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~Chapter 9 - Misunderstood~
BPOV
I was barely on the sidewalk, past the heavy glass front doors ofKing County Reporter,when I noticed a black sedan pull up along the sidewalk right next to me.
Startled by the intrusion, I scooted over toward the center of the sidewalk and kept walking but the car rolled forward a few feet keeping up with my pace. I turned my head when I heard the automatic door roll down and thought perhaps they needed directions.
"Excuse me, Miss Swan, I was wondering if you could spare a moment to take a ride with me?"
I stopped and peered inside nervously so I could see who was talking to me. The words were caught in my throat and I felt my pulse race when I recognized the piercing green eyes staring back at me.
I swallowed thickly and leaned in a little. I found myself nervous and wondered if this was going to be a conversation that I should flee from. Under normal circumstances, I think that the pre-Seattle Bella may have ran from the vehicle and the man inside of it like a virgin in a whorehouse, but I was getting used to this braver, no nonsense Bella.
"Well, that depends on what I'm getting myself into. Is everything okay?" Upon further inspection he appeared to have a split lip that had begun to heal. A day ago, possibly two… his injury couldn't be that old—I just saw him on Monday.
"I um, I don't want to speak about this out the window, so if you wouldn't mind…" he opened the door and gestured for me to come inside.
I took a look back at the ominous front doors and figured I had nothing better to do. So I threw caution to the wind and got into the back seat, carefully keeping my skirt in place so as to avoid giving him a show. As soon as I got in, the driver, who I had barely noticed in this encounter, looked at me through the rearview mirror briefly and quickly pulled away from the curb.
The air was charged inside the vehicle and I looked to the man on my right for some sort of explanation.
"A lot has happened since Monday, Bella and I wanted you to be prepared in the event my actions come back to haunt you," he said, exasperated. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second and turned those green eyes back on me.
"Alright, so haunting doesn't sound so promising, what's this all about Edward?"
"My father was livid with my decision to allow our interview. I thought the story was great by the way, I mean I never, erm, expected my launch to be so explosive. So-thank you, I probably should have called to tell you that. My partner Jasper would probably kiss your feet at this point if you asked him to," he said with a slight chuckle.
He was nervous. It wasn't something that would register as nerves for someone who hadn't ever spoken with the ever charming Edward Cullen, but I could feel his energy and his body was giving off a definite humming vibe.
He liked my story though; maybe he is here because he likes me.
My fingers fidgeted in my lap at the compliment. I sucked at accepting gratitude. I was much better at accepting criticism. My eyes moved to Edward's lips. They looked so soft and I wondered how they would feel under mine. I wanted to lick them and explore every little crease of his mouth.
I inadvertently opened my mouth and made a little noise at my burgeoning fantasy.
Edward noticed and got a confused look on his face.
"Are you feeling all right? You look a little…" he seemed to be trying to figure out what my ailment was, "Flushed?"
"I'm fine Edward. Perhaps it's just a bit warm in here. Anyway, are you going to finish explaining what you needed to talk with me about? Because so far this is all stuff you could have told me over the telephone."
My tone was bitchy to cover my embarrassment, but I found it impossible to control. What was I supposed to say? I was practically foaming at the mouth.
He winced and pulled away from me a little. Our bodies were leaning into each other and Edward righted himself and continued. "You told me that my father's phone calls had gotten you in trouble at work, so I was hoping to avoid that. I just wanted to tell you that, he and I exchanged… words, about his pursuit of you for the Enterprise and I don't think he will be bothering you again."
"When you say 'words', you mean blows, don't you?" I asked quietly, my fingers unconsciously moved to my bottom lip.
He mirrored my action and touched his lip. "Oh right. I forgot there was evidence of our conversation. Yeah, I guess it did, but I made sure he got the worst of it." The sight of Edward smirking at me about did me in and I had to force myself to stay focused on what he was saying because my body was reacting to his presence like he had his own magnetic field.
My stomach rolled at the realization that I had been the cause of so much trouble. But I wasn't naïve and I had expected Carlisle to react poorly to my story. I just anticipated that it would be me who bore the brunt of his reaction.
"Edward, I am so sorry. This whole story idea was stupid and selfish—" He quieted me, putting a forefinger to my lips. The tingles that set off were like fireworks. I could feel my heart pounding so loudly in my ears I was certain he could feel it too.
"I am a grown man, Miss Swan. I am responsible for my actions and had I not wanted to grant your request for an interview, well, let's just say that no matter how lovely the reporter, I would have stood my ground." My brain tripped up and did somersaults over his 'lovely reporter comment but I remained quiet, even when he removed his finger from my lips.
"Carlisle and I have been on the outs for years, partially because I wanted nothing to do with his family business, but mostly because I can't begin to forgive him for continuing to humiliate my mother by cheating on her with countless women." Edward's eyes were pained at his revelation and his jaw was clenched like a man resolved in anger.
"So, anyway, Miss Swan, when the subject of your story came up in a heated exchange between the two of us, his uh—wandering eye and obvious interest in you were topics we broached. My mother overheard and kicked him out."
"I see." I took a moment to digest what Edward was telling me. In all the details I'd heard and read about regarding the Cullen family, I'd come across no information about Edward's mother.
"I still can't help but feel responsible." My voice had turned quiet and I was talking more to myself than him.
His smirk had returned. "You give yourself entirely too much credit, Miss Swan. Carlisle cooked his own goose a long time ago. If he was embarrassed by your story, he had only himself to blame. It was a result of his own making and I'm sure he has moved on to some other whore to warm his bed."
My cheeks instantly stung with a vibrant pink hue as though I'd been slapped across the face.
"Are you comparing me to a whore, Edward Cullen?"
"No, I—"
He was flustered, and obviously caught off guard by my reaction. Incensed barely scratched the surface of my feelings and God was I embarrassed. Edward clearly thought that I was the kind of woman that flaunted herself to get what she needed and I was done with this conversation and him.
We pulled up to a light and were roughly eight blocks from my work.
"Stop the car please," I said, raising my voice to the driver.
"Wait—let me explain!" He reached across the seat and tried to grab my knee to keep me seated but I pulled away. "At least let me take you back to your work. Please, Isabella, be reasonable!"
"Now you think I'm unreasonable? Well, Edward Cullen, thank you," I said, sliding out of the car. "Thank you, for providing the cherry on top my perfectly fucked day!"
I had managed to keep the tears at bay throughout my walk back to work, which was monumental, because anger was my most frequent trigger point for waterworks. What started out as a walk to clear my head of work problems ended as a total failure; I was more keyed up now than I had been after the staff meeting. I sighed and kept a steady pace in the direction of the Reporter, oblivious to the scents and sounds of spring that drew me outdoors in the first place.
What was Edward thinking? God, he was such an idiot. To think, I was swooning over him like a bitch in heat.
With each step my anger slowly morphed into extraordinary embarrassment. My face was still on fire and I was glad I had the opportunity to slow down and try to get my heart rate under control. Replaying the conversation in my head it dawned on me that I didn't really believe that Edward thought of me as a whore. My reaction was instantaneous though. Maybe I was just sensitive because I was feeling guilty; I practically broke up the man's parents.
Fuck, Angela was right. I am a drama queen.
I took a short detour and walked into a neighborhood park. It wasn't much more than a few benches and trees with a patch of grass, but I needed a few more minutes to collect myself. I don't think I'd ever in my life been more affected by a man. His mouth, his fresh showered scent, his fingers… Maybe just being around him sent my pheromones into overdrive and my normal ability to reason and think before I speak was impaired. Like some sort of virus. I laughed at myself and I swear to God it sounded a little maniacal. A passerby might think I was a crazy woman, sitting by herself on a park bench laughing. All I needed was a shopping cart and a dog tethered by a rope and a jacket fashioned from a garbage bag.
I hauled myself to my feet and decided that hindsight and sore feet in heels provided me some perspective. By the time I saw the news building at the end of the block, I was grateful for a little bit of real pain to focus on other than the jumbled up emotions I had let rule my mouth and brain for the past hour. Since I met the Cullens, I had been involved in three embarrassing scenarios: Carlisle and my work, in Edward's office trying to get a goddamn story and in his car less than twenty minutes ago.
Well, either Venus is in retrograde or the universe is trying to tell me to stay the hell away from them. If you can hear me, please take note. Message received, loud and clear.
I managed to make it up the elevator and into the newsroom bathroom without drawing any attention to myself and cleaned up my make-up. I needed to pull myself together to do a fricken pet shop story and at that point I was glad to get back to work. Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I used the toilet and discovered the reason for the season: I got my period for the first time in six months.
Fuck my life.
Zephyr helped me unload the groceries and chatted on about the events of his day. He seemed pretty oblivious to my glum mood and I did a pretty good job at feigning interest in the minutia of playground politics and the lunchtime projectile vomit story.
"Serves the lunch lady right though, I'm glad she had to clean up Priscilla's puke."
Mom radar kicked in with that statement and my conscious dwelling on the days events faded into the background.
"What do you mean serves her right, Zeph?" I said, as I set the stock pot on to boil. "I don't like hearing you talk like that. What's going on?"
He looked up from his cursive homework at the kitchen table and his facial expression was reminiscent of a deer caught in headlights.
Doh! Busted.
I was in the dining room now with my hands on my hips awaiting an answer.
"Mary the lunch lady is mean. She doesn't like any of the boys in my class and we don't like her either."
I squatted down to his level and rested my head in my folded arms on the kitchen table. Given my track record for the day and my already established propensity to fly off the handle, I wanted to tread lightly and give Zephyr an opportunity to explain.
"Go on," I said.
"Well, I think she just doesn't like boys. She kept me inside for part of lunch recess for trading sandwiches with Andy on Monday, and last week she made me clean up all the garbage in the lunchroom for shooting a basket with my empty Sun Chips bag."
"Okay, is there anything else?"
"Um… I heard her call another kid 'a little punk' today…" he said quietly, looking down at his homework to avoid my eyes.
"Listen kiddo, you need to learn to live by the rules. If the school says you can't shoot baskets with your garbage or swap lunches, then you need to work within that." I lifted his chin to look into his face.
"Alright, Mom, I'm sorry." Zephyr was rarely scolded. Honestly, he was one of those kids that didn't feel the need to act out a lot to get attention. I don't really think it had anything to do with me being a good Mom. He was just a really good kid.
"Calling second graders punks isn't okay though, and I want you to let me know if anything like that happens to you, alright? I want to hear about this stuff. You won't get in trouble for telling me what is happening at school."
He nodded and I stood up to get back to making dinner. I kissed the top of his head and made my way to grab the sausage out of the fridge.
Something about the conversation was still bothering me, and I decided to ask one more question. "So, Zeph, why do you think the lunch lady called that kid a punk anyway?"
"Well, I think he was laughing at her because she had to clean up Priscilla's throw up," he said sheepishly. I raised my eyebrows in response to the revelation.
Ahhh, well then, he was a bit of a shit then wasn't he?
"Uh huh. Well you better not let me catch you participating in stuff like that, you hear me?"
"Yeah, Mom, I hear you."
Other than Mary the lunch lady and Priscilla Pukes-A-Lot, our evening was uneventful. I left Zeph to watch Hannah Montana reruns on cable and escaped into a hot bath. Running through the events of my day, I was able to grasp the full horror of my actions. Somehow I made it through my story today and it turned out alright. I refused to go and interview the proprietor though. I did a phone interview and sent Jacob to grab a photo for my page. I was almost hoping the Enterprise scooped me on the construction-motivated businesses closures so I could rub it in Marcus' face and say I told you so.
But it was Edward's face that I couldn't get out of my head. I hadn't expected him to try to contact me at work, but I realized when I was shutting down my computer for the day, I was disappointed he hadn't.
Probably had his fill of crazy earlier in the day, thank you very much.
It was probably better this way. If I didn't have to see him or talk to him again, I could forgive myself for the blunder and pretend it didn't happen. I didn't even tell Rose. The last thing I needed was more of an audience to my idiocy.
I sunk deeply into the hot bathtub, dunking my head below the surface, encouraging the water to wash away my sins.
I settled in to a full scale pedicure after my bath. A glass of wine and a little pampering was just what the doctor ordered. I painted my toes lime green, it was a soothing color. Mid stroke on my big toe, my cell phone started blasting with Emmett's tune. "My bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R. My bologna has a second name it's M-A-Y-E-R…"
I started whistling along because I just think the ringtone is goddamn funny, but cut the song short so that it didn't wake up Zephyr.
"Hey there, meatstick. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Ha, ha, Bella, you're a riot. You know, I think I have outgrown the 'meatstick' nickname."
"Au Contraire, Mon Frere, your Slim Jim days are not that far behind you," I said, laughing. "I think I'm going to tell the story of your high school Slim Jim eating contest with Tyler at your eulogy."
Oh I needed a laugh. I could always count on Emmett.
I will never forget the sight of regurgitated meat sticks and that evening's asparagus on the side of the dirty white stucco'd Piggly Wiggly grocery store. Emmett rued the day that damn store had a two for one deal on his favorite processed meat and I served as a constant reminder of his darkest hour. It was a sore subject for my meatstick, but funny as fuck. His dad made him volunteer at the store for the entire weekend and Em was forced to scrub the puke off and pry up the stuck on gum and other unmentionables ground into the asphalt parking lot.
"You wouldn't dare. Besides, beyotch, I am going to live waaay longer than you, you don't even work out. Sit and stew on what I might say for your eulogy, hon. I got the goods and I'm not afraid to use them."
I had no idea which embarrassing story he would conjure, but truth be told, he had a lot to choose from.
"Alright, alright. Whad'aya want. Surely you didn't call me at ten o'clock at night for a stroll down memory lane." I finished my toes and bent my knees up to my chest so I had a good angle to blow them dry.
"Well, depends on which memory. If memory serves, we have some recent goodies that I plan to commit to permanent memory," he teased. "What are you doing? Are you blowing into the phone?"
"I'm drying my toes, fucker, and I've got several other things to do before bed as well, so stop pussy footing. What is up?"
"I want Rosalie's phone number. I called her at the office but she told me not to call her at work and hung up on me. Can you believe that shit?"
A Cheshire grin crossed my features. They were playing right into my hand.
Hook, line and sinker, bb. I've got you right where I want you, Emmett McCarty.
"Huh. I don't have her home number, Em, but you could try her email addy," I suggested. "That's printed at the foot of all her stories."
"C'mon, Bells. Help a guy out? I can't get her out of my head. I don't even want to go to the clubs," he whined.
"Poor, baby. You're nutty if you think a woman like Rose is going to fall for your normal come-ons, Emmett. So you better start thinking up something creative."
"Wha—? You're not going to help me?"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'P.'
"Why not?"
"Because. Let's say I help you and you guys move along swimmingly and end up getting freaky all over the place and move in together complete with the clichéd his and hers towels. Every time you fuck up, I'll end up paying for it. In case you haven't noticed, Em, Rose takes no prisoners. I got you two this far and introduced you, but this is where I get off the Emmett Express. I want to be fair and impartial. Neutral territory. Fucking Switzerland. You are my oldest friend, babe, but I work with this woman aaand I like her."
He was grumbling under his breath about my Emmett Express comment. "Seriously. That's all I get. No insider goodies or nothin'?"
"You really are a baby, you know that?" I wracked my brain looking for some little detail that might help my meatstick. "I know she has the lunch special at that deli across from the courthouse on Friday's. She mentioned this fuckawesome Thai Curry chicken soup special that she goes bananas over."
"Sweet! I knew she liked it hot and spicy."
I groaned. "Word to the wise. DO NOT use that line on her or she might stab you in the eye with her heel."
"Right. Got it. Anything else?"
I got a little sad for a moment. Remembering all the fun times we've had together, just the two of us. My heart swelled a little because I knew full well that Rose could be the one for Em. She was smart, sexy, fun and had all the skills necessary to keep him eating out of the palm of her hand.
"Weed out the cheesy lines, Emmett, but just be yourself. You're a catch and if you are serious about her for something more than a one-time hook up—she'll see it. If she doesn't, then she isn't worth it."
I liked Rose and I did have a vested interest in the whole Switzerland thing, but this was Em we were talking about.
"Cool. Thanks Bells. You know, if this reporter thing doesn't work out fer ya, you could have a bright future writing half-time locker room speeches."
Visions of hot, sweaty, muscular football players danced in my head.
"Ya think?" I asked, smiling.
"Yeah, no. I was just joshin' ya, but it was a damn fine speech, bb. Okay, gotta run, Rey Mysterio is tearing it up on Wrestle Mania tonight and that shit is being Tivo'd for posterity purposes."
I rolled my eyes at the thought of Em's favorite wrestler, a short little Mexican in a pleather face mask. "You do that. I'll talk to you later. Night, Em." I could hear the roar of the idiotic WWE men yelling at each other on Emmett's television.
"Night, Bells."
I slept like shit, but since I had taken a bath the night before, I allowed myself an extra fifteen minutes in cozy warmth with my hand on the snooze button. Anticipating my need for a smooth morning, I had set up the coffee for a delayed brew and the smell of nutty caffeine roused me out of bed. I brushed my teeth and washed my face quickly and grabbed a cup of hot, yummy goodness and settled on the sofa for a minute, trying to finish waking up.
An hour and fifteen minutes later I was weaving slowly through the morning traffic in front of Zephyr's school. I noticed that the same mom with the twin first grade girls left her white Mercedes wagon in front of the school, parking in the drop off lane for nearly ten minutes in front of the no parking sign. I felt my irritation bubble at the prissy bitch who thinks we can all wait for her, but tamped it down with some self soothing.
It's fine Bella. You are not in a hurry. You're going to have a good day. You're going to have a good day…
I was right on time when I got to my desk and opened up the day's paper while the computer booted. Rose had already been in because her computer was on and a lunch sack was propped up on the pile of court files on her desk.
She must have had court at eight this morning. I wonder if she'll mention the phone call from Emmett.
I was about to dive into my emails when I noticed my story on the business page. The photo of the pet shop owner was four columns wide and she was holding two pug puppies that were licking her face.
I mumbled something to the effect of "God, I want to barf" when I heard someone clearing their voice behind me.
Startled by the noise, I nearly knocked my coffee mug over the newspaper I was looking at in my haste to turn around.
"I thought the photo was nice. Readers love pets. I used a smaller version for the teaser on the front page."
Lauren. My managing editor, who rarely steps foot into the newsroom. Being here at 8:15 must have been a first for her.
"Uh, yeah, well I guess I think it's just a bit over the top for a grand reopening story," I said, quietly. I couldn't help feeling intimidated by her as she towered over me with a challenging stance.
"Nonsense," she said with a fake smile. "I'll be the judge of when something is over the top."
"Right, well, you're the boss." I knew of and had worked with a few editors that didn't place much value in their reporters' judgment. Lauren didn't move away though and my discomfort with her proximity caused me to fidget with my mug. "Is there anything else, Lauren?"
"Yes actually." She moved around my desk to sit at the desk across from mine. It belonged to an older lady who worked on some monthly home improvement section and had little Precious Moments figurines and pictures of her cats scattered around it. Lauren obviously found the décor less than pleasing because she hardly hid her distaste as she placed one of the framed cat photos down on its face in front of her. She would be almost pretty if she didn't have a permanent sneer etched into her features.
She didn't beat around the bush. "Monday's business feature on Edward Cullen's expansion prompted phenomenal sales on the newsstands. Mr. Volturi has requested a follow up story about him and the Seattle Cycles. Perhaps a more in-depth look at life after the launch. The fact is, Miss Swan, our readers are voracious for swoon worthy men like Cullen and you are just the girl able to give them more of what they want."
I might have thrown up a little in my mouth. I couldn't figure out if it was the likelihood that I was going to have to face Edward again or the image of Lauren sinking her talons into him.
Oh, I hate this woman.
"Lauren I really doubt that Mr. Cullen is going to have time to talk to me again. He is very busy, and I angered his PR lady when I barged into his office last time. She sent me a stern warning via email on Tuesday. "
She pursed her lips and looked to the ceiling, appearing to consider my argument. "Yesterday I might have accepted that excuse, but today—not so much." She smiled her fake smile again and stood up from the desk. "Maybe you should take a drive and think it over."
Fuck. Someone saw me get into his car.
"Marcus will go over the details with you, but I expect the story soon. I know you won't disappoint me."
A chill came over me as she disrupted the air and walked across the newsroom to her office. I looked surreptitiously around the office for signs of video cameras or other surveillance equipment. I didn't have the luxury of hating my job yet because, what was the point? I needed it. However, I was not above hating Lauren.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur. I focused on digging into my downtown business closures story and avoided Marcus until nearly four o'clock when I notified him that my stories were ready for him in the shared drive. Stories went through a series of edits before making it into print the following morning, and Marcus' folder was the first stop.
He thanked me and despite the creeping deadline, he walked over to my desk. I knew what was coming.
"So Lauren mentioned another piece on the Cullen kid, huh?" He said as he seemed to be trying to broach the topic gently.
I busied myself putting my desk in order and filing my notes. I just gave him a deadpanned look in response. I wasn't going to make a big stink, but I wasn't going to shy away from this conversation either.
"You're pissed about being told what to write, Bella. I get that. But that's the way it rolls here. Most of the time you get to write what you want. Sometimes you don't. No matter how you felt about the story yesterday, the Cullen thing is different. He is interesting and newsworthy, even if half of that is due to the fact that his dad is our competition. The public eats up the competition and that interest makes it a story in itself." If I wasn't so annoyed at him, I would have noticed that he was wearing a new sports jacket and looked rather handsome when he was talking about something he believed.
Marcus wasn't the bad guy, and I was grateful that I was one step removed from being gripped in the jaws of our managing editor. I thought about what he said and I hated that he was right, but I wasn't going to let him get off that easily about the pet shop.
"Was my story something the ad department sold, Marcus? Because I don't think I can work—"
He shook his head and cut me off. "I don't know anything about that, Bella. But I do know that sometimes we have to find a story when we wouldn't normally have given it a second thought. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be. You are trained to ask questions, but once you step foot through those doors," he said, pointing to the front door of the newsroom, "you need to put on your game face. Aro wants to put the Seattle Enterprise out of business and we are the people that are going to make it happen."
My inner voice finished his thought: one ad at a time.
I made peace with Marcus, even if it was a tenuous one. He was a good guy. Under different circumstances, I might have even developed a crush on him. I liked his deep brown eyes and easy smile. But, alas, he was passing along orders from the witch boss, Lauren. So I tried to make peace with my lot in life. I could continue to be proud of my projects, even if I wasn't proud of the way the paper ran the business. Even my gig in San Francisco frustrated the hell out of me at times.
I can do this.
Before leaving the office, I sent an email to Tanya Denali requesting an interview, cc'ing Edward. If Edward agrees to this, it will be a miracle. One thing was clear though, I was going to need reinforcements and it meant I was going to have to spill the beans about my embarrassing incident I was now referring to in my head as "the whore incident." I saw Rose turning off her computer and grabbed my bag to catch her before she left.
"Hey Rose, you busy tonight?"
"Why, are you needing a favor or something?" She haughtily threw her hair over her shoulder and flashed me a sideways smirk. "Not sure if I mentioned it or not, but I don't really do that sort of thing."
I loved how she made no apologies for being bitchy.
"I was thinking I could make you dinner and pick your brain about a problem I have." She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced that she was interested in dipping her toe into my 'problem.' I needed to up the stakes and stroke her a bit. "It's a man problem," I whispered, so as not to call attention to myself.
Score! I could tell by the smug look on her face that I was in.
"Well Bella, why didn't you say so," she said, putting her arm around my shoulder. "Men are my specialty."
Hey there girls. Did we ever doubt that men were Rose's specialty? Teehee. Not me. In case you haven't noticed, we are almost to the prologue. Shit is about to hit the fan, so you might want to grab your big girl panties. Special shout out to my Rehab peeps Revrag and Detka who beta'd for me in a pinch while my friend Mopstyle got fixed up. Thank you and get better soon Mop! Leave me a review and tell me what you think and I will send you a teaser before I post my next chapter. I promise!