Author Note: Thanks for reading! You all had a lot to say about the last chapter! This was one of my favorite comments: "Hmmm walk away Bella he is either lying through his teeth or he is trouble. Aint no sex worth that headache lol"
Thanks again to moosals and NKubie for pre-reading. Stephenie Meyer owns all characters.
Chapter 9: Should've Known Better
After Edward's bombshell, I stand up, walking several feet away from the bench. Under… underage? I slept with a minor? "Oh God," I mumble, my breathing speeding up. "Oh my God…"
"Bella," Edward says forcefully, surprising me by grabbing my wrists to pull my hands away from my face. "Not… that kind of underage. I was 18 when I got the job, 19 when I met you. But since they serve alcohol, they wouldn't hire anyone under 21."
I stare at him, trying to slow my breathing. He—he was 19 years old when I had sex with him? That would make him… "So… you're now…"
"Twenty-three," he answers with a small smile.
I look down at his hands, which are still wrapped around my wrists, and there's this electricity where his skin is touching mine. As ridiculous as it sounds, even to myself, I'm almost disappointed when he lets go, taking a step back.
I slept with a 19-year-old. Jesus Christ… well, I guess that answers the question of how much of his attraction to me was real. None of it, clearly. What the hell would a 19-year-old want with a 35-year-old woman?
"You look like you could use another drink," Edward chuckles, retaking his seat on the bench.
Taking a deep breath, I sit back down beside him, feeling like I might pass out if I remain standing. I hold my head in my hands, waiting for my racing heart to slow.
There's something about what he said… "Is it a good idea for you to work as a bartender when you're a recovering addict?" I ask, peeking over at him.
"I took drugs, Bella; I didn't drink. I never touch that shit." He shakes his head. "Not after my dad."
"All-all right." That's good, at least. "Are you just a bartender, or do… do you still dance?"
"Yeah," he smiles. "Friday and Saturday nights, at a club called Twilight, up in Santa Cruz. It's good money," he shrugs. "How long are you in town? You should come see me dance next weekend," he suggests with a grin.
"I don't think so," I reply immediately.
"Will you still be here?" he persists.
"Yeah, I leave next Sunday," I admit.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" he asks curiously.
"Vacation."
"Just you?"
I look over at him, my brow furrowing. Is he trying to ask if I'm here with a man? Stupid, Bella. He's probably just wondering if I came with one of my girlfriends. Or… maybe he wants me to be here alone so he can try to steal from me again.
"Just me," I confirm, not giving him any other information.
"I'm off work tomorrow — maybe we can do something together? I can show you things that only locals know about. We can start over," he proposes.
"I don't think so, Eth—Edward."
He nods, giving me a sad smile. "Are you gonna turn me in? You hold my entire life in your hands."
We gaze into each other's eyes, and… I want to believe in him. What he did was wrong, but I understand why he did it, why he needed the money so badly. Turning him in now, if he's truly turned his life around… I don't know if I can do that. Four years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated, but the anger and embarrassment have faded somewhat since then. My insurance company reimbursed what my jewelry was worth; the only real damage was to my pride.
"Prove to me that I can trust you, Edward."
"How?" he asks, brow furrowed.
"What's your last name?"
He stares at me for a moment, then reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a black leather wallet. He slides his driver's license out and hands it to me. Edward Anthony Masen. That explains one of his fake names, at least. I cringe at the birthdate: June 20, 1991 — I got my first driver's license that year.
Wordlessly, I hand his license back to him. I know it took a lot of trust in me for him to show me that. I could easily ruin him now.
"I'll do whatever you need — whatever it takes to convince you to trust me. Please, Bella," he begs. "I'm so sorry for everything. I'm not that guy anymore. I don't want to say something trite like the drugs made me do it, but… I wasn't thinking clearly. I know what I did was wrong, I know that. I'm sure some part of you would like to see me punished, but… I'll always have to live with the guilt over what I did."
Oh hell. Maybe I'm an idiot to do this, but I can't ruin this young man's fresh start.
"I won't turn you in," I whisper.
"Thank you," he says fervently, scooting closer and wrapping his arms around me. He holds me tightly and the scent of his cologne brings back memories of that night. I stiffen at the realization and he pulls away, letting me go.
I have to get away from here before I do something stupid. Standing up, I look down at him, the way he's watching me carefully. "Have a nice life, Edward. Stay out of trouble."
I spend the rest of the week in Carmel, minus one day driving down the Pacific Coast Highway to Big Sur. I stay out of Monterey, and I most definitely, definitely do not drive up the coast to Santa Cruz.
Until Saturday, when I ask the front desk clerk at my hotel for suggestions for a daytrip for my last day, and she suggests the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. I spend the afternoon there, and it turns out to be a great suggestion. I ride the Great Dipper wooden roller coaster, play arcade games, and remember what it's like to have fun.
Tired of seafood and Mexican, I stop in at a pizzeria just off the Boardwalk for dinner. As I walk off my pizza, I visit Neary Lagoon Park. On my way back to where I parked my rental car, I see it — the Twilight strip club where Edward said he'd be dancing this weekend. Unable to stop myself, I walk up to it, and the sign advertises a show starting at 9pm.
"At least you're dressed more appropriately tonight."
I jump, turning around at the sound of Edward's voice. He grins at me, dressed in dark wash jeans and a faded gray t-shirt that totally shows off his biceps.
"I-I just ran into this place on the way back from my walk in the park." It's the truth.
He takes a few steps closer until he's looming over me. "Are you coming in?" he asks. "I can get you in for free," he adds with a wink.
"I think I'd better just go." I start to turn away, but he grabs hold of my arm.
"Stay, Bella. Come watch the show."
I look up at his face, even more hauntingly beautiful with the extra four years. I have no idea why he wants me to come in, but I realize that I do want to watch him dance again. He's nearly impossible for me to resist.
"On one condition…"
"What?" he grins. "Am I not gonna like this?"
"Do not under any circumstances bring me up on stage with you."
He laughs, smiling that beautiful smile as he nods. "Deal."
His hand on the small of my back, Edward leads me to the entrance. He nods at the bouncer, then tells the woman collecting the cover charges that I'm with him.
Inside, the music is loud, as I expected. The stage here is in the center of the room, with small round tables surrounding it. Along the walls, there are long padded benches, with narrow rectangular tables in front — for setting drinks, I suppose.
"I gotta go get ready," Edward speaks into my ear. "Sit anywhere you want — I'll find you."
I watch him walk away from me, then take an empty spot against the wall, ordering a Cosmopolitan from my shirtless waiter.
I'm on my second drink when the emcee announces the start of the show. A dozen guys take the stage — no masks this time — standing three to each side. Somehow Edward manages to find my side.
Once the guys start dancing and the spotlights turn on, I tell myself that he can't see me anymore, and I allow myself to stare, as mesmerized by him as I was the first time I saw him dance. If anything, he's only gotten better. And sexier, now that he's not quite so thin.
By the time he's down to his g-string, it's all I can do not to drool. I watch the ladies at the front tables stand up, stuffing bills into his g-string, and I want to rip their hands off. And then I chastise myself for my possessiveness. Edward isn't mine. I don't want Edward to be mine.
The guys dance to several more songs and then suddenly sirens sound and red and blue lights — like you'd see on top of a patrol car — flash around the room. One by one, the guys hop off the stage, but instead of going down the hallway to the dressing room, they stop in front of various tables.
It doesn't take a genius to understand why Edward was so agreeable when I asked him not to bring me on stage.
A/N: So, Bella agreed not to turn him in. Based on last chapter's reviews, not all of you would agree with that. How many of you have changed your minds?
Bella just can't seem to resist Edward, letting him convince her to watch him dance again. But what else will he convince her to do?
