*A/N: Why am I doing this instead of grading papers?! Oh, that's right . . . because I can't stop thinking about it! I swear if I don't get it out, I'm going to go insane. But, I love it! Lol . . . I want to let all the readers of This Is Me know that I am not leaving the story behind! I will update that story this weekend or the next.
For now, this story is dominating my mind. So, if it's okay with you, I'm going to shut up and write the good stuff now!
Oh, wait! One more thing . . . for those who don't know, Sarah was the name of Jacob's mother. So I thought that would a perfect name for his daughter! Btw . . . this chapter has a lot of bad language. Just a heads up!
Okay, now I will shut up!
Chapter 4 – Uncensored
Third Person Point of View
"Bella! Your fitting! Now!" screamed Alice with Emmett standing directly in front of her. He flinched at the sound and grabbed both of his ears.
"Damn, Alice! You don't have to scream! We can all hear you just fine."
Alice turned her sharp eyes to her brother. "Don't you start! I have too much to do this week and I don't need any of your bologna!"
He laughed deeply. "My bologna? It's okay, Alice. All the little ones are grown now. You can say other words. Like shit. Or bullshit."
"Or how about, 'Emmett, don't fuck with me right now!'" suggested Sarah, as she descended the stairs to the Cullen home outside of Forks. That got a booming laugh from Emmett. She was dressed in her usual gear: small black boots, a short, jean skirt, a black tank and a red scarf.
"Sarah! Language!" cried Nessie from one of the bedrooms upstairs.
"Don't use that word!" yelled Jacob.
"Ladies don't say things like that, honey," said Rose from the top of the stairs. Sarah looked back and smiled at her Aunt whom she adored. They had always had a strong bond. But, her Aunt never missed an opportunity to teach her how ladies behaved.
Emmett intervened at that moment, "Oh, come on! Let her say whatever the hell she wants to. I like her like that."
"Thanks, Uncle Em!" said Sarah, grinning from ear to ear in triumph.
"Sure thing, kiddo. As far as I'm concerned, you should be able to express yourself freely! And say anything you want to say. Even if it's fuck, shit, dick . . ." Emmett was interrupted by Sarah's eager voice to join the game.
"Mother fucker, cock balls . . ."
"Fucktard," continued Emmett as they persistently searched for curse words. Before he could get another out, Bella zoomed into the living room and tossed him out of the open windows onto the front lawn. Of course, he landed lightly on his feet.
"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.
Bella stood next to him. Even though she was a couple feet shorter than the monstrous man in front of her, her intimidating presence more than made up for it. "Stop teaching my grand-daughter those things or so help me Emmett you and I are going to go head to head."
"You mean you're going to kick my sorry mother-fuckin' ass?" Emmett asked, laughing and pushing Bella to her limits. She lunged again, but he was quicker than she was. He dodged her perfectly.
"Have you ever really thought about that word?" wondered Sarah, coming up behind them both on the front lawn. "Mother effer? That's really gross! Or, what about the phrase, 'you've got to be shitting me.' How can someone shit someone else? Unless that person's like a cannibal."
"Curse word philosophy," Emmett said with pride in his voice, smiling at his niece, "I like it!" He offered her a high five and she slapped his hand high in the air. Bella pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, a habit she'd picked up from her husband.
"One day we should have a contest and see who can come up with the most creative cuss words!" exclaimed Sarah enthusiastically.
Emmett laughed and said sarcastically, "Maybe we can get Esme to add it to family night!"
Rose chimed in then, joining the three of them on the lawn, "Emmett, you're lucky Esme isn't here, right now! Can you imagine what she'd do if she'd heard all this?" Emmett was about to come back with a smart-ass comment, but then as the vision of Esme hit him, he shuddered. It was cute how they were all so afraid of the daintiest vampire ever.
Sarah was feeling antsy as always to do something fun, so she turned to her favorite Uncle and asked, "Uncle Em, what's fun to do around here?"
"I don't know. We've got some gas cans in the garage. I'm sure you can find something to do with those."
Rose shook her head in disbelief at her husband, "You know? I always wondered what it would be like to have had children with you. Now, I can see that God really does work in strange ways. What a disaster that would've been!"
Sarah's mind however was reeling. Gas cans! She immediately came up with a plan. "I got it! We can use some of Uncle Jasper's hunting equipment and shoot burning arrows into the cans and watch them explode!" She turned towards the garage, but was stopped by her father towering over her, arms crossed and 'the look' in his eyes that she recognized so well. There was no way in hell she was getting to do what she wanted.
"Oh, Dad! Please! I'm bored!" she whined.
"No," he said simply. The truth was, it wasn't easy for Jacob to deny his little girl. There was a reason she was so wild. She'd gotten that from her father. He'd been a troublemaker in his day, too. And, most of the time, he got a kick out of the things she pulled. However, he had a role to fulfill. The role of her father. And that meant setting bounds. For he knew all too well, that if bounds weren't set and enforced, she'd get entirely out of hand. "But, since you're bored, I have an idea for you. Actually, as punishment for all those things that just left that mouth of yours, I'm putting you on dust patrol."
"Dust patrol?" asked Sarah, scrunching up her cute nose. He loved it when she did that. He fought the smile that threatened to cross his face.
"Yep. This whole house is in desperate need of dusting. Your mother was given the job and I think it would be nice if you'd help her."
Sarah looked confused for a second. "Okay, wait. Am I being forced to do this for my dirty mouth or do I have a choice? Because, if I have a choice, I prefer to blow something up this afternoon."
"Yay! C'mon, Jake!" Emmett groaned. "We wanna blow things up!" He started jumping up and down like an overly excited child.
Jacob turned to the person he once despised, but now considered a great friend – Rose. "For God's sake. Would you deal with this please?" He begged, gesturing to Emmett.
Rose took a deep breath and said, "I know what I have to do." She turned to her husband. "Emmett, if you keep teaching Sarah bad things, I'm going to stop doing bad things to you. If you know what I mean."
He didn't need to think about the options. He faced Sarah and told her, "Sorry, kid. You're on your own."
"What?!" Sarah shouted. "Thanks a lot!" She put her hands on her hips. "So, what's going on here? Do I really have to dust?"
"Do you really want your mother doing it all by herself?" Jacob asked her.
"You're her imprint! Why don't you do it for her and save us both the trouble!"
"That's not the way the imprint works, darling," said Nessie from behind her. "You don't take advantage of the imprint."
Sarah's heart ached for a moment. How would I know about the workings of an imprint?
First Person Point of View – Sarah's
I watched as my amazing mother walked by me and wrapped her tiny arms around my father. I smiled softly at the image they made. They truly were adorable together. But, then as he leaned down to kiss her, I heard myself say, "Puke!"
Why did I say that? It really wasn't disgusting. Don't get me wrong. I'm not some freakazoid who gets a kick out of my parents kissing each other. But, I do find it to actually be really . . . sweet. Here's my problem: for whatever reason, my mouth has no censor. My mind always seems to register what comes out of my mouth after I say it. When obviously, it should be the other way around.
They both gave me a stern look after I'd said "puke." I rolled my eyes and grabbed the dusting rag and can of spray from my mother's tiny hands. "Give me that."
She smiled widely, "Well, it looks like I will have a little helper after all!" Dad grinned down at her. As long as Mom was happy, Dad was happy.
The sight gave me butterflies in my stomach. I should have said something like, "You two are so perfect for each other." Or maybe something like, "I'm so happy you have each other." Because, honestly, that's how I felt. But, again, for whatever reason, I am a bit of a bitch. So, instead I said dramatically, "You two are gross! Go do something fun and I'll stay here and be the slave of the house."
"No! Honey!" Mom started, "Your Dad just wanted you to help me! That's all. Besides, I think it would be a great time to do a little mother-daughter bonding."
Poor Mom. She's so cheesy. I groaned deeply, but then smiled at her. I couldn't help it. She was just so cute. Everything about her was charming – a trait that I, unfortunately, did not inherit. And, to be perfectly honest, I liked the idea of a little Mom and Sarah time.
"That's my girl," encouraged my Dad. My Dad – the best man in the world as far as I was concerned. Masen ran a close second. Masen, while my best friend and the greatest brother a girl could ever hope for, was still a bit of a dip shit sometimes. But, my father. He was golden in my eyes.
With those sentiments, you would expect me to say something like this to him at that moment: "Oh, Daddy! I love you so much!" or maybe, "Oh, Daddy! Please tell me that no matter what, I'll be your little girl forever!" And a part of me wanted to throw my arms around the man's neck and say just those things.
But, no. Instead, my mouth came up with, "Yeah, whatever."
Mom and I started with the living room, removing sheets from the furniture and spraying Windex and Pledge on everything in sight. After several minutes of silence, she spoke. "So, what do you think of the house?"
"It's alright," I responded, not really interested in talking about the house. "Not as great as the one in France. Or even the one back in Salem."
"I agree. But, of course, when your family lived here, it was a much smaller family." I guess she was waiting for me to respond as we folded a sheet together. When I didn't, she continued, "Can you believe your Grandma and Grandpa were married here?"
"Yeah, I've seen the pictures," I said.
She smiled and tried again. "I can't believe this was the house I was born in just thirty-two years ago. It feels like it's been a lot longer than that. A different life."
"Hmm," was my brilliant response. I looked to her face and saw that she was hoping for more. Then I remembered that it was supposed to be mother-daughter bonding time. I searched my brain for something to ask her. All I could come up with was, "Why does it feel like it's been such a long time?"
Her face lit up and that made me feel like a piece of shit. I so wanted to be the picture-perfect daughter she wanted, but that just wasn't me. At least, not on the outside. I loved all my family, but I was never good at showing that. For me, mother-daughter bonding time could've been just as effective if we'd cleaned the entire damn house in complete silence. But, my mother wore her heart on her sleeve and I knew she craved for more.
"Well," she began in her light tone, "we didn't stay here long after the Volturi left. Only a couple of years. Then we bounced from place to place. I grew up so fast and went to college, got married, had a lot of problems with pregnancies, had you, had your brother, watched my children reach full maturity in as short of time as I had . . . I've lived a lot of life in my thirty-two years. Or, at least, I feel like I have."
I'd never really thought about my mother being so young. Living with a bunch of people that never aged, I never really thought about age at all. Except when it came to my own age. But, my mother really was quite young. I smiled at her and asked, "Do you regret it?"
She looked at me, shocked. "Regret what?"
We grabbed the last sheet off the sofa and began folding it together. "Regret living your life so fast."
She became thoughtful for a moment. "No. I have no regrets. But, I did try to grow up really fast. I could've taken life a little more slowly, a little more relaxed. I always pushed myself to the maximum. I think everyone should take their time to just be young."
"Do you feel old?" I wondered, allowing the wall that I normally had up to come down slightly.
She laughed. She had the most stunning smile and the most perfect laugh in the world. I grimaced. Never would I be that flawless. "No. Well," she stopped and thought for a moment, "sometimes."
We began to whisk the couch together. "Like when?" I wondered, my curiosity taking me over completely.
"Like, when I see a woman in a dress that's a little more . . . you know . . . for young people. Like for those who go to clubs."
"Did you ever go to clubs?" I was smiling then. I had never seen this side of my mother. She was always so . . . poised and formal.
"Yes. Believe it or not, your father is quite the dancer!"
I let out a loud laugh. "Dad? No way. What's he dance? The waltz? The foxtrot?"
Mom threw her head back and laughed. "Yes, those, too. But, back in the day, your father would take me on the dance floor and things would get quite," she stopped for a moment, searching for the right word. "Steamy." Her cheeks blushed at the word.
I finished dusting a glass coffee table and said, "Oh, no! You can't be serious! You and Dad? Getting all dirty on the dance floor?"
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "Sarah!" Her cheeks were flaming red by that point.
"You're the one who said it!" I couldn't believe it. I was actually enjoying myself. I couldn't help but find it so cute – the way she was so easily embarrassed. "So, why don't you two go out to the club and get all . . . steamy . . . now?"
She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. We're parents?"
"So, what? Just because you have kids doesn't mean you can't be all hot for each other, still."
"Well, now, no. That's not what I said. We are still quite hot for each other. I assure you."
Normally, I would've said, "Ew! Mom, gross!" But, I had the sudden desire to help my mother find her old self again. Or, at least, a side that she'd never discovered. "I'm not exactly glad to hear that. But, I wouldn't want to hear the opposite either."
"But, you know," she began, "despite all the clubs we went to, I was never the girl to wear the scandalous dress or high heels." I looked her up and down: white, sleeveless turtleneck, khaki Capri pants and white Keds. She'd always dressed so much like a . . . a mom. Not that she couldn't pull it off. She looked great in anything.
"Did you want to be that type of girl?" I wondered.
"At times," she looked at me: at my black boots, short, jean skirt and blank tank that read "Metallica." "I guess I was just never brave enough to wear those types of things. But, I'm glad you are. I have to admit, Sarah. I love your style. I wish I could be more like you in that sense."
My mouth dropped open in pure shock. My perfect mother wanted to be like me? "Why?" I breathed.
"Because, you're not afraid of what anyone thinks. And you just do what feels good in life," she shook her head and smiled at me. "You're just like your father."
She began to Windex the floor-length mirror in the hallway, but stopped and stared at her reflection for a fleeting moment. I watched as her eyes scanned her clothes. I knew she wanted something different in life. I could see it there. She wanted adventure. I resolved in that moment to take her on one and to show her that she could be that person. That person that went to dirty dance at a club in a sexy dress.
"C'mon, Mom," I said to her, pulling her attention from the woman in the mirror. "Let's go do the dining room."
After only a couple of hours of dusting and cleaning, we had the entire house done. There were obvious benefits of having supernatural speed. I threw myself down on the couch and said, "I need a Coke."
"Esme should be back any time with the groceries," Mom said. She glanced at me thoughtfully for a moment. "But, I suppose that after such hard work, you deserve a little freedom."
That immediately caught my attention. "Really?!"
She smiled sweetly at me, "Yes. You've earned it today." I ran upstairs and grabbed my purse, slinging it over my shoulder. I checked myself out in the mirror, added a little mascara and red lip stick, fluffed my hair and decided that I was good to go.
I was shocked to find that the sun had come out. From what I'd heard, that was a rarity in Forks. But, that made me happy as I was able to put on my sunglasses. Mom followed me outside, keys in her hands. When we reached her black Porsche, she passed me the keys.
"What?! You're letting me drive?!" I began bouncing up and down from all the excitement.
Dad and Masen came in at that point, each with a Weed Wacker in their hands. They'd been working on the lawn most of the morning with Uncle Emmett and Grandpa Edward. Alice had demanded perfect landscaping from them.
"Actually, I'm letting you go by yourself. Unless you want me to go with you?" Mom said, her eyes shining brightly.
"No way! You've got to be kidding me?! I get to go alone?! Seriously?!"
"Ugh, Ness?" Dad asked, clearly unconvinced of the idea.
"She's earned it today, Jacob. Besides, maybe what she needs is simply for us to trust her a little more." Dad looked at Mom like she was crazy, but didn't argue with her.
Masen smiled at me and gestured for me to get in.
As I started to drive off, I heard Mom say, "Be careful, honey."
Then I heard Dad yell, "Not too fast!"
I took it nice and slow as I headed down the long drive to the highway. But, once I hit the highway . . . it was on.
Embry's Point of View
Twenty-seven years. That's how long it had been since I'd been in the state of Washington. I'd avoided it at all costs, refusing even to visit Seattle for business. I drove the pick-up truck I'd rented from Budget cars down the long stretch of highway, passing Forks, headed to La Push. My head turned as I passed the driveway to the Cullen house. I knew they were already there. I knew Jake would be there. My alpha. A man I hadn't seen since Emily's funeral. Twenty-seven years ago. But, I didn't think about stopping. I drove past the drive and continued on my way to the rez.
As I drove past the large, beautifully carved wooden sign welcoming to the Quileute reservation, I thought back on the day that Sam had passed away. Or, had died defending my stupid life, rather. Jacob had passed long ago on being the chief of the tribe. He knew that he wouldn't be there long. That the Cullens would eventually have to move and that meant Nessie leaving which in turn meant Jake leaving. Everyone had understood and been supportive. After all, the most important thing in a wolf's life was his or her imprint. Assuming you were lucky enough to find one.
So, in the summer after the Volturi came, Billy passed the torch on to Sam. Sam led the Quileutes the same as he'd led the pack – with pride and courage. He was our fearless leader. And the people loved him. And Emily, too. But, then, he'd died. And the place passed down to Sam's younger brother – me. But, there was no way any of the council wanted me to run the tribe and I sure as hell didn't want the responsibility; therefore, the tribe decided that it would go to the next logical person – Quil, and to that day, Quil led his people with bravery and brilliance.
I smiled proudly as I took in the many changes of the reservation. The school had been improved. The meeting hall. The post office. The shops and restaurants. A lot of money had been invested in the little reservation over the years and the people lived a very well-off life. Times certainly have changed.
I drove until I reached my mother's old home. It was the closest thing I had left to a home on the rez. I pulled up to the secluded, tiny house and sighed. I turned off the engine and stepped out of the truck. I looked up at the sky as the sun hit my face. I never remembered it being this damn sunny.
Focusing my attention back on the house, I realized it had been abandoned and left unattended to all those years. Thirty-years since my mother had passed away. I could've paid someone to attend to it over the years, but I hadn't. And the signs of neglect were there: broken windows, missing shutters, rotting wood, over-grown grass and weeds . . . what was once a loving, carefully treated home was now merely a run-down shack.
I grabbed my bag and went inside. The door was unlocked, not surprisingly. I went into the house and found everything covered in dust and mold. I should've fucking stayed in a hotel. I was about to leave when I heard my shoe crunching glass beneath it. I bent down and picked up and old picture frame. In it was a yellowing photo of me when I was a kid. And Quil was there. And Jake. And Seth. And in the background, my mother, smiling from ear to ear, holding up a birthday cake that said, "Happy 10th Birthday, Embry." I closed my eyes against the threatening tears and said to myself, "son of a bitch."
I tossed my bag down on the floor and watched as dust filled the air. I coughed as it hit me in the face. I flicked the light switch on the wall. No power. I'd have to use the fireplace and candles to light the damn place at night. But, it wouldn't really matter. I didn't really need any of that to see at night anyway. I went to the tiny kitchen and turned the faucet. Amazingly, after a few strange sounds, clean water came out pouring out. Pipes must still be good, I thought. But, the rest of the place needed some serious work.
Guess, I better go to the store. The store my mother had owned and operated all those years ago. It had been a simple grocery store at the time. I'd signed over ownership to Paul and Rachel when my mother died. From the little I'd heard over the years, they'd turned it into an even bigger store, offering a little of everything to their customers. I groaned at the thought of going there and possibly seeing a bunch of people I didn't really want to see, yet. Or that really didn't want to see me, yet.
I growled and returned to my truck, putting on my sunglasses. It was definitely not common to experience this sun, but I wasn't complaining. It was actually kind of nice. I drove down the highway, with my windows rolled down as I sang along to "Born in the USA" with Bruce Springsteen. My eyes caught sight of the speed limit sign reminding me that the limit was set at 55 and I was going way too fast. I slowed down, but soon my ears heard a car coming up fast behind me.
They're definitely not obeying the law, I thought. And then I rolled my eyes at myself as I realized that the old me didn't even notice if there were speed limit signs on the rez. Soon the car, a stunning, black Porsche came into my rear view mirror. Whoever they were, they were flying. They came up on the back of my truck and I thought for a second they might hit me. "Damn, dude! Slow the fuck down!" I screamed. Even though I knew they couldn't hear me. The car raced to the other lane, passed me and continued on its way to the center of town. I shook my head in disbelief. Crazy fucking people.
Then I briefly wondered at how I'd become such an old man. Once upon a time, that would've been me racing down the highway. But, that young man was gone.
I drove directly to the store and was surprised to find the black Porsche was there, too. I couldn't help but marvel at the car for a moment as I passed. It was a beauty. Then my attention was drawn to the store. It certainly wasn't a Super Wal-Mart or anything. It still had quaintness about it. But, it had in fact grown.
I opened the door and smiled as I heard a familiar bell ringing, signaling that someone had come in. I looked up and sure enough, there was the small bell that my mother had put there so many years ago. Well, that she'd had me put there. I reached up and touched the small bell. I saw a few people standing around doing their shopping, but no one I recognized. I grabbed a cart and made my way through the store, aisle by aisle.
I picked up some cleaning supplies, some hardware supplies, a Weedwacker, some bath stuff, some snacks . . . a little of anything I thought I might need. While trying to decide which granola bars I wanted, I heard a woman singing in the next aisle. I couldn't help but laugh a little.
She sang loudly, although not obnoxiously loud. "I'm your dream girl. This is real love. But, you know what they say about me . . . Ooh, baby you so bad boy. You drive me mad boy, but you don't care what they say about me. That girl is a problem . . ." I immediately recognized the old Natalia Kills song. But, whoever she was one aisle over sang it much, much better. In fact, I was a little mesmerized by her voice. I refocused my attention on the two boxes of granola bars in my hands and eventually threw them both in the cart, knowing I'd have no problem eating them both.
When I headed to the check-out, I noticed there were only four registers and only one of them was open. The check-out was still the same as it had been when my mother had owned the place. Set up more like a pharmacy check-out then a grocery store. I immediately came to a stop as I noticed the girl standing in front of the counter, leaning over it slightly and shamelessly flirting with the boy behind the counter. He looked to be in high-school. And she looked to be . . . like a fucking Victoria's Secret model with those long, slightly, but not overly tanned legs and those sexy, little black boots and that jean skirt . . . so short. And her hair . . . long and black but with the most interesting deep, red highlights.
I wanted to kill the boy behind the counter. I hated him. But, I couldn't necessarily blame him for soaking up her attention.
As she laughed and spoke soft words to him about being new in town, I recognized her voice as the girl who'd been singing earlier. She turned her head slightly and I caught the side of her face. She was wearing black sunglasses. And her lips . . . and her cheeks . . . and her . . . everything was just fucking perfect. I could feel myself getting hard and realized that I had to shift my focus or I'd be aroused in the middle of a fucking grocery store.
"Please?" she purred to the gangly-looking cashier. "Pretty please?"
Just give it to her. Whatever the fuck she wants. For God's sake. Don't say no to that.
"I don't know, Mami," he said, speaking like he was a real gangster. I shook my head. I hated people like that. "Ya' know, I'm a real playa n all, but what you wantin' could get me in some real trouble. Ya' know what I'm sayin?"
Jesus Christ. Why the hell is she flirting with this douchebag?
"Look," she began and I found myself entirely focused on her every word and desperately wanting to hear more, "I know you could get in trouble. But, you could only get in trouble if someone finds out. And I'm not going to tell anyone. Are you?"
He looked her over and leaned closer to her over the counter. "Hell no, Mami."
"So," she purred, "then it came be just between us. You and I. Our secret. Something you can give me." She passed him some cash and he took it.
"Aight, Gurl, what you want, Stevie give. You feel me?" She laughed. "Be right back, shawty." He went through the back to where I knew the employees had their lockers. I heard him shuffling through some stuff.
The sexy woman in front of me turned to her side, leaning it against the counter. She was flipping through her cell phone and blowing large bubbles of pink gum. I felt myself growing harder by the second as I watched her lips pucker and blow. I couldn't help but imagine myself getting that treatment. I was suddenly very jealous of bubble gum. And it felt ridiculous. But, also, unavoidable.
She must have felt me watching her, because she slowly turned her head and looked at me. Or at least I thought she did. With her black glasses, I couldn't really see her eyes. They were specially tinted for sure. Most glasses weren't that black. She stared for a moment until I began to shift nervously. It was odd feeling nervous. It had been decades since I'd experienced the feeling. No one made me nervous. Ever.
"It's not cool when someone is staring at you like a fucking pervert, is it?" she asked. My mouth dropped open, but I quickly regained my composure.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking a little. That was weird. My voice didn't break either. I cleared my throat. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." I felt my heart pounding in my chest and my palms began to sweat.
She opened her mouth to say something but asshole returned and passed her a tiny package. He looked back at me and I gave him the most killer look I could. It worked. He took a step back before redirecting his attention to the beauty in front of him. She stuck the little bag in her purse along with a pint of Crown Royal and a can of Coca-Cola. "Thanks, Big Stevie." She purred.
Did Paul and Rachel know they had a little drug dealer in their store? I'd sure as hell make sure they found out. She turned to walk out of the store, but not before turning and flipping me off.
Dipshit Stevie turned to me, ready to check-me out. "Hold a minute, asshole," I told him, running after the girl.
I came up behind her and she surprised the shit out of me when she turned and threw me against her black Porsche with an incredible strength. So, she's the idiot driver. Why am I not surprised by that?
"I knew it! You are a pervert!" she said, not loudly, but menacingly. "What were you going to do? Kidnap me and take me back to your house where you would tie me up and treat me like a bad, little girl?"
I didn't know what to say. I had absolutely no words.
"Are you fucking retarded, too?"
Jesus Christ. "No," was all I could manage. Her eyebrows shot up.
"Are you sure? Maybe you should be tested."
Suddenly, my brain began working again and I was getting pissed. "You're a bitch."
"And?"
"And I want a fucking apology. Now." My voice had grown strong and authoritative again. And she heard it. I saw the change in her stance.
"Fuck you! I'm not apologizing for anything!"
"You called me a pervert. Twice. You flipped me off. You slammed me against your car and you suggested that I am mentally handicapped. Apologize."
"Not a chance in hell," she said, standing firm.
I love you. I thought. I wanted her. On top of that black Porsche. She's right. I am a fucking pervert.
"Who are you?" I asked, needing to know her name.
"Are you kidding me? I'm not telling you my name."
I took a deep breath and noticed something different about her scent. She wasn't entirely human. Not a wolf. A little vampire.
"Ohfuckingshit!" I said loudly.
It was there. In her features. And in her attitude. "You're Jake and Nessie's daughter."
I was right. She didn't expect me to know who she was. "And who the fuck are you?"
I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know. I doubt your father would be happy to hear that you're buying drugs and alcohol and being incredibly rude to people on the rez. It would be a shame if someone told him."
Her jaw dropped. "Why would you tell him? Who are you?"
"A long-time friend of your father's and trust me, if he knew what you were up to, you'd be in a lot of trouble. I'd hate to have to tell him."
A look of pure anger and defeat crossed her features. "What do you want?"
"An apology."
"Fine. I'm sorry. Fucking happy?"
"No. Do it better." I demanded.
She took a deep breath and said, "I'm so sorry, whoever you are that I offended you in so many ways." She gave me a big smile and I couldn't help but return it.
"Thank you. Apology accepted."
"So, you won't tell my Dad?"
"Nope."
"Fine," she opened the door to her Porsche and got in the seat. She reached for the door and began to pull it closed. I stopped her with a strong hand, holding the door.
"What now?" She asked.
"Give it to me," I commanded.
"Give what to you?" She asked, all attitude again.
"The drugs. And the Crown. Now." I held out my hand, waiting.
"Are you serious? I apologized."
"And, I forgave you." She pulled at the door, trying to close it. But, I was stronger. "Don't push me, Sarah."
"You know my name, too? That's just fucking awesome." She reached into her bag and threw the items at me. I caught them easily in the air. "There you happy? Can I go now?"
"Yes, you may." I shut her door softly, but before she could drive off I said aloud, knowing that she'd hear me, "Oh and Sarah. I'll see you soon."
She sped off and as she left, I felt a strange feeling in my stomach. A pain. A sharp pain.
I threw up right there on the parking lot.
*A/N: Okay, so just to be clear here: Sarah isn't bipolar or anything. I just picture her as a typical young woman whose trying to find herself in the world. She's soft on the inside, but she's hard on the outside. And, remember, she was wearing sunglasses blocking those eyes of hers the entire time she was talking to Embry. Surely, you can see where this is going.
And isn't Embry cute! He's a multi-billionaire and he drives a rented pick-up from Budget. And he goes to stay at his mom's old, broken down home instead of some super hotel. I love him!
Hope you liked it! It will probably be a couple of weeks for the next update! Until then, take care!