AN: We're going to be skipping ahead a bit in this chapter. Thanks for reading!
Chapter title taken from a White Rabbits song. Great band, great song. And I think it suits this Edward.
Stephenie Meyer owns characters from Twilight.
Chapter 2: Percussion Gun
Edward
Touring is exhausting. I mean, it's a great time, a once in a lifetime experience, a sure sign of success. But I'm fucking tired. All the time.
I don't allow it to hinder my performance in the slightest, though. I push through the haze of boredom and redundancy and put on a hell of a show, if I do say so myself. And even though I try and try to make each night that I'm performing something new and exhilarating for the fan, I can't get over the fact that even though I'm living my dream - something always seems missing, misplaced, misappropriated. Just… off. Same sights. Same smells. Same orgasms. But, at least I get to do what I love. And I fucking love music.
I started playing the drums when I was ten. Well, my mom says I was banging on pots and pans when I was a toddler, but my first experience with an actual kit was at age ten. Twenty fucking years ago. Since then, I've learned the piano and guitar as well. I'm a decent guitar player, but percussion is in my soul. My best friend since the pot banging days has been Jasper Whitlock. He's the guitar badass. He plucks a twelve-string like he invented the craft. He also happens to be the reason that we are a well known band. His girl in high school, Maria Santos, had a record producer daddy. Aro Santos. Started as a scout for Epic Records and began stock-piling talent for his own company that he planned on starting. With the stolen clientele, and a knack for hearing the next big thing, he became quite the "music business emperor" here in L.A.
And Jasper ate dinner at the Santos house every other Friday.
Maria insisted that her daddy hear us play, he did, he loved it, and signed us. We were required to add a third band member, however, and that's when we were introduced to Jimmy Bang.
Jimmy was Aro's nephew. He, too, was a drummer. It was explained that I would play keyboard and sing. Jazz would play guitar and do back up vocals, and Jimmy fucking Bang would be our drummer. I agreed and signed the fucking contract, even though I was internally fuming. I didn't want to give up the opportunity by being selfish. Aro explained that I am the front man. And the front man can't be hidden behind a drum kit.
Whatever. Jimmy is actually a great percussionist. And he became a great friend. We've been doing this for twelve years together. You've got to respect your band mates to stick it out for over a decade. Girls have come and gone, including Maria (she came out of the closet a year after we got signed, much to Jasper's chagrin), but the guys and I have only become closer over the years.
I trust and respect Jasper and Jimmy implicitly.
Which is why I don't even flinch when Jimmy jumps out from my peripheral straight in front of my face. And in my bunk.
"Fuck, Edward, you're not passing out already, are you? I've got triplets lined up for tonight. Triplets, man! And they're fucking down for the kinky shit, too. Like I bet they'd kiss each other and shit. Fucking hot." He was two inches from my face, and I could smell pussy and Jameson's on his breath. Fish and whiskey. Fucking nasty.
"I'm cool, Jim, I need to fucking get some sleep. I'd appreciate it if you could keep the incestuous orgy out of the bus tonight." I ran my hands over my face and looked up to see Jimmy pouting like a fucking baby.
"But, triplets, Edward! This is on your fuck bucket list, I've seen it! Right under screwing a preachers daughter and two spots above getting a blow job on a roller coaster. You can't bow out, anyway, dude. There're three of them, and three of us. It just makes the most sense mathematically. You can't mess with numbers, Edward."
I feel my eyes roll. I love and respect Jimmy Bang. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. The guy is seriously vapid, however. Sex, drums, and Irish Whiskey. That's all he knows. I sit up, defeated, and grab for a smoke and a lighter from my nightstand.
"Come on, man," I sigh and take a pull of the Camel. "I just want to pass out."
"Don't give me that shit, Edward. You know you'll just end up jacking off to that fucking fashion magazine, anyway. Might as well get the real deal, instead of some photo-shopped, airbrushed, glossy Cosmo model.'
'It's Vogue you dumb-ass," I realized too late how gay that made me sound, "Whatever, you make it sound like it's any different from your full sized poster of Megan Fox in a bikini. At least, I have taste."
"Yeah, if you call being a chubby chaser tasteful," he muttered, but I fucking heard him.
"A what? A chubby chaser? Really? She's a fucking supermodel, first of all. Vogue covers just don't get handed out, you moron. Plus she's fucking gorgeous. You seriously saying that if Bella Swan crawled on your lap and started bouncing you wouldn't get turned on? Jesus, she's fucking perfect. Hips you can grab onto, and that ass…" Dammit, now I'm hard.
"Oh, wow. Way to defend your supermodel, Romeo. Don't let me interrupt your pining you fuckin' shmuck. And yes, I'd fuck your precious Bella Swan. She's hot, I admit it, but she's a plus sized model, Ed. We have access to bitches you can throw around, you know, fuck against a wall. It's just not my cup of tea, bro. But if you got a chubby girl fetish, I can scout out backstage. We can always work her in with the triplets." With that he became thoughtful, "Is it the big titties you like on the fat chicks? Cause if you just have a thing for huge boobies, all the sisters have the same surgeon, if you know what I mean…"
"Shut up dude, fuck" I put out my smoke and laid back down. "I have a beauty fetish, asshole. That's all. I just think she's beautiful. I want to fuck her every way possible and make her cum in my mouth and smack her full ass, but she's not real. She's a picture in a magazine. And yet, I still prefer her company to yours, and especially three surgically enhanced beer commercial spokeswomen. This conversation is over." I rolled over and feigned sleep.
"Fine, be that way, pussy. Have fun with your hand you fucking girl. 'She's beautiful. I looove her. And her personality is beautiful too.' Jesus, Edward!" Him mocking me pissed me off, but I still kept quiet. He continued, however. "You know, you are a fucking rock star, Edward. And she's a model. You act like she's above your station or something. We fuck models all the time. It'd be cake to get a meeting with her. Shit, she'll probably be at Aro's soiree next month. Fucking ask him to invite her, or something. Fuck her. Get her out of your system, 'cause seriously dude? It seems like your obsessed with the chick."
I heard his footsteps fade, and the door to the bus slam shut, and I prayed for some fucking solitude. With a heavy sigh, I reached beneath my bunk and grabbed for the glossy paper.
Bella Swan was an overnight success, it seems. One day, Calvin Klein models were practically street people with heroin needles their fashion accessory. The next day, Bella Swan hit the scene, and it was no longer considered beautiful to be grossly underweight. She was considered a "plus-size" model at the beginning, but the term was dropped after she took over contract after contract and became the "enbodiment of American Beauty". Chanel, Burberry London, Versace - they all started making clothes to fit this spectacular beauty, and every size twelve teenager across the world began idolizing the model. Bella Swan stated in interview after interview, that she wouldn't be defined by her size. She's done magazine spreads at a size eight, and then a few months later, a runway show as a size fourteen. She says she won't play the games that the business requires. If the magazine, or the designer doesn't want her as she is then they can find a new model. She doesn't take shit, and she doesn't change for anyone.
I'll admit to being a tad fanatical about Bella Swan. The first time I saw her was on a billboard while I was driving to Aro's office for a tour meeting. She was sitting on a gold sofa leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, appearing sullen, and sexy as hell. Her brown suede boots went to her knees, while a cream silk negligee barely covered the rest of her. Hair messy and shiny and long, falling in purposely tangled waves framing a porcelain face with dark eyes and ruby stained lips. I almost ran off the road. Her collarbone set gracefully in the most luscious décolletage I have ever seen. The swells of her breasts spilling- somehow classily-from the lace and silk. I went hard immediately. I get hard every time I see her. She was on The Late Night show a few months back. I Tivo'd that shit, because even Jay couldn't stop staring like a pubescent boy. She wore a black and silver mini-dress, with knee high boots. Her thighs, muscular and soft at the same time, played peek-a-boo between the short hem of the dress and the top of the boots. Her hair was up in a lazy twist but as always, looked beautiful. But her voice is what I cherish the most about her TV appearances. Because the beauty of her isn't already astounding enough, she's also articulate, well read, and witty as hell. I laughed so hard during her interview, that I pulled a fucking muscle in my stomach. And I work out.
Yeah, so, I'm crushing on a supermodel. But as dumb as a bag of bricks that he is, Jimmy did have a point. Since when did I have a problem getting any chick I wanted.? I'm the front man of Murder of Crows for fucks sake. We're the James fucking Dean of the Indy Rock genre since the late nineties. I've fucked famous actresses, dated models, and even had a brief affair with Angelina before the whole Brad business. I want Bella Swan. I've never actively pursued anyone, but fuck if I'm gonna let a bit of star-stricken nervousness let me stop before I've had her. At least once. But preferably several times… a night.
I folded the page and put it away with a groan. I grabbed my needy cock with all sorts of sordid visions of my buxom beauty driving my need for release.
Yeah, Jimmy's an idiot, but it looks like he was right about a few things. Tonight, at least.
Tomorrow, I'll start seeing to it that Bella Swan becomes a real girl, and not just a fantasy any longer.
AN: Okay guys, let me have it. It's been two years, and our Edward has a bit of a star crush on the lovely Bella. They meet next chapter. I hope to post next Thursday. Thanks for all the reviews!