A/N: I forgot to mention this last week: S&S was rec'd on The Lemonade Stand for the week of 1/20! It may change by today for this week's recs, LOL, but I'm proud of the fact that it was there in the first place. So thanks TLS. :)

Once again, I need to thank Love Potions Brewer AND her hubby for their construction know-how assistance with this chapter. That scene was a total disaster before their consultation services. ;)

Betad THREE times by the ever-patient Michelle Renker Rhodes. Any remaining mistakes are totally mine because I just can't leave a chapter alone.

And of course, most characters belong to S. Meyer.

Chapter 8 - She's Got Fire

EPOV

"Mr. Cullen, this is Aro Volt, Mr. and Mrs. Brandon's attorney, with a reminder that Ms. Melody is due to visit Mr. and Mrs. Brandon this weekend. Please have her ready at eight p.m., and-"

"Yeah, yeah," I say quickly into the cell phone. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Their car will pick her up from you in front of your apartment building at eight p.m. sharp this evening and will drop her off to you in front of your apartment building at eight p.m. sharp on Sunday evening. If you-"

"Anything new?" I amend. "Because I already know all this shit. We've gone over this for the past seven goddamn months. I'm aware of how it works."

"I'm just doing my job, Mr. Cullen."

"And I'm doing my job," I hiss, "except my job involves more than sitting my fat ass at a fucking desk and stopping people from doing their jobs by taking up their time with useless goddamn phone calls to tell them the same shit they tell them month after month."

"As always, great talking to you, Mr. Cullen."

OOOOOOOOOO

By the time I make it to the studio to pick up Mel, I'm worked up and pissed off. Cutting the day short means I've got to work more hours tomorrow - goddamn Brandons and their goddamn lawyers.

The way the studio is set up, there's one room inside that's partly visible from the large glass window to the street. I've never been here early enough to notice it, but there's a class going on, and as I light a smoke and pause in front of the studio window, I snag a glimpse of an ass shaking in a way that should be goddamn illegal for public view. If any of the motor vehicle conductors driving down the street get a look at this, there'll be a twenty car pile-up.

Holy hell.

It's Bella, the beautiful dancer. She's teaching her class, Mel's Hip Hop class. I think I see Mel in my periphery, dark hair that might be hers, but I'm not even gonna fucking lie. My eyes are on that ass.

Then she starts moving her whole body, and her breasts jiggle – not too much, but the way real breasts should move when a woman's getting down.

"Holy..."

I turn around to catch my breath - and instead catch a couple of guys standing behind me, eyes glued to the window.

"What the fuck? You guys got a fucking problem?"

They jerk their heads back, look at each other, and then quickly walk away.

With a loud groan, I close my eyes and expel a low oath.

When I turn back around, Bella has stopped dancing and is crouched next to a young girl about Mel's age who's throwing up. When the vomiting stops, she wraps an arm around the girl's shoulder and carefully leads her out of the room.

I turn to the street again and light up another cigarette to replace the one that fell out of my mouth. With long drags of smoke, I try to burn away the image behind my eyelids, but my head spins. It should be nothing new. My head used to spin all the time when I drank, but this is different. This feels like I need to dig my boots into concrete if I don't want to fall the fuck over.

And then I smell something wonderfully sweet, something like honey.

Bella is out here.

She's comforting the sick girl and doesn't seem to notice me, and I'm not sure if I'm relieved or upset by that. Either way, when her friend Angie walks out, that one does notice me right away and grins this wide grin; it's not lusty, but I can tell that somehow I'm in a heap load of trouble now.

Angie quickly ushers the sick girl back inside, and I'm left out here alone with Bella - who finally does look my way and catches me staring at her.

So now I'm back to being forced to make small talk with her when I can barely hold a coherent thought while she's around, much less articulate words. I try desperately not to look at her too much while we talk because she's got a goddamn man, and I've got shit to offer anyway. But she's like a magnet.

Then she touches me.

She takes my hand, and holy hell her simple touch reverberates up my entire arm – just as it did the day we met. If I could barely speak before, now I'm having a hard time simply breathing.

Her grip is firm yet gentle, and in those few seconds while she traces my knuckles and brushes away grime and compound, I'm hit by a barrage of thoughts and memories:

Jasper teaching me how to use my hands to build things.

My hands supporting a newborn Mel right inside them.

The plywood sheathings I pushed through the table saw all afternoon.

She's still touching me, my hand I mean, and if I didn't know better, I'd think she liked how it feels, but it's too rough and callused for her smooth skin, probably feels like sand against silk.

Yet she touches the calluses too; ghosts the tips of her fingers over and over them and Jesus, I feel her touch everywhere. She's confusing the shit out of me, holding my gaze as firmly as she's holding my hand, looking at me as if she could possibly feel this heat with which she brands me, searching my eyes like she wants to find something in there, unaware that all she'd find is a whole lot of hell.

When I finally manage the strength to pull my hand away from hers, I shove it deep in my pocket because I don't want her to see the way she's left it shaking and burning with that heat. She's left my head spinning too, and when she invites me to come inside, for a split second, I almost do.

But I've got to keep my distance. I know what she thinks she sees under the work clothes and boots; Jasper used to say at least Dad gave us something good.

Unfortunately, he gave me more than that. And if this beautiful dancer were to look close enough, she'd see that.

So I'm going to let her turn around and walk back into her studio by herself.

"So what are you doing this weekend?"

The words are out there, and I mentally curse myself for uttering them while I wait for her to tell me that she's got plans with her man: they're going to some pricey restaurant, or on a weekend getaway, or they're just hanging out and fucking all weekend.

But instead she starts talking about dance with her girls and her friend, Angie. And she tells me that she had an audition last weekend, but didn't get it, and I'm wondering who the fuck in his or her right mind would audition this beautiful dancer and not give her the part?

Yet nowhere in there is there a mention of her man.

But I know he exists. And I know he's the possessive asshole type, and I don't want a fuck buddy - not anymore and not with her. With someone like her, I'd want…I'd want…

And then I remember it doesn't matter what I'd want. I have absolutely nothing to give.

OOOOOOOOOO

Monday at work, I notice Emmett standing next to me while I saw down a two by four, which is strange because Em never just stands there.

"What's up, Em?"

He looks at Paul and Ben, a couple of other guys on our crew. "You two finish this up while Ed and I take care of a few other things."

"Yeah, Boss," they agree.

Em leads me away, hand on my shoulder while I pull out a couple of smokes and hand him one. "How are things going, Ed? How's Mel?"

"She's good, though a bit pissed off you didn't show up for the game last night. She said it would've been the only fun part of an otherwise shitty weekend."

Emmett chuckles. "Still with the language, huh?"

"You've got no idea."

"Sorry I left you guys hanging."

"S'alright. That girl from Bensonhurst come down again?"

"Nah. I wish it would've been something like that. How 'bout you? Did Heidi keep you busy this weekend?" he snickers.

"Hell no. I spent some time with my sister and her kids."

"Oh yeah? How's Rose doing?"

"She's alright. I did some work on her basement this weekend cuz her piece of shit husband had no idea where to start."

"Asshole," Em scowls. He glares at the floor for a couple of seconds, shaking his head before looking back up at me. "So that's it? You seem a bit distracted lately, Ed. I thought maybe you and Heidi…"

"Nah. Nothing going on there."

"Yeah, females are just trouble anyway."

Bella's beautiful face flashes through my mind. I take another drag and inhale deeply.

"Listen, Edward," Em goes on, "I got a call from Mr. S last night."

I stop walking and face him. "From S & D Contracting?"

They're our head contractors, the ones subbing us on this job. Em was beyond thrilled when we won the bid for the subcontract. S & D is a great contracting firm to which a group can be subbed. They've got connections, and if we do a good job, Mr. S's stamp of approval would go a long way towards getting other jobs.

He nods. "He says he's happy with our work, impressed even," Em smiles tightly, "but…one of the owners of the site has some…issues."

"Issues?' I frown, dropping the stub and stomping it out.

"Yeah." He draws in a deep breath. "The piping. According to Mr. S, the owners requested PEX piping instead of copper, so now we've got to knock down some walls, so it can all be replaced."

"What?" I howl.

"I know, I know," he agrees, palms up. "But the owner swears he requested a change order and that we should've known about it and stopped work until we had new plans from the architect."

"That's bullshit! You know how much work that was? How long it'll take to do all that shit over?"

"They know it'll set us back at least a couple of weeks, but that's how they want it."

"And who's gonna pay for the extra labor and material?"

Emmett stares at me.

"We're absorbing that cost?"

"Look, I spoke to Mr. S at length last night, and while he understands that it wasn't our mistake, he's also adamant that we've got to give the owners what they want. He's agreed to split the cost with us."

I walk away a couple of feet and turn in a half circle, gripping my hair in my hands and trying not to explode. I can't afford this, not time wise and not money wise.

Emmett approaches me. "Look Man, I know this sucks. I'll absorb most of the cost for our crew-"

"No, and that's not even the point. The point is I know you, and you don't get your shit wrong, Em. We weren't told about any fucking change order. I've never known you to make a mistake like that."

"No, Ed, I don't fuck up like that," he smirks, "but this job is big break for our crew. S & D took a chance on us, and if we want to sub for this company again, if we want Mr. S to rec us out there, then we've got to take this hit."

"Who's the fucking bastard who supposedly requested the change order?" I hiss.

"He's here today," Emmett says, his eyes moving beyond me, mouth set in a sneer. "Apparently he came by to make sure there's no problem. Ed, I know this is fucked up, but…we need this. Let's just…" he sighs, "get it done. As long as S & D is happy, that's what matters."

I nod begrudgingly.

"One more thing. The next couple of weeks are going to be longer hours than usual. I know you've got your meetings, and you've got Mel to take care of-"

"I'll call Carlisle and let him know what's going on, see if I can work one on one with him over the phone or something. Heidi's been picking up Mel from dance, so that's no problem. Either way, I'll carry my weight, Em; you don't have to worry about that." I scrub a hand down my face and then pull out another smoke.

"I know you will and then some as usual, Ed. I'm not worried about that."

I'm trying not to turn around because I know that once I see that fucker, the owner with the changes, it's going to be hard not to at least flip him the bird or something.

"Look at the asshole, surrounded by his buddies," Emmett scowls.

So I do turn around.

There are a handful of guys gathered together, eyes sweeping the area in inspection as if they'd know what the fuck they're looking at anyway. All they see are the lofts that will soon be here and how many bills they'll be able to get for it. It's a good lot of land, right by the Brooklyn waterfront.

I'm thinking about these things while I narrow my eyes, glaring at the assholes…trying to place the one in the middle because I've seen him before, and one of those times, I was ready to lunge over a counter and bash in that pretty face.

It's Bella's boyfriend.

OOOOOOOOOO

About quarter after seven that night, while we're busting up walls, materials and pipes, I receive a text.

Edward sweety, I cant pick up Mel 2nite. Some of my reglars came in fer late manis n pedis n I cant turn them a way. I'm gonna be hear fer atleest another hore.

"Fuck," I grit as I text her back. You couldn't have told me this earlier?

Forgot. Sory. 3

I groan and send Mel a text letting her know I'll pick her up as soon as I can.

OOOOOOOOOO

I'm late. I know how late I am as I park across the street from the studio and step out into darkness. A few street lamps illuminate the area, but most of the stores on the block have already closed down for the night, leaving 'Baila School of Dance' as the lone establishment with its lights still on. Scrubbing a filthy hand down my dirty face, muscles aching so bad that even moving takes effort, I pull out my phone, text Mel quickly to let her know that I'm outside, and then toss the phone back through the open window of the truck. With a deep breath, I lean against the truck and throw my head back, closing my eyes.

"Edward?"

My head jerks back up.

Bella is in front of me in yoga pants and a tight, cropped shirt, but it's kind of cool out so she's got a hoodie on over it. Instead of the bun I usually see her sporting, her hair is down and loose around her shoulders, and fuck it's the most shiny head of hair I've ever seen. She's got these long, loose waves going on and on, and I'm too tired to try to control the way my eyes rake over her from top to bottom and back up. When I reach her beautiful face again, she's smirking, her plump lips pursed.

"Look, I don't want to keep ragging on you about this, and like I told you the other day, Mel's a great kid, but you seriously need to work out some sort of routine for her. I can't guarantee that I'll always be around to accommodate your schedule. The studio is open from eleven in the morning until eight o'clock at night. Beyond that, you need to figure out some sort of plan for Mel. She shouldn't have to be up in the air until this time of night," she finishes, her chest heaving. Even in the dim light of the evening I can make out the deep flush of her cheeks, the color spreading across her collarbone.

Jesus, she's so beautiful, and for some reason, that fills me with a burning fury because she's too beautiful for him. And for me. And yeah, some part deep inside of me knows that she's right and that there's a schedule and that she has no obligation beyond that, that I do have an obligation to get Mel on time no matter what. But she's looking at me like she thinks I've been playing around for the past fourteen hours, like maybe my job is to teach other fuckers to dance and then to play Monopoly and have other assholes work their asses off on my properties and then change my mind about what the fuck I want, and then have those assholes absorb the work and expense of redoing it all.

"Some of us have real jobs," I hiss, locked into her bottomless, dark gaze. "…real responsibilities beyond kicking up our legs for a living and calling it a day."

She jerks back her head as if I've slapped her, and as much as I hate myself in that moment, my mouth can't seem to stop spouting shit.

"It doesn't end at six or seven or eight on the dot for some of us. We don't all have a rich fucking boyfriend to keep our work hours nice and short."

The moon shines over her perfect features, making it easy to see her lips curled in indignation, her eyes blacker than I've ever seen them while her honey-toned skin grows pale at the same time, her beautifully natural tan leaches from her cheeks. Onyx eyes expand with incredulity, and fuck I want to take it all back.

Yet I don't take anything back because I'm pissed off, because my head spins when I'm around her, because her man's an asshole, and because I can't believe how someone like her can be with someone like him.

When she finally speaks, her voice shakes.

"Well, it's a good thing that I don't have a boyfriend and that I've worked my ass off for everything I have! What is a shame is that some of us have irresponsible fucking girlfriends who can't pick up their boyfriend's kid on time! And it sucks that some of us have irresponsible fucking uncles, who are off fucking around doing god knows what while-"

"What fucking girlfriend? And what do you mean God knows what? God knows what? I'm busting my ass doing and redoing shit because some people-"

And then we're just yelling over each other.

"I don't give a damn what you're doing! I have a life too, Edward! It may not seem like much to you, but I've got things to do, and I'm not going to play the part of your personal babysitter when you can't even tell me what-"

"No one's asking you to play babysitter!" I tell her while that invisible, electric pull she possesses draws me closer to her with every word. "She's almost thirteen; she can take care of herself!"

"Take care of herself?" she scoffs in total disbelief, taking her own step closer, so close I can smell the sweet honey off her skin, practically taste it on my tongue, and it intoxicates me beyond belief. "Edward, she's a preteen girl, who's obviously been through something traumatic! She needs a routine now more than ever! She needs structure, and to know exactly when you'll be picking her up-"

"Bella, I've been trying to get her picked up on time!"

"You're not listening to me!"

I wrap my rough hands around her face, the heat of her skin burning my palms. She gasps, but I hold on.

"I am listening to you," I growl. "I'm a fuck-up. I get it."

But she's not backing down. She's not the type to do so and that exhilarates the hell out of me despite what she's saying. She fists the material of my shirt in her fiery hands, scorching my skin, tilting up her head to meet my gaze head on while her eyes burn me, her entire being igniting sensations inside me that I've never felt, not even with the hardest shot searing down my throat, not with the best bottle in hand.

"That's not what I'm saying," she hisses. "I don't know what's going on-"

"That's right, Baby," I snort, her mouth so close I know I'll be dreaming about the exact shape of her lips tonight, remembering how her top lip protrudes just the right amount from her bottom lip, giving her a natural pout. "You don't know what's going on, and trust me, it's better if we leave it that way. You don't need to worry your head over things that'll just-"

Her nostrils flare, and she shoves my hands away furiously. "Enough! I apologize, Mr. Cullen, for trying to butt my nose into what is obviously none of my concern! All I'll repeat is that you have to work out some sort of schedule for Melody. That's it. Please disregard everything else I said tonight."

She takes two backwards steps away from me and closes her eyes for a few seconds, but when she reopens them, they're still full of so much fire that despite everything, my head starts spinning again. I'm drunk on her and like every drunk I have no idea what I do or say around her, and quickly regret both.

"Shit, Bella, I'm so s-" I begin, but she turns around so quickly that she almost bumps into Mel.

"Miss Bella?"

Apparently, neither one of us noticed her approaching, nor do I have any idea how much she's heard.

"I'll see you on Wednesday, Mel. Have a good night, Sweetie," Bella says, her voice still shaky, and then she runs across the street, whips open the door to her studio and disappears inside.

And I've never felt like a bigger asshole.

"What did you do, Uncle Ed?" Mel accuses as soon as Bella has disappeared.

I feel like my head's about to explode.

What did I do? What the fuck did I just say?

"Just…fuck," I curse quietly. "Just get in the truck."

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle gives me a call late Tuesday night to check in on me since I've informed him I probably won't be able to make the meetings for the next couple of weeks.

"You're taking it one day at a time, right?"

"Yeah, Carlisle. Work was crazy today, but it keeps me busy, keeps my head focused," I mutter, releasing a long and heavy breath.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. It's...nothing."

"That was a very frustrated sounding breath. Something you want to talk about?"

I don't respond right away. "I had a…pretty bad argument with someone yesterday, and I guess it's been…bothering me."

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

That's the thing with Carlisle. Normally, I'd say no, but there's something about the way he asks things that make it almost impossible to keep shit to yourself. Guess that's why he's a psychologist, a good one too from what I've heard. He's got some kind of fucking willpower as well; he has to have willpower to be able to listen to people's problems day in and day out and not be driven to the bottle.

"It's just…I said some shit I probably shouldn't have said, and then she said some shit…"

"She? Heidi?"

"No, not Heidi," I smirk into the phone.

"Are you seeing someone, Edward?"

"No," I say, and grimace at the discomfort in my chest at that admission. "I'm not seeing anyone."

He's quiet for a couple of seconds. "You're still in a new place, Edward, and while a relationship can be very fulfilling, it can also be very volatile. That's why I wasn't so sure the relationship you had with Heidi was-"

"That wasn't a relationship, Carlisle," I snort.

"Yes, that's what you said, and…okay, if that's what you needed at the time to cope, and if that was clear to the young lady, then you're both consenting adults. But a real relationship, Edward, the type where you truly make a commitment is a lot of hard work, and as someone in the first stages of sobriety, you have to remember that you need to put work and commitment towards keeping yourself healthy."

Bella's beautiful face flashes before my eyes.

"Does that make sense, Edward?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Carlisle, it makes sense."

"So tell me about this argument."

"It was with Mel's dance teacher. I was pretty rude to her, and…she's got this…fire," I chuckle morosely, "so she gave it right back."

Carlisle chuckles. "And how did you leave it?"

"Not very well," I admit.

"Oh. Well, you know what step nine of the twelve steps calls for, right?"

I roll my eyes. "I wasn't intoxicated when we argued." Well, not on liquor, at least.

"Makes no difference. It's always good to make amends, Edward."

I think of the fire in Bella's eyes while we were arguing. And then I think of the way her voice shook, and her bottom lip trembled despite the fury, which she was obviously trying to contain. My chest constricts, and I rub at it hard with one hand, bewildered by the acute ache.

"Yeah, we'll see."

Carlisle sighs, but doesn't push it.

"How's Mel?"

"She's fine. Dance is…good for her, I think. She seems to be more animated lately."

"That's great. Do you think she'd like to start talking to someone?"

"I don't know, Carlisle. She doesn't like me bringing that up, and she's been in a better mood lately. I don't know if I want to mess with that," I chuckle.

He snorts. "Well, alright. But if she's ever ready to talk, don't forget I can put you in touch with a couple of good people."

"Yeah. Thanks, Carlisle. We'll be in touch."

"Good. Call me whenever you need to talk, Edward. I mean that."

"Yeah, thanks."

OOOOOOOOOO

I wait 'til noon on Wednesday to give Heidi a call.

"Are you going to be able to pick up Mel for me tonight?"

"Maybe," she giggles, and I grit my teeth together.

"Just give me a yes or no answer. If it's no, then I've got to try to get off of work early and-"

"I'll pick her up, Edward," she sighs.

"Thank you."

"Yeah. Hey! Maybe tonight we can watch a movie or something?"

"Heidi," I sigh, "I have to work late. I'm going to be exhausted tonight, and then I've got to make sure Mel's got everything in order for school the next day, and-"

"Fine, Edward, fine! Look, I've got a client. I'll talk to you later, okay?" she says, sounding pissed off.

"Alright," I agree and hang up quickly before she can change her mind.

OOOOOOOOOO

Later that day while I'm working, I get to thinking about a couple of the things Carlisle said last night.

He's right. I do have to make amends with Bella. I was completely out of line; I'm not stupid enough not to know that. I made assumptions I shouldn't have made. Any elation I may or may not have felt at finding out that the asshole wasn't actually her boyfriend only lasted about half a second because really, what the hell does that change?

But the thing is that I have no idea where to start with her. My mouth isn't mine when I'm around her. The shit that spews out of it is…bewildering.

And besides, I don't have the time. When am I going to see her next? With the redo at work, I've gotten home past nine for the past couple of nights, and I have no idea when that's going to change.

As for relationships…and commitment…getting myself healthy…

Maybe if I'd met her a year from now, two years. If I was in a place where I'd at least begun to dig myself out of this hole, if I didn't need to pray to that bottle anymore…or if I wasn't living paycheck to paycheck…then I'd wrap my hands around that beautiful face and instead of talking shit, I'd press my mouth to hers.

But then I remember: no matter how much time passes, I'll always have to pray to that bottle.

OOOOOOOOOO

When I get paid the next day, I realize that making amends to Bella is probably the last thing I'll be able to do this week. We're taking a hit because of Bella's ex or whatever the fuck he is and his changes, and though it's being split between a couple of crews and S & D Contracting, I feel it in my pay.

Emmett hands it to me guiltily, though I know it's not his fault. He's making the best of this shitty situation, and he's right. If we can just get through this and earn Mr. S's approval, then it'll be worth it in the form of more business, and more business means more money, and then maybe someday...

Unfortunately, once I split up the check in all the different directions it's gotta go this month, I'm fifty bucks short for Mel's tuition, which is due tomorrow.

While I'm dropping off Mel for school Friday morning, I hand her the envelope with the tuition. "Give this to Miss Bella today and be careful. Don't go losing it in school or something."

She rolls her eyes at me, but then leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

I'm startled because those have been few and far between lately.

"Thanks, Uncle Ed, I know…this isn't the easiest…" She looks down at her lap, one hand fiddling with her shirt. "And I know I haven't been…so I just wanted to say thanks, cuz I like dance…and I really like Miss Bella."

"I'm glad you do," I smile at her. "She's...great."

"Then why were you arguing with her?"

And there's the question.

"Mel..." - I take a deep breath - "It's grown up stuff."

She smirks and rolls her eyes, and there's the Mel I know. "Whatever. I'll see you later." She opens the car door.

"Mel, just tell Miss Bella that the tuition is fifty bucks short, but that I'll have it to her by the end of next week, alright?"

I see the way her little shoulders fall before she turns around. "Uncle Ed...I'm sorry."

"Hey," I grin softly, "it's alright, Kid. We'll get it right."

She holds my gaze. "Yeah, alright." And she's out.

OOOOOOOOOO

At about seven thirty that night while Em and I are pouring concrete, I receive a text message.

It's a good thing that Em's built like a fucking ox because my hold on the concrete slips when I read the text, and Em quickly takes up the slack.

"What the hell, Ed?" he chuckles while I reread the text.

Your fuck buddy was a no show again. I'm taking Mel home with me: 356 Montague, Unit 2B. When you're ready, that's where we'll be.

A/N: Thoughts?

Frustrated with Edward? Give him a break, he's relationship-challenged, LOL. He'll get it soon though, I promise. ;)

Twitter: PattyRosa817

Link to "Stories by PattyRose" is on my profile page.

See you all Thursday!