I want to start off by thanking you for stopping by. -waves- hi! This was originally an O/S but once I got to what is now the end of Ch. 1 I realized the story wanted to expand. It won't be as long as my other WIP, You Drive Me Wild.

To those reading the story: read the ending A/N. It's beyond important. I'm not kidding.

Anyway, coming back to The Cellphone Tango, the wonderful, amazing lil hummingbird graciously agreed to beta this piece of fluff. For that I thank her; she and I share a mutual lust for Joseph Morgan, a mutual obsession with multiple cups of coffee, a mutual hate for Jessica Stanley (read her Twilight story to know why exactly) and a mutual love for all things Edward. You, HB are my fanfiction soulmate and I thank you every day for not rejecting my proposal.

Summary: Edward in a rut and is in desperate need of a little action. Enter Dr. McCarty and his trusty little prescription pad! There's nothing medical about his prescription though. Who knew doctors could prescribe phone sex operators, champagne rooms and booze? This a love letter to the play Chicago and all things jazz. AH, canon pairings, dirty talking, lemons. You know, the good stuff.

Disclaimer: This author in no way is gaining a profit from the use any published literature and/or other media. She rejects otherwise and it is for the sole entertainment of she and the website's- fanfiction dot net- audience.

Doctor Knows Best

"Cellophane/ Mister Cellophane/ Shoulda been my name/ Mister Cellophane/ 'Cause you can look right through me/ Walk right by me/ And never know I'm there.." Mr. Cellophane, John Kandor & Fred Ebb

~.~.~.

Time stands still.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Or at least it feels like it does.

Another manuscript. Another used up red pen. Another stress headache. Another Advil. Another drive home. To an empty apartment where the monotony of my life continues.

After the Lean Cuisine– and I'm a man. Definitely not part of Nestlé's target demographic. Another glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, another browse through basic cable. Another shower where I jack off to images of faceless women who find me interesting and want to be with me. Another lonely, dreamless night.

The only real thing the breaks up the day was the occasional phone call to my mother and sister

~.~.~.

"Won't you even entertain the thought?" Alice asked me for the third time during our ten-minute phone call. She was well-meaning, sure but it seemed that it was her life's mission to find me a girlfriend. I loved my sister dearly and I saw all of her qualities just like I saw her faults.

Having married and with a little boy all by the time she was twenty-six, Alice considered me her project. "As your big sister I need to help you out in life Edward," she would say whenever I needed help. Be it, tying my shoes, helping with my history homework even though she had no clue, asking a girl out to prom, I even when I didn't ask for help. Like now.

"Alice," I pinch the bridge of my nose as I hold my home phone to my ear. I start to feel today's stress headache come back full force. So much for the Advil.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I can find a girlfriend all by myself? And need I remind you that you're two minutes older than me?" She scoffed, "that's one-hundred-and-twenty seconds." I always reminded her whenever I brought up the difference in 'ages.'

In response her answer was always the same: "doesn't matter. Fact is that I'm older." I could almost see her roll her eyes. "Listen Edward, it's a smart thing to do. You can move out here with us and you'll get to meet my girlfriends. I know this girl-"

I had to stop her before she could call my boss, tell him I'm quitting, putting my condo on the market, find me a 'sensible' place in Texas that 'only' costs four years of my yearly salary and send a moving service before having someone put me on a plane to Corpus Christi.

And she would.

"Alice, Alice listen to me. I'm happy here in Seattle. I like my job, and I can find a girl by my-," fucking, "-self." It's as if my conscience believes that if I continue to repeat those words she'll actually listen. Don't hold your breath. "But-"

"No buts, that's it. I'm done talking about it." I hope my voice sounds definitive but I know better, Alice'll drop the subject for now but bring it up next time we talk. I hear her sigh before launching into a speech on how Finn, her two year old son is the most photogenic in her Mommy and Me classes at her local park and how she emailed me and Mom new photos of him in various outfits, locations, themes as he cries, laughs, wails and—once, throws up.

"And ohmygosh! He makes the cutest little sound every time he uses the potty! It's like a little oof!" She's not done telling me about Finn's new duck costume when she changes the subject to her son's little noises. "Really?" I ask not being able to help the slightest hint of yearning.

What would it be like to annoy the crap out of my sister about my baby's bathroom habits? I cut through the fantasy in a second; I stop myself before I truly begin to regret not getting my nose out of my books and not learned how to talk to a woman without turning into an awkward and selective mute.

"Yes!" Alice screeches excitedly, "he's just too cute Edward! Check your email and open the photos I sent you—look up photo number fifty six! That's kind of like the little face he makes when he makes a pooh-pooh!"

"I will once I find my phone." I lie looking at my phone sitting on my right side table as I sit in my black leather recliner in my slate blue and black living room. The truth is that I don't want to see Finn's cute little face scrunched up in his little 'pooh-pooh' face.

I love the kid, don't get me wrong. I'm the greatest godfather/uncle in the world according to his dad. Not in the 'I'm going to plug that fucker for not paying his dues' but rather in the 'you are in charge of my son if anything were to happen to me or my husband' kind of way. But right now, right this very second I'm too depressed to let myself imagine a little auburn boy instead of a dirty blonde as he goes potty.

"You lose that thing more than once a day!"

"Yeah well…"

I hear movement on the line before Alice announces Jasper's return home from working at a family law firm. "Hi honey!" Her voice becomes low signaling her slight departure from our conversation. "I'm talking to Edward right now but I have dinner under the tray." I sigh yet again. A mixture of jealousy, sadness, and self-deprecation swims in my subconscious. "Hold on Edward, Jasper just came home!" She tells me quickly.

"Ok." I answer feebly. I look up at the blue ceiling above me, another sigh.

After a minute of murmuring and the faint cry of a toddler, Alice is back on the phone with me, "Eddie do you mind if I call you tomorrow? Finn just woke up from his little cat nap a little upset."

I wince at that stupid nickname but don't correct her. There's no use, "sure."

"Ok bye! Love you little brother."

"Love-" Click. "…you." I finish my meager goodbye before hitting the End button myself. I hang the phone on its cradle and think about the empty life I've led.

Coming from a well-off family in Seattle, a well-established gynecologist and a sought-after architect, I'd chosen to go into the exciting field of publishing. I was what I called a figurehead executive in a small publishing house. I'd been assistant editor at Oak & Fig Publishing Inc. for three years now and it didn't seem like I was moving upwards.

My boss, Aro Volturi liked to make you believe he was your friend but really he was only looking out for his best interest. Wouldn't his best interest be to let me move up? I knew I was talented and I could spot a bestseller like an oil fire in the ocean. I just didn't understand.

I heave yet another sigh—outsiders might confuse me for someone that suffered a type of respiratory syndrome or illness. Yet, another thing that might alienate me from the masses.

~.~.~.

"The author wants forty percent once the sales reach two hundred thou." My silver-tongued personal assistant told me. I scoffed, "we signed a contract. It stays at thirty."

"I told her that but she feels she deserves more." Piper told me. "Edward, mate she's driving me around the bend," she growled.

I sighed, I usually enjoyed her musical and colorful New Zealand accent but hearing her displeasure made me more afraid for my life than anything else. "Send her a copy of the contract with the royalties highlighted. Don't say anything on my behalf or your thoughts," I look at her pointedly because there's the chance that she'll do just that. She just grins in response. "Piper, you write something like last time and you'll be boarding a plane back to Wellington."

"Who are you? ICE?" She grinned, "my paperwork is in order." She finished writing down my requests with a flourish knowing I'm kidding. Her short black hair reminds me of Alice making me wonder if I'd subconsciously hired Piper because of her resemblance to my sister. The thought scares me.

"Yeah well you'll be wishing something equally as horrible if they weren't." I answer dejectedly not able to come up with anything better. She lets out a bark. Another thing she and Alice have in common, both are extremely loud.

She stands up forcing me to crane my neck. One of the two things she and Alice don't share is height and age. Piper was tall drink of water at 5'11" while Alice was a petite 5'2". Piper is thirty five and Alice is twenty eight, when Alice is in town and comes by the office people confuse them as mother/daughter. Something they enjoy.

"But why do you have an accent and you don't?" Is a common question, Piper always replies with something like: "I dropped her so many times her beautiful Kiwi accent sort of fell out and now she has an uncouth American accent." People actually fall for it for about ten seconds. Ten seconds. That seems like an eternity.

"No wonder we have the 'stupid' stereotype."

"You're not so bad, you gave us McDonald's and obesity."

"And what did you give us, O Great New Zealander?"

"A hot personal assistant." She winked at me semi flirtatiously. A puma through and through.

I'd rolled my eyes at the time of the conversation and I did it again as I replayed it in my head. "Earth to Edward," present Piper snapped her fingers in front of me, "oh good you're still with us. Listen I need to go to the dairy after work, is it all right if I send Webber and her agent this totally and absolutely professional reminder and head out?"

"You mean the convenience store?" I cock my eyebrow grinning. We had a game going. We would use as much slang from our respective countries and see if the other could figure it out. Unfortunately, she caught mine and deciphered them better than I hers because of American saturation in the world's media. I knew the common British terms they shared with Oceania but the score was in her favor.

She smirks, getting up from her chair. "Good on you mate, you got it."

"Barely."

"So Bossman," she looked over her notes, "is that all?"

"Yes," I nod looking at my own paperwork, "don't forget I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow at nine and I won't be in 'til ten thirty."

"I have it written down." She nods, "Dr. McCarty's married right?"

"Yes." I raise my eyes but keep my neck down hoping I look serious. "Don't you dare hit on my cousin's husband Piper." She waves her notepad dismissively as she turns for the door, "I can take that Barbie wannabe."

"She's knows five different martial arts and is a personal trainer. I'm sure she can take you."

"Whatevs."

"What are you? Thirteen?"

"Oh shut up and get back to work!" I could hear her laughing as she closed the door behind her. I chuckled going back to my own work. Piper kept me sane and for some reason she was the only woman I wasn't intimidated by even though she was known to but nutcracker. And by nutcracker I mean a ballbuster.

I roll my eyes at my inner monologue. Way to describe a word only to replace it with an equally vague term. "Ugh." I put my pen down and rub my eyes. Why is this important?

I manage to finish my work and leave the office for the day. I don't run into Aro or his equally false brothers Marcus and Caius for which I am internally grateful to the powers above. I walk to my reliable Honda and drive home.

Again, I run through my day. Another manuscript, another headache, another realization that I'm driving home to an empty apartment with an equally empty bed.

I get to a red light as the common overcast sky began to release water droplets. Another rainy day in Seattle.

"'And then he ran into my knife…he ran into my knife ten times!'" Someone sang-yelled in the car next to me. I'd been so caught up in my self-wallowing I hadn't noticed the loud music coming from the beat-up red flatbed truck next to me.

I did a double-take. What the hell? Why do I feel like I stepped back into a fifties farm in Alabama? The truck was old and the paint was peeling off and missing its 'new' paint veneer although I doubted that truck had much of anything 'new.'

"'If you'd have been there, if you'd have seen it I betcha you would have done the same!'" I was able to make out a young brunette singing along to a familiar tune, she had humor and concentration all over her face. She must have felt someone looking at her because she turned in my direction and let her bottom lip fall.

I can't really make out her face, I think to myself, but I think she might be cute…

I have a feeling she was embarrassed for being caught staring so I turn back to my windshield and stare at the red light with unneeded intensity. The light changes and I drive off feeling bad for staring and consequently causing her to feel embarrassed. But if she didn't want to be stared at, why then is she singing at the top of her lungs? I can't help but grin as I remember her mouth drop when she looked at me.

Something about it makes me want to smile and I don't know why.

~.~.~.

"Ok," Emmett McCarty looked over my chart, we were in his office after my routine checkup. I'd just come back from changing into my street clothes, thankful I didn't have to be in that flimsy hospital gown much longer. "Seems like you're all good, man."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He nods flipping over a page to look at another, "your vitals are up. Blood pressure's fine,

sugars are normal. There's really nothing to report other than keep up the good work. There are still some tests we need to send to the lab but I'm sure you're fine."

"Why do I have these headaches then?"

"Stress." He tells me simply, putting down my test results, "you have to find ways to relieve it Edward."

"I go to the gym, Rose's gym and I work if off." He smiles weakly, "I laugh as much as I can—Piper's crazy comments do that, I bring as little work home as possible. I don't understand."

"I know you do but sometimes that's not enough." He looks at me and I noticed something flash in his eyes before he replaced it with a serious face. I didn't like that. "What?"

"When was the last time you had intercourse?"

I coughed on air. I didn't see my doctor then, I saw my friend. "Emmett!"

"I'm not asking you as your buddy, I'm asking you as your doctor. Notice how I used 'intercourse' and not 'laid'? Mature word versus friendly word."

"You shouldn't be saying sex in that context if you're not old enough to have it so both are mature words." He shook his head, "whatever. So tell me, as your doctor I'm asking. When was the last time you had intercourse?" He looks at my chart again. "You've been tested for all STD's twice this year, both times came clean. The thing is, these are routine not requested tests." He looked at me pointedly.

"Bree was my last." I tell him feeling sorry for myself. My ex who cheated on me with a pilot—the traveling salesman of this generation. Emmett nodded looking serious, scribbling something down in his prescription pad. Was he prescribing me muscle relaxers? Was this ethical? Was this legal? But then again, what does me not having sex have to do with my stress levels?

"Here," he hands me the note, I take it gingerly and almost rip it once I read it.

For tonight- Call 1800.102.6990. Ask for Jezebells.

For tomorrow- Go to Pussycat with Emmett and Garrett and enter the Champagne Room. (THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT MR. CULLEN- Don't forget to get wasted, you've never gotten wasted.)

Take small doses every other day—with or without the Thunder Twins.

"What the-" fuck "-is this?" I throw the offending paper in front of him. "Easy, easy Eddie." He grabs the paper looking at his closed door. "This is for you to see and stash away. You know how much trouble I could get if the board sees this on my prescription pad in my writing?"

"You'd deserve it."

"Come on man," he groans, "I know I said I was your doctor and I was asking you as such but I couldn't help myself." I wait for the grin, the guffaw, the teasing but they don't come. "You're my friend and I want to help you."

"You know I can't pick up women, and besides what's up with that?"

"Bree really put you through the ringer huh?" He looks at me, folding the note into eights and drops it in the front pocket of his white robe. Dr. Emmett McCarty MD proudly etched in blue over it.

"It's been a year and even then you know Bree was a fluke." I tell him referring to the fact that she'd been my first girlfriend. My first everything.

I'd met her at UDub our sophomore year and for some reason she found me 'cute.' I was comfortable around her, sharing our mutual love for all things literature. This escalated and right before I was asked to be assistant editor, we moved in together. She'd gotten a more lucrative job as copy editor at Scholastic. Not because of her position but because Scholastic was a national publishing house whereas Oak & Fig was a small private business. She had a better possibility of going up than I did. And she knew it.

We were comfortable with each other, I'd thought our sex life was good that is until Captain Newton knocked on my door asking for Bree. At first she denied the affair but after looking at my sorry excuse of a face she admitted it.

I may be a lot of things but I knew I couldn't be with someone that didn't want to be with me. She'd expected me to wallow and beg but instead I moved out gave her the apartment and left. I'd heard from the grapevine she'd told everyone she'd left me and asked for the apartment but I knew better.

She thought I rolled over but I knew her paycheck wouldn't be able to handle the lease, no matter who she worked for. I guess being an assistant editor's paycheck is better than a copy editor's when you take away the names and stare at the ink.

Not wanting to be taken advantage of again, I threw myself in my work and forgot about women in general. Not that I had a line of women waiting for Bree and I to break up—I would've been lucky to see tumbleweed in their place. I'd been a nerd all my life, like I said Bree was a fluke and even then she wasn't happy with me.

But a year later, I was now missing the companionship and even wishing for children.

I was a sorry excuse of a man.

"What's the phone number for?" I ignored the Emmett's question wanting to get off the subject.

Although asking for clarification on his 'prescription' was somewhat counterintuitive. "It's the sex phone center I used to call in college before I met Rose."

I rolled my eyes. I should have known. A one-eight-hundred number telling me to ask for 'Jezebells' and the general tone of his idiotic prescription should have told me that.

"You know 'Jezebells' personally?" I raised an eyebrow, Emmett grinned. "No, she was a college classmate and she worked for this place while she went to Dartmouth."

"A doctor too?" I asked finding it comical that a faceless doctor might have a secret life as a phone sex operator. "Or a businesswoman?"

"Nope, Theater Major. She's a Washington native too, that's why we hit it off. Last I heard she moved back here after she got her Major and now works at the Fifth Avenue Theater. As a matter of fact, Rose and I are going to see Chicago next week. I think she's in it."

"Cool." I said dismissively to the updated info he had on Jezebells. "If she's a successful theater actress why recommend I ask for her assuming I take your ill-advised instruction?"

"Because knowing her, she'd still want to 'hone her acting skills.'" He shrugged, "you know how actors are, always wanting to be more believable. You get your kicks and she gets experience talking dirty."

"Thanks Em." I answered him dryly and feeling slightly offended. "Rub it in." He slid back in his chair and looked at me with a shocked expression. "Sorry I didn't mean it that way."

"No, no. We all know sex operators fake it. I just don't appreciate your recommendation, college friend or not."

"Edward-"

"Leave it." I grabbed my briefcase and coat from the empty chair next to me. "Yes, I haven't slept with someone in a year and yes I'm a lonely loser who needs emotional charity from his friends. But I have my pride."

"Dude-"

"I'll see you later. Piper's calling me already." I told him glancing at my Android. Piper Davis and her photo showed up on my screen. "Edward, please man. I just want to-"

"See you this weekend at my parents' house."

I left not bothering to feel bad and answered Piper's call. "I thought you wouldn't answer." She ignored my 'hello' and went straight to the reason why she was calling. I appreciated the fact. "Webber's agent wants to talk to you ASAP, apparently she's gone AWOL until we reach a more 'desirable' compromise."

The stress headache came out from hiding and I wasn't even at work yet. I threw myself into solving the ever-growing Webber problem and hoped Aro wouldn't find out about the trouble one of our star authors was causing.

~.~.~.

Three days, three Advils, the reappearance of a reluctant writer and no relief in sight later I was driving to my parents' house in Pinehurst for their monthly family dinner. Another Saturday night deflecting questions about my personal life or lack thereof, stalled professional life and all around sad state of affairs.

Rosalie, my cousin and Emmett's wife opened the door when I rang the bell. "This is your parents' house Edward." She told me taking my coat, "why knock?"

"I don't know. I haven't lived here for ten years."

"Everyone else walks in and they've never lived here take away the holiday weekends and family reunions."

"I don't know Rose." I shrugged not knowing what to say. "I respect my parents' privacy I guess." She shook her head making her long straight hair move delicately. Rose was what people considered stunningly beautiful. Tall, naturally thin, high cheekbones, chilled blue eyes and beautiful blond hair made her the stereotypical supermodel type.

She didn't take much advantage of her beauty but she didn't shy away from it either. Her physique had helped her become a successful physical trainer. Women wanted to look like her and men wanted to look at her.

Thank god Emmett is a confident guy. I thought as I walked through my parents' foyer into the tastefully decorated living room. Rose's parents, Uncle Rob and Aunt Jenny were having a heated conversation with Garrett, Emmett's twin brother.

"Tell me, what's the point then? Other than shenanigans and venereal diseases?" Rob asked moving his hand, unfortunately he had a glass of whiskey in his hand and it sloshed around. Apparently that wasn't the only thing that was sloshed.

"The shenanigans." Garrett answered dryly and sarcastically. I grinned to myself, Garrett and at one time Emmett too—was a well-known playboy. He gave Charlie Harper and Charlie Sheen for that matter, a run for their money. And they sure as hell had a lot of money, fictional or otherwise. "My twin brother is a doctor so I don't have to worry about not getting regular testing."

"Well at least he's honest." Aunt Jenny said lifting her own drink and bowing slightly. Garrett smiled. Aunt Jenny had the same reputation when she'd been growing up. "Hey Edward!" He smiled coming over to me and slapping me on my back. He blew the wind out of me making him laugh.

The McCarty brothers were a hearty pair even though Emmett was bulky and Garrett was slight. Kind of like how Alice was tiny and I was tall. "Emmett tells me we're going to Pussycat in your honor."

Great.

"No sorry," I wheezed still trying to find my voice, "he has it wrong."

"Really?" Garrett's face fell, "and here I thought I would finally see the dirty side of Edward A Cullen!"

"Excuse me?" My mother's voice was heard from the entrance to the living room, greeaaat.

"Hey Mom." I smiled going to her and ignoring the conversation entirely. She smiled warmly and extended her arms to me. I leaned down and hugged her, kissing her cheek in the process. The faint smell of honeysuckle and roses filled my senses. I sighed contently feeling comforted.

I was almost thirty and I still needed a hug from my mom to feel better. Sue me.

"Hey sweetie, I've missed you." We parted but she held my shoulders studying my face. "You haven't called and I know you spoke to Alice last week."

"I'm sorry but I've been swamped at work."

"So that means you're not able to take five minutes from your busy schedule to let your mother know you're eating and sleeping well?" I felt five again as I looked at the tiny woman that was my mother.

"Which by the way, it looks like you haven't." She looked me over disapprovingly.

"Mom, I've been well." I tried pulling away but she held on to me, "you don't look well. Look at you."

"Leave him be Esme." My father walked in with Emmett in tow, I gave him a thankful glance to which he returned with a knowing look. "I'm sure you'll fix him right up."

"Hey Dad." Mom actually let me go and clicked her tongue; I walked to him and hugged him too. Instead of honeysuckle and roses, I smelled leather and whiskey. I guess today is the day to get plastered.

"Hey Eddie." Emmett grinned, I winced. He knew how much I hated that stupid nickname. "Hey Emmett."

"So what's this about the dirty side of you Edward?" Mom asked me, I knew she would eventually.

"Nothing, Garrett is just being an idiot."

"Hey!"

Emmett laughed going to Rose, "couldn't agree more."

"Well now that everyone's here let's have dinner." Mom told us clapping her hands and looking suspicious.

Once we were seated and eating, the questions began, "so tell us Edward," Uncle Rob asked, "anyone special to brag about?"

"No." I looked at my half-eaten chicken primavera decidedly. "Really?" He asked with an amused tone, I didn't like it one bit. "Really." I drank half of my wine in one gulp for something to do.

"Edward, I heard Angela Webber sold two hundred thousand copies." Rosalie commented nervously. I knew she was trying to stop her father from embarrassing her further. I nodded briskly, "Three hundred actually, yesterday." Something that should have made me happy since I was the one that pushed the Volturi brothers to publish the first Angela Webber's teen fantasy series.

It was so popular that six months after publishing we were backlogged with orders from all over the English-speaking world and had various requests from international houses for the rights to translate.

Oak & Fig was becoming a powerhouse, not to toot my own horn but like J.K. Rowling and a lowly personal assistant, the big wigs had declined the first manuscript of Angela's until I got a hold of it and gave her some notes.

She fixed it and after a lot of convincing Caius gave it a second look and asked Aro to publish it. The only issue was Angela's growing ego and desire for more royalties. She deserved it yes, but she was asking way too much. And she hasn't even started on the sequel.

Which reminds me.

I covertly typed up a text to Angela bypassing Piper, Angela, I need the first fifteen chapters of the sequel by the end of the month. Edward A Cullen.

"Edward?" Rose called my attention. I stowed my phone away and looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked you if the rumors are true about the movie?"

"Sorry?"

"I read in one of the tabloids that Hollywood is interested in making the book into a movie. That could mean a lot for you and O&F right?"

"Oh yeah." I nodded lamely. Aro had been over the moon and was personally handling the Hollywood machine something I was thankful for. I was an editor not a producer.

"So it's true?" My father asked, very interested.

"Yes."

"Wow." Aunt Jenny said looking impressed, "weren't you the one to discover this author?"

"Somewhat."

"Don't be humble Edward. You know you worked with her and fixed her mistakes." Rose told me, I grinned and said nothing. I guess I wasn't such a loser. My phone buzzed in my pocket, knowing it was Angela since I didn't text unless it was business.

"I'm not trying to be humble," I told Rose cutting a piece of my juicy chicken, "Angela is a great author, I just wish she didn't lose sight of the ground."

"Ooh one of those huh?" Garrett laughed apologetically. I nodded wanting for a change of subject, thankfully Mom noticed and steered the conversation in Garrett's cellphone repair shop. Even though it wasn't as noteworthy as his brother's medical career, he made very good money with the too-common smartphone spider screens and selling accessories. He made a very good living that was for sure.

I looked at my phone. Edward, I haven't had time for the sequel; you know how it is. Angela.

Feeling a surge of anger I typed away, no I don't know how it is. Fifteen chapters. Self-edited. End of the month. Edward A Cullen.

I felt another headache coming; I'd promised Aro Angela would present the first draft of the sequel in a month and a half having asked a-still unknown Angela who promised to work on it right away. That was before her instant fame got in the way. Well, I guess I'm going to have to remind Angela where she was six months ago.

I called Aro and he told me to work on the sequel after the European book tour. Angela Webber.

Motherfu-! She went behind my back and undermined me. Feeling a hot surge of anger and ignoring everyone I typed an angry text. You spoke to Aro about our agreement? Why? You and I signed a contract stipulating the publishing schedule. You promised me you would get right to it last October. Right after your creditors repo'ed your car and right before you were evicted from your studio apartment. Edward A Cullen. It was almost three text pages but I didn't care. I knew that it wasn't the time to email her instead, she wouldn't answer.

"Edward honey?" Mom called me out, I looked at her trying to control the bubbling anger. "What's the matter?"

"A prima donna writer."

"Oh."

"What's she up to?" Emmett asked furring his bushy eyebrows, everyone mirrored his expression. "We signed a contract at the beginning of our venture that the trilogy would have a set release schedule. We're six months in and still no chapters; she went behind my back to talk to Aro and even though he calls the shots I feel like she ratted me out to the principal. It's very unprofessional."

"So when does she expect to write it?"

"After the book tour ends. The problem is that because of the first book's success, it's been extended to Europe and Australia."

"I thought she already completed it." Rose drank her wine; I nodded reminding her it'd just mentioned its expansion. "Oh. Right."

"I know it's not a big deal but like I said, it bothers me that she is proving to be so unprofessional. It could cause problems in the long run." I noted kicking myself for monopolizing my mother's dinner and consequently showing my family and friends what a push over I was.

The anger rose and I felt the contents of my stomach stir in a very unpleasant way. I got up, "I'm sorry Mom but I think I'm going to excuse myself." I got up wanting to be alone. "Honey you're leaving?"

"Yes." I sighed, "I apologize to all of you for this but I'd rather be alone and muse things over in my own space." Mom and Dad got up looking concerned but I just made myself into the anteroom and found my coat in the coatroom off the entrance. "I'll call you tomorrow." I said to Mom noticing Rose walking up to us.

"Can't you talk to this Angela and make her see reason?"

"I plan to ask her to come into my office tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday son, I doubt she'll agree." I cursed internally, slapping my hand to my forehead. I needed to nip this in the bud and I had a feeling Angela would only get worse if I didn't. "Monday's around the corner, don't worry."

"Yeah." I slugged my coat on and made my way out, "wait Edward, I need to talk to you." Rose said as I opened the large glass-paneled doors to my parent's small Macmansion. I nodded saying goodbye to my parents once again before they made their way back to their guests in the dining room. "What's up Rose?"

"I uh…" She inched forward, her high heels clicking on the white tile floor, "I found this in Emmett's white coat." She extended a tightly folded square. Remembering that Emmett had put his 'prescription' there I knew that's what it was. I shook my head in defeat, now my gorgeous cousin who had to fight off advances knew that I was dry. Great.

"I know," she rushed out, "I know you didn't want people to find out especially about Emmett's stupid advice but I think you should take it."

"What?" I gaped at her not knowing what to think.

"Listen, that's why porn exists right? And sex toys." She shrugged still having the little white square extended out for me to take in between her perfect melon pink nails. I stared at it feeling it mocking me. "What are you trying to say?"

"Emmett told me after I almost clobbered him with an iron-clad skillet thinking it was for him—you know how he is. I thought he'd used his prescription pad as a notepad." I relieved Emmett of some anger and indignation, after all we'd been in his office and the sanctity of the doctor-patient relations was intact no matter how said doctor and patient knew each other. "I know it's personal but I think you should do it."

"Why?"

"Because everyone needs a little release if you know what I mean."

"You're telling me to whore myself around?"

"No," she shook her head, "but everyone's had one night stands and/or used someone for personal gratification."

"I can't believe you're telling me this!" I gasped stepping away slightly; she looked at the floor but didn't seem to feel apologetic about her words. "The Pussycat has regular testing, I know because some of the girls go to Emmett's hospital and he's treated one or two. I also know the owner because she was a client of mine when I first opened the gym, and she has strict rules the girls must abide by."

"So?"

"Take advantage." She shrugged holding my gaze. My mouth dropped not knowing what to say. "These girls do this because it's a job and men—and some women, do this for various reasons. Everybody wins."

"I don't think so." I scoffed turning around and walking out. I thought the conversation was over but Rosalie followed me out. "Here."

"No."

"Take it Edward." I stalked off to my car feeling the cold wind pick up, there would be another drizzle over the night. I unlocked my car and jumped in, Rose flung the square in and I didn't bother to throw it out then. She would just pick it up and find a way to give it to me another day. I'll throw it out once I get home.

"I love you Cuz!"

"Right!" I yelled in response keeping my eyes away from hers. I drove off to my apartment near Pike Place Market pushing everything away. I didn't need anything other than a hot shower, a drink and sleep. Yeah right.

~.~.~.

I stared at the unfolded paper as it faced the ceiling on my coffee table. I'd changed into a threadbare shirt and basketball shorts since I didn't like walking around in boxers. I was nursing a double scotch in between my standoff with a white a piece of paper.

"Rose and Emmett act like you're my salvation."

Silence.

"Are you?"

Silence.

I chuckled at myself, taking a deep pull from my glass. The delicious, warm alcohol coats my dry mouth, "so I'm a loser."

Silence.

"This makes me an even bigger loser. Look at me," I said to no paper in particular, "talking to an inanimate object!"

Silence.

"What would happen if I do call? What would happen if I do go to Pussycat and convince one with one of its wonderful employees to fuck me?" I don't verbally curse and for me to vocalize the F word is out of my element. Consider my mother's attempt to keep Alice and I 'clean." Alice curses like a sailor but only when Mom and Dad aren't around. I on the other hand keep it to myself.

I stare at the paper for another 'response.'

Silence.

I drink again, this time thinking about the possibilities. My cock is hard now thinking about faceless women dancing above me in tiny outfits as suggestive music plays in the background. I groan feeling it twitch. It's been so long.

I look at the clock on my mantle and see that it's still early enough to go to Pussycat but then I hear the rolling water outside and the fact that I'm on my second double and I know there's no way in hell

I'm driving like this. I groan at myself.

Just when I decide to take the unrequested advice of my cousin and her husband, I shoot myself in the foot by drinking too much.

I feel warm and somewhat relaxed as I reach for the piece of paper and dial the phone number without further thought. A sexy voice greets me, I ask for Jezebells and I'm told she's long stopped working for that call center. "Would you like me to connect you to another one of our very sexy and capable girls?"

"No." I hear myself say, "I want Jezebells."

"Are you sure, baby?"

Why the fuck is she calling me 'baby'?

"Yes. They told me she's a good actress." The woman lets out a free laugh, "we exotic performers aren't actresses baby."

"I don't want to talk to you. I want to talk to Jezebells."

"I see you're a little drunk darling," she giggles, I wince remembering how Mom calls me darling every now and then. There goes any type of sexual fantasy with this one. "But since you want to talk to Jez I'll give you the last phone number she left with us when she moved back home."

"Where am I calling?"

"New Hampshire."

"Oh." Right. She went to Dartmouth.

"Are you ready?"

"Hold on." I groaned feeling my semi-flaccid cock as I moved extended my hand to grab the famous prescription note and retrieved a pen from my nearby briefcase. "Go ahead."

I wonder if Jezebells is on call ;)

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