Beta: Frannie

Prereaders: Jill, Pearly, and Ariel

My heart: Full if love for my readers and reviewers.


We all know I shouldn't go in, right? We all know I should turn my ass around and go back to my depressing apartment and get in bed and go the fuck to sleep.

And we all know that's not what I do.

Instead, I somehow convince myself that I can be inside the bar without her knowing I'm there. She gets hundreds of customers a night; there's always another bartender with her. Surely I can fly under the radar, procure my piece for the night, and get the hell out of there before Bella notices. Besides, how presumptuous am I to think she'll remember who I am when she sees me? She's probably forgotten all about the crazy man that ruined her date with the scumbag by now.

That logic is what gets me here, sitting at a table in the corner of the upscale bar—far enough on the fringe of the crowd so I'm not overcome, and I can still observe, but not so far against the wall that I stand out. My height and my damn hair color already put me at a disadvantage, but I know how to blend in well. I am trained, after all.

There are lots of conventionally attractive women in the room, a wide range to choose from. All hair colors, body types, and ages. And yet, my eyes keep being drawn to the brunette behind the bar.

It's different, seeing her in person—in her element rather than from the aerial view of the surveillance camera. I can see how much she genuinely smiles at each and every customer. How she effortlessly banters with all of them, giving them each a piece of her. It's certainly earning her much more tips than Vick is earning, the curly redhead she's working alongside. She's not bad at her job, just a bit more frantic. She chooses quantity over quality.

Yet Bella still slips a few extra dollars in her tip jar when the girl isn't looking. She's selfless like that.

I don't exactly know what possesses the blond who eventually approaches me to shoot her shot, but I'm glad she does. I need a distraction from watching my subject like I'm still on the clock. The only true duty I have to Bella at this point is to step in if someone tries to hurt her.

The hand on my arm is all wrong, but I don't shake it off. I'm desperate for a distraction at this point, and the woman in front of me is attractive.

"Hi, I'm Jane," she says, batting her eyelashes in some sad attempt to look flirtatious. I can smell the desperation on her, but I'm desperate too. Desperate to forget Bella for a little bit.

"Hi, Jane. I'm Edward," I flash her my signature smirk, the one that makes this whole thing way too easy.

"Do you want to dance?" She asks, even though this is not the kind of joint you dance in. No one is dancing. I would stand out like a sore thumb, and that is a definite no-go.

"How about I refill your drink instead?"

She agrees, and I spend the next twenty minutes acting like I care about what brings her to the city, what she does for a living, et cetera, et cetera.

I'm in the process of sealing the deal—she's agreed to come back to my place, at least, and we're getting ready to leave—when I turn towards the door and find a certain, very pissed-off brunette has been standing behind me for God-only-knows how long.

…Because I've forgotten my training again. Like I always seem to do around Bella, who's standing right in front of me now, her arms crossed over her damn perky chest with lips pursed and that familiar fire on her eyes.

Shit, I have to stop giving her reasons to look at me like that.

"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing here?" She asks.

I mean, I gotta respect her for getting right to the point.