Chapter 29: Irritated Grizzlies
Rosalie's POV
Turning the key and the deadbolt, I locked up the shop, longing for a hot shower and a good night's sleep. Thankfully Lisa wasn't making me work in the morning shift, so I could sleep in. I would need it, after staying at the shop until one in the morning for the last three days. I mentally cursed this new line of jewelry that was being eaten off the shelves. We just couldn't keep enough of it in stock, so I had to stay there for hours in the back room, threading and beading and soldering until my fingers ached and my vision got blurry.
Once I got home, I barely had the energy to put on my pajamas and set my alarm for noon before I collapsed into the welcome embrace of my soft bed. However much I wanted to, I couldn't sleep past lunch or I would miss my shift at work, which would likely mean Lisa docked my pay. She was ridiculously strict about those sorts of things… I lost my train of thought as beautiful sleep overwhelmed me.
This is how we'll dance when
When they try to take us down
This is what we'll be, oh glory.
"What the…?" I sat up in bed, cursing when I knocked my head against the headboard. "This had better be good," I mumbled, picking up my phone, which was still ringing. I scowled and cursed even more when I saw the time and the number. It was 6:00 in the morning, and he was calling me. I had deleted the number from my contacts a long time ago, but I would recognize it anywhere.
Royce. Dammit.
"Hello?" I said sharply. Of all the people in the world, my ex-boyfriend was the last person I would want to talk to this early in the morning, or even ever.
"Rosalie! I didn't know if you'd answer. Listen, I couldn't sleep, and I needed to talk to you," he said, practically oozing sleaze, even over the phone.
"Royce, what in the Hell makes you think I'd want to talk to you, especially at six in the morning?"
"Rosie," he pleaded in the most sugar-coated tone I'd ever heard, "I need you back. Ever since you left…I just can't stand it anymore. I gotta see you, soon. If I don't, I might go insane."
I tried to put as much poison in my reply as possible. "You're pathetic, you know that? Do you even remember why I left you in the first place?"
"I know, but…"
"Just grow a brain cell and shut up. I don't care how desperate you try to sound; you will not get anything from me. Now leave me the hell alone!" I snapped my phone shut, even as he started begging me to listen.
But I wouldn't. One time down that road had been one too many, and the scars still burned every once in a while.
This is how we'll dance when
When they try to take us down
This is what we'll be, oh glory.
"Not answering…" I mumbled, hoping he would catch a hint – and malaria, while he was at it.
This is how we'll stand when
When they burn our houses down.
This is how we'll sing, oh glory.
I turned my phone off and decided to go back to sleep. Pulling the sheets over my head to block out the early morning sunlight, I took several deep breaths and tried to relax. I had six more hours of blessed sleep left.
But of course I couldn't calm down after Royce got me so riled up. Images of his face and our past came flooding back and I couldn't push them away. "Ugh!" I shouted. All he had to do is talk at me for thirty seconds and he already took over my every thought.
The bastard.
-X-X-
I was sitting at the bar, laughing with Jane when this stranger sat next to me.
"Hey, Gorgeous. Wanna dance?"
I glanced at his obviously toned shoulders and pecs, which were defined underneath a tight black shirt. "Sure!" I said enthusiastically, a little drunk.
"So what's you're name, hot stuff?" He flashed a confident grin at me.
"Rosalie. What about you?"
"Royce," he said as he led me out to the dance floor. We began dancing, and we didn't stop for nearly an hour.
-X-X-
I smiled when I saw the black Ferrari convertible pull up to my apartment in Virginia. As I opened the car door, he glanced at me over the top of his sleek sunglasses and said, "Lookin' good, Rosie." Normally I didn't like it when someone called me Rosie, or even Rose, but I liked it when Royce said it like that.
I slid over to the middle seat, and he put one arm over my shoulder and one arm on the steering wheel as he peeled out onto the highway. I put my head back and let the wind blow my hair as I leaned into Royce's side.
-X-X-
Royce wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. Moths fluttered under the porch light as he kissed me, building the intensity more quickly than I expected. But I let him. It was fun, and it felt good. He leaned his head down to me and whispered, "Want to come in?" while grabbing my butt.
I slowly pulled his arm away. "Royce," I sighed. "I don't think I'm ready for anything like that."
His face went blank, but then he smiled kindly and said, "That's okay. We can take our time."
-X-X-
Sitting on the towel, I looked out at the beautiful beach sunset and Royce wrapped his arms around my bare waist. "You look so hot in that swimsuit."
I turned to see his toned chest and arms and grinned. "I could say the same about you, Royce." I winked at him. He leaned down to kiss me, then rolled over me. We stayed like that for a little while, then he reached underneath me and started undoing my bikini strap.
I tried to pull his arm away, but he just said "Oh, come on, Rosie," in a commanding tone.
"Are you sure? We've only been together for three months." Somehow this didn't feel right.
"I'm sure. I want, you, Rosie." To emphasize his point, he started making out with me again and pulling at the clasp of my swimsuit top.
"And I want you, Royce," I said, "but not now."
He groaned and rolled off of me. "I think we should just go back." He stood up and walked away, leaving me sitting in the sand, confused out of my mind.
-X-X-
"Royce, let go of me!" But he wouldn't. He was drunk, and I was slightly tipsy, but I had a really bad headache and Royce was starting to hurt my arm.
"Rosalie! I buy you flowers and take you out all the time. Shouldn't you give me something? And there's only one thing I really want."
"But I don't!" He wouldn't listen, and he tried to force me down on the couch. I slapped his face, but that only made him angrier, and he started hitting me in the face and stomach. Tears spilled down my red and purple face, and I wondered what could have possibly turned Royce's suave and sexy face into a contorted mask of rage.
"You're nothing but a useless bitch!" He screamed. "A money-grubbing whore, worthless!" He continued to slap and punch me until I was doubled over in pain. My entire face throbbed and my stomach was bruised all over.
I tried to pry his hand off of my arm, but it was clamped on tight. My whole body hurt, and when I tried to think of all the defensive moves my dad taught me when I was little, I couldn't concentrate long enough to fight back. Every time I thought of something I could do, Royce's hand would return, making me cry out in fear and pain.
"Royce! Stop it, please!" I begged him. "You're hurting me. You're drunk! STOP!" Nothing worked. He refused to even acknowledge that I was speaking.
On an impulse, I lowered my head and bit down hard on the arm he was holding me with, making my battered jaw burn with flame-hot pain. He yanked his arm away and screamed even more curses at me when he stumbled backwards and crashed into a crystal vase. He hit the floor, but he rose quickly – except he had a long shard of broken glass in his hand. His face was twisted in fury.
I limped backwards, trying to avoid him by dodging around a chair, but his arms were too long, and a searing feeling went across my back as the glass cut through my thin tank top. In one final, desperate attempt, I skirted around the chair and kicked him in the groin as hard as I could. When he keeled over to the floor, I grabbed the nearest object – a fake plant in a metal pot – and hit him with it as hard as I could. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
And I ran.
I finally couldn't stand it anymore. I got out of bed even though I still had four hours until noon. I was still tired, but there was too much on my mind to allow me to go back to sleep. Walking into the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee and absentmindedly rubbed the scar on my back.
That scar – a long, thin line across my back – still stung on occasion, if I stretched my back too far or if it got really cold. It had nearly gone away, so much that I could wear a swimsuit and no one would be able to notice without staring. But there were other scars that couldn't be seen.
The timer on the coffee pot beeped, and I poured a cup, hoping the caffeine would provide the energy I had lost by not sleeping. Just then, the home phone rang, and I hoped against hope that it wasn't who I thought it was. I had escaped to Port Angeles so Royce couldn't find me, but if he knew I lived here, I would have to confront him one way or another, especially if he insisted on talking me back into a relationship with him. There was no way I would move across the country again – leaving made me realize how much I wanted to be close to my friends and family in Forks – so if Royce came knocking, I knew I would have to knock him in the head hard enough to make him go away. This time, I would stand my ground. No running away.
The phone rang again; I glanced at the caller ID and exhaled loudly in relief when I saw it was the number for the jewelry shop.
"Hey, Lisa," I said, hoping I didn't sound too groggy.
"Rosalie, I hate to ask this of you, but I just had an emergency come up at home, so can you take over the shop for today? I'll pay you another bonus, and you can close down at five. But I need you here as soon as possible." She sounded weary and anxious, and I wondered what could have happened.
Under normal circumstances, I would've been really pissed about having to come to work after the kind of load I'd been under lately, but now I was glad to have something to distract me from my less-than-pleasant thoughts. "Sure, I don't mind at all. I'll be there in thirty minutes."
"Thank you, Rosalie. I really appreciate this."
"It's no problem, really," I assured her. "See you in a bit." I hung up and rushed to take a quick shower. I didn't bother to dry my hair completely; I just put it up in a tight bun. Pulling a loose green blouse over a knee-length brown skirt, I grabbed my purse and a granola bar and drove to the shop.
A small bell tinkled as I pushed the door open, and the familiar smell of cinnamon spice air freshener greeted me, along with a really upset-looking Lisa. "Rosalie! Thank goodness. I've got to go, but I've been helping this lady choose a necklace and earrings for her wedding, and this gentleman says he wants to buy something as a present for a girl he knows. Can you help them?"
"Yeah, just let me put my stuff in the back room." I stepped quickly into the small workroom and dropped off my purse before returning to the main area of the shop. Lisa was already in her car, pulling out of the parking lot.
I turned to face the woman who was getting married. "So, you're looking for bridal jewelry?" She nodded shyly, and I put on my helpful-saleswoman face. "Well, tell me about it. Is there any specific theme or colors you'd like to emphasize?"
"Well, I have a picture of my dress, and it's a fairly modern theme."
I took the picture and led the woman over to a glass case. "Have you looked at our Reed Collection yet? I think you might like some of the more elaborate pieces."
"Okay," she said and followed meekly behind. We spent another half an hour together mulling over which necklace to match with which earrings, and once she finally made a decision, I boxed the items and stored them under the counter for her to pick up later in the week. As the woman left the store, I turned to the man, who had been going in and out of my peripheral vision.
"Alright sir, how can I…Emmett? What are you doing here?" I asked, slightly dumbfounded.
He grinned at me, and his boyish smile was, I had to admit, somewhat infectious. "Shopping, duh."
"What for? And how come you didn't go to some big store in Seattle?"
He propped his elbow on the display case. "Well, you said you worked at a jewelry store, so I thought I'd check it out, since I'm in the market."
"In the market for what? Earrings, a bracelet, accessories to match your purse?" I said sarcastically.
"Well there's this girl," he said, lazily looking at some of the more expensive items, "and I want to get her something special. Just as a nice gesture."
"What would she like?" I tried my best to be professional, but he was beginning to irritate me with the lackadaisical way he browsed around the store.
"That's the thing…" He picked up a $200 bracelet – one that I had spent over five hours making myself – and started twirling it on his index finger. "I'm not sure. Maybe you could help?"
"Put that down!" I tried to grab it out of his hands, but he held it above his head and kept spinning it.
"She's kind of a loner sometimes," he said, obviously wanting me to jump up for the bracelet, but I refused to do something that undignified.
Instead, I played along, sticking close so I could grab it when his arm got tired. "A loner, hmm? Maybe she likes darker jewelry? Perhaps a choker?"
"Well I don't know if dark is the right way to put it. She's very self-confident, and she's not afraid to stand up for her own opinions, which she's got plenty of," he continued with a seriousness that seemed a bit overdone. The beads of the bracelet sparkled as he kept twirling it over his head.
"Well, how about something gold, perhaps with a red stone…" I trailed off and my eyes darted up to the bracelet. "Could you put that down? It's handmade, and somewhat fragile. If you break it, you'll have to buy it."
"If you say so," he shrugged and flipped it up in the air, letting it fall almost all the way to the floor before catching it deftly and setting it on the counter. "Speaking of this bracelet, do you think she'd like it?" He leaned down to the counter and propped his chin on his hand, looking for all the world like an eleven-year-old boy as he peered up at me.
"Well, she'll appreciate the fact that it's handmade, and unique. There's no other piece of jewelry like it," I picked up the bracelet and began pointing out my favorite parts, while surreptitiously checking it for damage. Of all the pieces that I had made within the last few days of tedious work, this was my favorite, and I would hate to see it go if Emmett did buy it. "If you look closely, you can see that each stone has a little bit of impurity in it, or it's a little scratched on the inside. But that only makes it shine brighter in the light."
He picked it up and rotated it so it would catch the light. "You're right," he said in a reverent whisper. "It is really shiny." He grinned again, even wider than before.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Emmett," I spoke slowly, "it is a very pretty shiny thing. Girls like shiny things."
"I'll take it, then," he said, pounding a large fist on the counter.
"Okay," I said a little sadly. It was my favorite, and I would never be able to replicate it, even if I had taken detailed notes of how I made it. I walked behind the cash register and tapped in the numbers of the price and which collection it belonged to. "Your total comes to $229.49." I fell back into professional mode. "Will that be all for you?"
"I'm not sure that's right," he said with a comical frown. "That number seems to be missing a few digits."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm just saying that it's got to be worth much, much more than that. Perhaps $1000?" he suggested as he pulled out a credit card.
"Don't be ridiculous," I snapped. Whatever his motives – trying to hook up with me or simply buying a bracelet for his girlfriend – he was annoying me. I wished he would just buy the thing and leave, and quit confusing me with the bouncing back and forth between immaturity and seriousness. "This isn't worth near that much money."
"But the girl is," he replied, taking me by surprise. His face was serious, but there was laughter in his eyes, as if I was missing out on a private joke. "Compared to having her, having an extra thousand isn't much, don't you think?"
I was trying to think of what to say to that. I just couldn't seem to figure Emmett out, so when I heard the door open, I was glad for the momentary disturbance so I could figure out what I was going to do about Emmett haggling to raise the price of the bracelet. Glancing over Emmett's massive shoulder to see who it was, I felt my face get hot, and the edges of my vision turned slightly red.
It was Royce. He had found me.
"Why are you here?" I stormed around the counter and stood in Royce's path so he couldn't go any farther. "You aren't welcome."
"It's a store, Rosie, can't I shop around for some bling?" he said impudently, using a tone that was meant to frighten me. But I wouldn't let him scare me.
"Royce, I don't want to deal with you, now get out of here."
"Easy there." He shrugged and grinned insolently. "I just want to find a necklace for this girl I know."
"I don't care. You can find it somewhere else," I hissed.
"But I want to see what you've made, sugar." He strolled past me and started looking blankly at the jewelry in the display cases. "This one's pretty. Maybe I could buy it for you."
"I wouldn't take it from you even if you were the last man on earth!" I spat out at him. Then I added, "Make that the last man after all the goats have died."
"Aw, Rosie, don't be like that." He took a step towards me. "You know you still love me." He grinned wickedly, as if he was daring me to disagree.
"I love you like I love a cactus up my ass."
"Look, here, bitch," he said with eyes full of hatred. "I gave you everything you ever wanted. You have no right to talk to me like that."
"I'll say what I want," I said furiously, with my hands balled into fists at my sides. "And I don't want you in this store now, or ever. Leave," I commanded him, and pointed sharply at the door.
"Make me." He crossed his arms.
"Alright," Emmett said in a dark tone. I jumped and turned my head. I had forgotten he was there, and it was obvious Royce hadn't even noticed the massive hulk of a man lumbering toward him.
"Who the hell are you?" Royce asked, puffing out his chest – which I noticed didn't make it even close to the size of Emmett's brawny frame.
Emmett didn't answer; instead, he stepped between Royce and me, and I heard him say in a protective tone, "The lady asked you to leave. Now get out before I help you out."
"You can't force me to do anything, jacka…" Emmett didn't let him finish. Stepping forward, he grabbed Royce's jacket and hoisted him a full six inches off the ground.
"Put me down, you son of a…" Emmett's swift left hook shut him up. It even knocked him unconscious.
"Please excuse me while I go dispose of this," Emmett said joyfully as he threw Royce over his shoulder and trotted out of the shop. Five minutes later, he returned and said "Now about that bracelet," as if nothing at all had happened. "I still think a fair price would be around a thousand."
"I-I-I just think I would be ripping you off if I charged you that much," I stuttered, wondering what on earth was happening. I could tell Emmett was not like normal men. He didn't ask me about Royce or try to pry into my past with a terrible boyfriend. It threw me off guard, and that didn't happen very often.
He rubbed his chin a little, acting like he was thinking hard about it. "Well how about we compromise?" he said, leaning over the counter to whisper conspiratorially, "I'll only pay $500 and you give me your phone number." He looked to the left and right, like he was assuring himself no one was eavesdropping.
Despite my head telling me I shouldn't, I giggled quietly and took his outstretched hand. "Deal, only you have to tell me one thing."
"What's that?" he asked as I swiped his card. The computer beeped, signaling that the transaction was approved. I put the bracelet in a box, and slid it across the counter to him.
"Who's the girl?" I had a small hope in the pit of my stomach, but I wanted to be sure before I started assuming things.
He pushed the box back across to me. "I'm looking at her." He grinned, and that did it. I was hooked. I could have resisted his boyish charm if he had been gooey and over-serious at that moment. But he grinned a lighthearted, wide grin that went all the way up into his eyes, and I couldn't help but smile back as I picked up the box.
I gasped when I opened it, like it was a complete surprise. "For me!" I placed a hand on my chest. "It's perfect!" I stepped around the counter and he swept me into a giant, though gentle, hug.
"So when can you do dinner?" he asked once he let go of me.
I laughed. "I get off work at five. If you want to stick around until then, that's fine by me. I know a good Italian place right off the highway."
"Nah," he said loudly. "How about I cook?"
"Great," I beamed at him, still feeling like laughing. "I'll take you back to my place and you can make whatever you want."
At that moment I heard the bell ring, and an older woman came in the store. I shot Emmett one last beaming look before I turned away and became the professional saleswoman again. I only paid partial attention to the lady, though. I was thinking about Emmett, and about how he sort of reminded me of a bear. A big, funny teddy bear.
