DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
-Chapter Twenty-Seven-
Edward's eyes shot up to meet mine, slightly startled at first, but then his beautiful face eased into a smile. "Happy birthday, baby."
He was at the top of the stairs, walking over to me casually, that ambiguous bag swinging from side to side.
"No, don't you 'happy birthday, baby' me. What did you do?"
"You look beautiful today. Did you do your hair?" Edward asked, bending down and kissing me as he passed. He was still avoiding my question.
"Edward," I hissed, trailing after him.
I stopped, quickly looking over the side balcony and towards the road. There were no red and blue lights, no SWAT vans, just the sound of birds chirping happily and occasional passing cars. Whatever he'd done, it didn't seem to have caught up with him, but the clock was ticking with our luck not being good.
Entering the safety of our room, I closed the door behind me and pressed my back against it, waiting, not so patiently, for him to tell me what he did. Hell, I wasn't stupid; I knew what he'd done. I wasn't even mad that he did it. What bothered me was that he did it without me - on my fucking birthday.
"I can't believe you," I huffed, outwardly pouting and crossing my arms over my chest.
Edward looked up at me, reading my expression for the first time. He frowned, pulling out the ski mask from his back pocket and throwing it on the bed. "I'm sorry, baby, but we needed money."
I groaned and rolled my eyes, pushing myself off the door. "I know that. I just wished you would've included me."
He chuckled, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head. "Tomorrow, I promise. It'll be just you and me."
"Tomorrow?!" I asked, surprised but unable to hide that twitch of a smile as the thought of a next time spun in my head and the possibility of it happening soon. "Seriously?"
"Unless you wanna plan to rob a bank, kid," he said, sitting on the bed, "it's an everyday thing. The score don't last that long with this small time shit."
I took it from his hands, puzzled by the loaded pillowcase. "So, where did you go?"
Gravity took over, and I hadn't anticipated how heavy it was as the pillowcase hit the ground with a thump.
What was he talking about, a small-time score? By the weight of this sack, there had to be a shit load of money in here. It weighed at least ten pounds. Poking my head in, I was stunned—fucking shocked—by what I found. There was no money, just food and a couple of energy drinks.
I looked up at him with my eyebrow raised. "You held up a grocery store?"
He smirked. "Technically, it was a convenience store."
"How much money did you get?" I asked.
"Not much, only about a hundred dollars, but I still have some money left over from home. So I wanted to make sure we had more than enough cash for today," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a crumbled wad of money. They were mainly one-dollar bills.
"My boyfriend is a petty thief." I laughed, taking a drink from the bag and rolling it in my hands. It was still chilled and felt good on my sweaty palms.
"Hey now, don't talk shit," he said, playfully narrowing his eyes at me. "It the best I could do on short notice. It was the only thing they had within walking distance."
Edward had a strict rule with getaway cars: if he couldn't acquire one, he would boost nearby on foot. It was risky, especially if the store attendant called the cops, but he didn't want to take his car - which led me to my next question.
"Did anyone see you? Do we have to lie low for a while?" I asked as the reality of the situation dawned on me.
He shook his head. "No, we should be okay. I scouted the place for a long time and checked for cameras. It was a low rent store, not busy, and with flimsy security measures. But we can't stay here, we need to head into the city and keep moving."
"Okay," I said, setting down my drink and heading for the bathroom. "I'll go pack."
"Wait a sec, I got something for you," he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me down to his lap. He handed me a card. "Here. I didn't steal this."
I smiled, cautiously taking it out of his hand and treating it like a touchy and highly explosive bomb. "You didn't have to get me a card."
"Of course, I did. It's your eighteenth birthday. You're an adult now. That's a fucking milestone."
"All you're concerned about is your clear conscious," I said, pressing my lips to his, feeling the warmth and the softness consume me, my thoughts going astray.
He kissed me back slowly and tenderly at first, but when I licked his bottom lip, he growled, placing his hands on my face and kissing me intensely and vigorously. I was lost entirely in him when he abruptly pulled away, resting his forehead against mine and breathing heavily. "Stop trying to distract me…please, just open your card."
"Fine," I said, giving him one last peck on the lips, and opened the envelope. The purple card inside illustrated a yellow cat poking his head out of a big star, and I read it out loud due to Edward's insistence. "At eighteen, you can do all kinds of things that you couldn't have done before…." I wrinkled my nose and opened it, continuing to read the verse inside, "or should I say, shouldn't have done before. Happy eighteenth birthday," and at the bottom of the card was just the scribbling of his name. I looked up at him and smiled. "That's cute. Thank you."
"It's lame, you can say it." He chuckled, chewing on his lip ring and looking so adorably embarrassed.
"Noo, shut up. I love it," I argued, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, baby. Happy birthday," he said, his chin and stubble tickling my neck as he rubbed my back in circular motions. It was calming and peaceful. And we sat there for a few moments, neither of us saying a word or pulling away.
The sudden vibration of Edward's phone broke us apart, and I shifted away from him. He smiled weakly and apologetically as he reached into his pocket and glanced down at the screen. He rolled his eyes and put it back into his pocket.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"Emmett," he answered, and that was all the explanation I needed. I could only imagine what he wanted. Thousands of miles away, and he can still cock-block like no other.
Twenty minutes later, we were on the road again, heading toward the city. On our way out, I happened to catch a glance at the convenience store that Edward held up this morning. It was two blocks from the hotel, off a dirt road, and hidden in a corner. It would be easy to miss from the road, and the only reason I saw it was the commotion with crowds of people and the highway patrol surrounding the place.
Edward said that was probably the most business that place had ever seen, and really, they ought to thank him. I laughed for a good minute. He seemed to forget that he stole about a hundred dollars from the till and probably scared the living shit out of the owner. It was funny how he does these bad things, robbing people blind and holding a gun to their heads, but he does it with humor and little or no harmful intent from him. The only time I'd seen the murderer in Edward was with Phil. In my eyes, even God would justify that amount of violence. If one person in this world needed extinguishing, it was my grotesque and worthless stepfather.
It was around one in the afternoon when we got into the city limits of St. Louis, and it was beautiful. We ate hot dogs at some street vendor, went to the park and fed ducks, marveled at the beauty of the Gateway Arch, and enjoyed every aspect of the city.
It was shaping up to be a good birthday.
We hadn't broken the law in several hours.
That's called progress.
"What do you think?" Edward smiled at me, pointing over to the tattoo parlor.
It was across the street from the Gateway Arch, and judging by the front window, it set up the incredible view while getting tatted. It was perfect.
I smiled to myself. It was one of the things I wanted to get when I turned eighteen, and if Edward weren't going to take me, I would make him. He'd mentioned getting tattoos; I didn't know it would be so soon.
There was no time like the present, but there was one small problem.
"That sounds awesome, but I don't think I can without an ID. What if they ask me to prove that I'm eighteen?" I asked sadly, silently cursing myself for not remembering to grab it when we visited Phil and Renee.
"That would be the only thing stopping you from getting my name…" he slid his hands down my body and tapped his finger on the lower portion of my hip, "right here?"
He could be so persuasive, and it didn't take much for me to agree.
"Well, then, here," he said, reaching into his wallet and pulling out my ID.
I gaped at him. "No shit, you got it?"
"I happened to see it in your mom's—" I glared at him, "Renee," he corrected, "I meant to say Renee. It was in her purse, so, I snagged it."
"What else do you got in there?" I asked, snatching his black leather billfold from his hands and searching through it. In the back of the wallet, hidden by some hundreds, were three pictures of me. Two were recent, a month before I left home, and one with me when I was three with pigtails. I smiled up at him. "Why aren't you a little thief."
He shrugged, grabbing his wallet back and shoving it in his pocket. "They were just lying around."
"Uh-huh," I said, not fooled by his innocent boy act.
"You ready?" he asked, nodding his head towards the open tattoo parlor door.
I was more than ready, and anywhere he wanted to mark me was more than okay with me, just as long as he returned the favor.
"Not so fast. What about you and the third most important thing in your life?" I asked.
Smirking with that crooked grin, he pointed to his chest. "It's going right here."
"Do you think they give us a two for one kind of deal?"
He laughed, hooking his arm around my neck, and towed me into the shop.
People were wall to wall, and I was the only one who looked out of place with my blank canvas of skin. Everyone was pierced and tattooed to the extreme, like Edward, if not more. He waved to a guy behind a desk, and he gave a head nod in return. Then, leading me over to the wall of drawings, I stared at them, feeling overwhelmed by all the choices.
Alec, one of the tattoo artists, came over to assist us. Edward chatted with him and explained what we wanted to do. At one point, Edward said something about nipple piercings, but by the time I'd caught on, the conversation was over, and they were both staring at me expectantly.
"I don't want anything fancy," I said, looking up at the drawings again. I shrugged my shoulders. "Just a name is fine."
"Your name?" Alec asked, cracking his knuckles almost obnoxiously.
"No, not mine," I said, nodding my head at Edward. "I want his name." He smirked smugly.
Alec's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" He glanced back and forth between Edward and me. "That's kind of like the kiss of death to relationships."
"We're not like other people," Edward said.
Alec laughed. "Yeah, I hear that all the time, but the statistics prove otherwise. Anyways, not my business, follow me."
Following Alec into a side room, he called over another tattoo artist, Jane. She was a small girl with sandy blonde hair with pink tips. There was a very close familial resemblance between her and Alec.
"Alright, beautiful," Jane said, waving me over and patting a black bench. "You're with me."
I nodded, walking over to her when Edward blocked my path and pulled me over to the side. He held his finger to Alec, telling him to give us a minute.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"As much as I fucking want my name on you, I don't want to pressure you into it. It's permanent ink, Bella," he said, voice strained. "Once it's done, it's done."
I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "Are freaking you out about what Alec said?"
"No, fuck him. I don't give a shit about what that little prick said," Edward said, looking up at giving Alec a head nod. "No offense, man."
Alec flipped him off and went back to setting up his supplies.
"Then why are you asking? We've discussed this."
"I know." He sighed. "I just don't want you to fucking regret it."
When I was sixteen, I made a scrapbook of all the tattoos I wanted to get when I turned eighteen and childishly filled it with the usual butterflies and flowers, all that girly shit millions of females get on their ankles, or the infamous 'tramp stamp.'
I scoffed at tattooing a guy's name, but I was dating Mike back then. He wasn't Edward, and when it came to Edward, all previous rules no longer applied.
I took his hand and nodded, slowly pulling him back into the room. "I'm not going to regret this, okay?"
He smiled weakly and gave in. It didn't take much to convince him.
Hopping up on the bench, I worked out my tattoo design with Jane, and Edward described what he wanted to Alec in detail. Now and then, I would catch Edward peeking over at me. He did that a lot. He didn't think I had seen him, but I did. I was more aware of him than he realized.
"Alright, I think we're ready," Jane said, lowering the bench back. I helped her pull down my jeans, exposing the spot where she was going to tattoo me.
As she prepared the skin with disinfectant and outlined my design with a stencil, I looked over at Edward, who was two feet away from me on the adjacent bench. His brows furrowed when he saw how nervous I'd become, and he reached for my hand. I gripped it tightly, bracing myself for the moment when the needle punctured my skin, and with no intentions of ever letting him go.