A/N: My sincere apologies for not posting this on Saturday! ff . net has been experiencing difficulties, which have gotten in the way of timely posting. I will post the next couple of chapters at the appropriate times over the next couple of days, and we'll just pretend that break never happened. Okay? I hope it's okay. (Many thanks to Butterfly Betty for letting e know how to fool the system and post this chapter!)

So, today is Saturday in Rubbish land...

BPOV

"I don't get it," Rose announces as she flounces on my bed. Even though my brain is functioning at half speed, I somehow manage an internal narrative rhyme. Weird.

Anyway, I'm not surprised Rose isn't catching my drift. I'm sure I'm not explaining things as well as I should be. I'm drifting in a sea of tomato juice, with a pounding headache and a rats' nest of dirty hair. I can't manage logic at the moment. Tomato juice; I can manage tomato juice. "Where's the hell's my drink?" I mumble.

Rose passes me the glass.

I feebly sip my tomato juice and Worcester and follow it with a bite of celery. A virgin Bloody Mary is a piss poor substitute for the real thing - let me tell you. It started out as a proper drink, but after quickly re-evaluating my jobless and homeless state, I jumped back on the wagon. I mean, at this point, Sheen's clearly winning. He still has a home… or twelve.

"I think I lost you for a minute there, Bell," Rose chirps, patting my knee. "You okay?"

Suddenly her big blue eyes and shiny red lips are inches from my face.

"No," I sigh as I slide down smooth purple silk to get away from her. "Not even close, Rose." I'm flat on my back, probably more hung over than I've ever been in my life. I'm full of tomato juice, and the guy I thought I loved, the guy I maybe loved, the only guy I've ever thought I might ever love is full of shit. I'm sure this is rock bottom, just when I thought I'd been so close to the top. I crane my neck to take another sip of my drink. It's awful.

"I hate just showing up like this, Bell. I can see it's not the best time. But I couldn't get in touch with Laurent, and your phone kept going to voicemail…"

I had to turn my phone off. Adorable couldn't take a hint.

I'm sorry

Please talk to me

I miss you

I was an idiot

I AM an idiot

I'll change

I'll try

I really love you

Mr. Ed misses you

I miss you

Your smile

Your eyes

OK. Your tits, too.

Perky.

The way you drive. When did you learn how to drive like that?

Talk to me.

Please.

He's persistent. I smile, remembering just how persistent. How many times he tried. How he Googled my cooch to make me cum.

"Bell?"

"There's not a lot to understand, Rose!" I practically yell. "Laurent's dead. He's not going to fix us up with dates, like, ever again!"

"Whoa, calm down there."

"Sorry," I mumble and cover my eyes with my arm. "I didn't mean to snap."

"Do you know why The Wolves killed him?" she asks tentatively.

"I don't know." It's the safest answer.

"Do you think they'll come after us too?"

"No, nothing like that."

"How can you be sure?"

I shrug and roll over and bury my head in the pillows. The less Rose knows, the better.

"And why the heck are you wearing that ratty old T-shirt?" she adds.

I don't know the answer to that one. It doesn't even smell like him anymore. I pull it down hoping that she doesn't ask about the boxer briefs too. I'm pathetic.

And I need a plan. I don't have a plan. I have a hangover.

"And somehow this whole thing means that you lose the house to the bank?" Rose asks.

I don't look up; I just nod into the pillows.

"Well, maybe we could find the bank manager and kind of, you know, persuade him to see things your way. Me, you, fishnets, some strap-ons, some -"

"I'm not screwing the bank manager, Rose."

"Why do you have to make things so hard, Bell?" Rose giggles and nudges me. "Haha, get it? So hard? You're a hooker… so you make things -"

"Got it, Rose. Got it. Not screwing the bank manager. But I make things hard. It's ironic. Next idea?"

"My friend Destiny knows this actor that's totally sympathetic to hookers. Maybe if she could hook you up with him, and if you told him about the house…"

I shake my head. I'm afraid to ask. I have to ask.

"What actor?" I ask.

"He's the one that's been on all those news shows late -"

"Oh my fucking god! I'm not asking Sheen for favors!"

"Well, then, I've got nothing. Like, seriously nothing, Bell.

The doorbell rings and I bury my head deeper in purple silk and down. I wish I could live buried in purple silk and down. It would be so much easier. I hear the clatter of heels as Rose jumps to her feet. "Who do you think it is? Should we escape out back?"

"Oh my god, Rose. Just go downstairs and look through the peephole."

"The peephole. Right." I peek out from the pillow to see Rose striding across the bedroom. The sunlight glinting off all the gold sequins on her dress hits me like an ice pick between the eyes. I groan and cover my head with a pillow, but wonder if I might accidentally smother myself. I make a little crack for breathing, just to be sure.

I leave my plush purple world when I hear Rose coming back up the stairs. She's carrying the biggest bouquet of purple and white flowers I've ever seen. There are white roses and lilies and lots of purple irises, and Rose is sporting this huge, goofy grin.

She places the flowers on my nightstand. They take up the entire nightstand. They take over the room.

Rose clears her throat and holds up a little white card. She can't wipe the grin off of her face.

"Rose?"

She ignores me and starts to read out loud.

"These aren't cheap and they were chosen with thought. I thought they'd match you and your home. I never thought I was Gere. (I had to Google it. You meant Pretty Woman, right?)

I peel myself off of the bed. Rose takes a step away from me, holds the card a little higher and keeps reading.

"And you're no Julia. You're totally prettier than she is. And he's way cooler and maybe even more fucked up than me. So forgive me, please? Let's figure this out together? Mr. Ed needs petting, and I need to see your smile. ~Mr. Adorable"

I practically tackle Rose and pluck the card out of her hand.

"Bell?" she asks. "Is there something you've been keeping from me?"

"I met a guy, Rose." I don't look up. Adorable has that typical guy chicken-scratch penmanship. It's more adorable coming from his fingers, somehow.

"Mr. Adorable?" she asks and waggles her eyebrows.

"He's a garbage man."

Rose snorts and I glower at her.

"Sorry," she squeaks.

"It's okay, he was an ass. He was so sweet."

"He is so sweet," she corrects.

"And he is an ass, all at the same time," I add.

"Most guys are, I think," Rose offers. "Oh! I almost forgot! There's more!" Rose runs back out of the room and I stop hating Adorable long enough to smell the roses. I finger an iris. With its soft fluttery petals it kind of looks like a pretty purple vagina. Adorable really is really sweet.

Rose lumbers back into the bedroom carrying a large gift basket in her hands.

"Maybe you can explain this, Bell?"

The basket is packed with plums, and eggplants, and cabbages, and concord grapes. There are jars of jellies and preserves, and a few jars of mayo too. And dried coconut flakes, and marshmallow fluff, and a gallon of milk, and a loaf of white bread.

My heart flutters and I smile. I can't believe that Adorable managed to make me smile - today of all days, even after he'd been such an immature ass and ruined my life.

"I don't get it," Rose says picking through the basket.

"Some things don't make any sense, Rose. Some things are just kind of funny and sweet. Like my white and purple house and my new matching white and purple gift basket. Sometimes people just like each other. And sometimes they fuck up."

"What did he do that was so awful, Bell?"

"He ruined my life by trying to fix it."

"At least he was trying," she offers with a shrug.

Adorable had been trying. He tried so hard. He… well, I don't know what he did, really. He sold himself for me. How the hell did he think that was going to work? He was an idiot. And I think that idiot loved me.

I'm still mad. I'm still really mad, but suddenly I'm worried, too. And I'm hung over, and smelly, and wearing Adorable's things. And I'm clueless. And I'm not ready to talk to him.

Not ready to talk to him? When did I start planning on talking to him?

Never.

Maybe.

But I'm totally going to have a marshmallow fluff and jelly sandwich with some milk.

And I'm going to shower.

And I'm going to come up with a plan.

And I'm probably not going to change out of the boxers. I mean, Adorable was supposed to be the brains of the operation. I couldn't go holding things against Mr. Ed, now. Could I?

Mr. Ed needs petting.

I sigh. I feel the sudden need to be alone with my fingers, and that eggplant's looking just about the right size to... The doorbell rings again, interrupting my thoughts.

"More deliveries?" Rose asks.

"Can you get it again, Rose? I'm gonna get up and shower and try to pull my shit together." And try to pull one off.

"No problem," she says and swings her hips pushes out her tits as she leaves the room. "The delivery guy was kind of cute. No trash man, but -"

I throw a pillow at her on the way out.

xXxXx

In the shower, naked under the spray, I pretend my fingers are his fingers. I'm shameless, I guess. But he has such long fingers and he was such a quick study. It doesn't mean I'm going to call him. It means… it means…

"Hey! You can't just bust in here!" I hear Rose shout. "I'm gonna call the cops!"

"Somehow I doubt that," comes the reply.

My fingers freeze. It feels like the shower water's run cold. Two sets of footsteps pound up the stairs. I turn off the water and grab a towel. The bathroom door is thrown open.

"Bell, I tried to stop her."

Rose is shoved out of the way by someone half her size and twice her age.

"Alice?"

A/N: Next update... Tomorrow evening (ff . net gods willing). xxx, M