chaplin has hearing problems. So, you must be Isabella. That's quite a mouthful isn't it? What about-"

"-Bella," I cut him off. "You can call me Bella." Emmett scrunched up his nose comically and considered my offer.

"Okay, so Charlie and Bellsy. Nice. Cute. So, Charlie Dickens, your daughter's off limits, correct? Don't worry, Bells, you're not my type anyway." He grinned and nudged me, ruffling my hair.

"What do you think of the receptionist?" he asked me in a very obvious stage whisper.

My dad almost had a heart attack, but I decided I liked Emmett and hired him on the spot. Charlie fired him not two hours later, but of course I hired him back again. Now, Emmett's been working with us for seven months and he's been fired 32 times already. He, of course, finds it hilarious that he has my approval and his life's goal is to get fired and re-hired 671 times before he's thirty.

I didn't think I would be able to handle my life if it wasn't for Emmett. He and Jake, the gardener's son, made life a whole lot more fun for me. It wasn't easy being the daughter of a famous actress and a politician, and they helped me loosen up and enjoy my life.

"Bella! Did you not hear a word I just said?" Jessica shook her head angrily. "Honestly. But whatever, you just need to come to this party! All the paps will be there, Bella. Don't you want me to get into OK!? Please, Bella?" She looked at me pleadingly. "Please?"

"Fine," I huffed, crossing my arms. "But one picture, then I'm leaving, all right?"

She squealed. "Bella, you're the best! I'm going to go get ready. Pick you up at nine!"

I sighed as she ran off. I really didn't want to go to this party.

"BELLSY!" Emmett. I couldn't see him, but he was close.

"What, Emmett?" I called back, ignoring the looks from the other shoppers. "Where are you anyway?"

"I'm stuck!" Emmett replied sadly, rattling something. I grinned, rolling my eyes. Trust Emmett to get stuck in a mall. A mall! Where can you get stuck in a freaking mall?

"Um…okay…where?"

He coughed. "Well, I'm behind you in one of the changing rooms. There's a shop assistant in here with me, and …yeah. The door's jammed and I don't want to knock it out if you're standing there so…move. And tell the happy couple to move while you're at it."

I turned around and headed back for the changing rooms. It was basically a long corridor with a few rooms on either side. A middle-aged couple was standing in the middle of the corridor, hugging each other. Ah. The 'happy couple' Emmett was referring to.

"No, Cindy, I love you more!" The man chuckled, kissing his wife's nose. Ugh. Could you get any more puke-worthy?

"No, honey, I love you more! No one can love anyone as much as I love you!" Okaaay. Apparently you could.

"Oh, Cindy, my darling I-"

"-He loves you, you love him. How sweet! Now can you move, someone's trying to knock one of the doors down!" I pushed them both out of the way, shouted "It's clear!" to Emmett, and waited impatiently for him to come out.

When he managed to break the door down, the shop assistant fluttered off, mumbling embarrassed apologies, which I ignored. I stared pointedly at Emmett.

"What?" he asked, ruffling his hair. "I was just, you know, checking if anyone wanted to kill you with laser beams in the changing rooms or something and Anna came by to help and- Oh come on, Bells, she's just so hot!" I giggled; knowing Emmett he'd seriously been checking for laser guns in the room.

"Oops, look at the time," Emmett dragged me out of the store by my elbow, no doubt wanting to escape the charges for damaging the door. "Let's go home, Bellsy, I'm hungry!"

Somehow, we managed to escape the store without any fines whatsoever.

"You know, Emmett, you're really going to have to stop with all the hook-up-with-a-chick-and-put-Bella's-life-in-danger-while-you're-making-out-with-her stuff," I said crossly as we walked, eyeing his bags which were no doubt filled with sex toys. Emmett grinned down at me and ruffled my hair..

"Aww, Bells, you know you love me anyway," he chuckled, grinning at me. "Oh, but look at these awesome shirts I found while you were shopping with Jessica," he said, rummaging through the bags in his arms.

"Look!" he proudly held up a black shirt with the words 'Objects below are larger than they appear' and a big red arrow pointing down.

"And look at this one. It's my favorite…" he held up another shirt, this time with two arrows, one pointing down and one pointing up. The arrow pointing up said 'The Man'. The arrow pointing down said 'The Legend'.

"Do you think I should wear it to that charity ball thing your parents are organizing?" he asked me, deliberating. I stared at him, wondering if he was serious.

"Emmett, the place will be crawling with politicians and A-list actors…Oh my God, you are a genius! That is the most brilliant idea you have ever come up with!" He smiled at me, pleased with my response.

"Should I go buy another one? There was this one that said 'I love boobies!' and it was awesome!" He pulled me back towards the store, half carrying me, and half dragging me. "Come on! Charlie Dickens will be so mad if I wear it!"

He suddenly skidded to a halt, and his giant grin faded slightly. "Why does Charlie hate me? I never did anything to him…hey Bellsy, you know what would make me feel better? A giant smoothie! To take away my hurt feelings at his hatred for me when I never did anything."

I rolled my eyes at his lame (and random) attempt to garner sympathy.

"Yeah, except imply that you'd made out with his seventeen-year-old daughter- which by the way I did not appreciate, call him Charlie Dickens in front of the paparazzi, spray paint his Mercedes, start a catfight between the cook and the maid, break into the Oscars and threaten to kill everyone with a black-painted water gun filled with ketchup…" He had, too. I was dragged along to the ceremony a few months ago, which was not half as glamorous and exciting as it seems on TV.. The night before, I had complained to Emmett for about an hour and a half about the unfairness of life, and Emmett, being Emmett, came up with a brilliant plan.

"A masked villain!" he'd exclaimed, clapping his hands excitedly and skipping around the room. I'd just stared at him, wondering if a 300-pound man skipping nimbly on his toes defied the laws of physics.

"What? A masked villain? Are you serious?" I waved my hands in front of his face to get his attention. "How is that going to get me out of the Oscars?"

Emmett smiled mysteriously, or in a way that he thought looked mysterious. "All will be revealed in due time, Bellsy…"

"Oh, cut the crap Em! What're you planning?" Please let this be a good plan, please please please please!

Emmett leaned forward slyly. "Okay. Well, you know how there's that break in between for the audience to get up and stuff…" He lowered his voice to a murmur and whispered the rest of the plan in my ear. By the end, I was smiling from ear to ear. And that was why I agreed to go to the Oscars without any fuss, prompting my parents to put me in a front row seat with Mike and Angela Weber so they could "keep an eye on me". Which suited me just fine, because it meant that I had a clear view of Emmett in a black hoodie, black converse and a black eye mask stroll up onto the stage like he owned it. I will never forget the look on the presenter's face when he grabbed the mike out of his hand and pulled out his (toy) gun.

"Okay people, we can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. I have a gun; it's pointed at Brad Pitt's head. If you shoot me, I shoot him.. Capiche?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "I want all your money, all valuables: watches, purses, wallets, jewelry, everything."

Wait, I thought, as there was a huge scramble to get purses and remove earrings. This isn't part of the plan. Well, Bella, it's Emmett, just go with the flow. I slowly started to take off my necklace. Mom caught my eye from her seat across the room and she mouthed, 'Don't worry, we'll be fine' to me.

Emmett winked conspicuously at me from up on the stage. "Don't worry, everyone, none of your lives are in danger. Well, except for Brad Pitt. Because he's my get out of jail free card." Brad Pitt paled and gripped the edges of his seat. Emmett, oblivious to this, beamed at us all. "Don't you love monopoly? I do. I could play it all day."

Liar! He couldn't last 15 minutes playing monopoly. Apparently the fact that you have to pay money and get change is way above his intelligence level. I scowled at him. Monopoly was my game, not his! Moron.

Emmett was scratching his ear absent mindedly, the gun still pointed straight ahead. I could see the other security guards were trying hard not to laugh; they knew about the plan because I'd told them. I couldn't let them shoot Emmett, could I? Some of the celebrities were looking around nervously, trying to figure out if it was part of the show or not. Emmett chose that moment to scream loudly, and in a very high pitched voice, right into the microphone.

We all glared daggers at him as he laughed hysterically. "Sorry, sorry, that was just so funny! Your expressions…" He doubled over, clutching his side. "Hey, and no sulky faces! I am a mean scary villain so you will show me some respect!" He commanded, switching back to robber mode. "Now…I would like to play a little game with you all. I want someone on stage…now who should I pick, let me see, let me see…"

I groaned and buried my head in my arms. This could not end well. "ISA-BEL-LA! Yes you, Isabella Swan! Ding-ding-ding you're the lucky winner!"

Everyone stared worriedly at me as I slowly got up and walked to the stage. Well, I decided as Angela mouthed 'be brave,' I'm the daughter of drama queen Renee Swan. I might as well milk it for all I'm worth.

So as I strolled leisurely up to the steps, I gave a few sniffles and let a tear leak out the corner of my eye. Emmett applauded me, pretending to be happy that I was on stage, but really ecstatic about my little performance. I grinned back at him before pulling my face back into a nervous mask.

"Yes?" I asked him in my best timid voice.. He pretended to consider, scratching his nonexistent beard thoughtfully.

"What should I do with Charlie's angel? This is tough…yes, zis is very tough." I gave him a what-the-fuck look as he changed to a foreign accent. Of course, he didn't care.

"Vell, vell, vell. You know vat? I sink I am just going to take you vit me." He grabbed me around the waist and threw me over his shoulder as he walked off the stage amidst gasps and whimpers from the audience. "Do not vorry, Renee and Charlie, she vill be back at your house by 11 pm."

Charlie stood up furiously. "Put my daughter down immediately! Guards!" But the guards didn't attack him; on the contrary, they fell about laughing. Charlie paled and Renee collapsed on a chair. Emmett turned me around so he could whisper in my ear:

"Struggle a bit, and wait for the finale…press this button when I say now." He subtly handed me a small machine with a big red button on it. I did as he said, and we got closer and closer to the exit, Emmett's gun pointed at Brad Pitt's head the entire way.

"Bye now!" Emmett yelled as we left, and I immediately pressed the button, which made a very realistic gun sound, as Emmett shot ketchup all over Brad Pitt. Angelina Jolie fainted.

I was pulled out of my memories as Emmett chuckled fondly, remembering his short time splashed across the cover of every magazine: "Masked Villain Attempts to Murder Brad!" "Hollywood Heartthrob almost Killed by Psychopath!" "Brad's Near-Death Experience!" "Exclusive: Charlie on his Daughter's Kidnapping!"

"Ahhh…I am a genius, aren't I?" Emmett rubbed his hands together gleefully, still lost in the memories. "Now let's go buy us some shirts!" He started to race off again but I dragged my feet on the floor to stop us, nearly breaking my legs in the process.

"No, Emmett, we have to go. It's already five." He pouted at me, but reluctantly turned around to leave. We were just leaving the mall when he stopped abruptly, looking seriously at me.

"Wait…did you say you were going to the party? Tonight? Mike's party?" he asked me, his forehead scrunching up adorably. I laughed up at him.

"Yeah, Emmett, I did. Like five minutes ago. You're not the quickest, are you?" I snickered at him, sticking my tongue out when he playfully punched my arm.

"But Mike will probably have a ton of security guards there…I don't think I need to come," he said quietly, watching me closely to gauge my reaction. Truthfully, I wasn't bothered. Mike was one of Hollywood's It couple's sons, and he was desperate to keep his face 'bruise-less and beautiful', hence the millions of bodyguards.

"It's fine. I can probably avoid death, kidnappers, rapists, perverts, stalkers, obsessed fans, abductors and the paparazzi for one night," I agreed, smiling angelically up at him. Hey, I said I didn't care if he stayed home, I never said I wasn't going to give him a hard time about it.

Emmett smiled apologetically. "Thanks, Bellsy. We'll do something together the day after okay?"

I shook my head at him, knowing he felt guilty for ditching me. Emmett wasn't just my bodyguard; he was also one of my closest friends, although at 22 he was five years older than me. The years didn't really make a difference since Emmett was just a really, really, really big kid. A huge kid.

"Really, it's cool. I can handle being by myself for one night."

XXX

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