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EPOV

My week has been shitty. As usual, I worked. I had three house calls and a call from one of the most famous theatres in Paris. They asked me to fix their two grand pianos because they had a major concert to do and they wanted them in top shape, plus their regular guy relocated to England. They paid me five grand; quick money to me, really.

I sent the letter to my mother but I haven't gotten a reply yet. I did wonder, though, why she didn't just call me. I mean she wrote that she got all my letters and I knew I put my contact information in all of them. It may not be safe but you'd do anything for your family if you loved them as much as I did.

I decided not to dwell on it too much. I might cause myself pain, not that I didn't bath in it every day…

The shop working on my car said I could pick it up around eleven on Sunday, which was tomorrow. I felt slightly better about that since I abhorred public transportation.

I had bought Berta her chocolate pastry yesterday after I closed the store. Surprisingly, Herbert was with her when I walked in the doors. He looked tired, as if he'd been working non-stop for days (upon which I have no doubt), but happy as he stared at Berta. She looked like a school girl under his gaze.

They were a lovely couple but with the way he was looking at her and the way she was smiling, I didn't want to think about what they'd been doing all day. Though, I'm sure I had a pretty good idea.

"Comment allez-vous?" I asked how their day was as I walked to the front desk. It was out of habit that I always greeted them in French.

"Très bien, Edward. How was your day?" Berta asked.

"It was fine. One of my students finally passed all my lessons. She's starting high school in the fall. I also got a house call from the guy that owns the Wiltshire Estate in the hills. He had me fix three grands for four thousand. He said something about a dinner party, I don't know. But I got a call from the Paris Grande Theatre. They paid me five for their two grands. I made a handful of money this week. Must be something going on for me to get all these house calls and such."

"Well, it's good for business." She said. Then she giggled and Herbert kissed her neck.

I rolled my eyes. They always acted like newlyweds and at first I found it odd that it didn't disgust me because they were old, but I got used to it; they were like second parents to me with the way they've taken care of me since I've been here.

"Not really." I said dully.

"Why not?" Herbert spoke that time.

My mood shifted from amusement to annoyance.

"It's been hell trying to get to these places without my car." I groaned remembering taking the bus to the theatre and the train and a cab to the Estate. The pushing, shoving, yelling and angry remarks of people in the streets were unbelievable. It gave me a headache almost every day.

"Buy another one." They said simultaneously. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Oui, I could but I like my Volvo."

Herbert rolled his eyes.

"Edward, son, obviously you are miserable without it and you hate public transportation. You don't even have to buy a car. Buy a moped or a motorcycle. It'll calm your bitching and make everyone happy." I resisted the urge to flip him the bird. I knew how blunt he could be and he could see right through me sometimes.

"Edward, cher, we've known you for five years. You are like a son to us and you are as easy to read as a traffic sign on the highway and we know you." I grimaced but she continued. "Buy a motorcycle, it will do you good. You would look like a, how you say…geek, oui, a geek, on a moped."

We all laughed.

"Merci, Berta." The sarcasm level was in the clouds when I answered.

"So, are you going to greet the new tenant on Sunday? She is moving into the apartment right across from yours." Berta asked after a minute.

I shrugged. They carried on their evening and I went to sleep.

I took the Long's advice and visited dealerships in between and after the lessons I taught today and seeing as it was a Saturday I had plenty of time. Even though I knew I could get my car back tomorrow, I always wondered what it'd be like to ride a motorcycle…

I found out I had to get a motorcycle license at the first dealership I went to and that didn't take me long, only an hour. I checked out a few more before I saw the bike that I wanted.

It was a sleek black '08 black Suzuki Hayabusa. I didn't think they sold those in Europe. The dealer told me it was one of the best and fastest motorcycles in '08. It could go a fourth of a mile in less than four seconds. That was fast enough for me. He explained the laws for people with motorcycles and such, but I already know them from taking the test to get my license.

I intended to follow them too, especially the one about wearing a helmet while riding (I didn't like the idea of losing my head in a traffic accident although it sounded quite intriguing as a reprieve from the pain I endured everyday) but that was after I felt the wind blowing in my hair, on my face as I zoomed by cars and mopeds and pedestrians. What a rush!

I did all of that and I damn sure enjoyed it, that was until I got fined a hundred euro for riding without my helmet. Apparently, riding a motorcycle without a helmet in Europe was like going twenty-five over the speed limit without a seatbelt on the highway in the states and getting caught. Yes, that bad.

I knew I was safe from getting a speeding ticket because, I mean, the speeds in Europe were ridiculously fast. There practically weren't any real speed limits. It was why my cars didn't work too well when I first came here. I called the shop to tell them to have someone bring my car to me since I couldn't very well ride the motorcycle and drive the car simultaneously.

It was a Saturday night and I had nothing to do, not that I wanted something to do, I was just…bored. There's no other word for it. I walked to the kitchen and fixed myself something to eat. I didn't even know why I was eating when I wasn't really hungry and it was currently–I looked at my watch—half past midnight.

I sighed.

I wasn't sure why I suddenly felt so bored and…lonely. For the longest time the Longs' had been telling me I needed to get a nice girl and bring her home. I'm not sure their definition of home and my definition of home were the same. But either way no one's ever been in my apartment save for the Longs'.

But I had a reason why I never brought anyone home. I had a reason why I was still single. Even after all these years the reasons are still the same.

In high school, girls went after my money or my looks, or sometimes even both and I hated it with a passion. I never met a girl who was even worth having a two second conversation with. They were all shallow and dimwitted.

Then I went to college. I met one girl, Tanya, and she was worth talking to. She was smart and beautiful with her strawberry blond hair and bright blue eyes and a body that half the girls I knew in college envied her for.

We dated for a year, in happiness, before I found out some particularly interesting things about her. And I don't mean interesting in a good way, either.

She came up to me one day with tears in her eyes. I sat her down on a park bench because I was on my way to class that day and she spilled everything. It destroyed the relationship we had. Well, according to her story it never really was a relationship, more like manipulation and betrayal.

It was a complete waste of a year in my life. And I had had enough even then. Not knowing where my mother was…

And my father…

Tanya told me she made a bet to see how long it would take to bed me (three months) and when she succeeded she'd get $500 plus cheats for a few classes she was taking that she was failing. But, wait! That's not all. When I recovered from the shock of that she then proceeds to tell me that she was doing three other guys behind my back for the same purposes.

She said she loved me.

Bull shit.

Yeah, sure, she loved me.

In her dreams.

I stood from the bench and walked away without a word or glance back. I haven't seen or heard from her since and I don't plan to, ever. I told myself not to cry tonight. I told myself not to focus on the pain or numbness flowing through my body.

I needed something to distract me, anything to distract me. It was too late for me to go to Berta and I knew no one else I could talk to. I didn't feel like working on pianos or writing music or even standing out on my balcony as I usually did. I thought about something I hadn't done in almost six years…

I wasn't completely sure I wanted to do it or not but my brain decided it wanted to do something else tonight. And even though my body and heart were telling me not to, my brain was wearing my down.

"Fuck it," I muttered under my breath.

I gave in.

I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my leather jacket, keys and helmet and headed for my motorcycle. It was parked next to the building.

The streets were dark (there weren't street lights) and close to empty. I rode with my helmet on but it was pushed up so it sat sort of on top of my head. The sharp wind blew across my face and stung my eyes. I welcomed it. It was distracting.

I stopped at a bar after riding for a few hours. The bar wasn't full or loud and I was grateful. I couldn't take a lot of noise right then. I sat down on a stool at the counter and asked the bartender for a triple shot of vodka. My throat was dry and even though I knew it wouldn't help much I needed something in my mouth…

I don't remember a woman, scantily dressed with black hair coming up to me. I don't remember taking her for a ride on my motorcycle. I don't remember groping her in the elevator of my building. I don't remember slamming her roughly into my apartment door after I kicked it shut. I don't remember us ridding each other of our clothes, trying to make it to my bedroom.

I don't remember picking her up and throwing her on my bed. I don't remember kissing her wildly or entering her without preamble. I don't remember her screams, her moans, her nails clawing my back. I don't remember her tightening around me or releasing in the condom I managed to pull on in the midst losing clothing.

I don't remember her falling asleep tangled up in my sheets. I don't remember standing out on my balcony replaying in my head what I'd just done…

I felt slender arms wrap around my waist from behind. I didn't know how long I was out there but the sun was slowly coming up over the buildings I could see. I felt lips on my shoulder blades. I didn't respond and neither did the woman, Linda was her name.

When the sun was finally up Linda's hands slowly started to move down. I grabbed her hands and turned around to face her, her hands held tightly in mine.

"Come back to bed," her gray eyes gazed into mine and her voice was soft. It would've been attractive had I been looking to keep her around.

I shook my head.

"No, not now. I have a busy day." Lie.

"Just a few minutes," She pleaded.

"No," I told her firmly. "I have to go and so do you."

She stared at me for a minute before nodding.

Ten minutes later with a small 'call me' and a kiss, she was gone. I knew I wouldn't call her.

I took a long, much needed shower and when I came out of the bathroom and looked at my clock; it read eight a.m. It was still early and I virtually had nothing to do today. But one thing I knew was that I wasn't going to sit in.

I was closed in enough, in my own body. I didn't want to spend the day crying because the pain was too much or because my brain decided it wanted to be against me and forced my body to do something it would regret later…

I felt like composing but there was nothing motivating me and didn't want to compose something depressing. Mrs. Long would hurt me…

I knew the Longs' would be knocking on my door, trying to get me to greet the new tenant and frankly, I didn't want to. My thoughts on her would still be sour; snotty with a stick up her ass as she looked down her nose at everyone else.

So I took a ride.

I rode through the streets—helmet on this time—and damn it if I didn't enjoy it. I stopped by the store to work on a few pianos, just to get my hands dirty. I felt better when I got back. I checked my mail hoping against hope that there was something from my mother there.

Nothing.

I sighed, ran a hand through my already fucked up hair and glanced out the glass doors I'd just walked through.

Huh.

I hadn't noticed that limo parked across the street. It must be that woman's. She must be here already. No wonder there's anyone at the front desk. I pulled my jacket off and held it over my shoulder and pressed the 'up' button for the elevator. It came a moment later and Mrs. Long stepped out.

"Hello, dear," she said with a smile. Something shined in her eyes that I couldn't identify. Somehow it worried me and excited me at the same time. She kissed my cheek, which was a feat for her because I was a whole head and a half taller than her and I didn't bend down.

I stood there, frozen, while she scampered off to the front desk with a 'Herbert'. As I stepped into the elevator I heard him call out 'Love'. I pressed the button for the fifth floor. My hands itched to do something, anything. I wanted to compose but nothing came to mind.

I worked on a few pianos at the store earlier, but that only seemed to satiate my hands for a small while. I sighed. This turned my mood sour again. It was a fairly beautiful day and my mood just had to be horrible.

The elevator dinged and stopped. The doors opened. I was ready to bolt to my room but the people in front of me stopped me in my tracks.

The man didn't hold my attention, though, not even for a second. I was surprised I even noticed him.

It was her.

The woman standing next to him.

The angel.

My mind went blank for the first time in five years. I lost control of my emotions and for the first time I felt nothing. Nothing.

There was no pain or numbness. There was no sense of dread or sadness. There was just…nothing.

Her wavy brown hair, bright brown eyes, soft pink lips and—

The list could go on…

My brain worked against me. My control was gone. I didn't know what to do. It was unsettling. I always knew what to do when I lost control, when the reserve of my emotions was broken.

But one look from her and I was turned mush.

I couldn't take it. My mind was already down and losing control of my emotions was not helping any.

So I did the typical thing.

I twisted my face into a sneer.

I glared at the angel and then I was overwhelmed with the urge to run. I shouldered past her before my mouth could open and say something that wasn't supposed to come out, pushing her into the man she was standing next to. The man was about to say a few words to me by the look on his face when I shoved her, but I turned my back and prepared to tune him out.

But the words never came.

The elevator dinged and I heard the swish of the doors as they closed.

I took a glance back at the spot where the angel stood and sighed. I shouldn't have sneered or pushed her like that, but isn't it natural to retaliate in anger when you lose control of something that you've had under control for five years?

Berta's shining eyes flashed in my head for a moment as I opened my door. I leaned my head against the door when I closed it. I counted to ten and took a few deep breaths.

Now, I'm ready to play. I had my inspiration.

I needed to get my control back.

I walked to the back of my apartment to a door between the kitchen and the den. This room was my recording studio. I had a piano and a soundboard put in it and a few other things. Herbert helped me sound proof the room so as not to disturb others and so that there wouldn't be any unwanted outside noises when I recorded. When it was quiet I could hear everything outside the room.

I grabbed a fresh notebook from a bookshelf against the wall next to the door. I pulled a pencil from a cup on the bookshelf and started writing notes.

Twenty minutes later I had five completed compositions. That was the first time I'd ever written so much in so little time.

And it was about one person…

I placed the book on the stand as I sat at my piano. I'd set up the recording system so it would record as I played.

My fingers were poised on the keys when there was a knock on my door. I sighed and went to answer it.

"Sky?" I was surprised to see him. I hadn't seen him since I put my car in the shop three weeks ago. I glanced behind him and noticed the door open right across from mine. "What are you doing here?"

"Mr. Masen, I—"

"Sky, please call me Edward. We're practically the same age." I interrupted him. I didn't like it when he called me that; it reminded me too much of my father.

He nodded.

"Edward, I was coming tell you that your car is here. I would've delivered it myself but I had another job to attend to." He paused and then pulled his sidekick from his back pocket. He flipped it open and I guessed his was texting as he thumbs looked like they were moving.

A second later he turned back to the open door and a woman poked her head out. Her blue eyes were much the same as his and they were shining too as she looked at him. She waved at me and I nodded in response.

"Alright, Kris," he said.

She nodded and then I heard a sound, much like childlike giggling.

"Krisha!" I heard what sounded like a little boy yell.

"Sorry about that," Sky apologized. "My girlfriend and I are babysitting. It's really her job but I help and I need the extra money." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Did you guys move in there?"

"No, it's our boss's home. She just arrived a few hours ago. She left with her driver to go food shopping not too long ago."

I heard some more childish squealing and then some laughing.

"She has a child?" The Longs' didn't tell me this. I wonder if they even knew at all.

"Yes, her n—"

"Sky!"

He was interrupted by a female's voice. I assumed it was his girlfriend, Kris.

"One second, Edward." His eyes were panicked and he held up one finger as if to tell me to wait.

I waved a hand dismissively and he bounded off, reaching the door across the hall in two strides.

"Kris?" I heard him call frantically.

I shook my head. Sky seemed too frantic and too scared and too worried all at the same time. You'd think she was screaming bloody murder or something.

The other door closed after a few minutes.

I stood there staring at the door, the gold numbers reading; 507. Maybe that was where—no, she couldn't live there. Not that angel. She didn't look old enough to have any kids to take care of. Maybe I shouldn't think that. It was quite bitter if I really thought about it. But then I had a different thought.

The door opened again and a cheerful looking Sky stepped out. I internally frowned at his rapid mood changes but then I thought about myself…

"Sorry about that." He apologized again.

I nodded.

"Your car's all good, now. It's clean, too. Worked on it myself, body and engine. I know how you are when it comes to that."

I nodded again.

He did know. Sky's worked on the past few cars I've had. I kept burning out the engine because I tended to drive fast and the cars I've had couldn't handle it. I was never one to fix cars so I had to find someone else to do it and Sky was the right guy for the job.

The only thing I could do was check the oil and refill the antifreeze. Sky laughed when I told him that. I've known him for almost four years, now, though I didn't know he had a girlfriend. He seemed too reserved for a relationship but then what do I know?

"So, uh, was that her that left earlier, with the brown hair?" I asked, trying not to seem nosy.

"Oui, she'll be back soon though."

So it was her!

"What's her name?" My voice was a little too on edge.

Sky cocked an eyebrow then he jumped slightly and pulled his phone from his back pocket again. He flipped it open and sighed.

"Her name's Bella, Edward. I have to go. Duty calls."

"Merci," I said.

Sky went back to the room.

Bella.

Bella.

It means beautiful in Italian. And she was more than just beautiful.

Damn, I needed to write again.

Two hours, twenty-five sheets of paper, three broken pencils and a frustrated growl later, I was done.

The perfect song.

The perfect melody.

Her song.

Her melody.

Bella's lullaby.

Maybe she was too grown to have a lullaby. Maybe the song was too…I don't know.

I looked over the song again for the millionth time. I listened to it again for the millionth time.

It was perfect to me but I hoped she liked it.

But then she wouldn't talk to me, not now. Not after I sneered at her and pushed her. What a first impression! Maybe I should go apologize. That sounded like a good idea. I suddenly felt insecure, really insecure just thinking about approaching her. I've never felt so insecure in my life and I'm a grown man!

It's ridiculous. I can't talk to her, now. She probably hates me.

Mrs. Long would know what to do in a situation like this. I walked to my door, intent on finding Berta so I wouldn't curl into a ball and cry like I usually did in all my misery and self-bashing. I wanted—no, needed to talk to someone.

I opened my door and froze mid-step.

She was there.

The angel.

Bella.

Her brown eyes were staring into mine. I almost closed the door in her face but I couldn't seem to get my body to move. She held my gaze and never once did it falter. Then her soft pink lips parted and she spoke.

"Salut."


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