Chapter 21, in which James gets his comeuppance
On the way out to get lunch, Bella hung back as Alice and Jasper walked ahead.
"Edward," she hissed.
"What?" I slowed down to walk with her.
"You can't go around telling people you're my boyfriend."
For a moment I was taken aback, but I remembered that cute blush on her cheeks when I had said it. Plus, she sure didn't look mad about it right now, even though she was apparently trying to look severe. I decided to go for nonchalance.
"Oh no? Hm, I thought you kind of liked that." She tried to keep her lips pursed but a smile was breaking through. I continued. "Is this part of your ridiculous 'keep it secret' plan?"
"I tried telling Alice you were just being chivalrous, but she didn't believe me," she complained.
"Of course not."
"So I told her to keep it to herself. And to tell Jasper to."
She proceeded to explain that she did not want any parentals policing the situation, quite literally in the case of her dad. The cat was pretty much out of the bag, I retorted. She conceded that the cat was out of the bag with my siblings, but she was still drawing a line with my folks. And, she said, there was no upside in being obvious about it in front of even my brothers and sisters. OK, whatever, I could humor her.
Alice glanced back over her shoulder at us. I shrugged at her, splaying out my hands. "We'd better catch up with them, then," I told Bella. "This is highly suspicious."
###
That evening, Carlisle and Esmé took us all out for dinner. In the afternoon, on the last run of the day, Emmett had fallen badly and re-injured his shoulder, which he had dislocated during the summer. He went home early with Esmé and Carlisle to rest; he couldn't afford a midseason shoulder injury.
The rest of us stayed out to go hang at the Albion, which was an English-style pub not far from the ski resort, a rabbit warren–like den of rooms with darts, pool tables, even board games you could check out from the bar, lots of tables and a few cozy fireplaces. The drinking age in British Columbia is nineteen, so none of us was quite there but Jasper had a fake ID and could pass for older anyway, so he got a bracelet that allowed him to order drinks. He managed to order a bourbon (neat) for himself, a gimlet for Rosie, and Bailey's on the rocks for Alice and Bella. I had lost the designated-driver ro-sham-bo match, so I was drinking Coke.
So, Rosalie loves to shoot pool, now that Emmett has made her such an expert at it. Even before we got our drinks, she had put her name up on a chalkboard in the other room to play the next winner. I don't know why she even bothered with the blackboard, as she would have no trouble weaseling into any table for a game because Rosalie is smoking hot in just the way your average Joe likes: long blond hair, green eyes, long legs, generous rack, full pink lips. It was kind of entertaining to see guys falling all over themselves at the sight of her. Rosalie also loved to work it, especially when Emmett wasn't around and she could flirt outrageously without making him sulk. While the rest of us were lounging around a table, talking, she disappeared to the next room for a spell.
After a while Rosalie stopped back by our table. "I think I'm going out for a smoke—disgusting habit, I know, I know—I need a break from this guy who will not stop pestering me." She sighed dramatically.
"Who?" Alice asked, scanning the room.
Rosalie pointed discreetly at the end of the bar.
"That one at the end," she said, indicating her suitor: leather jacket and blond ponytail. "I think he's insisting on buying me a drink, maybe I'll disappear for a few minutes."
Bella warned her, "Oh no! Rosalie, that guy was bothering us earlier. He is super creepy. He went to school with Edward and Jasper."
"He was already trying to buy them drinks earlier today," Jasper told her, nodding towards Alice and Bella and shrugging, his tone slightly smug. He was winding her up. Rosalie hated when any other girls got attention.
"Really." She put one hand on her hip. "Excuse me," she said, heading back towards the pool tables.
"Rosalie! Don't drink anything he gives you!" Bella called after her, sounding worried.
Rosalie smiled dismissively back at her over one shoulder, then tossed her head as she stalked back into the next room.
"Don't worry, Rosalie can take care of herself," Jasper told her.
Half an hour later, my cell rang. It was Rosie. "Hey, I'm at the pool tables. Could you guys come in here a minute?"
We all got up to go see. She was standing next to the farthest table with her arm around James, who looked beyond sloppy drunk—eyes glazed over, babbling incoherently.
"Could you guys take him? He's having a little trouble standing up."
"Looks like he got the wrong end of a spiked cocktail," Jasper commented drily.
"Oh my god, was he trying to slip you something? What, did you… swap drinks with him?" Bella gestured to two cocktails sitting on a shelf on the wall near the pool table and looking wide-eyed at Rosalie as if she were James Bond.
"Swap drinks? No, I have no idea if there was anything wrong with the drink he bought me. I just slipped something into his."
Sometimes I wondered if Rosalie was an actual sociopath.
Bella gaped. She looked around and whispered, "You gave him a rufie?"
"I prefer to say I slipped him a mickey. He was getting fresh," Rosalie murmured, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Why do you even have those things?" Bella hissed. Rosalie was blowing Bella's mind.
Rosalie shrugged. "Self-defense. You know, I just carry some in my purse, along with my mad money, hat pin, and rape horn. A girl can't be too careful these days."
"You have the rape horn?" Jasper asked. "I've been wondering where that thing was."
She sighed. "You can't carry it without a purse, Jasper. It's too bulky to fit in your pocket."
Alice chimed in. "That's right, plus you'll just confuse your attacker. Like, 'Is that a rape horn in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?'"
We had shuffled him away from the pool tables, but some players were still staring at us. Rosalie waggled her fingers at them. "Can't handle his liquor," she called over. Everyone looked away, politely. The Canucks are so polite, god bless them. We should move up here. Also, pretty girls can get away with murder. Literally. She turned back to us. "OK, anyway, but what are we going to do with him?"
Jasper and I were completely holding him up now. His head lolled back, and Jasper propped it back up.
"We? What do you mean 'we,' kemosabe?" he asked Rosalie.
Bella made a stifled sobbing sound, and I looked over at her to see she was desperately trying not to dissolve into giggles. Her eyes were filled with tears of mirth.
"You know, Rosalie, this is just the kind of shenanigan that got us sent to Catholic school," I pointed out.
"Bring 'im over here," Rosalie sighed, heading for some chairs lined up against the wall in a dark corner of the room. We sat him down in one chair and propped his feet up on another, leaning him back. His mouth hung open.
With a quick glance around, Rosalie took out her lipstick and traced a backward "L" on his forehead. Then she expertly freshened her lips with the lipstick and kissed him on the cheek. "Goodnight, sleeping beauty."
"OK, let's go." We walked swiftly through the pub single file and out into the sharp, cold night. When we had reached the parking lot, the uncontrolled laughter began.
"No, keep going, Bella," hissed Rosalie, pulling on Bella's arm and wiping her own eyes, when Bella, giggling helplessly, tried to sit down on someone's bumper. The car alarm went off, which sent us into more fits of laughter as we stumbled back to our car. By the time we got there, Bella and Rosalie were walking arm-in-arm and cackling.