Author's Note: Like I said before, this is just something I am writing for fun. It's not the best writing, and that's okay with me because I am loving writing this. Please enjoy!
It Began at Goodbye: Part II
"I can't just leave, Eli," Clare protested, "I don't want to do this book signing. My publisher forced this event on me, and I don't even want to walk through those doors. But you have to understand…these are my fans. They love me."
"They love your books, Clare. They don't even know you."
He did have a point, and Clare knew that, "But I have a responsibility to them. I can't just…I can't back out now. I don't want to lose them, Eli. They're my fans!"
"Clare, they're bored housewives who like jerking off to your stories."
"At least I have published novels," Clare folded her arms across her chest, "What do you have?"
"Don't do that," Eli held up a finger, "Don't you do that. I write my plays for the theater, and I am perfectly fine with that."
"Liar," Clare rolled her eyes, and for once, Eli didn't fight with her.
"Look, I'm going to leave. If you want to join me or not, you are more than welcome to."
"What would I tell them? I can't just run away without an explanation. And besides, why would I ever run away with the guy who broke my heart?"
"I've given you plenty of time to decide. If you don't know now, you never will."
"Damn it," Clare hissed, "Adam, go inside and make an announcement. Tell them that I've come down with a stomach virus and will not be able to make an appearance. Tell them I'd like to reschedule, and I'll have my manger set something up."
"But I wanted to come with you guys!"
"And when did I invite you along?" Eli raised an eyebrow, "Or am I having a lapse in memory."
"Come on," Adam begged, "Don't be a prick. Let me come with you. It'll be fun. The old misfits back together again getting in trouble and raising hell…what do you say?"
"Adam," Clare smiled sweetly at him, "You are more than welcome to join us."
"Wait, hold the phone," Eli turned to her, "Does that mean you're saying yes?"
"Yes."
"And why in the hell would you invite Captain Pain in the Pants along?"
"Hey, I resent that," Adam looked hurt.
"Because I don't really trust being alone with you," Clare flipped some hair over her shoulder, "Well, are you going to get the car, or what?"
Eli narrowed his eyes at her before retreating to pull his car around. Adam headed back inside the bookstore to make the announcement for her. Clare leaned against the brick wall, and tried not to feel too guilty. After all, what if she did have a stomach ache? She couldn't help that. But she didn't have a stomach ache. She was running away from her fans.
But her manager should have known not to schedule a public appearance for her. What if she ran into someone she recognized or knew…like Eli. D.C Edward was a mask, and she didn't dare take it off. Clare sighed, and glanced up at the blue sky as she waited for Eli.
What the hell am I doing? I am running away from my fans to hang out with Eli? Maybe I am the one with the mental problem. I can't be doing this. I shouldn't be doing this. This is so…so screwed up. Why after all these years did I have to run into him today of all days? Why did he have to read that book?
Now he knew. He knew everything. My deep-most thoughts and emotions…things I never would dream of sharing with him, and now he knew. I suppose it wasn't realistic of me to imagine he'd never read my book. But the chances of him actually doing so were very slim. But of course, just my luck, he read it, and now I have to face him.
A shiny black vintage Cadillac pulled around to the alley, and Clare gasped when she saw it. There, on the hood was a shiny silver skull.
"Is this Morty's borther?" She asked.
"Yup," Eli hopped out of the driver's seat and proudly polished the hood with the sleeve of his black jacket, "I bought him not too long ago. I had to save up the money first. He was just a hunk of junk when I first bought him. I poured more money, sweat, and blood into this thing…but he's worth it."
"Does he have a name?" Clare asked, running her fingertips against the metallic black surface.
"Dragula."
"Like the Rob Zombie song?"
"You remembered?" Eli raised an eyebrow, surprised that Clare had remembered one of his favorite musicians. He knew she didn't like him, but she never protested when he'd blast Rob's CDs.
Clare shrugged and just as she was about to say something more…
"Run!"
"Adam?" Eli looked at him as if he was wearing a tutu and an R2D2 helmet.
Adam had just charged from the door and was making a B-Line straight to the hearse.
"What the hell?" Eli jumped out of his way as he hopped into the backseat.
"What in the…" Clare slid into the passenger seat and turned to face Adam, "What did you do? I asked you to just tell them I had a stomach virus. How difficult was that?"
"Well…I figured I'd make things interesting and prepare you for the sequel."
"Sequel? There is no sequel, Adam."
"Now there will be."
"And what do you mean…interesting?" Clare's stomach began to knot up.
"What the hell did you do?" Eli asked, sliding into the driver's seat and turning the key in the ignition, "Please tell me you didn't do anything too stupid."
"Well…define stupid."
"Adam!"
"You're going to thank me later," he vowed, adjusting his gray beanie over his forehead.
"Adam, tell me what you did!" Clare was losing patience.
"Well…I simply announced that D.C had run unexpectedly into Isaac and the two of you were running away to have mad, hot sex in the back of his car."
"The fuck! " Eli shouted, practically jumping over the seat, "I'm going to murder you!"
"Adam, why did you do that?" Clare's eyes were saucers, "Why would you say something like that?"
"Well, I told them they could read all about it in your sequel."
"Adam, there is no sequel. And besides, Eli and I aren't going to do anything mad or hot or related to sex, so even if there was, it'd be a pretty boring sequel."
"Hey, if you want, just say the word. I can close my eyes and cover my ears…"
"Do you want to eat your teeth?" Eli threatened.
"Oh God," Clare put her head in her hands, "Adam, how am I going to fix this."
"What's there to fix?"
"Adam…this isn't happening. Oh my God."
"Well, I hate to break up this whole let's-yell-at-Adam moment, but we're going to have a mob of people swarm out here any second now looking to catch a glimpse of you with Isaac, so Eli, you might want to step on it."
"Adam!" Clare cried, "What is wrong with you? Look, I know you think it's so funny that Eli and I ran into each other after all these years; and that he read the book I wrote basically about our relationship and how much I loved him and how destroyed me; and I know you think we're going to like get it on or something, but…"
"What she's trying to say is, you're a dick."
"Eli!" Clare shot him a sideways glance, "Adam, you're not a dick. It's just…"
"I knew I should have brought popcorn."
"Adam! Get out!"
"No," Adam protested, "Just drive. You two can talk and hash things out, and I can take notes for her to use for her next book."
"Adam, there is no next book – alright?" Clare shook her head, "Get that through your head."
She sighed and glanced out the window as Eli peeled the hearse out of the alley and back on to the main street. She couldn't believe that this was actually happening.
"Well, I guess we should talk," Eli said, gripping the steering wheel, "What the hell were you thinking writing a book about our relationship?"
"If you didn't want to wind up in my book, you should have behaved better."
"Clare, it's not okay. How'd you feel if I wrote a book basically slamming you and calling you a man-hating, femi-nazi, oober-Christian, closet-slut."
"Excuse me?" Clare's jaw fell lax.
"Because that's basically what you did. You wrote this whole damn book about how we met and fell in love and about all my problems and about how intense we were and then about how I dumped you and how you are just so broken-hearted over it. Well guess what, sweetheart, brokenhearted people don't go and write books that sell millions about how brokenhearted they are."
"Eli…you don't understand. That book…it was a coping thing for me. I was dealing with a lot, and I wanted to write something other than erotica."
"Yeah, speaking of that," Eli raised an eyebrow, "When did Miss Prude start writing erotic novels?"
"It's…an outlet, Eli. It's all fun and games. It's fun to write these novels. I never knew I'd have such a following of fans though. I never expected any of this. I just wanted to write something fun, and I did and it turned out to be pretty good. Like, publishable good. So I sent it off to an agent, just for fun. I never expected to hear back, but a few weeks later, I had about four or five companies interested in me. I hired a manager, and everything just…fell together."
"I still can't believe the girl who was too scared to give me a blow job is writing erotic novels."
"Eli!"
"But you got past that, right?" Adam spoke up, "Because in Chapter Ten you talk about your first time…"
"What?" Eli shouted, turning to Clare, crimson staining his cheeks.
"I thought you read it all," Clare turned to the window to avoid his gaze.
"I skimmed it. You wrote about us having sex for the first time? Seriously, Clare? Who does that? Oh, I hope you remembered to include how you freaked out and made a bagillion excuses – oh, I have to go to the restroom; oh I have to put on deodorant; oh I have to get a bite to eat; oh I need to shampoo my hair..."
"It was not like that."
"Um, yeah it was. I think I would remember that. What did you remember to include?"
"That you can't be given hickies because your neck is too ticklish."
"Oh my God," Eli glanced up at Adam in the rear-view mirror, "I don't know which one of you I'm going to kill first. Maybe I should just lock you in a room and have it play out like the Saw movies and watch you two kill each other for me."
"Nice, Eli," Clare shook her head.
"You asked," Adam held up his hands in surrender, "Oh, also she said that you get really turned on when…"
"You!" Eli pointed a finger at Adam's reflection, "Stop it. I don't want to know this! And you," he pointed to Clare, "How could you write these things in a book? Some of that stuff was…oh what's the word for something you want to be kept in confidence between to people…oh yeah, private!"
"It was a coping method," Clare twisted a curl around her finger, "I just…I wanted to kind of get everything out there. Mostly because I was hurt and angry. Don't tick off a writer, Eli. You of all people should know that. Remember? The school play?"
"Funny, I seem to recall I changed that so I wouldn't humiliate and hurt you."
"Eli, what do you want? Do you want a cut of the money?"
"You really think I want your money? Clare, I want an explanation."
"And I gave it to you. You hurt me, and I was angry. I never anticipated you'd pick up a book by D.C Edward about a girl's love life. Really."
"But I did."
"You did," Clare sighed and wanted to provide more of an explanation, but knew there wasn't one. It was simple – she had been angry and hurt and used her book to help get past some of those feelings. It had worked, sort of.
"I'm hungry."
"You," Eli glanced at Adam's reflection again, "have lost your talking privileges for the day."
"I can't help that your car smells like chili cheese dogs and I'm hungry," Adam pouted.
"My car doesn't smell like chili cheese dogs; I don't eat in my car, Adam."
"Woops."
"What do you mean 'woops?'"
"I might have maybe gotten a hot dog the other day and…oh yup, there's the stain."
"What?" Eli hit the steering wheel, "Adam, seriously man?"
"It's just a little mustard stain."
"Do you realize how much this interior carpeting cost me?" Eli demanded, "I already had to pay to replace the carpeting once, and I don't want to do that again. Why did you eat in my car? When did you eat in my…I don't want to know. Just…you're cleaning that up. And if it doesn't come up, well that little mustard stain can make friends with a few blood stains."
"But mustard isn't a very social condiment. It's all sharp and tart and spicy and rude. It wouldn't make friends easily…"
Eli rolled his eyes and ignored him. Could this day possibly get any worse? He had run into Clare and was now driving around town with Clare and Adam in his car – his car that Adam seemed to be bent on destroying. Eli didn't know how much more of this he could take. He reminded himself that he needed that explanation. That was the only reason he had invited Clare for a drive, wasn't it?
"It would get along well with Eli though," Clare allowed a small smirk to tug at the corner of her lip.
"Haha, good one!" Adam high-fived her, and Eli banged his head against his steering wheel.
"But it'd have to be like Grey Pupon or something unlikeable like that."
"Hey," Eli narrowed his eyes at her, "People like me. I am a likeable guy."
"According to her book, you're foul and loathsome."
"Nice one," Eli sighed, "You know, I wouldn't do anything like this to you, Clare. I'd never…"
"What do you want me to say?" Clare demanded, "Do you want me to say that I'm sorry? I'm sorry that this book has brought me hundreds of thousands of dollars? Is that what you want to hear? How about I'm sorry all my fans seem to love this book as well, and I get hundreds of fan letters on a daily basis…"
"Ooh, she's gotten three marriage proposals," Adam pointed out, "Remember?"
"Those were some of the creepier fan letters," Clare twisted her curls some more, "But there are more good ones than creepy ones. People love me, Eli!"
"No, people love D.C Edward."
"They're the same person."
"No they aren't. Clare Diane Edwards isn't anything like D.C Edward. Clare isn't into all this erotica stuff, and she isn't – or at least I thought she wasn't – so shallow to stoop so low to write novels of such inferior composition."
"Inferior composition?"
"Oh don't even take offense towards that," Eli rolled his eyes, "You know you're a better writer than the books you pump out."
"Did you just compliment me?"
"I'll bet someone ten bucks you all are gonna kiss in the next hour."
"Adam, shut up!" Eli hissed, "And you," he turned to Clare, "Don't get too used to it. I just think you're wasting your time. Why write these stupid little smut novels when you can write something so much better?"
Clare didn't say anything to that, and Eli wondered if he might have hit a nerve. Well, he wasn't going to act like he cared. She had hit more nerves than he knew he had; now it was time for payback. Clare was chewing on her thumbnail, and staring out the window. An unexpected urge to reach out and touch one of her auburn curls slammed into him, and Eli mentally slapped himself for even thinking that.
"I'm still hungry."
"Adam! What part of shut up aren't you understanding?"
"Well, I can't help it. I didn't eat breakfast this morning, dude. Can't we stop and get some grub?"
"Fine," Eli gave in, "What do you want to eat?"
"I don't know," Adam shrugged.
"You're fucking impossible," Eli rolled his eyes.
"We could go to The Dot."
"What?" Eli turned to Clare, "Are you kidding me?"
"No…we always used to go there. I just thought it might be nice. Besides, it's something we all like."
"What if someone sees us?"
"So?" Clare furrowed her brow, "What's the big deal?"
"Don't you live in some huge mansion all rich and famous now?"
"No. I still live here. We were just good at not running into each other."
"Five years," Eli ran a hand through his hair, "I just don't want people getting the wrong idea if they see us together."
"Eli, you know it's mostly Degrassi kids that hang out at The Dot. They wouldn't know who we are."
"I'm hungry."
"Adam, shut up! Alright, I guess The Dot it is," Eli gave in.
"Just so you know," Clare added, "I could live in a big mansion somewhere, but I chose not to. This is my home, Eli. This is where I live, and where I belong. I'm not going to leave this place just because I suddenly can. Besides, I don't want to be rich and famous. D.C is the famous one. I'm just Clare. That's why I use a penname, so my life wouldn't change much."
"And because you don't want anyone to know that Clare Edwards writes vampire smut."
"That too," Clare admitted.
"What else did you put in that book of yours that I didn't read?" Eli asked.
"You're secretively afraid of clowns."
"Damn it," Eli hissed, "Clare!"
"What?" A small smile escaped her lips, "It was funny."
"She's right, dude. It's pretty hysterical."
"Yeah, well at least I'm not afraid of Barney!"
"Hey!"
"Adam, you're afraid of Barney? As in Barney the Purple Dinosaur?"
"Yes," Adam harshly crossed his arms over his chest, "It's not natural for purple dinosaurs to be singing songs about friendship and sandwich breads."
"I have pumpernickel and it's delicious, would you like a bite?" Clare sang.
"Noooo!" Adam put his hands over his ears.
Eli chuckled and Clare erupted into a fit of giggles, "Come on Adam, we're supposed to tell each other everything. I can't believe you didn't tell me before! Oh Adam, it's okay. We all have secrets. Like…for me, my secret is…I like to oat, oat, oat, appoles and banonos!"
"I'm going to kill you!"
Eli's chuckles turned into laughter, "Oh what's wrong, buddy? You don't like being shown lots of things like how to play pretend, ABCs and 123s and how to be a friend?"
"I hate you."
"Oh come on," Eli grinned, "You're my friend, and you know what they say about friends."
"I don't want to know," Adam groaned.
"Friends are special; they're so important; they make the world go round. We like helping one another in school, or on the playground. Friends are there to help each other when one is feeling sad. Being friends is very special…"
"…be a friend and you'll be glad!" Clare chimed in, and together, she and Eli began to laugh. It wasn't a few moments later that they seemed to realize that they were laughing together, eyed each other through narrowed eyes, and went back to being angry. Clare folded her arms over her chest and stared out the window, and Eli gripped the steering wheel tightly.
"Now that that little episode is over," Adam sighed, "We can commence with being on our way to lunch. I am just so hungry. I could eat fifty chili cheese dogs. That's what I'll order. A chili cheese dog. Oooh, with extra onions. Onions are good. Unless they give you heartburn. Then onions are bad. Are you two suddenly not speaking to each other? Because that's going to make for a very boring sequel if you promise your readers steamy sex and just sit here and do nothing."
"Adam, drop it," Clare rolled her eyes, "There is no sequel. There isn't going to be a sequel. Why would I write a sequel to a book I freakin' regret?"
Author's Note: Oooh, so Clare regrets writing it...hmmmm...
