Day 2: Part 1

The Most Awkward of Meals

My phone rang the next day, scaring the absolute shit out of me. I was deeply burrowed under my comforter and just about everything other suitable blanket-like item I could find last night. All of it was thrown over my freezing ass in a sacred but quite messy pile. I flexed my toes experimentally and quickly wished I hadn't. They were stiff and numb and though I could faintly hear them scratching against my comforter, I could only distinguish by logic which part of my body was moving.

"Ugh," I mumbled, fumbling through the blankets until I was able to reach my hand to my face. I scrubbed my forehead furiously for a moment, waiting for my phone to stop ringing so I could shift my position and fall back asleep. Jake groaned next to me.

"Then you get it," I said. "Mommy has a hangover."

I had finished half of that damn bottle of Dewar's the previous night and had slept quite fretfully, the spins refusing to subside until the distinct chirping of birds beyond the small window of my bedroom alerted to me it was morning. I opened my eyes slowly, darting them around the darkness underneath my bedding. I had too many items thrown over me to determine whether I had slept for an hour or half the day. It was all too dark.

I closed my eyes and had almost drifted to sleep, when my phone rang again. It didn't make me start this time, but I felt a tightness in my chest that suggested I was really agitated. Jake groaned again and then barked. I searched through the blanket for a second, knowing he was under there somewhere. My hand touched fur and I scooped him from where he was and brought him to my chest. He sighed and promptly fell back asleep, breathing into my face.

My phone rang for the third time and Jake growled next to me, clearly disturbed by the noise.

"Oh, shut it," I said. "You are a staggering total of four pounds. Let's not pretend." I hesitated for only a moment before unwrapping an arm from the layers of cloth around me and extending it cautiously outside the bedding, hissing as my arm was met with frigid air. I fumbled for a moment, searching blindly for my phone on my nightstand, before grasping it and pulling it until the sheets with me.

"Hello?" I asked into it, my voice still thick with sleep.

"Bella?"

"Speaking."

"It's Tanya. Did I wake you up?"

I stifled a groan. "You did. What can I do for you this morning?"

"Sorry to wake you," she said. "It's, well, it's two in the afternoon."

I brought the phone away from my face and looked at the LCD screen: 2:33 pm.

"What can I do for you this afternoon, then?" I asked.

Through the phone, I could hear the muted echo of an engine purring to life. "Well," she said. "I'm having a dinner party tonight and am out shopping for food and stuff. I thought maybe you'd like to join us."

"Us?"

"Are you in a tunnel or something?" she asked. "It sounds all muffled."

"I'm under about twenty pounds of bedding," I said. "And I'm not ready to come out of it yet. Sorry."

She laughed softly and the sound was like a tinkling of bells. "Oh, it's okay. I have those days sometimes, too."

"Good to know," I said. "Who is 'us'?"

"Well me, of course, Sir, and Edward."

Immediately, flashes of last night jammed themselves forcefully through my grogginess and into the forefront of my brain: Jasper's indifferent stare; Emmett and Rosalie's disgruntled looks; the color and shape of Edward's lips as he grinned. A hot ball of something akin to shame burned in my stomach, rolling and stretching itself before finding purchase in my throat. I swallowed hard.

"Um, Tanya – "

My phone dinged softly in my ear and I put Tanya on speakerphone before pulling it away from my face to look at the screen. A text message from Emmett.

You'll have sooooo much fun! Girl time or some shit like that!

"Did Emmett put you up to this?" I rumbled heatedly into the phone.

"No?" she said quietly.

"Liar," I said, rolling onto my back and spreading my legs out in a large fork. "So Jasper's going to be there?" I hated the meek edge to my voice as I pronounced his name, as though I was speaking fearfully of Satan while he was seated in the room. Or some shit. "Because I'm not sure he's at the top of my favorites list."

She clucked her tongue. "Don't you worry about a thing about Sir. Emmett had a long talk with him last night about how he treated you."

I scrubbed my forehead again. "Great, I was hoping it wouldn't be awkward."

"Dinner is at six o'clock. We'd love to have you. Don't worry about bringing anything."

"I don't know, Tanya –"

She cut me off. "Emmett said that if you said that, I was supposed to remind you that you wanted this. And that you should wear the dark jeans with the purple sweater, your "unnecessarily and ridiculously large black belt thingy", and your "hooker boots"," she said, imitating Emmett's deep, crackly voice with surprising accuracy.

I couldn't help myself but laugh. "Spot on, Tanya."

"Thanks," she said. "So we'll see you at six?"

I tried to imagine how dinner might proceed. With Jasper's refined elegance and Tanya's staggering beauty, I thought of an endlessly long dinner table worthy of King Henry VIII, with Jasper at one end and Tanya at the other. A single, silver candelabrum placed delicately in the middle of the table in front of me as the only ornament and about seventeen forks piled cruelly on either side of my plate, their little prongs wiggling with silent laughter at my ignorance.

"Bella?"

I buried my head into my pillow. "Sure."

"Excellent!" she said and I sighed deeply over the phone in response.

I showered slowly, letting the warmth of the water relax the cold, stiff muscles in my body. I had no electricity but water was included in the rent, so it never ran out I had no gas either, so I had originally found the warm water puzzling, but had chalked it up to a happy coincidence I need not understand. My instincts suggested Emmett, but I didn't quite have the courage to ask and he never let anything slide, so I let it go. I changed into my clothing in the bathroom where the steam made the small space ideal for doing activities that would have been physiologically inappropriate anywhere else in the apartment. But I left to apply my makeup, instead standing in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

Thanks to an early death, my father had left me with quite a bit of money. But between James's taste for all things expensive and my inability to say no to him, I had blown through it in less than a year.

In my living room, my TV, the last piece of my father's wealth and which was once a magnificent piece of technology, was currently turned on its side and pushed to the far end of the oak entertainment cabinet to make space for other things. As of now, three dirty plates and a handful of crusty napkins lie there. After two week of not clearing the dishes, I was disgusted by the possibility that mold had accumulated on the glass surfaces, so I never cleaned it up. It had been four months since then and I found no reason to pretend to care about my apartment now, after all this time of despising it. I had long thought this place was a mediator between where I had come from and where I was to go. And I was just biding my time before I reached that intangible destination.

I took the batteries out of the television's remote control and put Jake into the bathroom, popping the batteries into a space heater I only used in such emergencies.

I put on my "hooker boots," formerly my "walking death trap" boots, and left my apartment, turning around after I shut the door to lock it. Taped to the front was a light pink piece of paper. I didn't have to read the contents to know it was an eviction notice; every other month or so I'd receive one. I didn't have a job now. I'd been fired from a low-scale boutique on the outskirts of a two street town down the road for "inappropriate behavior not suitable for an employee."

I brought my hand up to rip the notice from my door before, shrugging, I turned and went down the stairs to my parked car.

Jasper's house looked everything I thought it would. It was designed with dark brick and darker wood trimmings in a Gothic-type architecture that reminded me simultaneously of Rome's skyline and the evil lair of a brooding mad scientist. I was even less surprised by the furniture inside; it was classically elegant with dark wood and wrought iron, and a plethora of overstuffed chaise lounges. It bore a striking resemblance to the cool demeanor of the man who sat in front of me.

"It is the public's interest that matters most," Jasper was saying to Edward. "The people. I disagree with the sentiment, of course, and would rather see an egoist's perspective from the public. Though I doubt it will ever come to fruition."

I had no idea what they were talking about and, judging from the vapid look on Tanya's face, she didn't either.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Edward said, who hadn't so much as waved at me when I walked in. "If every man did what was best for himself and took no consideration for anyone else, how the hell would we ever see some of the greatest artistic collaborations?"

Jasper laughed and the sound made me wince. "Such as?"

"Architecture, painting, the building of entire cities, everything!"

Jasper waved his hand in a condescend, dismissive gesture. "Hardly, Edward. Man does not build for other men, he builds for the sake of his own pleasure. Man does not create artwork for the purpose of the pleasing other men, he does it for himself. The hopes of pleasing the masses is only a means to satisfy an end. He will receive compensation for his work which allows him to create more. It is that simple."

"What about gifts?" Edward asked, his voice rising. "Drawing pictures for other people? Building houses for the sole purpose of receiving nothing but the joy of someone else?"

"Gifts are more selfish than most other things. It is always about how pleased the giver is with his choice than the receiver is with getting the right thing."

Edward scoffed. "Aside from the Trojan horse, I like to think gift giving is generally considered a good thing."

I was staring at Jasper with blatant disbelief. Tanya had answered the door when I arrived and warned me that the two men were in a heated philosophical debate that would end in a matter of minutes because, apparently, they had been at it for the better part of an hour. That had been said almost twenty minutes ago and so I sat, dumbfounded, and waited for them to finish.

I had spent the first few minutes with a polite look of interest on my face, but when neither man glanced in my direction, I took to staring around the room instead. We were seated at the dinning room table and I was relieved to see that it didn't look like anything I'd thought it would. Dark wood but relatively small, seating six people comfortably. Judging by the line down the center of the table and two identical chairs placed next to each other on the other side of the room, the center sleeve had been removed and the two ends of the table had been pushed together to form a circular four-seated table instead.

"Egotism," Jasper said.

"Egotism?" Edward laughed. "It's not about egotism, it's about egoism."

"That is not the case. It is about egotism, masochism, lies of omission, and undiluted pleasure-seeking. It is what separates men from beasts."

"And here I thought it was our opposable thumbs," I said, startling the hell out of myself.

Both men stopped and stared at me. I commenced to blush red and stare down at the tablecloth.

A buzzer sounded somewhere off of the dining room and Tanya jumped up immediately and scampered away, leaving me seated between the two men. Her leave seemed to break them of their stares. Jasper picked up a newspaper that was lying in front of him and opened it. His relaxed but controlled movements suggested that he did not, by any means, wish to be disturbed. Edward to me turned and smiled.

"Don't mind him," he said, cocking his head towards Jasper. "He hates when he loses."

Jasper huffed.

"Yeah, that was pretty interesting," I said. "I didn't know people still held actual debates over dinner anymore. I thought that was a long-dead tradition of the rich and powerful."

Jasper made a sweeping gesture around the room. "This house, by definition, is richness and power."

Taking this response as an open invitation, I turned to him. "It's nice to see you again, Jasper."

Jasper bowed his head slightly, acknowledging my greeting, but kept his eyes on the paper. I frowned.

"Dinner is ready," Tanya called from the kitchen. I heard the clinking of plates and she came back into the dining room, holding two ends of a tray that held what looked like an entire pig.

I stood up, readying myself to help her carry food out, but felt Edward's hand grip my arm.

"What?" I asked, looking down at him.

He wasn't looking at me, but at Jasper. Jasper was still holding the paper loosely in between his fingertips, but instead of blatant disregard for my presence, he was looking straight at me.

"Please allow Tanya to serve us. It is her job," he said slowly, and with the careful articulation of one speaking to an insolent child. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Right," I said, sitting down. "Sorry."

I put my elbows on the table and burrowed my head into my palms.

Tanya brought the rest of the food out and opened a bottle of Riesling, which I accepted graciously. I took an inappropriately long swallow of it the second it was within reach.

"So, Bella, I never asked, what do you do?" Edward said after a few minutes, smiling at me in a crooked way that caused the latent Darwinian girl inside of me to cry out, "He would make such beautiful babies! Mount him, now!"

So my ovaries did work. All this time, I thought they were just for show.

"Nothing right now," I said. "I did work as an assistant manager at a boutique outside of town, but not anymore."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I got fired for telling another employee that the manager looked like something I would draw with my left hand. But no worries, they hired someone else right after me . . . Angie or Angela or something. So no harm done." I lifted my glass in a mock toast.

Edward's eyebrows rose dramatically up his forehead and his mouth stretched back into a taut smirk. He nodded appreciatively.

"Bella," Tanya said suddenly, "Edward's a doctor, you know. He works at the general downtown."

"Oh, yeah?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm a doctor," Edward said, smiling good-naturedly at Tanya. "And you're Bella."

"Yes," I said, frowning.

"The one and only," Edward said in a teasing voice, looking at Tanya.

Tanya huffed. "Edward!"

He laughed lowly and I had to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head at the sound. "You'll have to excuse me, Bella. Tanya's been talking about you all day. She's quite excited to have you here. Said you're a fan of the hat and all."

"Edward, shut up," Tanya hissed angrily. I glanced at Jasper, who had folded his newspaper over so he could read it with one hand while eat with his other. He wasn't looking at any of us.

"The one and only Bella," Edward continued to goad in a smooth, singsong voice. "The Bella. La Bella."

Tanya huffed and put her fork down to cross her arms in front of her chest. "Bella, you'll have to excuse Edward again, he can't seem to keep his ass-ness to himself." She said it with anger, but after a moment she smiled.

"Whatever, Tanya," Edward said, pointing his fork at her. "You love it."

An impressive, high tech-looking phone sitting next to Jasper's plate vibrated suddenly and I jumped as the vibration reached my plate. Without even a polite "excuse me" Jasper beckoned at Tanya and they both stood and left the dining room. I stared as they left, relishing the way Jasper's inherent elegance made even walking a spectator sport.

"Where are they going?"

Edward sighed and put his fork down on his plate. "Alongside being his sub, Tanya is also his personal secretary of sorts. When he has a business call, she types out what they talk about. She'd do spectacularly as one of those people that type out court transcripts."

When I didn't say anything, he continued, "All right, out with it."

I turned to him. "Out with what?"

"I can see it in your face. You're curious about something." He waved his hand and me while sinking back into his chair. "Out with it."

Without preamble, I said, "My friend Rosalie is obsessed with him. I can't figure it out."

Edward stuck his bottom lip out and pondered my request for a moment. "Last night, you said that he treats Tanya with respect." I nodded. "He does, just as he did with his last sub, Alice. And with Jane before that. And with Leah." He flicked the names off with small twists of his hand.

"Rosalie wants to be his sub?"

Edward shook his head. "No one really wants to be Jasper's sub. He goes through them very quickly and the girls know just as much as he does that they'll soon be gone. Rosalie probably just wants the recognition that comes with being one of Jasper's wanted subs."

I frowned. "Is he a legend in the culture or something?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "I've never heard of a Dom with so many subs."

"Yeah," Edward said, sighing again. "He turns down dozens of applications a year. He finally picked Tanya for a reason I don't know."

"Her charming personality? Or her fabulous taste in headdress?"

He looked up at me from behind the few loose strands of hair hanging in front of his eyes and grinned broadly. "I was a bit shocked you liked that hat of hers. If I hadn't already met you, I'd probably be afraid to."

I grinned back and shrugged. I wanted to press him further, to dig up whatever information I could on Jasper, if only to squelch the weird nagging in my stomach. Instead, taking his smile as a sign of forgiveness, I said, "So, did Edward Cullen manage to wow the hospital with his graph this morning?"

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, sinking further back into his chair. He cocked his head a bit again in a gesture that sent my feminine region all aflutter. "Can I ask you something really personal instead?"

"I suppose so."

"Do you have panic attacks?"

"What?"

"Panic attacks," he repeated. "I don't mean to get too personal, but we both went past personal a while ago, so I thought I'd go for it.

"Where did you hear that?" I asked and my upper lip began to sweat a little.

"Tanya," he said. "She was talking to Rosalie earlier today and Rosalie was warning her that you might vomit and pass out from a panic attack at being somewhere new like this."

"So, do you get most of your information from eavesdropping?"

He laughed, the sound was smooth and quiet. His arms were behind his head, their fingers intertwined. The position allowed his arms to bulge and indent at the appropriate places and I had to swallow an indecent amount of saliva.

"There is no eavesdropping with Tanya," he said. "If you're within five feet of the house, her conversations are also yours."

I decided then that by the end of the week, all the scotch in the wet bar at Rosalie's house would be mine. "I don't know if I'd call them panic attacks really, though they're unbelievably annoying." I shifted a little in my seat, feeling kind of uncomfortable. I hadn't really planned on saying anything else, but by his concerned expression, I felt the words tumble out of my mouth. "It happens a few times a day. Something happens, I feel super nauseous, I do this stupid little mantra thing in my head, and voila, it goes away. Like magic."

He frowned deeply. "So, you're not on any medication or anything? Therapy?"

"Um, no. Is this the Good Doctor in you coming out to play?"

He parted his lips as though he was about to say something particularly devastating, but instead picked up his fork again and began eating. I felt a dark flush begin on my chest and slowly progress up my neck, across my cheeks, and recede into my hairline.

I looked at the ornamental clock hung imperiously on the far end of the dinning room and groaned aloud.