Rosalie soon began to appreciate Bella's declaration of Rick Astley being perverted, as she found herself bent over the storage room table, her skirt hiked to her waist, black silk panties stuffed into her mouth. She could see nothing, her eyes blindfolded in a rather ingenious way with her black bra, which she'd deftly removed without budging her blouse. Behind her stood Rick, whom she'd last seen dressed only in black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, his throbbing member twitching against the smooth cotton, begging for release. She'd knelt before him, never breaking eye contact as she'd slowly enveloped the head of his shaft through the underwear, one of her favourite ways to tease men. Blowing softly, her hot breath seeped through the woven cotton, eliciting a groan of excitement from Rick's soft pale lips.

He'd asked her if she was willing to play dirty, to which she'd declared light bondage her favourite form of dirty play. With a wicked grin, Rick had pulled her from her knees, his hands roving her supple breasts, thumbing the nipples through the silk.

"I want your undergarments, Rosalie. Will you give them to me?"

"To borrow, or to keep?" she'd teased.

"Borrow, for now..."

Rosalie had winked, one hand expertly reaching to her back and unfastening her bra, her breasts bouncing slightly as the garment grew loose. Working her way out of the lacy garment, she'd allowed Rick's large hands to slip beneath her skirt, working her panties slowly down to her ankles, where she'd stepped out of them gingerly in her heels. He'd ordered her to open her mouth, and she'd complied, finding her now balled underwear tucked just far enough into her mouth to mute her sounds. Faintly, she could taste the moistness of herself upon the fabric. With several quick twists, she was suddenly blinded, her bra straps looping and securing the cups across her field of vision.

"Someone is a dirty, dirty girl, and she needs to be punished. Would you like me to punish you?"

Rosalie had nodded, happily playing along. While a part of her marvelled at the fact she could consider shagging the man who'd bestowed Together Forever upon the world for ad nauseum play, she could not deny the man knew his way about the female anatomy. Her sex throbbed almost involuntarily.

And now, here she stood, bent over and waiting, almost impatient as she felt two fingers grazing her wetness. Almost unconsciously, she felt her hips shift slightly backwards. A light slap met her right buttock.

"Uh-uh. Good things come for those who wait," Rick whispered.

The fingers returned, running along her slit slowly, deliberately. Rosalie fought to remain still, to wait, to relinquish control, something she very seldom did now. Her mind drifted to the last time, to that night with Emmett that she worked so hard to forget but never could. She'd trusted him implicitly, knowing despite his large football tackle size that he would never harm her. She'd let him pin her down on the floor, pin her wrists above her head, and never hesitated once. She had somehow known that but a word from her and he would set her free.

The sudden thrusting of two fingers deep within her coupled with a hard slap across her ass brought her back to the present, Rosalie moaning loudly through her panty-gag. Rick sighed with satisfaction, his fingers slowly working in and out of her as his other hand worked forward, cupping her left breast through her blouse.

"Mmm... I can't wait to be inside you, you bad girl..."

Everything felt amazing: the way his fingers slipped deeper, stroking her G-Spot in ways few men managed; the way his fingers delicately pinched her nipples, springing them erect. But her mind refused to remain far from the image of Emmett, of his beautiful, somewhat goofy smile. And in that heartbeat before Rick Astley thrust himself deep inside of her, she knew this was a terrible mistake. But there was no going back now.

Might as well enjoy the ride, Rose...



Edward found his moods whipping between apologetic and angered, and this fluctuation made him begin to question his sanity. Was he angry with Bella, hurt by Bella, in love with Bella? Was he all three? Could all three emotions safely coexist within his already frenzied mind, competing with his feeble attempts at finding a way to come up with nine grand and save both Carlisle's ass and the store as he knew it?

Edward frowned. He needed distraction. He needed a laugh.

He juggled several newly stickered copies of the latest Ladytron disc as he marched into the electronic section, keeping himself busy with mindless work to distract himself from the miserable neverending loop of Bella's rejection now playing in the theatre of his mind on exclusive engagement. To his right, the signing table lay abandoned, one Rick Astley nowhere to be found. Edward rather hoped he'd Rickrolled himself down into a large ravine filled with mountain lions.

Smug British bastard. Who does he think he is?

It was a strategy Freud would have enjoyed analyzing on a long black leather couch. Blame the pursued, not the pursuer. Bella was merely a victim, a much more appealing picture than the notion that she'd found it wise to consider sex with him. At least she hadn't gone through with it; she'd had enough sense to change her mind. Edward caught sight of Alice, who glared at the muted video screens looping the redhaired has-been's videos, and felt comforted to know someone else hated the man as much as he did right now.

It was at this moment that Edward chose very, very poorly.

It was meant to be amusing, of course, in the same way each staff member enjoyed torturing others with the worst of the worst. Edward's personal favourite was to force the others to listen to the tragically earnest rapping of Macho Man Randy Savage. Slipping to the stereo, Edward had quietly slid in the CD and hit play, turning to Alice with a smile.

"I have a song for you Alice."

The wretched 80's beat kicked in, and Alice immediately wailed, stepping down from behind the counters and marching towards Edward and the stereo. Edward stood firm, refusing to let her pass, as Rick Astley began to croon.

"We're no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I..."

"Veto, veto, veto!!" Alice wailed, "I refuse to listen to it!"

"We're not going to listen to it," Edward replied, seizing Alice's hand, "We're dancing to it!"

"Ugh, I am NOT dancing to this crap! Jazz!"

Edward shook his head, pulling Alice into a spin, "He's out back, I think. And why won't you dance to it? I am Rick Astley! I'm oh so sexy!"

Alice cringed, laughing despite herself as Edward twirled her about the storefront, "There is nothing sexy about that man. NOTHING."

The store's handful of customers stood watching for a few moments, almost as if to search for a TV crew in waiting. A young couple suddenly shrugged, and the tall lanky boy resembling Pete Wentz began to twirl his svelte blonde about the floor with gusto. Edward laughed, continuing to force Alice to whirl and sway.

"You will pay dearly, Edward Cullen," she snarled.

"Oh hush Alice. You're amused."

Alice frowned, "Maybe a little. But she's not."

Edward glanced back over his shoulder, catching sight of Bella storming up the stairs into the classical section, and in that instant, his heart stopped. Oh, shit. I must seem like an incredibly insensitive ass.

"Looks like you're wrong about that later, Alice..."

"You're betting against me now, Edward?" she asked, eyes widening.

"Maybe this time," Edward sighed, unable to resist smiling at the entire store dancing to the awful music playing.

"Five bucks, then," Alice declared.

"Done."

From the corner of his eye, Edward noted Emmett reaching out a hand to an older woman, gently foxtrotting her about the store. He laughed loudly, the sight ridiculous, and he pointed him out to Alice, who giggled and shook her head. Edward envied Emmett's easy-going ways. His mind operated simply: eat, sleep, get high, listen to music, rinse and repeat. His crush on Rosalie (which he'd never admitted to but Edward could see as plain as day) didn't stop him from having a good laugh over beers on a Friday night. Edward, on the other hand, had found himself increasingly isolated, preferring to stay home, his fingers drifting along the piano randomly, sometimes settling on a song. Part of why he'd agreed to Emmett's insistence to tell Bella was how often he found himself singing Elton John's I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues. On the first dozen or so rounds, it was a good song. Now, it was becoming pathetic.

"We've known each other for so long. Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it."

"I told her, years ago, that you two would end up married and nauseating," Alice said quietly with an enormous grin.

"What?!"

Alice nodded, "Four years ago, when we first met you, I could see it. Neither of you seemed to notice it, but there was always a pull between you. I always got the impression that Bella wanted it to happen, but she gave up. You know Bella; she probably sat in her room calling you a 'God' and an 'Adonis' or whatever and dismissed herself from the playing field before making her first play. Sometimes, it takes destruction to create the most beautiful things, Edward. You have to raze the sham that is your friendship to let the love burst forth as the Phoenix."

Edward twirled Alice out, then back into his arms, "I haven't taken a toke in hours but somehow, that makes sense."

"Remember, Edward: five bucks."

Edward chuckled, "Five bucks, Alice. I won't forget when it's time for you to pay up."

Alice's high-pitched laughter filled the air, "As if!"


Bella slumped down in the back of the classical section, nestled between two listening stations, clipboard clutched in hand so tightly her knuckles were exceptionally pale. In her head, she counted down from a hundred by threes, her usual way of regulating herself when her world began to spin. The counting forced her to focus on something else, which in turn slowed her heart and breathing. But this time, there was no counting in the world that would save her.

One hundred. Ninety-seven. Fuck you Rick. Shit. Ninety-four? Goddamn it, Edward, do you have to be so cruel? SHIT! My chest hurts, god, it hurts. Shit. One hundred. Ninety-seven. Ninety-four. WON'T SOMEONE VETO THIS SONG? Breathe. Breathe.

Bella pressed her palm to her heart, feeling it pound beneath, begging herself to not cry. She'd opened her mouth. She'd told him about her foolish, ridiculous idea. This was all her fault. She dserved a little mockery after breaking his heart.

The thumping, erratic and rapid, was scaring her. On any other day, she would tell Edward, confess the truth of the last year, let him take care of her, as he always did. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. But now, she was alone. She could tell Carlisle, but he would call Charlie, and that was not a conversation she ever wanted to happen. If today had taught her anything, it was the bitter realization that she was anything but in control. This had to stop, and soon.

One hundred. Ninety-seven. Ninety-four.

"Bella?"

Bella raised her eyes and found Jasper standing over her, his dark eyes wide with concern. She followed his gaze to her hands, which were shuddering violently. Embarrassed, she dropped the clipboard beside her and sat on them. Was the room getting smaller?

"Bella, are you okay?"

"I just... Don't feel so hot today. Might be a flu I guess."

Lie, lie, lie. Liar.

Jasper pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, "You do feel a little warm. Maybe you should ask Carlisle to go home. Want me to give you a lift there?"

Bella nodded, "Maybe. But first, I've got to finish the inventory. I promised Carlisle -"

"Bella, sweetie, you're sick."

Bella shook her head, "I'll be okay to count CDs. I will. I just can't do cash. I just have the upstairs and the vinyls downstairs on the floor and in the storeroom and I'm done. Not even an hour's work. I can do it, Jasper."

Jasper frowned, obviously not buying it. Bella cursed inwardly, cursed herself for being so foolish as to double up – no, triple up. What had she been thinking? Oh yes, that was the trouble: she wasn't thinking. And now, she was thinking too much, too quickly.

"I'll be okay. I'll sit here for a minute then go get a drink of water and keep going. You can stay with me, even."

Jasper nodded, "Okay, fine. But I stay with you until you finish, and then we drive home. Understood?"

Bella smiled weakly, "It's a deal."

Jasper settled against the wall beside her, shaking his head, "Man, I wish I'd held onto my veto today."

Bella groaned, "I don't have the energy to go down and veto it myself."

"Write me a note; I'll hand deliver it."

Bella shook her head, "Nah, it's almost done. I saw you talking with Alice earlier."

Jasper smiled, "Yeah. I think – and I do wish to stress the think part – we're going to be okay in the long run."

Bella smiled, "That's wonderful, Jasper. I'm so glad. You belong together."

Jasper nodded, hesitating a moment, "She misses you Bella."

Bella turned towards Jasper, "Huh?"

"She said so, earlier, when she played that song -"

"I knew that was her doing... She always knows."

Jasper sighed, "She's angry about something, but she says she doesn't want to talk about it now. Can you think of anything you might have done, or anything we might have done, to set her off?"

Bella frowned, "I've tried to hard to figure it out, Jasper, but nothing comes. I wish she would just yell at me or whatever so I could know and fix it."

"Whatever it is, it's big, and it wasn't just you, either. But she does miss you, so that's something."

"I don't have a lot of something right now," Bella whispered, "So I'll take it."

Jasper began to ask what Bella meant, but found himself interrupted by a sudden halt to the music and the irritated voice of Carlisle yelling below. Jasper and Bella leaped to their feet, rushing towards the balcony overhanging the main storefront. Carlisle very seldom yelled. Whatever it was, it had to be very, very bad.


Carlisle slipped his guitar into its case in the corner of his office and ran his hands through his disheveled blonde hair, willing it to look professional. Now he'd settled how to handle Edward's loss of the night's deposit, he had to attend to informing Rick Astley that he was without a personal assistant. This was a conversation he'd been dreading, but there was no room left to procrastinate. Reaching beneath his desk, he brought up the near empty forty and uncapped it, knocking back the two shots left within. The burning as the liquid crept down his throat was soothing.

Out front, the din was growing louder, and Carlisle sensed something was not quite right. Had Rick figured out Esme was long gone? Had Jasper finally hauled off and told the man how wretched his music was? It dawned on Carlisle, as he hurried down the short staircase from his office, that Rick's dreaded single was blaring through the storefront and he shuddered.

"I'm not even supposed to be here today," he grumbled.

Pushing open the double doors, Carlisle stood aghast, the doors swinging back and lightly thumping against his back. Where Rick was, he had no idea; he did, however, discover his staff and the customers within having a private dance party, swaying and twirling about to what Carlisle felt was one of the worst songs music had ever bestowed upon the world. Dancing! He'd spent the last hour struggling to preserve their jobs, their livelihood, and they were partying?!

Carlisle felt something begin to give.

" Don't let me stop you!" Carlisle shouted, "Keep dancing! Because by this time next week, this is going to be a Virgin Megastore, and I don't think they allow dancing at a Virgin Megastore!"

Emmett casually cut the music, plunging the store into silence. Customers began dispersing, averting their gaze as if not seeing Carlisle would render them invisible from his wrath.

"What are we supposed to do instead, Carlisle?" Edward piped up, causing Alice to scurry away for fear of being guilty by proximity.

Carlisle laughed in that way mental patients often laugh just before their sanity makes its final swan dive, "And what am I to do with this guy, huh? Turn him in? Send him to jail? Who will he call when he wants bail? Me, right? So then, I think, I'll turn in my own nine grand. But then I'm screwed."

Edward took a step forward, and Alice turned to Emmett, whispering, "Like a lamb to the slaughter."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out, Carlisle. You're a superb manager."

Carlisle raised an eyebrow, "What was that?"

"Superb". Another step closer.

"Keep it up, Edward," Carlisle warned.

"Su-perb."

"He's toast," Emmett mumbled.

And he was. Carlisle took hold of him by the back of his neck and nearly flung him through the double doors, one of them slamming violently against the wall as it opened. Without any hesitation, he launched Edward towards the stairs to his office, nearly dragging him inside, ignoring his weak protests as he slammed the office door.

Forgetting all responsibilities, Alice and Emmett exchanged a quick glance then darted into the staff lounge, each of them wincing as the sound of glass breaking and a body slamming into the wall mingled with Edward's muttered pleading for mercy.

"Should we help him?" Alice asked.

"I'm not going in without reinforcements," Emmett replied, "And even then, would you dare intrude?"

Carlisle's office door suddenly flew open, with Edward half sommersaulting down the stairs, landing in a crumpled heap, his chest heaving. Alice shook her head, wincing at the small cut above his left eye, the swollen left cheek and the right eye that seemed destined for a shiner. Carlisle silently strode to the bathroom, running cold water on a paper towel and returning to the lounge, where he extended it to Edward. Edward accepted it meekly, pressing it to the cut first.

"You deserved that. You know it?"

"I know it," Edward said quietly.

Carlisle glanced around the room, taking in Alice's sympathetic wincing, Emmett's open jaw and Jasper, who entered now and immediately froze, shaking his head at Edward, who remained slumped on the ground, the effort of crawling to the nearby sofa apparently far too great to be worth it. Bella was on inventory. Rosalie was presumably on cash, since no one else was. That left...

"Where's Rick?" he asked calmly.

"Got a better question for you, Carlisle: where's Rosalie?" Alice asked, her eyes wandering towards the storage room.

Oh God, not again. Not with him.

Emmett stared at Alice, apparently upset by the implication, his stare turning into a disgruntled sigh as the entire room very clearly heard a soft female giggle from the storage room. Carlisle stood, frozen with disbelief.

"I'll check the lunchroom," Jasper announced, departing quickly.

"I'll check bathroom," Alice chimed in, scurrying away.

"I'll check the sofa," Edward announced, struggling to his feet with Emmett's aid.

How can this be any worse? Carlisle moaned inwardly.