Jasper stooped down, his blonde locks tumbling into his eyes, as he scooped the small black kitten up from its sleeping perch atop a dwindling stack of weekly music papers in a small wire rack, its quiet mew a protest born of habit more than actual annoyance. Purring, it nestled against Jasper's chest, and Jasper was grateful its dark fur was hard to see against the black of his Ramones logo tee. A lint roller would be a necessary investment, as well as a litter box. For now, Jasper had improvised a small cardboard box with shredded paper, but for Carlisle's sake a less messy solution would be needed. In his back pocket he'd slid a CD case, a new present for Alice as a means of building upon the foundation set forty minutes ago out front.

The front counter was surrounded, Alice and Edward on cash with Emmett pretending to be hard at work stickering new discs. A furious discussion was underway, but Jasper couldn't hear enough to determine the subject. At his arrival, Emmett smiled, holding his hands out, into which Jasper passed the reluctant kitten, still without a name.

"Did you give him a name yet?"

Jasper shook his head, "Not a permanent name. I still like Annoying Customer. A.C. for short?"

Emmett frowned, "Oh hell no! That'll just make me think of Mario Lopez."

Alice nodded, "Good point, Emm. Try again, Jazz."

Jasper slid behind the crowded counter, popping open the CD changer and inserting his newly burned disc, "It'll come to me."

Emmett teased the kitten with a strip of stickers, laughing as it eagerly took the bait and batted them about, "Name him Axl!"

"Veto!" Edward protested, shaking his head.

"What's your suggestion, then? Hmm?"

Edward sighed, "Let me think on it."

An almost military drum beat followed by driving guitar filled the storefront, and Emmett nodded approvingly as Jasper leaned beside Alice, whispering in her ear, "One for your collection."

Alice's eyes lit up as she tilted her head towards the speaker, listening for lyrics, "One I don't know?"

"Pretty sure you haven't heard this one yet."

"Hey Alice, I'm caving in, I'm caving in
I know it's not allowed, but sometimes, I fantasize
I'm peeling off my skin enough to fill it up again
Hey rabbit, into the pavement, I'm caving in
Mother told me to be something, so I'm afraid..."

Alice clapped her hands excitedly, nudging the volume up slightly, "I love it! What's this one called?"

"Failing the Rorshach Test by Matthew Good Band. Canadian band. Even has the Wonderland twinge to it, too."

Alice sighed happily, reaching to touch Jasper's face lightly, "Thank you. You always find the best ones."

Jasper smiled, happy to see Alice in her almost usual spirits. For the entirety of their relationship, Alice and Jasper had shared Alice's special mission of collecting songs that featured her name in the lyrics. Alice particularly loved songs referencing Alice In Wonderland, and Jasper would often burn her mix CDs, tucking in a new song or two for her collection without warning her as a surprise. After their fight the night before, Jasper had decided to Google song lyrics, stumbling onto this latest find and downloading it for Alice as a peace offering. His plan was apparently a resounding success.

"So, you all seemed rather deep in discussion when I entered the room. What was the topic of choice today? The latest Paris Hilton gossip?"

"No, Jasper," Emmett sighed, "We were actually having a rather serious discussion of pop culture and vampire mythology."

Jasper feigned shock, "You know words as large as mythology, Emmett?"

"I'm not stupid! I just prefer to keep things simple and relaxed, bro," Emmett rebutted, chuckling as the kitten leapt onto the counter to maul the price gun.

Edward clarified, "We were discussing the ad nauseum usage of Bram Stoker's text – or rather, its bastardization – in films as of late -"

"I swear, if one more mention is made of Van Helsing, I will personally Tom Cruise my way into a movie exec's office and heads will roll," Alice interrupted, rolling her eyes.

"I'm with you there, Alice. In any case, this led us on to Lost Boys -"

"The two Coreys own the world! Even vampires!" Emmett exclaimed.

"Yes, yes they do. God knows why. Maybe they made a pact with the devil?" Edward mused, "In any case, that led me to that movie and how the two Frog boys and their comics figure in the story, which then triggered Alice to bring up the Buffy the Vampire Slayer season 8 comics, and now, you are officially caught up."

Jasper laughed, "Okay, who brought the joint and didn't invite me to the roof?"

Edward smiled widely, "No joint this time! It's a sober stoner conversation. I can scarcely believe it myself!"

Alice cleared her throat loudly, "As I was saying, gentlemen, I have yet to devour the Buffy comics, being as I prefer to wait for digests, but I was going to say that my favourite incarnation of the vampire mythos is that of Joss Whedon. The vampires can be killed by traditional methods, unlike the Anne Rice world; they are essentially demons yet are capable of love and bonding; and they are seductive and cunning. I also rather relish the idea of a woman chosen and imbued with power to take them on, year after year, in an endless epic struggle. Plus Willow amuses me."

"That's because she's goofy and bubbly like you," Edward said, grinning.

"And what's wrong with that?" Alice asked, playfully slapping Edward, "Besides the fact her fashion sense pre-season four was wretched, of course. But we were talking about the Whedon-verse and its awesome portrayal of the women."

Jasper nodded, "Yes, Joss definitely loves him some strong female leads. Plus, Joss makes with the wit in a rather beautiful way. There's something rather human about even the supernatural characters in the Buffy-verse. Even Faith, a slayer, goes astray due to human weaknesses of guilt and fear. You have Buffy struggling to find her place, caught between her normal teen desires and life and her destiny, which she cannot deny or disown."

"I know most found the fourth season tedious, but I really enjoyed the idea of the Initiative, even if the execution on screen fell flat. Why wouldn't science attempt to combat demons and the supernatural? It was a natural progression of existing knowledge and technology," Edward said, tapping his pen along with Jasper's CD.

"But that Franken-Adam was pathetic," Emmett insisted.

"Yes, yes it was," Edward agreed, "As I said, the execution failed. Now the whole 'magic addiction' seemed to be a stretch, coupled with the big bad group of geeks."

"Oh no you don't!" Alice stated fiercely, "The magic addiction was brilliant. Why wouldn't the rush of powerful forces running through you not compare to a drug like cocaine? If your life was troubled, would you not turn to something to escape from it? As for the geeks, they were symbolic of the fact that life itself had conquered Buffy so completely that even a trio of nerds could trip her up. Life itself was that season's 'big bad', Edward. It was the concept they attempted to address in season four but failed so monstrously in that initial attempt. And you can't begrudge the Trio! The 'magic bone' jokes? Andrew and his documentary in season seven? Even Warren had his moments."

"And what of the whole Buffy and Angel arc? Or Buffy and Spike, for that matter?" Edward asked.

"Let me take this one, Alice," Jasper replied, "On one hand, it seems to be painfully cliched in its poetic prattling. Shakespearean star-crossed lovers, doomed! A vampire cursed with his soul restored and unable to be happy without risking the return of the monster and the Slayer meant to destroy him and all of his kind. A tale as old as time, really. But it lent a sort of layer to Buffy's struggle to be normal and be the Slayer. It was as if she sought a middle ground, but even that failed. The relationship with Spike was her pain at being returned to earth after death transformed into sadomasochism."

"Fair enough," Edward replied, his words trailing off as Bella bounded down the spiral staircase, clipboard in hand, attacking the metal racks with ferocious flipping of discs and ensuing checkmarks and annotations on her page.

Emmett leaned over, shaking his head, "God, Bella just won't stop tonight. Did she watch that Crank movie last night? Is she on crank?"

"Bella on drugs? Really, Emmett?"

And yet, Edward found himself staring, found the way her hair fluttered and flipped through the air mesmerizing. His chest ached to think of her, to know she would not be his. Had he waited too long? Was she so set on her future in Harvard that she'd completely dismissed all those in Forks as being part of her future? Edward sighed, returning his attention to the chattering of Emmett.

" ... I will never, ever read anything else of Anne Rice's. That woman is way too obsessed with the gay sex."

Alice laughed, "Did it make you squeamish, Emm?"

Emmett shuddered, "Look, gays are free to be gay. I'm all about love and sex and enjoying life to the fullest. But at the same time, I don't need the details of men buggering men. Brokeback Mountain was just over my comfort zone line, you know? Anyway, one time, I couldn't sleep, and my girlfriend at the time had left a copy of an Anne Rice book at my place. The Vampire Armand, it was called, I think. So I figure I'll read it, get bored and crash, right? And then, I'm reading pages and pages about boys giving older men head and I'm just too grossed out to sleep. I lay awake all night wondering what the appeal is for my girl. The next time she came over, she tried to go down and I was haunted by that book. I had to turn down oral sex! What man turns that down?"

Jasper laughed, shaking his head, "Oh my God. Did you ever ask her what the fascination was?"

" She said it was passionate and it was a different time and therefore natural for the story. And then she told me Anne Rice writes erotica as A.N. Roquelaure, and I'm like, 'Maybe she mixed up her manuscripts or something?'. Man... That woman needs help."

"Well her mother did name her Howard," Alice says, reaching out to scratch the kitten's stomach.

"Wait, what?!"

Edward nods, "It's true, Emm. I think her sister's name was John or Jack."

Emmett let out a low whistle and shook his head, reaching out to lift the kitten in the air over Alice's head. It squealed, its tiny legs stretching out at Alice's newly shorn hair, as Emmett danced it about in time with the music overhead. Edward leaned over, tickling its nose with a pencil.

"Lead poisoning, Edward!" Alice admonished.

"I won't let him eat it," Edward protested, nodding his head to Emmett, who passed the kitten over Alice to him.

"You know what bothered me about Anne Rice's vampires?' Jasper began, "The drastic changes to the mythology to suit her own needs. I could understand making one's own assumptions on the appearance of vampires, such as the pale porcelain skin that almost reflects light; that's easy to understand in the realm of creative licence. But what I never understood was ditching the entire canon of how to kill them for the sake of making them more durable, and this notion of special vampires with crazy mind-reading and fire ball gifts. That almost seemed gratuitious."

Alice frowned, "I don't know. I see your point, on one hand, with the fire abilities and the concept of the old ones. But it was kind of interesting to reject the basic mythology and imply that garlic wouldn't cut it, that these beings were incredibly strong."

"But the whole 'eat an animal instead' notion? What would you call a vampire that fed solely on animal blood? A vegetarian?" Edward quipped, stroking the kitten as it clung to his shoulder.

Emmett laughed heartily, "A vegetarian vampire! Can you imagine him stopping by the blood bank to make a pick up? 'Got anything in deer? What about zebra?' That's almost absurd."

"It was done in Buffy, too," Alice pointed out, "Angel and later Spike both subsisted on pig's blood."

"Fair enough," Edward acknowledged, "I'd forgotten that. Maybe because Buffy had substance beyond vampiric oral sex orgies. But there is one thing worse than Anne Rice, folks."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, "And that would be?"

"The Vampire Diaries series. Oh my GOD. It almost reads like a poor fanfiction. Anyone else read them?"

Alice nodded, "Unfortunately. I know exactly what you mean. I can enjoy some of Rice's work but those four books were ridiculous Mary Sues."

"What's a Mary Sue?" Emmett asked, his eyes wandering to Bella, who was glaring at Rick Astley in a curious way across the room that made him note mentally to ask her about his lunch.

"It's a type of fanfiction," Alice replied, "Usually it involves the writer inserting herself, or himself, into the story as a character that has an oh so perfect life and ending with one of the main characters in the subject of the fanfiction. For example, writing oneself into a Harry Potter fanfiction as a previously unknown character who has super powers that save everyone and in the end becomes Harry's girlfriend would reek of Mary Sue."

"What qualifies Vampire Diaries as a Mary Sue then?" Jasper asked.

Edward's eyes rolled, "The protagonist of the story is Elena, a gorgeous all-American blonde girl who has all the popularity and the hottest boyfriend, who falls in love with the mysterious new hottie, only to discover – oh no! - that he's a vampire. But he's an animal-munching vampire -"

"Veggie Vampires strike again!" Emmett laughed.

"Indeed. So, not only is one beautiful vegetarian vampire in love with Elena, but veggie's brooding wicked human-munching vampire is also enamoured with Ms. Elena. Much fighting ensues, and battles with evil forces including the last girl they fought over."

"And how does she meet this lovely new vegetarian?" Jasper asked.

"At school, of course, where he is so dreamy!" Alice said, rolling her eyes and feigning a sigh of teenage longing.

"He comes out in the sun like Blade?" Emmet asked, confused.

Edward laughs, "Oh yes. Because magically, lapis lazuli jewelry allows vampires to walk about in sunshine without burning to a crisp! Didn't you know that Emm?"

Emmett forced a serious face, "But of course I did. I was just testing you on your vampire mythology."

"I love her magical druid friend Bonnie. How utterly perfect that she discovers her druid ancestors and super spell powers right before the epic vampire battles begin," Alice groaned.

Edward shook his head furiously, stirring the now sleeping kitten on his shoulder slightly, "Seriously! And the ending of the fourth book! The whole happy impossible ending? I swear, what will they write about next? Vegetarian vampires that sparkle like diamonds in the sun with magic powers of flight and mindreading, who save the world while earning straight A's?"

The entire group burst into laughter, earning a strange look from the handful of women loitering in the autograph line queue. Edward's gaze drifted to Bella, who was now working her way through the Pop/Rock section, a sight that startled him. Didn't she just start the Metal section a few minutes ago? Edward wondered to himself, studying Bella carefully. Emmett was right; she was acting as if she were a woman possessed. Or maybe she was desperate to finish her work and leave, escaping the sad, longing eyes of the man she didn't want.

"We're better than that usual dance of dating and coupling."

Her words haunted him, icy daggers in his bleeding heart. How could friendship be better than genuine love, a thing best built upon a foundation of friendship such as theirs? Bella's words made so little sense to him, Edward found himself unsure of whether storming away earlier had been wise. Bella was often known to trip over her own tongue, almost as often as she tripped over her own two feet. Bella glanced up suddenly, her warm brown eyes meeting his and quickly averting, returning to the clipboard before her.

"You're my best friend. I've just never thought of that, of us, because we're friends and have been for so long."

If they were to remain friends – and Edward was certain that any relationship with Bella was far better than none at all – an apology was forthcoming on his part. Bella had a right to date and sleep with whoever she pleased, without judgement. Maybe after work, he'd give her a call. The phone was safer. Over the phone, he couldn't see her eyes flash angry, or worse, brim with tears of hurt.

"Excuse me?" a deep male voice asked, shattering Edward's reverie.

Edward glanced at the bald smiling man in the faded jeans and Redskins jersey, the man's moustache bristling thick and black against his ruddy complexion. In his hands he held several Cds, various mainstream rock bands that sold millions of records for reasons Edward could never fathom. From the corner of his eye, he could see Alice and Jasper hovering near the staircase, heads bent close together, a reassuring sight. The sleeping kitten clinging to Edward's turtleneck remained motionless as he accepted the discs, scanning them and bagging them carefully.

"Fifty-two seventy-three, sir."

The man slipped Edward three twenties, "Cute kitten. New store pet?"

"Yeah," Edward said, passing him his change, "He sort of showed up on the doorstep and charmed his way in."

"Does he have a name?"

Edward shook his head, "Not yet. It's the great mystery."

The man reached for his bag, smiling, "You could call him Eminem."

Edward frowned, "Why that, of all things?"

The man laughed, answering over his shoulder, "Because he's the biggest pussy I know."

Edward laughed along with the customer, reaching a single finger up to stroke the kitten's head, "Well little guy, you'd better hope Jasper comes up with a better name for you, because Eminem just got my vote."

Rick found himself starting to daze out, unable to bear the incessant prattling of soccer moms and smart-mouthed teens any longer. His smile began to hurt his jaw from the strain as he greeted, obtained a name, signed whatever item had been brought along, and endured the inane questions and comments streaming by him.

"Oh my God! I'm your biggest fan! Why didn't you make a third album?" (I did, Rick grumbled inwardly).

"I couldn't believe you were still alive. I had to see it for myself." (No, I'm quite fine. And I haven't been a hermit.)

"Was that bartender in the Never Gonna Give You Up video really loaded on set? " (Yes, yes he was. He was an absolute asshole, thanks for reminding me.)

At least he had the vivacious blonde to look forward to later at his suite in Seattle, although a lunch time rendevous with the Bella girl would have been incredible as an appetizer. He'd feign a headache and usher Esme from his room, and hopefully there would be no tell-tale room damage to explain away in the morning. Speaking of Esme, where on earth had she gone to? If he had to endure this small—town hell, she should have to dutifully suffer at his side.

"Hi Rick! You haven't aged at all! What's your secret?" a middle-aged woman in a slinky blue summer dress exclaimed, thrusting a vinyl copy of Together Forever forward.

"Thank you. I have to say that I owe a lot to meditation and yoga, and simply eating right. Of course, even I indulge in chocolate now and again, Ms....?"

"Anna. Anna is fine," her smile widened as she leaned forward, rather intentionally displaying her neat cleavage.

"Anna. I love that name. It has an elegance about it. Thank you for coming, Anna; it's always nice to meet the fans."

Anna giggled, her feet shuffling side to side, "Oh thank you, truly! Would it be possible to... well... Take a picture?"

Rick smiled, "Of course."

Any excuse to wrap my arm around a rather lovely cougar...

"I'll take it for you," a female voice piped up from behind Rick.

The curvaceous blonde slipped out in front of the table, accepting the auburn-haired cougar's digital camera. Rick immediately took note of the plunging neckline of her icy blue silk blouse and the short flared matching skirt. Well HELLO there...

"Thank you so much, Miss...?"

"Rosalie," the blonde answered softly, waving the cougar in closer and expertly snapping a shot of the duo, "And that's a keeper!"

"Oh thank you so much, Rick. You're awesome," Anna the now forgotten cougar gushed.

"No trouble at all," Rick replied absently, his eyes fixating on Rosalie's sly smile, "And you, Rosalie... How have we not crossed paths yet?"

"I've been hard at work, like a good little employee," she replied, licking her lips in a manner that could be construed as innocent if she weren't leaning slightly onto the table.

"A terrible shame," Rick said, glancing at his watch.

Ten more minutes of this signing business. Ten minutes. Only one woman remained now in the queue that had seemed drearily long, he noted.

"Could you please close off the queue for the day, Rosalie? I have a long drive ahead this afternoon."

" Absolutely, Mr. Astley. Whatever you want."

Rick felt a familiar twitching in his groin and smiled, waving the last fan forward. Be careful, Rosalie, or I might just take you up on that.


Carlisle's fingers clutched the pick tightly, his fingers expertly assaulting the frets as the opening strains of one of his favourite songs drifted through the cool spring breeze. Perched upon the roof, as he often did when stressed out, he found himself at peace as he came home to his one great love, the love that never betrayed him: music.

Softly, he sang, his voice slightly off-key – he'd never been the singer of the band – but passionate, lost in the moment and the melody.

"Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog, where no one notices the contrast of white on white. In between the moon and you, the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right..."

When left alone, with his worn cherry wood acoustic guitar and a familiar refrain, Carlisle found the world receded, to where his perspective on any worry or problem grew vast and wiser. James would soon discover their deposit bag deception; that was certain. What Edward had done was terribly illegal; that was also certain. But from here, gazing down at the trees and parked cars, Carlisle understood that above all else, he loved his son, and no matter how much he longed to eventually force James out and possess Velvet Records, that partnership was not worth losing his son. His money would have to be thrown into the hat, the dream abandoned.

"Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand. She says she'd like to meet a boy who looks Elvis. And she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land just like she's walking on a wire in a circus..."

And Alice... He'd sensed something was very wrong in her life, but had assumed that Jasper, if no one else, was aware of it and would reach out for help if it were serious. How any parent could abandon a child, beyond reasons for the good of the child, Carlisle would never understand. But it would be okay; just as he had done 7 years prior for Edward, he would open his doors to another child in need, without any reservation. Alice at her heart was a wonderful young woman, compassionate and caring, and incredibly bright. She would be okay, so long as she stopped shutting Jasper out.

"The girl in the car in the parking lot says 'man you should try to take a shot – can't you see my walls are crumbling?' And she looks up at the building, says she's thinking of jumping. She says she's tired of life; she must be tired of something..."

Whatever happened today, tomorrow, the day after, he would always have his memories of the store, both good (meeting Clapton) and horrifying (the pornographic antics of staff and celebrities in his office). And Carlisle knew he would never trade a single one. He knew this now, from high above the bustle and worry in his small office, far beyond the reach of ringing phones and faxes and emails. They would be okay, each and every single one of them.

"And I can't see nothing, nothing.... Round here..."


Rosalie found herself nervously adjusting her ice blue miniskirt, staring down the store's guest of honour, a seeming chorus of voices alive in her skull, all with a different opinion of her snap decision moments prior.

Don't do this. What will Bella think?

She'd expect it, of course. Because this is what you are. Didn't Roy say so -?

Fuck him. He's a bastard. A slime. Him and his three friends.

But with him? What about Emmett?

He's beyond my reach, anyway. It doesn't matter.

A psychologist would have a field day with your behaviour and rationale -

Screw shrinks.

You probably would screw one if you had one.

Fuck off!

"Rosalie?" a lilting voice with a faint British accent inquired.

Rosalie glanced up and forced her best casual smile forward as Rick Astley walked towards her, twirling a black Sharpie in his hand. He leaned his head slightly towards the double doors to the staff lounge, a small smile creeping over his lips.

"Would you be so kind as to keep me company? I can't seem to locate my assistant, Esme."

Rosalie smiled, "Absolutely. In fact, I was meaning to ask you a question."

But really now, is the best option here to -?

SILENCE.

Rosalie walked briskly in front of Rick, fully aware that her swishing silky skirt scarcely concealed the tops of her thighs, a slight sashay to her hips as she pushed through the doors into the gratefully empty lounge. A quick glance up the stairs confirmed even Carlisle had wandered off to places unknown. Settling on the arm of the couch, she gestured for him to join her. A twinge of anxiety rolled up her spine as he obeyed almost eagerly.

"So Rosalie, what is on your mind?" Rick asked, leaning into the work upholstery.

Rosalie smiled, turning slightly towards him, "Well, it's more of a game I like to indulge in. A strange talent I seem to possess, for all its usefulness. You see, I have this crazy ability to tell any man what colour and type of underwear he's wearing. It works on most strangers, so it's not even a matter of knowing a man's personality. I wanted to see if my skills work on men from overseas or if it's Americans who are dreadfully predictable."

Rick chuckled, not responding, his eyes roving her face as if to determine if she were joking. Rosalie held her smile, leaning forward slightly, allowing a glimpse at the miracles her push-up bra was capable of. This seemed to only draw a longer stare, which Rosalie took to be a good sign.

"So, Mr. Astley, I would peg you as someone who would be wearing Calvin Kleins, basic black. Am I right?"

Rosalie felt her heart race slightly, the gravity of her intended consequences sinking in. Rick surveyed her entire body in a long, lingering glance, then smiled.

"I'm afraid I can't remember what I put on this morning," he whispered.

Rosalie nodded, leaning closer still, her breasts nearly toppling loose from her blouse, "Well then, why don't you go check, and you let me know?"

"I have a better idea," Rick murmured, a hand reaching out to graze her chin slightly.

"Oh?" Rosalie asked, feigning innocence even as she mentally checked that she'd slid a condom into her black boots.

"Why don't you check for me, Ms. Rosalie?"

Rosalie glanced up, scanning the double doors, the back doors and Carlisle's office one more time. There was not a soul in sight. Must be meant to happen. Reaching out a tiny hand to his, she nodded her head towards the storage room with a smile.

"With pleasure," she purred, shutting her mind down and forgetting all else but the man clutching her hand.