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WitFit Jan/Feb 2013

90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll

Word Prompt: Police

Dialogue Flex: "What's your excuse this time?"

-PoM-

"Hey, have you seen my shirt?"

Growling under my breath, I looked up from my notes spread all over the coffee table and rubbed my forehead. Edward had a bad habit of screaming from the back of his apartment, and that fact piled on top of a deadline I was hard pressed to meet equaled me and a huge headache.

It wasn't like he wasn't ten steps away as it was. I stretched my legs from their crisscrossed position and stretched them under the table.

"Bella, did you hear—oh. Hey, have you seen my shirt?"

I turned my head toward the hallway. "Well, you have lots of shirts. Are there any identifying characteristics of this one to give me a clue?"

"Someone's crabby."

"I'm really not. But I am trying to get this article done so I can hand it in . . . and I've pretty much got nothing written. So, what shirt are you looking for so I can get this done?"

He and the rest of the band were going to a local show tonight to scout out a few potential opening acts for their upcoming mini-tour—it was set to start in less than a month. News of Ty's death had spread throughout the music world and had set their album sales to overdrive. The record company, thrilled with the sales—greedy, insensitive scumsuckers they were—had booked them on a fifteen-show tour up the West Coast again, and after that finished they'd have a break before going on a longer tour through the Midwest.

It was daunting to know we'd be separated again so soon, but the past two weeks had been good for us. We were talking about stuff and getting along, and Edward had been much more accepting of the times I simply couldn't hang out. This quarter of school was just really getting underway and I'd decided to stick it out as well as keep my part time job at the paper. So we each did our own thing and spent a lot of nights at his place when I could swing it.

"The blue one." At my thinned lips, he said, "The one you hate. It has a hole in the bottom, remember?"

"Oh, that one." I grimaced—why he insisted on wearing clothes that were falling apart, I had no clue. "It's in the bottom of your closet. I put a basket of clean laundry in there earlier this week."

"Yeah, I didn't look there."

Of course he didn't. I loved him to death, but I swore that sometimes he was selectively blind. And a slob. His habit of dropping clothes wherever he took them off and leaving them had gotten so out of hand I'd used my key to clean up when one of my classes had been canceled earlier this week.

He walked in my direction and flopped on the couch behind me, settling his chin on my shoulder. "What's wrong with your article?"

His breath on my neck was distracting. "Um . . . well, they want me to review that band that I saw last week with Rose, but we got bored and left early instead."

"My, my, Swan. That's not very good form for a journalist."

I shivered when his tongue traced a line behind my ear. "Stop trying to lick my neck! I don't have time for you to be cute. Don't you have an outing to get dressed for? And, besides, I couldn't help it. They were weird."

"So write about that," he said.

"I'm trying to, but I can't get my thoughts together."

He moved until he was sitting beside me and started digging around the mess of papers on the table. "Here, this one says they sound like a cross between Nirvana and . . . Jesus, Bon Jovi, Bella? What the fuck kind of band did they send you to see?"

"That's what I'm saying," I said, laughing. "It was like Glam meets Grunge rock. They had on makeup and cowboy boots, for fucks sake. Even Marcus didn't want to go to the show, which is how I got stuck with it. How am I supposed to take this seriously?"

He agreed and then started reading my notes, pointing out things I'd scribbled down. His observations were funny and my bad mood started to lift pretty fast, a tentative outline taking form in my brain. We were interrupted by a pounding on the door, and Edward got up to see who it was.

"Oh, come on. Cover up before you open the door," Emmett said, pulling an annoyed Rose into the apartment behind him. "I get that you want to bone our dear Bella all the time, but I've got sensitive eyes here."

"No one was boning," I muttered. "Unfortunately."

"You ready to go?" Rose said to Edward, perching on the couch next to me. "Hey, chick. Looks like you're in for a fun night."

"No. Definitely not fun."

"Can you guys just go without me?"

Surprised, I looked up from the table and to where Edward still stood—shirtless—in the door.

"What do you mean? We've gotta go see those bands," Emmett said. "The label wants us to pick someone this week."

"I trust you guys' judgment," Edward replied. "I'm going to stay here and hang out with Bella."

Rose whispered in my ear, "Guess we got outranked on the priority list tonight." She stood up, grabbed Emmett, and then said, "You can't say shit when you don't like the band, I'm warning you now."

When they'd gone and the apartment was silent again, I stared at Edward. "You didn't have to do that. It's important for you to go tonight."

"I know I didn't have to, but you seem like you could use a hand. Here, you can tell me your ideas and I'll tell you if they suck."

"Well, if that doesn't sound like a vote of confidence . . ."

I couldn't hold the annoyed tone for very long, though—I ended up giggling and ruining it completely. My insides danced because he'd blown off something to do with the band for me.

"You'll do fine, baby. You have my very knowledgeable self for the entire evening. And, hey, maybe you'll lose your shirt later, too.

-PoM-

"You have plans tomorrow night?"

I turned away from the movie we were watching. "Not that I know of. My assignment at the paper isn't due for another couple of days and I finished my school stuff this afternoon. What's up?"

He picked up his soda and drained it.

Another step in the right direction: Edward hadn't had a drink since out talk in the park, had even attended a few of the local, open AA meetings—which he said were depressing and hard to get through because some of the member's tales were nightmare inducing stuff. He'd confided to me that he was glad he wasn't that far gone, that it was hard but he was going to try.

I trusted him . . . and if I began to doubt it, we'd cross that road together.

"We've got our last rehearsal before we leave, and I want you to come."

"Really?"

"You can see how Leah's doing; hear some of the new stuff we've been working on. She'd be psyched to have you there."

"That sounds like fun. When do you have practice?"

"Five. It's at Jasper's new place.

"You've got yourself a groupie," I said, leaning in to taste his lips.

-PoM-

Early record sales had been fantastic and much more profitable than we'd imagined they'd be. Each of the band members splurged on something: new guitars for Ben, a ridiculous jeep for Emmett; Leah, who because she'd come in later and didn't have any cuts on the album, laughed at them. Edward hadn't done much beside buying a new television and threatening to pay for my tuition.

Jasper, though, had just purchased a house in the south part of Seattle.

Apparently it was nice, and Edward said I'd think so, too.

He picked me up early the next day and we headed for Burien. The neighborhoods got more spread out the closer we got, until we were in an area of mostly middle class homes with nice lawns.

"It's so much brighter out here than it is in the city," I said, watching the as the lawns morphed into views of Vashon Island. "I didn't know about this area—wow, it's gorgeous."

"One of the selling points for Jas was that it's apparently 'one of the best kept secrets' around," he said, making a face. "Not a lot of traffic, and I think the residents like to keep it that way."

"I can see why . . ."

After a few twists and turns through gorgeous greenbelts, we ended up at a house that was fairly secluded from the rest. I wanted to giggle at the high gate—open, at least—because, really . . . but knowing Jasper and his view of their impending fame, it made sense.

Edward parked at the end of a long driveway and got out to retrieve his guitars from the back.

"This is pretty cool," I said, taking in the sweeping green lawn that sloped away from the large single-story house.

It was nice. Not exorbitant by any means, but it was a lot of space for one guy and was either a new build or had had a very recent facelift. Rudely I wondered how much money Jasper had dropped on this place.

"Wait until you see the inside."

Instead of entering the front of the house, we went around to the back and approached a garage separated from the main house. Muffled music from a guitar spilled into the air.

"Honey, I'm home," Edward said, holding the door so I could enter first.

The garage had been converted into a small studio with just enough room for the band to play without killing each other. There was a small booth off to the side, and I recalled Edward telling me that Jasper wanted to record here eventually.

He'd been kind of amped about that himself—it was a new avenue of music not yet explored.

I set my bag down on a counter near the door. "Hey, Jasper."

Since the blowup in Portland, I hadn't seen him around. He gave me the tiniest smile and looked back to his guitar, watching as his fingers picked out a tune I didn't recognize.

Edward touched me on the small of my back. "I need to grab the rest of my stuff."

"Need help?"

"Nah, I'll be back." He seemed jazzed about playing, eyes all sparkly and mischievous. He squeezed my waist and then he was walking outside.

I turned back around to Jasper. "Nice place. Studio's pretty cool."

He finished playing whatever it was he was playing and then sat his guitar to the side. "Yeah, the guy here before had his own band. Neighbors aren't really cool with noise and he soundproofed it so they could do their thing. Wanna see the rest of the place?"

"If you have enough time before practice, that'd be great."

"We've got time. Ben's already called because he's going to be late."

And there was the Jasper I knew—annoyance crossed his features and I laughed silently.

I followed him out of the studio and to the patio—complete with a large grill and a seating area—and we entered the house through the kitchen. I stopped shot at the door and stared at the woman preparing food there.

What the . . .

"Bella and Edward are here already. Bella, meet Alice."

She finished chopping a tomato, scooped it into a bowl. For that matter, there were a ton of bowls dotting the center island—tomatoes and jalapeños, lettuce and tortillas. The scent of spiced meat hung heavy in the room.

I stared at this new face, totally shocked to see her moving around as it were her house, too.

She wiped a hand on her apron before she shook mine. "Hi, Bella. I've heard so much about you."

Her voice was soft, sweetly accented with a twang that suited her smile, somehow. She was pretty, all dainty and bright colors.

"You have?"

She laughed. "I have, but I can tell you haven't heard about me yet." She gave Jasper a frown that didn't last long. "He's so goshdarned quiet." Jasper ruffled the hair at the back of his neck. "All right, then. I'm gonna give her a tour and then we're heading back out. Need help with anything?"

"No. I've got it."

He ducked down, bussing her cheek, and then gestured for me to follow him. I shot one last look at the girl—Alice, I reminded myself—and then shook my head and followed him in a daze.

That girl was not a new addition; which made me wonder why Edward or Rose hadn't said anything about her to me.

"What the hell, Jasper. You don't go springing your girlfriend on your friends like that," I said. "She probably thinks I'm rude."

"Trust me, that didn't bother her one bit."

"If you say so. But . . . I mean, where'd she come from?"

"I met her in L.A. and we kept in touch. She worked for the label."

I laughed, and then looked around the office we'd stopped in. "That's kind of . . . sweet. Is she just down for the weekend?"

"I said 'worked', meaning she's not working there any longer. She moved in this week."

"Oh . . . kay. Uh, nice house, by the way, I'm impressed. I didn't think you guys were making this much yet." I waved my hand around the room.

Because, if Jasper had this much cash, Edward could certainly buy his way out of the lease on his less-than-ideal apartment. It made me wonder why he hadn't mentioned cohabitating again, or if he was still waiting on me.

"We're not. I've been saving my portion of gigs for a long time, didn't use a lot of my advance. I'm mortgaged up to my eyeballs, but I figured it was time to put down roots and stop crashing on people's couches."

"Gotcha. Okay, homeowner, show me the rest of your house."

He took me through the bedrooms—of which there were four—and the bathrooms—one and a half—and the den, which had a massive television and stereo setup.

"Yeah, so this is awesome," I said, gravitating toward the old vinyl he had stacked on shelves. "I hope you know you've become the official barbecue spot."

"I actually wanted to talk to you for a few minutes alone."

"What about?" I ran my hands over the records, stopped at an Eagles album and reminded myself to call my mother soon.

Then I remembered the look that passed him and Edward when my fella had gone back to his car. This smelled like a set up.

"I owe you a major fuckin' apology."

Mouth agape, I turned to face him. "What?"

"I wasn't the nicest person to you when we first met. I had this idea that you were just another one of those girls that wanted to be with a guy in a band. A distraction."

That . . . actually made a lot of sense.

"After watching you two for a while, I started to get it. Being in a band isn't easy, and if you find someone that you can build a life with through all of this mayhem, they must be pretty special."

Still flabbergasted, I stood there and said nothing; he just smiled and turned to fiddle with something on a table.

The words were nice, though, and I should say something. "That's really nice of—"

"Get out of that or so help me God, I will light a fire under your butt!"

"Damnit," Jasper said, taking off toward the noise.

I stood there and giggled for a second. Alice's southern certainly came out when she was yelling. Once I'd composed myself I headed back toward the kitchen, where everyone had converged. Leah, beer bottle raised to her lips, stood next to Rose; Ben, obviously just arriving if his gear in hand was anything to go by, stood in the doorway. Edward was leaned against the counter, Pepsi in hand a smirk on his face.

Emmett and Alice were squared off over the counter, where she'd draped her tiny little self over all the bowls of food, save for the one Emmett held.

I navigated the minefield and moved toward Edward, tucking myself into his side. His arm went around my shoulder and I leaned up on my tiptoes, whispered, "Sneaky people don't get laid. Just so you know."

"That's not fair," he said, and then turned back to watch Emmett trying to steal another bowl off the table.

"It's not time to eat yet," Alice said, slapping his hand away from a bowl of guacamole. "Go do your practice 'thang' and then I'll feed you."

"But I'm starving! Rose is too busy to cook for me."

Not missing a beat, Rose snorted. "There's food at home and you have two hands. What's your excuse this time?"

I grinned to myself, recalling a certain note about my penchant to hoard cookies. "A member of the food police, I like her already."

"She's something else. Jasper didn't know what hit him."

"Uh huh. Which reminds me of that whole 'talking to me' thing, and how I did not know about the girlfriend? You're definitely not getting laid tonight."

I guessed I couldn't expect complete miracles in less than two months time. But we had time to work on that.

"We'll see."

When Emmett had enough of being denied sustenance the gathering broke up, and Alice winked at me as I followed Edward out of the room. I had a feeling I was going to like her.

The studio was a lot nicer than the one in The Dutchman, and we hung out for hours, Rose and I curled up on the couch, while the band rehearsed songs both old and new. The new stuff was wonderful, moving, and I heard bits about Ty and myself that made my eyes well up. Eventually they were done and horsing around, Edward and Jasper moving over to the sound board while Emmett, Leah, and Ben played nonsense riffs.

I watched Edward, took in his keen interest in what buttons to push to raise or drop a level on someone's mic. He messed up a few times, but I could tell it was something he wanted to know more about.

Leah got tired of playing and came over to flop down next to Rose and me. "You sound amazing, girl. I did not know you had that in you."

"Thanks. It's a lot easier than it was in the beginning. Jasper and your boyfriend can be damn tyrants, but it's pushed me to get it together. I'm having a blast."

"Yeah, he gets pretty intense when he wants to work on something."

-PoM-

After a loud dinner during which everyone seemed like cats let out of a cage, and more southernisms than I knew what to do with, Edward drove us home with me curled up next to him. I yawned, thankful that there wasn't a center console in the Nova.

I murmured in a sleepy voice, "Want to come over? Rose won't be there."

"It'd be easier if we just had one place to go to, you know."

I smiled softly. I'd been waiting for this subject to come up again.

We were back in a good place, one of normalcy and understanding. It might have been better than it was in the beginning, really. After weeks of careful nurturing, I knew I was ready.

"Sure would be." I tucked into him a little closer. "Do you want to go look before you leave?"

"Am I hearing what I think I am hearing?"

"Yes, you are." I looked up, found a wide grin that mirrored my own.

"Let's go tomorrow."

-PoM-


Sooooo planning on one more chapter and an epi... how did this fly by so fast?

Song – I Saw You in the Crowd – Violent Femmes