I don't own these characters. They are the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. I only borrow them. No humans are permanently harmed through my actions, though I do confess to harassing, annoying, torturing, and exasperating them – just because it's fun. I make no money from my little stories, sad day. I only play in the sandbox, I didn't build it.

Author's Note: This idea has been floating around for a while. I hope to update once or twice a month. It won't be too long. I just need to get this story out. :p

Sugar and Arsenic

Chapter One: I Hate Everything About You

He'd seen a lot of spoiled brats in his time, but this one took the cake. Or the bagel in this case. The last bagel. The very last cinnamon bagel. It was enough to make a grown man cry, and he might have been tempted if he hadn't known for a fact that his Nonna had baked him up a special batch of his favorite treat and there were six of the aromatic little miracles waiting for him at the bakery kitchen even as he watched the spoiled brat scarf down the bagel. His bagel. Or it would have been if the world was a fair place and all was right in the universe.

She moved through the crowd like a queen. A rather pissed off, bratty, foot-stomping queen, true, but still pretty damned regal. Easy on the eyes most definitely, but Edward had a feeling she'd be damned hard on the ego. And the heart. That one had heart shredding she-wolf written all over her perfect face. No wonder she went through leading men with such abandon. Edward ducked under the bill of his baseball cap and pretended to be occupied. Not that she'd even spared him as much as a glance. She snatched up that bagel – his bagel – and stomped off. Probably to yell at someone for breathing too loudly or something equally heinous.

Rolling his eyes, Edward turned his attention to restocking the table laden with the baked goodies that his Nonna had sent him over with. If he hadn't loved the old woman with every fiber of his being, he would have told her she was just plug out of luck. But she'd let her rheumy old green eyes tear up, and had sniffed into her hankie, and reminded him of how she and his grandfather had built up their bakery business over the last six decades and how...

Yeah, so that was how he ended up playing delivery boy on a movie set. He understood why this particular job meant so much to his Nonna, but still... It would have been nice to feel a little less pressure to step up and be the good grandson. He shook his head. Like that would ever happen. His Nonna had him right where she wanted him.

Wordlessly, he had spread his Nonna's little bits of baked heaven and watched as the horde gathered to devour them. But the moment the queen bitch had shown up, everyone stepped aside and let her have her pick.

She'd picked the last cinnamon bagel, of course. He had had that last one tucked sort of off to the side, not really hiding it, but not really putting it right out there either. His Nonna had made him promise to put all the stuff on the table, and like a good boy, he'd done as he was told. Sort of. Edward couldn't fault her taste, but its loss still stung. He'd really been looking forward to sinking his teeth into it. Instead, he was watching someone he'd only seen on the big screen eat it. His bagel. The very last damned cinnamon bagel. His mouth still watered in useless anticipation.

Snorting softly to himself, he made sure everything was stocked and arranged and moved back out of the way so that the masses could descend yet again. He plucked his book out of the bag he'd carried in with him, settled into a rather uncomfortable hard chair and began to read, blocking out the sounds and voices and chaos that came along with a movie set.

He heard snatches of conversation and every word he heard just made him that much happier that he'd never wanted to be a star. He wondered why in the hell anyone would want to live like this.

"...could you believe how fat she's gotten! She must be a size four at least..." Edward rolled his eyes, figuring he'd be doing a lot of that while he helped out his Nonna.

"I swear to God if she makes us do one more take of that stupid scene because she's flubbed her lines, I'll-"

"You'll do nothing, because she'll fire your ass and run you out of the business," another voice retorted. Edward wanted to smile, but didn't want them to know he was listening, so he turned the page.

He couldn't remember a damn thing he'd read but it was okay. He'd already read this book half a dozen times.

"...at least you don't have to listen to her bitch about the early morning calls every single morning," a woman interjected. "Every morning, the same old song and dance. Like I didn't have to be here an hour earlier than her!"

"Quit your whining, all of you, and get back to work," a familiar voice boomed out. Edward looked up to see his old friend Emmett lumbering toward the table. He got up from his chair and walked around the table to get the signature bear hug from his buddy.

"Son of a bitch!" Emmett called out. "What the hell are you doing here, Ed?"

Emmett surveyed the table which was practically groaning under the weight of its treasured. Edward shrugged. "Nonna called in a favor," he explained briefly.

"No shit, this is from the bakery? Your Nonna's bakery?" Emmett asked eagerly, already grabbing a plate and loading it up. He stopped and looked. "Damn it, no cinnamon bagels?"

Edward laughed and shook his head. "Well, I brought some, but the star of this little show grabbed the last one."

Emmett scowled and gave a little shake of his head. "Figures," he muttered.

"Oh?" Edward asked with a quirk of his brow. "Is all not perfect in paradise?" He nudged Emmett. "Last I heard, you were all stoked about getting an actual job in 'the industry' as I recall."

"Don't remind me," Emmett said. "It's glamorized bullshit."

"What? Your job or the industry?" Edward asked teasingly.

"Both," Emmett replied immediately. "I thought you were in Florida anyway."

"Summer break," Edward said. "Figured I'd come out here and spend time with Nonna, and the next thing I know, I'm her delivery boy."

"Guilted you into it, huh?" Emmett asked with a smirk.

"Took her about thirty seconds," Edward replied with a mixture of admiration and chagrin.

"That's Nonna, for you," Emmett said. "Tell her I said hey, will you?"

"Tell her yourself," Edward suggested. "Come over for dinner on Saturday. She's baking."

"Who's cooking?"

Edward tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "My cousin," he admitted.

"Which one?"

"You know which one," Edward scoffed. "Which one is the best damned cook in the state of California?"

"Shit," Emmett said. "You know Rose doesn't like me."

"Well she did at one time," Edward reminded him. "Then you blew it."

"Yeah, I blew it," Emmett said. "Still, she didn't have to break my finger."

"That was an accident," Edward said. "If she'd been looking to really injure you, you wouldn't have gotten out of the hospital for a week."

"True," Emmett said. "I'll think about it. But don't mention it to Rosie, okay?"

"Can I tell Nonna?"

"Hell no," Emmett said. "If you do, she'll be on the phone to Rosie first thing and then..." He shook his head. "If I can make it, it'll be a nice surprise for your Nonna."

"And a shitty one for Rose," Edward predicted.

Emmett grinned and shrugged. "We'll have to see how it plays out." He looked behind him. "Listen, I gotta go. This director is chafing my ass big time."

"Tell your dad hi for me," Edward said with a wink.

"Pray for me, buddy," Emmett said with a long suffering sigh. "I've got to go tell Bella the Bitch that we're rewriting some scenes."

"Bella the bitch?"

Emmett gave a wide grin. "Yeah, it's just a term of affection among us lowly mortals here on the set." He shrugged his massive shoulders. "Besides, she snagged the last cinnamon bagel. The woman's evil, pure and simple."