All Things Twilight belong to the Awesome Stephenie Meyer. The Pictures belong to their respective owners, and the songs and lyrics belong to the artists and the their respective record labels. The rest came from mah brain . . . Thanks to Miztrezboo for the challenge ;)
Loneliness
Don't lose your faith in me
And I will try not to lose faith in you
Don't put your trust in walls
'Cause walls will only crush you when they fall
Be Here Now by Ray LaMontagne
Emmett . . .
The dulcet tones of Rosalie Hale's voice were swirling around the huge venue. From where Edward and I were sat backstage, we could see her clear as day, but the audience beyond was a mere shadow occasionally caked in reds and blues as the lights danced above them.
This was the final stop on her world tour. A home crowd that wouldn't even recognize her if she was to walk by them on the street. She wore stage make-up and wigs, the colors always varying but her favorite was fire engine red because it matched most of her wardrobe changes.
Rosalie was the first person we'd signed when we'd decided to start up Grizzly Records, and she'd been worth every cent we'd spent on getting her to the level of fame she was at. She could work a crowd anywhere, and her improvised speeches in between sets had them hanging on every word she said.
The crowd weren't the only ones hanging on her every word either. Edward was leaned forward in his seat, his eyes wide as he watched her ass swinging to the beat of her music.
It wasn't exactly a new revelation. Edward had been enamored with her since the day he'd met her, and now he was finally getting to show the world exactly how he felt about her. He was planning on proposing the moment they were alone. Almost a year with her being gone had made him realize he didn't want to be without her.
He was my cousin; I loved him like a brother, but I still wasn't sure about his choice. Rosalie was an amazing person; she was beautiful, charismatic and oddly humble considering her success, but she wasn't what I would consider the settling type. I knew she loved Edward, she had since the beginning, but I wondered if it was enough.
Who was I kidding? I was simply jealous.
I tried to shake off that last thought as I sat back on the dilapidated couch. I didn't want Rosalie, so the jealousy in that respect was out, she was like the annoying kid sister you wanted to hook under your arm and rub her hair until it tuned into a giant birds nest.
No, I was jealous of their relationship. Their happiness. Edward had been smart about it; he knew what he wanted so he took it, and that was before we'd seen any kind of success. Now we were recognizable and women who were looking for a start in the industry were throwing themselves at us left and right. I couldn't trust that what they wanted was me anymore. Now I always had this cynical view that they wanted something else. Fame, money, a taste of the life.
Edward called me paranoid, but I was practical, and this was my reality.
The music cut off and the crowd cheered in excitement. I could see Rosalie and the guys heading in our direction backstage. She flew into Edward's arms and showered him with kisses. Their plane had got in late, so they hadn't had time to really get reacquainted before the show. I stepped away and gave them space.
"Emmett," Peter shouted, punching my shoulder. He was Rosalie's brother and drummer, and one of my closest friends. We'd worked so closely with them because they were our first clients. We'd staked everything on them, but they were like family now, and if Edward's plan went well, they would be family.
"What the hell are you wearing?" I chuckled, finally getting a good look at him, now he was out from behind the drum kit. He looked like a cowboy on acid. His cowboy hat perched on his head and his favorite boots on his feet, while his clothes looked like acid punk throwbacks from the late 70's, early 80's.
"Rose insists I fit in with the band's look. I added a bit of me in with it." He shrugged with a smirk. "She hates the hat."
"I don't hate the hat," Rosalie sighed, wrapping her arms around my waist as she gave me a hug. "The hat's you, Pete. I just think you need to keep that part of you off the stage."
I hugged her back and ruffled her red wig as I stepped back, and she slapped me on the arm for my effort. Straightening the strands I'd knocked out of place, she looked back at her brother. They looked alike in some ways. She was only eighteen months older, but they shared the same blond hair and blue eyes.
"It's part of who I am, and where we come from," Peter added pointedly. Their family had moved them to California from Texas when they were in their early teens. Peter had loved Texas, but Rosalie preferred it here.
"We're not a country act though."
"Guys," I interrupted, nodding at the stage, realizing that if they continued down this road they'd both get pissed off. "Time for you to go crowd pleasing."
Rosalie leaned in and gave Edward a kiss before dancing back out onto the stage. Peter made his way back to the drums with a little bit less enthusiasm. I could tell he was deflated from the comments, but Edward had insisted hiring a stylist for their next album release so it was a moot point.
"Hey Emmett," Edward said, finally dragging his eyes from Rosalie. "About tonight . . ."
"Already got your back, bro," I mused, slapping him on the shoulder with a raised eyebrow. I'd been staying with him while I had my place painted and I could definitely take a hint. "I'm taking Peter to the poker game tonight, and I'll cover for you with the rest of the guys. You're free for the night and I am gone."
"Thank you."
I shrugged. The lucky bastard had his girl back and I was going out to a poker game with her brother. This was my fucking life. Stogies and Cognac in some hotel room so we'd get left alone. We weren't supposed to smoke in the rooms, which was why we always ended up with a room that had some kind of balcony.
It wasn't a bad life, but it was empty.
It was better than the alternative though.
I thought back to the last time I'd gotten laid. She was a natural red head; the carpet matched the drapes if you know what I mean. We'd met in some dingy bar on the other side of town. I'd figured no one would recognize me there and I could drown my sorrows.
Her name was Victoria. Her hips swayed when she walked and when she came through that door with the tiny black dress hugging her body, I knew I was in trouble. My dick had been like a dowsing rod and without any conscious thought I'd moved in her direction.
There was no doubt in my mind that she knew who I was, and my suspicions were confirmed the moment she stepped up to the karaoke machine and trained her eyes on me through the most provocative version of The Moody Blues, Nights in White Satin, I'd ever had the pleasure to witness.
Her voice had been decent, but by this point I'd heard the same kind of thing for six hours a day, six days a week, for almost a year. Nothing about this chick stood out other than her tight ass and deep red hair. Now, I'm not the kind of guy to use my status to get laid, not on purpose, but when a chick like that throws herself at you, it's a force of nature.
I'd never had head while driving until I met Victoria. I'd offered to drive her home, and she'd accepted. As much as my body responded to her, I was planning on simply taking her home and going on my merry way. Women like this thought offering sex would get them ahead. I didn't want to give her the wrong idea.
Not that I got much choice in the matter. The dome light was still fading when her fingers reached for my dick and massaged it through the denim. It had been so long since I'd got action with anything other than my hand that I let it happen.
It was almost six hours straight of sex. I guess the dry period gave me more stamina, because like the energizer bunny, I kept going and going and going. She passed out beside me, her hair splashed across the pillows as her breathing fell into a deep rhythmic lull.
Like an asshole, I left her while she slept with a note on her pillow saying thanks for a good night.
That had been almost four months ago. I'd had to have Jessica, my assistant, lie to her when she called a week later. Thankfully Jess was a quick thinker; she sent her some flowers with an apology for leaving so suddenly and a polite decline, explaining that we weren't seeing anyone new at the moment.
Since then I'd steered clear of all musicians. Well more than musicians, women in general. Jessica had offered to set me up with a cousin of hers but I'd declined, that would just get messy if things didn't work out. Jessica was good at her job and I wouldn't find anyone else like her. She was happily married, which was another huge bonus.
The band finished their encore and the stage went black as the crowd roared their appreciation, bringing me back to the present. It was always gratifying to hear how much they appreciated the show; fans were the ones that bought the albums and made the company a success.
Rosalie was spotlighted, bringing the crowd to a gentle wave of mumbles. As always she thanked everyone for coming and mentioned that they were working on a new album, which sent the crowd into another round of rabid applause.
Once again they fell into darkness as the crowd demanded more, but that was it. There was no more left to offer and Rosalie was already pulling off her wig and letting the natural, almost white-blonde hair loose to tumble down her back as she fell into Edward's arms.
The emptiness hit again in another wave through my body. I was a sentimental idiot today, it seemed. I guess not having been witness to this while the band was on tour had given me a reprieve from my loneliness. I would be fine once I was away from them. There was no easing back into watching the happy couple find reasons to touch one another or kiss as there had been in the beginning. I had to man up and get on with my life.
"Hey, Peter, you up for poker tonight?"
"Does a bear shit in the woods, my friend?" he countered with a laugh.
"In theory."
Peter rolled his eyes but handed one of the road crew his sticks and headed to the talent's dressing room, followed by the guitarist and bassist. Edward and Rose had already gone so I was alone, watching the crowd file out into the night.
I needed a drink. This whole night had been one continuous nightmare of memories and wakeup calls. I needed to stop thinking so damn much.
I hated feeling sorry for myself. We'd managed to build the company up to something substantial. We were bringing in money and employing more people every week. We were a success story, living the American dream.
It wasn't like I fell into this well of self pity that often. When I did, it hit hard. I got drunk, but I woke up feeling better. Being single really wasn't that bad after all, and I had my golden retriever, Baxter, to go home to. I just wasn't into the whole mindless sex scene. I couldn't screw a woman and walk away without feeling guilty, yet who could I say that to and not be called a giant pussy. I knew if someone said that to me it would be my come back.
"Emmett, you ready or what?" Peter asked, looking more like himself.
I nodded and took one last look at the stage before following Peter out the back to my car. We hadn't been in the car for ten minutes when he regaled me with the stories of his conquests. They'd been pretty much everywhere around the world. Edward had joined them at least once a month since they'd started, but it was Peter and the guitarist, Jacob, that seemed to have the best stories.
It seemed that the girls throwing themselves at their feet were an open season for them to go with it. I could understand that to an extent, but I was also aware of our publicity department having to cover up some of the messes they'd left behind.
"You have to be more careful, Peter."
"Oh I learned my lesson, big man. Don't you worry about me. Not to mention that piranha of a publicist you sent out has a tongue like a whip. She was pissed," he grinned. There was no remorse in the statement though. Peter wouldn't apologize for his actions, and no one really expected him to. It wasn't exactly news in this industry.
"I know. She called me the morning after and threatened to let you clean up your own messes in the future. You gave her a hard time?"
Peter smiled, his usual sly smirk curling his lips. He knew I wasn't going to bust his balls over it, that's why we'd hired her. She was the toughest chick out there when it came to this shit. No one particularly liked her, but she could cover up a mess in one conversation.
"Let's just say she's not completely resistant to the Hale charm."
My laughter filled the interior of the car as I looked over at one of my best friends in amazement. "You thawed out the ice queen?"
"A couple times."
"You got balls. I wouldn't even try. She's a grade A bitch, but good at her job."
"She purred like a kitten, my friend."
"You realize you're fucked if she gets attached," I chuckled, raising an eyebrow.
"Naw man, she was cool. She went back to her chilly self and I continued on doing what I was doing. You ain't got nothing to worry about."
"I wasn't worried about me," I clarified, smirking. Only Peter could get away with something like that. He had just as much charisma as Rosalie, he just chose to apply it in a different way, mostly chasing women.
"So how about you? Any ladies catching your eye. Did you finally get laid?"
"You make it sound like I live a monk's life."
"You do. All these hot chicks throwing themselves at you and you deflect. Not healthy, man."
I wasn't about to admit that I was tired of empty, meaningless sex. Peter lived for that shit and the last thing I wanted was for him to call me out for being a girl. I was well aware of how my need for emotional attachment made me sound like a pussy.
"I nailed a fiery red head a couple months ago, but she got clingy. Jess had to clear that shit up."
"A couple months? How the fuck do you last that long?"
I wiggled my fingers and grinned. Way too much information, but this was Peter. Too much info wasn't in his vocabulary. I think I could retell most of his more elaborate lays; he liked giving details. Which was one of the reasons we'd had to hire the publicist in the first place. He liked to drink after the show and didn't always use the right head to think with.
"You gotta have some magic fingers to abstain that long."
I rolled my eyes and pulled into the valet outside this week's hotel, again avoiding telling him the truth.
A/N: Thanks to Miztrezboo for the challenge. it came about due to me finishing Privileged and having to wait for NaNoWriMo to come around. All of the Pictures and information can be found on the blog, just remove the spaces: challengedme. blogspot. com
Thank you to both Hev99 and Cravingtwilight. I somehow managed to accumulate two amazing beta's. You guys have made this better so thank you :)
Hope you enjoy! Much love & Huge Hugs ~Weezy~
