Chapter Notes
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Chapter 3 – Alice, Asstard and Piss-Girl
EPOV
After breakfast Bella went back to bed. The doctor had said the painkillers would make her drowsy, and she'd had about a million calories to digest, so I didn't expect to see her any time soon.
I'd just finished my fourth cigarette while I paced and waited for my darling sister, and as usual when I was stressed out, I really wanted to be smoking something stronger. It was always nerve-wracking to have Alice show up and poke her incredibly petite nose into my personal life, and my jaw was clenching in agitation. I chose to attribute it to the massive amounts of nicotine in my system and not the fact that my sister was a tiny, rabid ball-breaker who scared the living shit out of me.
Christ, she's going to have a field day with this.
After Bella had gone back to bed, it occurred to me that she didn't have any clothes to wear - not that there's anything wrong with that - so I called Alice back and asked her to pick up a few things on the way.
My left ear was still ringing from the ultrasonic squeal she uttered at the thought of playing with a life-size Barbie-doll.
No, Barbie's inane sweetness didn't do Bella justice. More like Bitch-Slap Barbie: nut-cracking steel-toed boots and optional penis sold separately.
Jesus, that girl's a piece of work, and what the hell was she talking about when she said I was scared of The Screamers? How ridiculous. I mean, they're just girls. Pimply, pubescent girls with shiny, sharp braces on their teeth and blood-curdling voice boxes that made my balls crawl back up into my body.
Christ. I have to sit down.
Slumping into the armchair, I lit up another cigarette as I heard the electronic lock on the door buzz open. Alice burst into the room, arms full of shopping bags. She was so hyped you'd swear she was high.
No, Cullen, you're the only one in this family that does that. Loser.
Speaking of getting high, what I wouldn't give right now for just one hit of….
"Stop thinking about drugs, asshole," Alice chimed as she drop her bags and kissed me on the cheek.
How does she DO that?
"Morning, Alice," I mumbled. "Not even bothering to knock these days I see."
I took a long drag on my cigarette. It tasted like crap, but it felt so good.
"Now why would I want to knock, dear brother, when I have the opportunity of walking in on you screwing your latest skank on this sumptuous shag-pile carpet?"
She plonked down on the sofa and kicked off her shoes.
"Alice, you know very well that I haven't participated in any screwing, skank or otherwise, for nearly six months. My dick's beginning to think that I've forgotten what a vagina is."
I took a long drag of smoke and blew it in her direction. She screwed up her nose and fanned it away with her hand.
"Well, so you keep telling us, honey, but with your track record I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you fall off the wagon and slip back into your drug-induced, man-whoring ways."
She smiled sweetly, and I glared at her as I stubbed out my cigarette roughly.
"My sister, ladies and gentlemen – friend, confidant, and complete raving bitch."
She giggled and pulled her legs up underneath her.
"Aw, come on. You know you love it."
I resisted giving her the finger.
"So," she said casually, "tell me about who you've got stashed away in your bedroom, you filthy fuck."
I leaned back in my chair.
"I told you over the phone, Alice, it's not what you think."
"Then by all means, enlighten me," she said eagerly.
I rubbed my eyes in frustration.
"She's just a girl I met the other night. She helped me out of a situation, she needed a place to crash, and I figured I owed her. That's it."
"Uh-huh." Alice's eyes narrowed and I inwardly groaned at what was coming. "What situation did she help you out of, Edward?"
"It was nothing."
Her eyes narrowed further and I fell like I was being interrogated by the secret service.
"Edward…"
"Really, nothing."
"You're going to tell me."
"No, I'm not."
"EDWARD!"
Jesus, that voice could make Ghandi crack.
"She saved me from The Screamers, alright? Are you happy now!"
I slumped down in my chair and began a monumental sulk. I despised my inability to tell my sister to fuck off.
Alice continued staring at me. She obviously wasn't finished.
I swear to God, she should patent that stare and sell it to NASA. You could explode asteroids in space with that shit.
"Where did you meet her?"
"In an alley."
"What were you doing there?"
"Hiding from The Screamers."
"What was she doing there?"
I paused.
Alice increased her glare-intensity.
I cracked like cheap porcelain.
"She was…sleeping."
She frowned.
"Sleeping?"
"Uh huh."
"Lying down? Eyes closed?"
"Blanket and all."
The penny dropped and she gasped.
"Holy shit! She's a…a street…person?" she whispered theatrically.
I saw her eyes travel to the double doors of the bedroom with the same incredulity as if I'd told her that a small green man called Howard had just crawled out of my butt and was now in the bedroom spinning straw into gold.
"Jesus, Edward, is she dangerous?"
I sighed.
"Only if you let her speak."
"So how long is she staying?"
"I don't know. She's got a pretty nasty head injury and I really don't want her going anywhere until she's healed."
Alice got up and came over to me.
"Well, aren't you the knight in shining armor?" She sat heavily in my lap and snatched the cigarette I was about to light out of my mouth. "Stop smoking, fuckwit. You don't have enough brain cells as it is."
She looked back briefly at the bedroom door before looking at me intently. "Just make sure you keep your dick in your pants, sweet brother," she said as she crushed the cigarette between her fingers. "'Cause if you don't, I'll cut your balls off. And tell your therapist."
"Jesus, Alice," I groaned, "Why don't you just fuck Jasper and get it over and done with?"
"Edward!" she admonished, "Don't be so vulgar. Dr. Hale and I have built a relationship on years mutual respect and understanding."
"Alice, you named your vibrator Jasper – how respectful is that?"
She smiled wickedly.
"It's an enormous cock, sweetie," she snickered, "I'm sure he'd think I was showing a lot of respect."
"Yeah. I'm sure he'd be as flattered as fuck. Except for the fact that in the three years I've been seeing him you haven't said one word to him."
Panic passed over her face and she got up suddenly, put on her shoes, and grabbed her purse.
"Okay, I'm bored now. I'm going to the office. I have to finish making the arrangements for your SNL appearance."
I groaned as she kissed me on the cheek again and headed toward the door.
"One day, Alice," I said, "you're going to have to face up to your gargantuan crush on my therapist."
She ignored me and said, "I'll be back in a few hours. How about you and sleeping beauty meet me downstairs for lunch?"
I ran my hand through my hair.
"Fine."
Whoa, keep that enthusiasm in check there hombre, someone's gonna lose an eye!
"There's plenty of stuff for her to wear, including underwear and accessories." I'm sure Bella will be thrilled. "12.30 okay? Don't be late."
With that she strode out the door and it closed softly behind her.
Lunch.
With Alice.
And Bella.
In the restaurant downstairs.
Through the lobby.
I shuddered.
Past the Screamers.
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BPOV
Cullen was totally freaking out.
I'd finally managed to get him into the elevator, but not before he'd smoked half a dozen cigarettes, searched the room five times for his phone (which was in his pocket), and changed his shirt four times. (He'd eventually settled on a dark navy long sleeve T that hugged him in all the right places. I approved.)
Everything had been a bit weird when I woke up from my nap - I'd stayed in bed for a while, reveling in the luxury of four walls and a full stomach, when I realized how quiet it was.
Too quiet.
"Cullen?" I called out cautiously, "Are you out there?"
I listened for a response. Nothing.
"Hey, Rock-star, get in here!"
Still nothing.
I put on my best sex-kitten voice. "Oh, my, it's just so lonely in this great big bed."
Nada.
Okay, so he's either gone out, or he's gay. Time to find out which.
I wandered out of the bedroom to find him catatonic at the piano, staring at the keys with glassy eyes, his shoulders slumped and dejected.
"Oh, you're here," I said casually.
He looked very strange. Gorgeous, but strange.
"Watcha doin?" I asked carefully.
He turned toward me slowly and raised his eyebrows.
"Huh?"
I walked over to him, studying his frowning face as I went.
"Are you okay?"
He shrugged slightly and said, "Sure."
I reached the piano and leaned against it.
"So, how was your sister?"
He looked at me with sudden intensity.
"What? Oh, Alice? Fine. Um, listen, Swan...you don't happen to have any...drugs, do you?"
"Why yes, Cullen, I do," I said sweetly. "I bought them with all my profits from this amazing new invention," - I flipped him the bird - "the 'FUCK-YOU finger'. Fun for the whole family."
I rolled my eyes at him as his face dropped.
"What the hell, dude? Aren't you supposed to be on the wagon?"
He sighed.
"I suppose so." He straightened up again and looked towards the kitchen. "Hey, do you think those tiny mini-bar bottles of booze actually count as alcohol? I mean they're practically non-existent-"
"Cullen!" I said loudly as I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "What's going on with you?"
He pushed up from the piano and stalked over to the chair.
"Well obviously I'm trying desperately to get hammered and you're acting like the buzz-kill equivalent of a cock-blocker, so now I'm going to smoke myself into oblivion instead."
He grabbed a cigarette and lit it quickly before slamming the lighter back down on the table.
I walked over and pushed him down into the armchair.
"Jesus, you're such a baby."
He looked up at me with irritation.
"And you're extremely annoying for such a small person. I'm starting to think that you and my sister were separated at birth." He took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled roughly. "Oh, by the way, were having lunch with her in the hotel restaurant in half an hour. She bought clothes for you."
He gestured limply to the large pile of shopping bags next to the couch.
"Why can't I wear my own clothes?" I demanded.
"Well," he said slowly, "first of all, they're filthy. Second of all, they smell like piss."
I glowered at him.
"Sorry – they smell like Charlie's piss," he corrected grudgingly.
I nodded, "Thank you."
"And finally, and most importantly, I threw them out."
My mouth dropped open.
"You...threw...away...my...clothes?"
He took a long drag on his cigarette.
"Yep."
"Why would you do that?"
He furrowed his brow. "Didn't I just cover that with the whole 'they were filthy and smelled like piss' thing?"
"They were the only clothes I owned, asshole!" I bellowed.
"Which is why I had Alice buy you some new ones, piss-girl!" he yelled back.
I gasped.
He did NOT just fucking say that.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"What did you call me?" I asked through gritted teeth.
He sat forward in his seat and glared. "You heard me...piss-girl."
I flew at him and landed on his lap, grabbing his head roughly and shoving it in my neck.
"I'VE SPENT AN HOUR IN THE GODDMAN SHOWER THIS MORNING, WASHING THAT CRAP OFF ME, IDIOT! DO I SMELL LIKE PISS-GIRL TO YOU NOW, YOU OBNOXIOUS ASSTARD?"
My breath caught as I felt his nose press into my throat. I gasped and released his head in shock.
God, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you on his lap? Why are you breathing so heavily? Why? Why? For the love of all that's fucking holy, WHY?
I could still feel his nose grazing my throat, his warm breath making my skin shiver and burn.
He didn't move. Instead he inhaled, deeply, running his nose up to my ear. I pulled away, embarrassed and more than a little turned on.
Christ, say something! Anything!
"Well?" I said roughly, "I asked you a question."
What the hell was that? He's not on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire! Idiot!
He looked up into my face. His eyes were dark and a faint smile played on his lips.
"No," he said softly, "you don't smell like piss-girl. My mistake."
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
My heart exploded in my chest, poundingfuriously.
I turned away from him and crawled off his lap, moving over to the piles of shopping bags and poking them with my toe.
"New clothes, huh?" I said breathlessly, ignoring the ache between my thighs. "I suppose that would make a nice change."
I glanced over at him. He looked at me intensely for a moment before running a hand through his hair and exhaling noisily as he stubbed out his cigarette.
"I'm sure you'll like them. My sister has a talent for fashion."
He reached over and lit up another cigarette, and I noticed his hands were trembling slightly.
"Why are you so nervous about lunch?" I asked carefully. "I mean, I know I haven't been to a restaurant in a while, but I will try not to embarrass you."
He looked at me sharply. "What? You think I'm nervous about you? God, no, Swan. Well, I mean, breakfast this morning was a bit disturbing, but no. It's not you I'm worried about."
I sat down on the couch and faced him. "Then what is it?"
He dragged on his cigarette and pretended to pick lint off his jeans. "It's nothing. Just me being a pussy."
I leaned back pulled my legs up underneath me. "It's the Screamers isn't it?" He didn't look up. I took his silence as an admission. "Why do they freak you out so much?"
I watched as he considered his answer. I could tell he was struggling to find the right words and I was truly fascinated.
He looked over to the window and furrowed his brow. "That's what I've been trying to figure out," he said quietly. "My therapist thinks it's a form of agoraphobia, but it's not." He looked over at me. "I don't know. I mean, I know they're screaming because they like me...or at least they like what I do..."
"Or how you look," I offered.
He shrugged. "But whenever I hear the screaming, all I can think of is how they expect something from me. They expect me to give them something, and I don't know what that is. I mean, the only reason I have everything I do is because of those sweet, dedicated girls buying my records and downloading my songs, and I know I should be grateful, but...they expect me to be someone I'm not."
He looked away, but not before I saw the embarrassment in his eyes.
"Jesus, listen to me. The rich rock-star whining about his problems to the girl who lives on the street. I really am an asstard."
I smiled sadly. "Yeah you are, but everyone has their problems. I guess that's why you've been to rehab so many times."
He picked up another cigarette and rolled it around in his fingers.
"I was never serious about rehab. I always knew that it was such a cliché – to be in the music industry and have a drug problem, but it seemed to be the only way for me to embrace the image everyone expected of me...and then after a while, it became the only thing to dull the panic attacks."
He shot me a lop-sided grin. "Self-medication."
I pulled my robe tighter and drew my knees up to my chest.
"So what changed?" I asked quietly. "Why did the last round of rehab work?"
He lit up the cigarette and exhaled. "I finally realized that what I was doing was weak. I was using drugs and alcohol and sex to avoid dealing with my issues. I figured I had to start controlling my life, instead of being the animal everyone expected me to be."
"Mmmm," I said thoughtfully, "So, how are you going to handle the Screamers today? I don't think running into an alley and accosting the indigent is really an option inside the hotel."
He smiled wryly. "No, I don't suppose it is."
I leaned forward. "Okay, how about this: I'll be your bodyguard. The minute things get too much for you, just give me the nod and I'll swoop in, sweep you into my arms, and carry you off while Whitney Houston wails in the background."
He laughed and my heart ached at how beautiful he looked. "You know what, Swan? That's a deal."
He glanced down at his watch. "Now, you'd better get ready. We've got to be downstairs in ten minutes, and my sister doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"Are you okay?" I asked, noticing the shadow of doubt still lingering in his eyes.
"Yep," he said confidently, "I just need to have another cigarette. And find my phone. And change my shirt."
And so it was that ten excruciating minutes later, I was squirming uncomfortably in the world's smallest g-string and tightest jeans, finally in the elevator on the way down to the lobby.
I could tell that Cullen was trying to keep it together. He was staring at the floor and breathing slowly, obviously trying to calm himself down. I wanted to comfort him somehow, make him feel better, but I hardly knew the man.
I settled for making a loud farting noise.
"Jesus, Cullen," I exclaimed loudly, "that's disgusting! What have you been eating?"
He looked at me in disbelief for several seconds before doubling over with laughter. I joined in and suddenly, things didn't seem so bad.
Before we knew it the elevator lurched to a halt.
We both stopped laughing as the doors opened, and the screaming began.
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Author Notes
Next chapter, will Bella survive lunch with Alice? And how will Edward cope with the Screamers?
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