Many thanks for the lovely reviews and referrals to friends. You're all awesome.

This is a little short, but it didn't really work with the next bit, so I'm letting it stand alone.

Disclaimer: I don't own it, I'm just goofing around.

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EPOV

I stretched lazily and folded myself back into Laurent's cushy armchair. I was still feeling a little hung over from last night. Hell, I think I might still be a little drunk from last night. But Laurent called and said there was an offer on the table that needed to be discussed immediately and right now that's all I needed to hear. So here I was, rumpled and unshaven, but present. I realized with a start that I still had my sunglasses on. I snatched them off of my face and folded them into my pocket. I wasn't about to become some poser who wore them inside.

"So Edward," Laurent began, fixing me with a look as he leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. Ugh, this was going to be long. I was hoping it would just be a good guest appearance or something, where I could just show up and not be a fuck up to succeed, and we could slap each other on the back and be happy. But no, Laurent looked like he wanted to talk.

Laurent had been my publicist as long as I'd been in LA, and I had kept him very busy, not in a good way. He looked visibly older than when I'd met him. His coffee colored skin was more lined, there was silver in his short black hair and crows feet at the corners of his dark eyes. I wondered idly if I had done that to him.

"So, Laurent." I countered, smiling, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

"Edward, the time has come for me to be blunt." Uh-oh. This wouldn't be good. "You, my friend, have a problem."

"Jesus, Laurent, I told you last time. I'm not a junkie or an alcoholic," I protested.

He held up a hand, "I know, I know. I believe you. I do. That's not the problem I'm referring to. I am referring to your image problem."

"Fuck my image," I snarled dismissively.

"You've already done that, Edward." He said quietly. Ouch. He was sort of right.

"You know, of course, that you've become virtually unemployable in this town."

I sighed and looked away out the window.

"They're all assholes. If I had a gig, I'd pull it together. You know I would."

"Let's say you're right. But the problem is the gig won't come until you've proven that you can pull it together. So, to that end, I've developed a bit of a strategy… to rehab your image."

I looked at him warily. "Well, let's hear it."

"First, you tell me you can pull it together for a gig? Well, rehabbing your image is your new gig, so pull it together as of now. Behave yourself. No more trouble."

"Okay, fine. But honestly, Laurent, it's not like I go looking for trouble. I'm just living my life, hanging out, and it just finds me."

"Yes, well, it's the living-your-life and hanging-out part we need to address then. Hanging out with someone like James Carter? When has that led to anything but trouble? You're in a club every single night, Edward. It's time to try something different… with someone different."

I sat up a little straighter and stared at him.

"What are you getting at?"

He took a deep breath and looked down at his hands, folded on top of his desk. He reached up and pushed his dark framed glasses up, rubbing his eyes briefly before settling them back into place. Then he sat back and pulled a piece of paper from a stack on his desk and passed it to me.

I took it and turned it around to read what it said. It was a print out from TMZ…it was a picture of me and that girl from the club the other night...Bella was her name. I felt a little clench in my stomach seeing her face again. I was still thinking about that encounter a little more than I should be. I read the caption at the top of the photo. "Edward Cullen goes girl-hunting again…and snares a Swan". I didn't get it, and I didn't see what the point was in showing me this. So I hit on some girl in a club. Stop the freaking presses.

"What's this mean?"

"You don't know who she is?"

"She's some girl I met a couple of nights ago at some club. We talked for a few minutes, then she left with her boyfriend."

He slid another piece of paper at me, a copy of an article from Variety. The headline said "Eclipse takes top prize on America's Next Great Band." And there under the headline was a glossy color photo of Eclipse, with Bella Swan front and center. Blondie was standing just behind her. Her fucking band mate.

"I guess you're out partying too much to see a lot of t.v." Laurent smiled. "Her band won that talent competition a few months ago. They're huge right now. And that girl is America's darling."

Huh. Bella was a celebrity. How the hell did I miss that? She didn't act like anyone famous that I knew, that's how.

"Laurent, once again, what is the point of all this?"

"Well, when I saw this piece of salacious gossip hit the internet yesterday, I made a call to an old friend from law school, Aro Cort. He happens to represent Eclipse. And it's possible we could work out an….arrangement. Miss Swan is currently beloved in this country. She's the quintessential small town girl who struck gold and hit the big time. She's wholesome, sweet, and unspoiled. In short, she's everything you are not, and everything you desperately need."

Then Laurent's meaning sank in and I shot up in my chair.

No. No fucking way.

I slammed his press clippings back down on his desk.

"Fuck that shit, Laurent! Look, I know you guys put these deals together for social climbing celebrities, I know this shit goes down. But I want no part of it, got it? And Jesus, why the fuck do I need it? Why the hell do I need some fucking fake girlfriend? I can walk out the door of this building and get half a dozen women before I hit the corner!"

"I agree, you could find half a dozen women to have sex with, Edward." Laurent said calmly. "What you could not get is America's Sweetheart as your girlfriend. And that's what you need."

The fact that he said there was a woman I couldn't get stopped me mid-rant. And he was right, Bella had walked away from me at the club. That stung a little. I opened my mouth to say something and shut it again when nothing came out. I sat back down heavily. I stared at my hands for a moment, then I exhaled and looked up at him.

"Explain to me why I need this?"

"Well, you need two things in conjunction. You need her and you need to become the man who would get a girl like her. We need people to see you as reformed and tamed, tamed by everybody's girl next door. No more clubs and drugs and taking women in the back of limos. Instead you take your sweet girlfriend out to a nice dinner. You hold her hand, you help her out of the car. You don't show up on the red carpet at the Academy Awards drunk and unshaven like last year's debacle. You show up well groomed and sober, with your beautiful little girlfriend in a pretty dress, you're friendly to the reporters and you have your pictures taken. You take her shopping, you take her to baseball games…"

"Baseball?"

"It's America's favorite pastime, Edward," Laurent said, without a hint of irony.

I sighed and sank back in my chair, staring out the window again. I could see the truth in what he was saying. And I could see the logic of his "solution". I just couldn't believe it had come to this. I'm Edward fucking Cullen…with a fake girlfriend. Because I'm too fucked up to get a girl as good as her on my own. And I'd seen her face, I'd watched her walk away from me. I really couldn't get a girl like her on my own. Pathetic.

And acting out this charade! Jesus. On the one hand, she didn't suck. I could clearly recall the visceral reaction I had when I first laid eyes on her. That doesn't happen every day. On the other hand, if she was my fake girlfriend, that would prohibit any real fun. Ah, but who the hell am I kidding? That wasn't going to happen anyway. After all, she blew me off at Geisha and walked off with….

"Hey, what about Blondie?...I mean, her boyfriend?'

"She doesn't have one. Aro assured me that she had no personal entanglements that would get in the way."

Huh. Not her boyfriend? Well, maybe they just didn't call it that. But they were way too close to be just friends. Whatever. I guess it wasn't really any of my business.

"Does she even want to do this? Has anybody even asked her? America's Sweetheart might be too honest and squeaky clean for a fake boyfriend." I couldn't quite keep the sarcastic sneer out of my voice.

"Aro was speaking with her this afternoon. We'll talk later. Does that mean that you would be agreeable if she is?"

I dropped my head forward into my hands and stared at the floor.

"And you think this is it? This will work?"

"If the media covers it, which I'm sure they will. And if the public buys it. That will be up to the two of you to pull off. Then yes, I think it will help tremendously."

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Okay, fine then. I'll do it. Whatever."

Laurent cleared his throat and then paused.

"Edward, there's one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"It's the matter of your behavior when you're not with Miss Swan."

"What about it?"

"Well, having America's Sweetheart as your girlfriend won't do much to restore your image if you're seen partying behind her back and cheating on her."

I sighed heavily. Fucking perfect. Not only would my "girlfriend" not be fucking me, apparently nobody else would be either. How the hell had I ever let it get this bad?

"Got it," I held up two fingers, "I'm a fucking boy scout."

"Glad to hear it."

"So what do I have to do?"

"Well, I'll talk to Aro today and see what Miss Swan has to say. If her answer is yes, we'll arrange a date. Something simple to start with, maybe dinner."

I said nothing, I just nodded absently, staring out the window, feeling stupid and shitty and just wanting this fucking meeting to be over.

He pushed a folder and a small black box towards me, "I've taken the liberty of putting together some press clippings on Miss Swan. And I've loaded the entire season of America's Next Great Band on an ipod for you to watch. I suggest you spend a little time getting to know your new girlfriend."

I stood up and snatched the package carelessly off his desk and bolted out the door. Once I was back in the safety of my car, I threw the package in the backseat and forgot it existed. I just wished I could forget the past half hour as easily.