Chapter 1: Feelin' Good
It's a new dawn, It's a new day, It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good
Feelin' Good, Nina Simone
Today had to have been the best day of my miserable fucking life. Graduation Day. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, just run as fast as you can.
"Free at last," I muttered.
Walking around to the back of my car, I removed my Spartan-blue cap and gown then forcefully shoved them into the trunk. I should've put them in the trash but the nearest one was in the auditorium, and I refused to go back.
I'd spent most of the night packing so I could head out as soon as the ceremony was over. My clothes, baseball card collection, and keyboard were stuffed in the backseat. My books, CD's and albums were in the trunk. And lastly, a map to Portland was tossed on the overflowing pile of shit on the passenger seat.
Ignoring the scrap of dangling blue fabric, I slammed the trunk down and leaned back against the scorching hot metal. The heat seeped through the fabric of my shorts as I contemplated the small campus of Forks High. Although the parking lot was full, it was eerily quiet.
I took a minute and gazed out at the pitiful cluster of buildings. Not to enjoy the scenery or out of some sense of nostalgia but in goddamned glee.
As soon as they announced my name, I grabbed my diploma and ran the fuck out of there.
I promised myself that once I got behind the wheel of my car, I wouldn't look back. Clallam County was full of disappointment and had nothing to offer me.
Things could only get better from here.
The hard work I'd put in gave me a plethora of schools to choose from. My parents expected me to attend Dartmouth, but instead I enrolled at Portland State University. Dad was pissed and left a voicemail saying as much. He couldn't have been too angry though, because it took four months before he called again.
I just had a feeling about Portland.
I'd grown accustomed to the weather in the Pacific Northwest and I couldn't imagine myself anywhere wet days and crisp air I once dreaded were now relished. Most days were gloomy; but they fit my mood perfectly.
Portland would be the best of both worlds, giving me the luxuries of a big city, and the kind of weather l loved. The fact that all the sheep of Forks High were going to the University of Washington was just a fucking bonus.
After we moved from Chicago, I immediately hated Forks. One day I was playing soccer with my best-friends in Illinois, and a week later we're dashing off to West-Bubba-fuck, Washington. I wasn't asked my opinion, just uprooted and transplanted without a second thought.
Edward Senior and Elizabeth Masen, better known as Daddy Warbucks and Mommy Dearest, decided to retire some place quiet. They'd said they needed a change from the city life. Ironically, they hadn't actually stayed in Forks for longer than a few weeks at a time, preferring to jet set across the globe. I still didn't see the point of our relocation. We moved to Forks four years ago, and apart from a handful of nannies and maids, I had practically raised myself.
Despite the normalcy we established the first few months after the move, something had felt off. As soon as I learned my way around the pitiful town, the first au pair showed up, and the 'rents disappeared. Weeks later, the postcards started.
They came from Paris, London, Dubai. It was like they forgot I ever existed. Worst of all, they didn't show up to my graduation! I shouldn't have been as surprised and disappointed as I was, but…fuck.
Fuckity, fuck!
I knew I seemed ungrateful, but I wasn't. They'd always been there for me financially. Every physical need I'd ever had was met, and my trust fund runneth over. Daddy Warbucks even sprung for a waterfront condo for me in Portland so I wouldn't have to live on campus.
Okay, so, maybe that wasn't the reason he did it. He said, and I quote, 'it's bad enough my only child is going to PSU, but God forbid you live amongst commoners.'
I rolled my eyes but didn't complain. At least I'd get my own space and wouldn't have to worry about a roommate. And even though freshmen were required to live on campus, I was granted an exception. One call to the Dean fixed that.
Money talks.
Since the post cards had slowed, and the visits had become sporadic at best, I thanked them the only way I knew how. One quick press of my thumb and the text was sent. It simply said 'thanks,' because truthfully, I didn't have it in me to send 'fuck you.'.
I gave my car a quick once over, kicking the tires to make sure I wouldn't get derailed by a flat then eased myself behind the wheel. I reached over and grabbed the map, backed out of my spot without checking the rearview mirror and got the hell out of Forks.
I was completely lost in thought as I drove, luckily for the other motorists, my reflexes were intact. Sometimes I got so caught up in my thoughts that my attention would stray during whole conversations. As a result, some people thought I was mute or simply high.
Because of this, I preferred to keep to myself. It hadn't always been that way. When I first moved to Forks, I tried to be social, but everyone was just so…trite. It got to the point that even when I was surrounded by people: classmates, coaches, tutors or whatever—I felt alone.
I wasn't sure what I wanted or expected from people, but I was definitely left wanting, needing something more. And ultimately, I found it easier to escape within myself.
I didn't mind some of the girls. As long as they could keep their chatter to a minimum, I was content.
They were all just so conniving. Yet for some unknown reason, they wanted me. Not one to pass on having certain needs met, I tolerated them. I wasn't a man-whore or anything; I loved my dick too much to risk it stupidly, but I wasn't afraid of pussy either.
None of that mattered anymore. I was going to college and I would change things up before the new semester. Start a new life, really get to know people and fill the void where my heart used to be.
That was the plan anyway.
After driving the entire way to Portland in La La land, I followed the MapQuest directions to my new place. When the building came into view, my jaw dropped. There was no way I had the correct location. Just to be sure, I circled around the building to check the address.
Holy Fuck.
The building was architecturally stunning. It was covered in glass, giving each home a view of the South Waterfront. To top it all off, I saw a covered parking area off to the side.
That's right. Got to keep my baby safe.
I turned off my iPod which had been blasting Thibaudet on repeat and hopped out of the car. I couldn't believe something good had come from my birthright, but it was a welcomed surprise.
As I popped the trunk, I was greeted by an older dark-haired man in uniform. I assumed he was the doorman. He was a few inches shorter than me with a huge smile on his face. He made me feel all welcome and shit.
"Mr. Masen?" he asked.
I nodded, still too astounded to speak.
"Great! We've been expecting you. Your parents had some things delivered for you yesterday. They said you wouldn't waste any time in getting here," he chuckled. "My name is Ross. I'll see to it that your belongings make it in and have your car moved. Ready, sir?"
I nodded again as I handed him the keys. Apparently, the people in Forks were right. I was mute.
I grew up with money, so the fact that my parents were putting me up in such a nice place shouldn't have surprised me. Daddy Warbucks really must have felt guilty about missing my graduation. Fuck if I was going to whine about it though. The building was perfect..
I did my best to feign indifference, finally getting my vocal chords to work.
"Thank you, Ross. Is there a restaurant nearby? As you mentioned, I didn't waste any time getting here and I haven't eaten since breakfast."
"Your fridge has been fully stocked, sir," he replied. "If you don't find anything to your liking, I will be glad to have something delivered," he smirked.
OK, so, screw pretenses. My jaw was completely unhinged and that jackass Ross knew it. I seriously needed to work on maintaining my facade.
I followed Ross into the lobby and observed everything. The place was so much more than I expected. There were so many layers of light shining through the wall of windows that it felt like I was standing inside of a diamond. All the furnishings were sleek and stylish, giving the building a modern edge. I loved it. We made our way onto the elevator and Ross pressed the button to the thirtieth floor.
It was right about then that he started babbling.
He explained that as the doorman (he preferred the term 'concierge'), he was quite familiar with all of my neighbors. Apparently, Dr. Cullen and his wife Esme lived above me on the 31st floor, the most exclusive condo in the building. They didn't have any kids so I wouldn't have to worry about any upstairs noise which was fine by me.
Esme Cullen decorated my place as a favor to mommy dearest, and if the Cullen's were acquainted with my…creators. Well, there was no telling what kind of people they were.
The condo below me belonged to an Emmett McCarty. I was pretty sure I knew what to expect from someone named Emmett. I pictured a country bumpkin in a red and black plaid shirt for some reason, and that shit made me laugh. Luckily, Ross ignored the outburst and continued.
"His father was the building's architect. I think you two will get along well.
While I was trying not to zone out on what Ross was saying, the elevator chimed on the 28th floor. When the doors opened, the biggest guy I'd ever seen stepped in. He had to have been seconds away from having a roid-rage episode. Instinctively I stepped back, giving him plenty of room to accommodate his large frame.
"Ross, my man," the hulk said. "How's it hanging?" Ross smiled while I stared like an idiot.
"Very well, Mr. McCarty. I was just telling Mr. Masen about you," Ross said, quickly turning in my direction.
This guy was Emmett?
Apparently my judgment was off. He was no Paul Bunyan. He gave me the once over and I just stood there, nervously shuffling my feet.
I finally stopped being a pansy and looked him in the eye. He had the goofiest grin on his face. I held out my hand to formally introduce myself, but Emmett balled his hand into a fist, prepping for a fist-bump. We ended up doing a weird rock-paper-scissors deal before he pulled away while I muttered an apology.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Edward," I said.
"Same here. You can call me Emmett, even though this guy," he paused, pointing to Ross, "never will."
Lucky for me, the elevator chimed, offering me a retreat from my embarrassment. Emmett said goodnight and I breathed a sigh of relief, momentarily forgetting that I wasn't yet alone. Ross continued speaking as if nothing had happened..
"Emmett's a fine young man. However, he lacks a filter. Don't be too put off by him. He means well," Ross added. "He was just leaving Isabella Swan's residence. Her stepfather is the head trainer for the Portland Trailblazers and they own the suite on the 28th floor.
Well aren't you just a wealth of knowledge?
I didn't stop Ross from talking, even though I thought he was rather nosy. Instead, I took all the information in. If I were going to change, make friends and what not, any information he could offer me would help. He was oblivious to my internal ramblings anyway.
...In fact they've already requested that you meet them for brunch at ten tomorrow. Should I confirm your attendance?" Ross asked.
Wait, what? Who?
After he'd reconfirmed that the brunch was with the Cullen's, I agreed.
"So enough with the small talk, sir.. I only wanted you to know that you do have peers in the building. I'm afraid the remaining residents are a little more...mature. We're here," he finished.
"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, upon entering.
I'd gathered from the moment I drove up that my parents were feeling guilty, but I truly underestimated to what degree. I sprinted to the center of the room to the raised platform where a polished black Bechstein grand piano sat. I could see Ross watching me as my jaw dropped for the second time in the last ten minutes.
As I stepped up onto the platform, I noticed a silver frame placed on the piano bench, a note sitting beside it. I grabbed them both and sat down to look closely at the picture within the frame.
I had no idea when the picture was taken, even though I was in it. I looked maybe eight or nine, and Daddy Warbucks was covered in flour, standing in front of the ugliest fucking cake I'd ever seen. I forgot how much we looked alike, both of us sporting lopsided grins. Mommy Dearest was only a blur of flesh in the corner. I put the photo down and read the note.
Nothing can make up for memories that were never created, but I hope that the joyous times in our past will suffice until we can make memories anew. We love you more than you know. Congratulations and enjoy!
Love, Mom and Dad
To say that the note was a surprise would've been the understatement of the year. It was almost personal, and they just didn't do personal. I snapped out of my fog, completely forgetting about the doorman, fuck…concierge dude. But when I turned around, he was gone and I was alone.
I tucked the note into the corner of the picture and stood up so I could get a better view of my new baby. She was beautiful. From her craftsmanship to her elegant lines. Down to its smooth black finish, everything about the piano was perfect. My hands trailed the soundboard and ribs, the European spruce felt silky under my touch.
I shook my head in amazement.
After feeling up my new piano, I sat down and lifted the lid covering the keys. I skipped all the scales I would normally warm-up with and let my fingers glide mindlessly.
I'd take the time to check out the rest of the place later, because as soon as my fingers began massaging the black and white keys, it was as if nothing else existed.