"Bells, I found you a job!" my half sister Rosalie yelled from our workroom. "You'll never guess who it is!"

"Who?" I asked, coming out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel through my damp hair.

"Alice Cullen saw your picture and wants you as a model! Can you believe it?"

"Wait, Alice Cullen? The Alice Cullen wants me to be a model for one of her paintings? Well hot damn!"

"Uh huh! She said here that you can come over tonight and start, she'll give you all the information you want then. Oh, put some clothes on! Please!"

"Oh, come on Rose, we're mature adults, aren't we? We've seen each other in our birthday suits practically everyday. We grew up together, remember? Unless you found out you play for the other team," I teased.

"I like guys, thank you very much. I have way more experience than you anyway, so ha!"

"Yes, you've had your first kiss. Bravo," I said sarcastically, walking into my room to put on some clothes.

"Thanks. Oh, and you should know that our window was open and Eric saw everything you have to offer."

"Yeah, I noticed. He collapsed as soon as I turned around. I don't really care. Maybe he had a heart attack and died."

"Ooh, you are so bad, Bella."

"Not nearly as much as you, Rose."

"Sure," she drawled out. "How's the pickin's?"

"Oh, hush. You know I need to go shopping, even if I do hate it. But, can't do it tonight!"

"I knew I shouldn't have told you that before we went shopping!" she yelled, slamming her fist on the desk. "You suck, Bella."

"Hey," I snapped, coming back out, top in hand, glaring. "It was your idea. All I did was come out of the shower."

Rose stood and started pacing around the brightly lit orange painted room. Each room of our apartment was painted a different color. Rose's room was red, mine was teal, and the guest bedroom was green. The kitchen was yellow, the living room was purple, and the bathroom was a pale blue. Our entryway was pink and white; the studio was all white with a set of black doors that led to a closet filled with our photography equipment. It was colorful. Like us. We loved color.

Rose had two jobs, one, as a mechanic, and two, as a professional photographer. I had two jobs, one, as a professional model, and two, as a professional actress. We had lived together in this flat ever since my parents kicked us out of the house. Rose is a year older than me, her mother, Renee, married my father, Charlie, after her husband, Phil, died in a car accident. Then I came along, the biggest klutz in history. I'm twenty, and have been to the emergency room at least twice as many times. The worst was probably when I fell through a second story window after tripping down a flight of stairs. I finally wrapped the towel around my body, rolling my eyes when I saw the guy across the street take a deep breath and turn away. I picked up a rubber band and a marble and opened my own window. Rose was leaning against my doorframe, smirking.

"Getting back at the nerd for being a peeping tom?"

"Yep. Come to enjoy the show?"

"Definitely," she said gleefully. "I've never been able to turn him off like you can. And you're the one who turned him on in the first place."

"You just have to do something that makes him need to spend money outside of his carefully planned budget," I said, stretching the rubber band and taking aim. "A crack in his window ought to do it." I let go and watched the marble whiz across the alleyway, and smiled in satisfaction when I heard the telltale tinkling of shattered glass. "There we go." I saw Eric run into the room and put on my best horrified face as I stared at him. And I didn't have to try too hard, seeing as he wasn't wearing a shirt. And his tan lines were awful, going from pale to pasty in a single, terrifying line. I dropped to the floor of the apartment and gagged at Rose, who was laughing hysterically, albeit quietly.

"Oh, Bella, that is so great. You are pure evil," she cackled.

"Nah, not evil, just insanely independent. I need to take care of myself sometimes, and that means being able to stand up to jerks who want me for my body."

"There is nothing wrong with your body."

"That's what she said," I snickered. Rose glared at me.

"If the guy was hot enough, I wouldn't care that he loved my body."

"I wouldn't care if he loved it, I just don't want him to want me only for my body. I want to be able to have conversations with him, eye to eye, not eye to chest. Comprende?"

"Si, senorita. I understand. And that's true," she mused. "I wouldn't want I guy that I couldn't talk to, that would suck. Plus, he has to make me laugh my self out of my pouts," she said, imitating.

"Very nice, Rose," I laughed. "The men have always been partial to your pouts."

"True, true. Don't you think its safe to get up now?" she asked from her position out of sight against the door frame. "He left a few minutes ago, probably out buying a new window."

"Or coming over here," I muttered, loud enough for Rose to hear. The doorbell rang. "I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" I screamed, scaring Rose so bad that she fell over, landing on her butt on the hard wooden floor.

"Now you've done it, Bella!" she screamed back. "I'll have bruises for a week! What if I get a job, huh? I will have bruises!" I laughed silently, tears streaming down my face. I winked and rearranged it into a mask of sorrow and went to the door. I opened it and saw three men in my doorway, one without a shirt, and two others who were staring at my lack of a top, which I had dropped in the incident at the window. My black metallic bra gleamed subtly in the light from the florescent bubs of the hallway. I sniffed pathetically, adding to the effect of the screaming.

"What do you want?" I asked in a dull, watery tone. "I have a couple problems to sort out, right now, so if you'll excuse me," I sniffed again, moving backwards to close the door, "I should probably go."

"Are you sure we can't help you with anything?" a young blonde haired, blue eyed man asked. "I can talk the other woman, if you want."

"Rosalie doesn't want to talk," I said. The next man, a brown head filled with dreads spoke up.

"Why would that matter if she was bothering you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Maybe because she's my sister," I snarled, slamming the door in their faces. Rose was there, choking on the couch.

"You- ha, can't- stop- sister, help-" she broke off, wheezing. I chuckled with her.

"So, when was I supposed to meet Alice? And where?" I asked as Rose breathed deeply, trying to control herself. When she could breathe normally, she sat up and wiped her eyes, before looking at me solemnly. "You are meeting the Alice Cullen at her house a few miles away from here. At six, I think. Or was it five? Go check," she ordered, pointing to the computer. "I am not your secretary, remember?"

"Yeah, sure. I can't stand secretaries anyway," I muttered, thinking back to the one I had for two weeks. She thought she was so much better than me, and told me almost everyday that I should dye my hair blonde because people like blonde models better. Ha. She wasn't even a model. She just thought she was. She was ugly anyway. Okay, I know I shouldn't judge, but she was a slut and a whore. I swear I saw her on a corner one night after I came home from a job.

"Ooh, I know," she cackled. "Lauren was a toe rag. But if you want food, you'd better eat something before you go. This address is a while out of town."

"I can't eat," I whined. "I'm afraid I'll puke if I do."

"And you'll fain if you don't," she teased.

"Rose," I moaned. "That was one time, after I had the flu for a week. It was no wonder I couldn't stand like he wanted me to!" The old bat had wanted me to stand on one foot on a pedestal so I looked like a stone angel or something. My balance isn't all that great on flat, steady, immoveable surfaces, let alone on a small, rocking, four-and-a-half-feet-above-the-ground cylinder. Grr.