Disclaimer: The characters of Twilight are owned by Stephenie Meyer. The content, ideas and intellectual property of this story are owned by Just4ALE.
Chapter 2
Billy Joel: Say Goodbye to Hollywood
#
The dream is always the same.
Aren't those Tom Cruise's first words in Risky Business?
Somehow, I doubted Tom's character, Joel, had the types of dreams I had. In fact, I hoped no one did.
Angela and Leah had recently decided that I needed to expand my reading tastes and they'd pointed me toward some erotic stories they'd found on the internet. When my eyes weren't bugging out of my head, I couldn't help but marvel at the great, erotic dreams that the main characters of these stories were having and how they remembered them with absolute clarity. Panting and moaning. Pounding and grunting. Bent in every direction. Shouting out at their climaxes. Vivid, sexy dreams. Clearly one needn't experience it to dream it, since even the virgins in these stories were having fun in their slumber.
God I hope all those sexy fictional dreams are indeed… fictional, otherwise I'm seriously missing out. Do real people dream that way?
There I was, not a sexy dream in sight. I guess my subconscious was just preoccupied with other things. I could only hope that one day I'd get to experience the great sex dream.
Or just great sex.
"Holy dark circles under your eyes, Batman," a deep voice muttered, "What's wrong with you, Bells?"
I hadn't noticed the red pick-up truck had pulled up in front of me. He was standing on the driver's side of the car, his arms on the roof as he looked me over and frowned.
I stepped off the curb and opened the passenger door. "Nice to see you too, Jake," I said as I climbed in and buckled up and he did the same.
"Seriously, hon, you look like crap."
I tilted my head and gave him my best hairy eyeball. "So, does this pick-up line work on a lot of women?"
He chuckled. "Well, clearly."
I shrugged. "I didn't sleep well. I had a dream."
"You and MLK, Junior. But obviously your dream wasn't like his."
"No, definitely not." I wasn't quite ready to tell him about it, so I quickly changed the subject. "So why the truck today? Where's the bike?"
"I thought you might be wearing a skirt and hanging on to me is hard enough for you without worrying about exposing yourself to everyone we see."
"Well thank you for your concern, but how often do I wear skirts to work, mister?"
"Ah, one can only hope." Gesturing at my pants, he said, "I've seen your legs Bells. It's a cryin' shame to hide them."
"Sweet talking me now won't make me forget the 'you look like crap' comment. Bummer about the bike."
His brow furrowed. "I thought you didn't like to ride."
"I don't like to ride on my own, but it's fun riding with you. Plus your bike is so beautiful." It was true. Jake restored motorcycles and his was gorgeous.
"Are you saying you prefer the Triumph over Big Red?" he asked in mock indignation.
Jake's dad had given him his 'Big Red' truck and it was one of the first cars he worked on. I knew how special it was to him. "I'd never say that," I mock gasped. "Anyway, thanks for driving me this morning. You didn't have to do this."
"Aw, I feel awful sweetie. I promised you'd have your Vespa back by Friday but that part we ordered didn't come in. I gave the vendor shit for it. They've Fed-Exed it and it's supposed to be here today. Barring any more unforeseen delays, we ought to have it ready for you tonight."
"One can only hope," I said flatly.
He smiled. "Anyway, I had to head that direction-"
I cut him off. "Jacob Black, Noe Valley isn't anywhere near Potrero Hill. I could have driven to work today," I scolded.
He looked at me briefly with raised eyebrows. "Really? By the time you're done with your appointment and you make it downtown, you'd be scrambling for ridiculously expensive parking. It's Monday."
He was correct. Trying to find parking in San Francisco was generally a nightmare; coming in anytime after 9 a.m. meant paying an arm and a leg, IF you could even find an empty garage. I usually rode by bicycle to work except for the Mondays on which I had my morning appointment, when I took the Vespa.
"You may be right…" I sighed.
"…I may be crazy," Jake grinned, singing, "but it just may be a lunatic you're looking for…"
"That's an 80's song, mister. Doesn't count."
He shook his head. "Only to you and your boyfriend, sweetie. The rest of us live in the now."
"Okay, 'A' the 80's aren't 'the now'-"
"I'm just trying to coax you into the now one decade at a time…"
"and 'B'" I said loudly, trying to ignore him, "he's not my boyfriend. You know this."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You keep saying that. At some point, maybe everyone will believe you."
"It's hard to have a relationship with someone you've never met, Jacob."
He shrugged. "Women do it all the time with prisoners."
"So now you're comparing my 'hobby' to those of women infatuated with murderers? You're crazy!"
"See! It just MIGHT be a lunatic you're looking for," he said with a big grin. "Oh, hey, speaking of crazy, have you given any more thought to entering the race?"
"You were serious about that?"
"Of course! I think it would be a blast! Not to mention the publicity for the bike shop. I can't believe you're not even considering this. Your man has been talking about it for months."
I threw my hands up. "He's not my man! And he's only been talking about it because KFOG is hosting the race. It's his job."
"Whatever," he said as he pulled into a spot on 24th Street. He turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt, then pointed at me. "We're not done with this conversation. We'll talk more about it on the 16th and I'll convince you then."
I shook my head and got out of the car. I watched him as he made his way around to my side. "Oh, no, you are not going to talk about this the entire 7.5 miles, are you?"
He smiled widely and nodded. "I'm persistent. It's part of my charm."
I turned and walked away from him and toward Martha's. "I need caffeine. I'll buy you a double espresso if you promise to drop it."
"Hmm," I heard him say from behind me. The next thing I knew, he was back at my side; he threw his arm over my shoulder and kept pace with me. "I'll drop it for now, but only because you have to go to your appointment and I have to get going to mine. Do you think they'll have that awesome coffee cake this morning?"
~#~
Between the caffeine and spending the past forty-five minutes with Jacob, I felt rejuvenated. I made my way down the street, definitely in a lighter mood than when I started.
Jake was one of the first people I met when I moved to San Francisco. He always managed to put a smile on my face; it was a talent he'd had from the first moment we met. He owned a bike rental shop down in the Marina and I stopped in looking for some advice on the type of bicycle one should own for getting around the city. He came up with several great ideas and he pointed me toward various vendors. As I went to leave, I thanked him and finally introduced myself.
"Izzy Newton," I said, holding out my hand for the shaking.
Jake cocked his head and squinted at me. "You know, you don't really look like an Izzy," he said, "What does your family call you?"
My face broke into a huge grin. I liked him immediately.
I heard the honk of his horn as he drove past me heading to his realtor's office in Potrero Hill and I turned and waved. I was still smiling until I turned and saw Jasper standing in front of his building. He had his hands in his trouser pockets and was watching Jake's truck drive away. Then he turned to look at me with his piercing gaze. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.
I rolled my eyes. Oh boy, here we go. Not. In. The. Mood.
"Mr. Black, I presume," he said, quietly.
"Yes, that was Jacob."
"Hmm…"
"Okay, can I at least get settled in my chair before you start in on me?"
"I said nothing."
"You don't have to. I can feel your look. Besides I have better things to discuss with you this morning."
He smiled and opened the door for me, gesturing for me to enter. We made our way up the stairs where he opened his office door and I followed him in.
Although I probably should have visited a psychologist years before this, the semimonthly sessions I'd started with Jasper Whitlock when I moved to San Francisco were my first foray into therapy. I only knew what I'd seen on TV and in movies. I didn't know what I was supposed to say or how I was supposed to address him or if he could even help. Hell, I didn't know how or where I was supposed to sit!
Jasper's office was nothing like what I originally expected. The room was light and cheerful and decorated with photos he'd taken on any one of his hiking trips to various national parks. There was also wall full of history books and odd Civil War memorabilia. He had no desk; instead there was a sofa, a loveseat and two overstuffed armchairs. Originally, I thought I'd have to lie on the sofa and spill my guts to him, but one of the armchairs called to me. It became my regular seat. And once I was finally comfortable with him, we settled into a relatively easy discussion pattern.
Jasper's methods weren't typical, but that's why I picked him. I didn't want the therapist who just asked questions and never said anything. I wanted an impartial observer, but one who would actually comment on my behavior and call me out on it, bluntly if needed. I told him this from the beginning and he managed to find a good balance between the typical, and what I needed. Despite the pushing, his calm demeanor and soft voice often put me at ease. Plus he was sooo easy on the eyes.
I ambled up to my favorite chair and positioned it to face where he typically sat; I rested my head on one of the arms and threw my legs over the other, swinging them back and forth. There I waited for the "EF-hot doctor" – as Leah liked to call him – to start.
He settled into his seat, crossed his legs with an ankle resting on his opposite knee, and began. "So, better things?"
"Well, maybe 'better' isn't the word. Maybe 'more pressing things' would be more accurate," I said looking at my hands. "I had the dream again."
"Ah, that explains 'the look.'"
My head shot up. "I'm lucky I'm not vain with you and Jacob telling me I look like crap."
"I didn't say you looked like crap."
"You didn't. He did. You implied it."
He just gazed at me steadily. "So," he coaxed, "the dream? Anything different?"
"Nope. Same old, same old."
"Tell me about it."
"Do we have to? I mean, don't you know it already? It's the same one. The same crappy nightmare over and over."
I'd been having this dream since I was thirteen. It happened less frequently over the years but it still left me shaken. I wasn't sure if it wasn't my mind's way of hanging on. Jasper just stared at me and I knew I wasn't going to get out of it. I closed my eyes and began.
"I'm in the convenience store with my parents. I'm in the back looking for a small bag of Cheetos because they only have big bags in the front of the store. The gunmen come in.
My dad is near the front counter when the store owner pops up with a shot gun. I hear my dad trying to calm the situation down and then two shots ring out. My mom screams, "Charlie!" and I hear her run toward him. Another shot and then someone drops to the ground.
A worker stocking shelves at my end of the store turns to look at me and gestures for me to go. I can't move: I'm frozen to the spot. Suddenly, there's a hand over my mouth and I take a breath as if I'm going to scream. "Shhh," I hear, and I realize the worker was gesturing to the person behind me. I'm dragged backward to a dark corner where the empty boxes sit and my abductor ducks down, crouching low and folding me into a little ball with him.
"Shhh," the voice repeats quietly. I turn to look and frightened Asian eyes stare back at me. When I turn back, a shot rings out and the worker who had warned him to hide falls down in front of us.
The two gunmen start yelling at each other and they run out the front. Gunshots ring out again outside the door due to the police answering to the silent alarm that had been pushed by the owner before he was killed. Then I'm screaming as the teen's hand leaves my mouth… and I wake up from the nightmare." I opened my eyes and looked at him. "The end."
"Did you wake up crying?"
I thought about it. "No, I guess I didn't."
"That's different," he responded. I shrugged. He continued. "You haven't had the dream since Christmas. Is it Mother's Day that triggered it?"
I took a big breath and exhaled. "My parents' anniversary. May second. Yesterday." I closed my eyes and brought my hands to my face, covering my eyes. "This won't ever go away, will it?"
"The experience will never leave you, Isabella, no."
"If I took sleeping pills the weeks around the significant events like Christmas or my birthday, do you think I could avoid it?"
"How would that help?" he asked.
I removed my hands from my face, sat up in the chair and looked at him. "Uh, avoidance? Seems like a lovely solution."
"Aren't you here because you wanted to move forward and not just keep running away?"
"Yes," I said slowly, "but I fail to see how avoiding my dreams is in conflict with that goal."
"Don't you think it points toward the safe route and not taking risks?"
I was getting annoyed. "What kind of risks should I be taking? Look what happened to my parents!"
"Going into a convenience store isn't supposed to be risky behavior, Isabella. What happened to them and you was bad luck. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I'm not saying you should take up extreme sports. You just don't need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap all the time. Yes, it protects you, but it also isolates you from others," he paused, "and it re-enforces that secret mantra of yours."
I knew exactly what he meant. My high school yearbook quote: So many places in and out of my life, some will last, some will just be now and then…
I smirked at him. "Clearly it isn't secret if I told you about it," I said. He was quiet, waiting for more. "Yeah, yeah, I believe everything is transient, especially people. I mean, aren't they? I lost my parents at thirteen, my grandma at eighteen. Divorced at twenty-six. We're born alone and we die alone."
Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes; I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.
"But the moments in-between, and the connections we create, are what make us human. You've acknowledged that you keep people at arm's length and push them away if necessary. Look at your friendships."
"My friendships? What about them? I've made a few friends since I moved here, but I never really had a lot of close friends anyway."
"Yes, you've said. Because of your age."
"Age and circumstance. I was always a step behind-"
He cocked his head. "Do you really believe that to be true? You're always a step ahead from what you told me. You skipped two grades."
"Skipping tenth was a joy," I said sarcastically. "That left me two years younger than my classmates. No one wanted to 'hang' with the baby in high school."
"So you spent your time with your grandmother and the infamous Mr. Aro."
"Hey, he taught me a lot!" He raised his eyebrows. "What?" I asked.
"Don't you find it ironic that the daughter of a cop spent her formative teenage years picking up trade secrets from a former thief?"
"He wasn't a thief!" I argued. Well, not until the end there.
"His occupation notwithstanding, your closest friends were your grandmother and her neighbor. You had few friendships in college and you didn't keep in touch with any of them. What about since your divorce?"
"I'm taking it a step at a time, and taking your advice, I might add," I said, pointing at him. "I'm picking up new hobbies. I ride my bike and run."
"By yourself."
"Yeah, usually. But I'm getting out there. I do Critical Mass once a month."
"Again, by yourself."
"Look, I'm still out with other people rather than hiding in my apartment where I'd actually prefer to be."
"Talking to that DJ. Do you think of that as a friendship?"
"It is to me. I haven't pushed Tony away."
"You haven't met him."
I wanted off the subject of Tony Masen right away. He was my own private friend. "I have Jacob and Nessie."
"A couple."
"I also have Angela and Leah."
"Also attached to others."
"Gee, Doctor Whitlock, I didn't know you were trying out to be the Love Doctor," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.
He smiled. "And now you're pushing me away."
"Huh?"
"You call me Doctor Whitlock whenever I hit too close to the mark. The rest of the time it's just Jasper."
I chuckled. I actually liked when someone could see through my façade. "I guess that's my tell."
"You don't have many. You're good," he said with admiration, "but I'm paid to help you and look for tells." He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Look, I'm not trying to be a Love Doctor, but I've heard you tell me what you like about your friends' relationships with wistfulness in your voice. It may be too soon for you to think about getting involved with someone, but your pattern of hanging with couples isn't going to make it easier on you when you are ready. And if you keep thinking that life is just a bunch of hellos and goodbyes, you'll never trust anyone enough to stay around and find out what happens in the middle."
I sunk into my chair and smirked at him. "I thought therapists were only supposed to go, 'What do you think?' 'Why do you think that?' and 'How does that make you feel?'"
"That's not what you pay me for," he said with a smile. "Yes, you're correct. To some extent, my role is to be a mirror for my patients and asking questions helps guide them. We've spent six months doing that. I think you're close to making a breakthrough. Starting the process for changing your name was a great beginning. Considering the full-time job with Ben is another. And I will admit that you may not have many friends, but the ones you have seem solid. Your judgment is good, despite how you feel about your ex.
So let me be a blunt mirror for you right now. You see everyone as they really are, but for one person – you. Buried deep under that protective bubble wrap is a very interesting young woman with many hidden talents acquired through the unique circumstances of her life and the amazing influences she's had. It's time to take notice of them."
He clapped his hands together once, signaling the end of our session. "Okay, here is your next assignment." I groaned and he chuckled. "Now, now, no complaining. I want you to think about the people who've had an influence on your life and acknowledge how they shaped you. Don't concentrate only on how they died, but what you got from their lives."
I nodded. "I guess the old reincarnation notion is in effect, huh? Take what you learn in the past so that you can move ahead in the present?" I sighed and stood up. "Thomas Jefferson said, 'I like dreams of the future better than the history of the past.'"
"The future has a way of arriving unannounced," he said, standing as well, "Live in the now."
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I worked later to make up for the missed time and went home, grabbing take-out Chinese food on the way. In an attempt to avoid starting on my homework for Jasper, I changed in to my workout gear, grabbed my iPod and went for a quick three-mile run on one of my typical routes.
After a nice hot shower upon my return, I warmed up the food, and popped in a movie while I ate. It was such a welcome distraction that I decided a double-feature was in order.
Wired and a little worried about dozing off and having the nightmare again, I settled into bed with a Sudoku puzzle book and realized it was approaching the witching hour. I hit the remote, turning on the radio, and then grabbed the phone and kept it nearby in case I knew the answers to tonight's questions.
The calm, seductive voice announced the first few songs and then at last began his nightly quiz show routine…
~twtm~
"It's Spring, kids, which means our nation's favorite pastime has begun. What do you think of our chances this year? Will our beloved Giants go all the way? Hope springs eternal.
Well, in honor of our team's trip out to play The Mets later this week, I have this tidbit for you:
This was the first artist in history to perform at all four of New York City's major sporting venues: Shea Stadium, Yankee Stadium, Giants Stadium, and Madison Square Garden. The 1965 Beatles concert at Shea Stadium was the first major concert to be held there and in 2008, this artist held the last.
Name the artist and tell me what other rock legends played at "Last Play at Shea" with this artist."
~#~
Oooh, I definitely knew this one! I scrolled through my phone list and pressed the station's speed dial number.
"Okay, hit me with it, Izzy Baby," the velvety voice answered after only one ring.
I shook my head and laughed, "Hey, Tony."
A/N: Ah, we get to meet him at last.
Thanks to the Irritable Grizzzly for her beta-tude. Please review.
Post A/N: Also not mine – lyric references from Billy Joel's Say Goodbye to Hollywood.
Answer: The Last Play at Shea took place on July 16 and 18, 2008, before Shea was demolished. Billy Joel's concert guests included Paul McCartney, Roger Daltrey, Don Henley and Steven Tyler.
