Disclaimer: SM owns all.
"People call these things imperfections. Oh, but they're not. That's the good stuff. Then we get to choose who we let into our weird little worlds."
- Robin Williams, Good Will Hunting
My writing has many imperfections (and Dawning Juliet my amazing beta always clear's them up for me). I chose to let others in to see for themselves, as my mind cannot be contained nor would I want it to be. "But ah, that's the good stuff." I don't care which way the media wants to take the death of Mr. Williams; that's just Hollywood and logistics to me. The bottom line is that death is final, and it will always be a tragedy—the "how" equation involved in a person's demise is irrelevant. A death is still a death. That being said, "Genie, you're free." RIP Robin Williams and thank you for trying to make the world smile a bit more.
Chapter Three
"Um, Bella?" Rebecca angled her head to the side, eyeing me curiously. "What are you doing?"
I helplessly laughed at having been caught playing with my fingers like a toddler as they began to adhere to one another from having held a melting pop minutes before.
"Can we stop at a bathroom before heading over to Charlie?" I felt absolutely wretched. I gave up and held up my hand for her to see. "That Mojito melted all over me."
Rebecca laughed in sympathy. "My kid brother used to do that."
I sighed. "Fantastic."
"With his boogers," she added, winking. "I was going to ask you how they tasted, but upon finding you—bailing you out is more like it—sitting with Miss Swift, I thought better of it."
"Never tried a booger before. Sorry, I can't help you there." I smirked, earning a heartfelt chuckle.
"One of these days I'll find the time to just head over to the pool and grab one for myself. My taste buds were looking forward to living vicariously though you."
"You've never had one before?" I asked. "I thought you said—"
She interrupted me with a sigh. "I said I'd heard they were marvelous, not that I had actually tried one myself. I never have any free time on my hands these days."
"Well then, we'll have to make it a priority since you are now, if you will agree, my temp PA."
"I would be honored, Miss Swan." She giggled.
I raised a hand to correct her. "Bella. None of that 'miss' shit." I laughed, throwing in some profanity to make it seem less formal. Hopefully Rebecca would let her guard down soon enough and jump on the bandwagon. There were a lot of things I was able to tolerate, but stiffness was not one of them. I was sure a sailor was hidden under her Armani pencil-skirt suit. It was time to try and make her relax enough to the point where it might make an appearance.
"Taylor is—" I began.
"A handful." Rebecca shook her head in disgust. "She's already been kicked out of the suite twice today, not to mention the countless times she's tried to sneak her way on set back at the studio. She's utterly clueless and annoyingly relentless in her pursuit."
"I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe she just doesn't get it. She's a singer, not an actress. That one movie spot she landed doesn't count in my book." It was a pathetic attempt. She should stick to her songs, as depressing as they were.
"That, or she just feels that the rules don't apply to her. She's not the first and certainly not the last."
"Poor Jacob." I shook my head and laughed.
"Yes, him too," she agreed. I raised an inquiring eyebrow in hopes she'd spill the deets and elaborate a bit more. I hated when someone left a conversation open, especially one that implied further meaning.
"Sounds juicy."
"Edward Cullen," she whispered with a glint in her eye. She leaned forward and grabbed my bag from my shoulders. "Not only can she not take a hint, but she is utterly relentless in her thwarted pursuits," Rebecca said with a conspiratorial wink.
"No way." I laughed.
"Restroom is straight ahead. Go and wash up quickly." She smiled and gave me a gentle shove.
Brushing past the doors, I immediately cringed at the sight of my reflection in the double hung mirror in front of me. I had been dressed for comfort and travel—my plain Jane black leggings and cami, having abandoned the thick sweater I'd needed back in New York. Definitely not lunch attire. My hair was a mess and had already started to frizz up due to the California humidity. "Fantastic," I grumbled trying to smooth out the crown of my head, working my fingers down through the tangled mess. Luckily I had a fair complexion that required no substantial amount of make-up. I liked the natural look; it worked well for me. Splashing some water onto my cheeks, I pinched them a bit and sighed. It would just have to do.
The walk over to the bungalow was quiet, and I enjoyed the silence. The grounds were stunning, and it wasn't hard to guess why Elizabeth Taylor decided to marry here six out of the eight times she'd said "I do." Eight husbands? My parents' divorce notwithstanding, I had a hard enough time imagining myself tying the knot just once.
The interior of the suite did not disappoint. A few assistants mingled around a sofa, all of them typing furiously on their BlackBerry phones, while another stood against a very artful floral piece, pouring a few glasses of lemonade. I just kept my hands clasped together and followed Rebecca while digging through my bag to find my New York Yankees fitted baseball cap. I immediately felt like a scrub, and from the looks aimed my way, most of them seemed to agree. What was one hat going to do to change their impression?
"Amy, this is Bella Swan," Rebecca said, her hand gesturing towards me as I stood beside her awkwardly. "Amy is one of your father's assistants and handles the media for the most part." The woman glanced over her shoulder and frowned, setting down the pitcher and turning to me. I was once again taken aback by how young she appeared and made a mental note to tease my father with it later at lunch.
"Miss Swan, a pleasure." She sneered for a brief moment before fixing her features quickly. She took the hand I held to her and shook it too loosely for my liking. Business ethics had taught me that if a handshake is firm, it is therefore reliable. "Lemonade?" She gestured towards the pitcher, turning her back away from me once more. I was sure she meant to sound sweet, but it came out sour and bitter just like the drink in her hand. Remember what I said about first impressions and some leading to an instant dislike? I'd have to keep an eye on that one.
"Thank you." I took the glass she'd quickly thrust into my open hand, the liquid sloshing angrily at the sides. Chill with the bitterness, doll face.
"Mr. Swan should be finished within a few minutes, Rebecca," Amy said. "Please make sure she stays out of the way until then and don't touch anything." The last part must have been directed at me. It was a shitty thing for her to say, but I couldn't deny it was sound advice. I set down the glass and shoved my hands in my pockets. Looking around the room at all the glass objects was like a neon sign had been thrown up. Recipe For Disaster. I was blessed from an early age with the ability to trip over thin air at times. I'd like to think of it as checking in with gravity from time to time. I didn't view it as a quirk; it was more of a gift, one I had a major talent for, it seemed.
A tall man leaning against one of the outer walls straightened as he pocketed his phone and brushed an imaginary piece of lint from the lapel of his suit jacket. He walked towards the double doors and opened one, poking his head outside. It must have led to the outside patio and pool area; voices could be heard filtering into the lounge.
"That sounds absolutely enthralling, Mr. Swan," a woman's voice was saying.
"I'm hoping so." My father's rich chuckle was something no one would ever be able to duplicate. My heart squeezed just knowing he was on the other side of that door. I'd missed him terribly, and he had been entirely too focused and busy as of late. I was still, for all intents and purposes, a daddy's girl, and Renee hated it more with every passing year.
Two strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, causing me to shriek in surprise and throw out my hands, sending the glass of lemonade flying forward in the process. Startled gasps erupted all around the room. I removed myself with a huff, bent down to pick up the glass and placed it on the nearby table, cringing at the thought of an irate Amy seething somewhere in a far corner.
"Easy there, Ducky." The unmistakable voice snorted with amusement.
I whipped around and made sure to land at least one slap to the side of his muscular arm before the second hand could be clasped and detained. He always was a quick bastard; I had to give him that.
"Jacob Black." I grinned as he mockingly bowed his head in front of me. "How have you been, handsome?" I looked up at him and smiled, threading my fingers through his as they rested on his chest.
"Handsome," he said with a cheeky smile, causing us to both laugh, his pearly whites on full display. Jake had some serious teeth. I was secretly jealous—always had been. "You know, same old. Boring day, just different shit." He chuckled when I raised an eyebrow. "I swear. No cute punch line here, just a sad, sad fact, Duck." I had a hard time believing it for a second, what with Taylor Swift lurking around, and the fact that he was on the covers of more magazines than my father these days. Boring life, my ass.
"Why you still insist on calling me that after all these years, I'll never know, but you can stop now. Please." I disentangled our fingers. "And I'd hate to agree, but I do happen to know the feeling as of late." I shrugged as I fixed the collar of his navy blue dress shirt and took a step back. "My dad finishing up?" I asked, nodding once towards the back door.
"Any second now, by the looks of it. Nice hat." He chuckled, flicking the brim before swiping it off my head and chucking it on to a nearby table with no effort. "You in hiding from the general public or someone particular?" he asked with a boyish smirk. He really was adorable.
"Neither." I sneered, but I'm sure it came off as a lopsided smile. Jacob had such an easygoing personality and carefree attitude, loaded with a sick sense of humor, and just enough sarcasm thrown into the mix—my favorite combination. We clicked from day one and could always be found cracking jokes at social events. He could turn around any tight, strenuous situation in an instant, and I always seemed relaxed in his presence—I felt free to be myself around him. It was an impossible feat trying to even act annoyed with him, and by the looks of his broad smile spreading from ear to ear, he knew he had me pegged.
"You reek of bullshit, baby." He laughed and leaned in for a hug, wrapping his arms around my waist as my arms slid up to his shoulders. "Listen, Ducky, I'd hate to say a quick hello and run, but I'm trying to—"
"Dodge another bullet?" I choked out mid-laugh as his face paled. "Some people aren't that lucky." I mentally cringed at the thought of Taylor.
I squeezed his arms and stepped out of our embrace as he quickly caught on to what I'd been implying. "Shit," he groaned. "You ran into Taylor here?"
"Oh yes." I smirked. "We had a lovely—and completely one-sided, as usual—chat about her latest tryst with one of Hollywood's golden boys. You'll never guess who, Jake!" I squealed for added effect like a gushing fan girl.
"Knock it off." Jake didn't look too amused. "Fuck," he groaned, rubbing his palms over his eyes, his head bowing down as his shoulders slumped in defeat. I couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled out. "She must be fucking my PA or something." He shook his head as he looked around the room, his eyes narrowing. "She shouldn't have ever known I was here this morning."
"Not likely, Jake." I leaned forward and grabbed his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket and smiled. Bingo! Opening up his contacts, I added my new cell phone number and smirked at the name I saved it under before handing it back to him. "Next time try password locking your phone, Hot Shot. Perez Hilton isn't the only one you have to worry about stealing your cell phone, Jake."
"There's no way—"
"I'm just saying," I interrupted. "A freshly fucked woman will ride her high before she finally crashes for the night."
"I'm not sleeping with—"
"A guy?" I snorted, cutting off his attempt to lie. "Usually they're out like a light within—"
"Yeah, right."
"Perfect opportunity to go on a full-fledged snoop fest." I wiggled my brows and smirked as he began to put two and two together. I nodded my head slowly, mouthing the word yes.
Jacob rolled his eyes and gave a disgruntled huff. "Well, I'm no one-shot, if that's what you're implying." He grimaced.
"Never said you were, Hollywood."
"I'd be more than happy to prove this to you later on tonight if you're around." He gave me a wolfish grin, blocking another of my attempts at a smack.
"Disgusting." I laughed and tried pulling my hands free from his insanely strong grasp.
"Where do you think you're going?" He placed my arms around his neck. "You're not being honest, Bella." He smirked, leaning in to whisper in my ear. "You're as red as a sunset." His breath was minty-fresh, his cologne musky and earthy. It was a heady combination. I took in a lungful and looked up into his dark brown, almost black eyes. "Beautiful," he said. Oh, Jacob. I internally sighed. He wasn't as subtle as he'd been a few years ago and had recently made it no secret that he wanted to take our friendship to another level. As much as I thought it could have been great—I'd be the first to admit, we were great—it was a risk I couldn't bear to take. I valued our friendship too much. Having a real, true, and honest friend in this business was something incredibly rare to find. I valued it, and it wasn't someone I was willing to take a gamble on. Was I an idiot? Probably. But I'd never take that leap, so I'd never know.
The sound of a throat clearing broke me out of thoughts and I turned, hands still wrapped tightly around Jake's neck, praying to any God that would listen that it wasn't Charlie. That wouldn't have gone over too well. I should have thought to pray harder. My eyes locked onto an angry gaze that burned holes into the side of Jacob's head as he refused to look at me.
"Hello, Isabella." The arrogant asshole sneered, hands resting leisurely in his suit pants pockets.
"C-Cullen," I stuttered, caught off-guard. What the hell was he doing at my father's cast interview?
"Edward," Jacob said flippantly without taking his eyes off mine. "Call me." Jake winked before stepping back and turning around to walk towards the doors. Fucking cop out! What happened to friends having each other's backs!?
I stood there for a moment in silence gathering my wits as my defensive barrier built itself up once again. "I'm shocked to see you here," I grumbled, looking around the room to see why my father was taking so long. It had been a few minutes now since the interview should have wrapped, and it was obvious as I noticed new faces among the crowded room standing alongside their human PalmPilots. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of Charlie.
"And why would that be?" He sighed, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. "One second, please." Ever the gentlemen he appeared to the public, he paused, putting the phone up to his ear. "Cullen," he answered shortly.
I snorted, turning to walk away. A firm hand clasped onto my forearm, spinning me back around where I was immediately met with a forceful glare daring me to move.
"Send her in," he ordered briskly before hanging up and pocketing the phone again.
"Still barking orders, I see," I growled, pulling my arm back and folding them across my chest in a defensive stance. I must have looked like a petulant child standing there, all but a foot tapping on the tile floor—not that I cared at the moment. I had more pull in this room then he ever would; he couldn't intimidate me here. I remembered a teenage Edward sporting braces, eye glasses, and acne. I suddenly wanted to poke him in the contacts.
"I am punctual and to the point," he stated, bringing me back to the present, to his current age and arrogance. "Is there a reason to be otherwise, Isabella?" He tilted his head to the side, arching a brow and looking down at me behind long, dark eyelashes that framed a set of piercing green eyes. When he moved into my personal space, I took a step back to regain my standing, a solid foot beneath his towering figure. There was no doubt—Edward Cullen was gorgeous, beautiful, even, and he knew it, too. He was confident but not cocky; he was comfortable with himself. Being the unfortunate one and having known him my entire life, he had been especially comfortable around me. "I didn't think so." He smirked triumphantly. He was arrogant too, but even I had to agree, it was just part of his appeal. "To answer your question, I was here because it was required of me as stated in my contract with Swan Productions," he continued nonchalantly as if it didn't matter. I wondered what Carlisle thought and made a mental note to ask Charlie later.
"How unfortunate." I frowned sarcastically—okay, a bit dramatically if I were being honest—but definitely not flirtatious in the slightest. I mentally cursed my father for purposefully leaving out the names cast in his latest film. It was clear why. Dammit, daddy, I silently fumed.
"Hmm." He smiled, leaning in, catching on to my play. "How so?" he inquired, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.
I grinned and mentally patted myself on the back. My goading in hopes of getting a bit of information had worked; he took my bait hook, line, and sinker. "I was under the impression Charlie was scouting for some real talent for his next project." I shrugged half-heartedly, turning my head to hide a smile, not wanting my cover blown while cutting myself some slack, having not been in any acting roles in well over a year.
"Is that so?" He chuckled.
"It will be a travesty." I sighed, fighting the urge to laugh and break character. I quickly made eye contact with Rebecca, who was standing in the corner with Amy, eyeing our conversation. Jutting out my chin slightly in her direction, I danced internally as she caught on and walked towards me.
"A travesty, you say, Miss Swan," he breathed into my ear.
I turned my head towards his face, inches away from his parted lips. "Yes," I said, licking my top lip. "He was sure of winning Oscar this year," I whispered, taking full advantage of his perplexed state, quickly pulling out of his hold. "Obviously not." With a grin full of condescension, I patted his suit jacket and stepped back to look at his flummoxed expression, which he was quick to control. Typical guy, I thought, unable to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
"Bella." Rebecca smiled pleasantly as she came to stand at my side. "Mr. Cullen." She nodded to acknowledge his presence; not doing so would have been rude. I tried—failing miserably—to contain the grin that spread across my face. "Your father—"
"Bells!" a voice shouted from across the room.
"Is ready," she finished, gesturing towards Charlie.
Turning towards the sound of my father's voice, I sprinted across the room and landed into his open arms, not caring how childish it might have looked.
"Dad!" I squealed as he returned the tight hug, knocking the wind out of me. The one thing I loved about our reunions was that Charlie never cared who was around to witness them. The press knew he was a devoted father and a very affectionate man—one who happened to give the best hugs on the Earth. Everyone around us faded away with each second I was held within the safest place I knew, my safe haven—my father's arms. I reestablished my confidence and gathered my misplaced strength and purpose for my recent move. My second-guessing and insecurities chipped away and fell to the floor around me along with the intimidating glamour of Hollywood. With renewed purpose, still wrapped securely within my father's arms, still clad in my boring leggings and no frills tank top and feeling high off of my newfound resolve, I lifted my head and smiled, looking up into his crinkled eyes. "Hey." I sighed happily.
"Hey right back at you, kid." We must have stood there in silence for a few seconds, but to me it had seemed like a lifetime, one in which I had spent on the other side of the country, away from him.
"Welcome home, Bells," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with age lines as he smiled at me.
I leaned back in for another hug; I couldn't help myself. "Feels like home now," I whispered, low enough so that others wouldn't hear besides Charlie. He needed to hear it, and it had to be said, everyone else in the room—Hollywood—be damned. They had already been privy to enough, and I didn't like to air my personal side like most did for the drama and publicity.
Charlie gave me one last squeeze to acknowledge he heard me, nodded, and turned, wrapping my arm around his. We walked towards his assistants who stood like wooden soldiers with sticks jammed up their asses. It couldn't have been comfortable, and I wondered why they had acted so business-like, given my father's usual easy going nature.
"Bella," he said, gesturing towards his harem of stiffs—Becky not included. "If you haven't been already, I would like to introduce—"
"I've already taken the liberty, Charles," Amy said, cutting him off and stepping forward to address him. Her smile was too wide, too sweet, and came off too fake. I looked towards Becky and raised an eyebrow as she jerked her head and looked to the side. I nodded slightly and bit my lip to hold myself back from correcting Little Miss Corrupt. It would be the last time I let anyone take someone else's credit again, and by the look I shot Amy, I knew she had caught on as she stepped back and folded her hands in front of her.
"Wonderful." He smiled in her direction and looked back at me. "These girls make my life just a bit more manageable these days, Bells. Anything you need, if you can't find me, let them know, okay?" he said, placing an arm around my shoulder and puling me into a side hug.
"Your hat, Miss Swan." Amy gestured—more like cringed—towards the table my neglected hat was resting on, compliments of Jake.
"Oh, Bells." Charlie laughed. "You still have this old thing?" He smiled affectionately and reached over to gently pick up the hat as if it were made of precious blown glass and would crumble under his fingertips. Yeah, he remembered, and my heart swelled a little bit more.
"Of course." I felt the corner of my eyes prick. "Yours?" I asked, clearing my throat.
"On the first peg in the front closet when it's not on the top of my head," he said, stretching his arm out to place the hat gingerly on top of my head. "I do have to say that this one is in much better condition than mine." I grinned and looked towards Amy, making sure my teeth were on full display by that point. Don't knock the hat again, bitch.
"Care to dine al fresco today, Miss Swan?" he asked in a British accent, winking at me when I looked up and laughed. Charlie, ever the charmer. I decided to join in on the fun, dropping my guard, and smiled.
"Why, I would be delighted, Mr. Swan," I replied in a bad attempt at an accent, earning a deep chuckle and megawatt smile from my father.
"Amy, Rebecca, please hold all my calls for the rest of the afternoon unless it is truly an emergency. I have a hot date, and I don't want to be bothered." He laughed, Becky joining in as Amy nodded stiffly.
"I hope you've freed your—" Charlie began but was cut off as Edward stepped in front of us.
"Charlie," he greeted.
"Edward, my boy, what can I do for you? I was just taking Bella here out to lunch. Care to join us for a bite?" he asked as I narrowed my eyes at him and openly glared in hopes he'd get the point and decline.
"I would love to," Edward said, smiling in my direction. It was a rare occasion when I felt the need to use physical force on someone. Very rare indeed, but I would have loved nothing more than to punch Cullen in his perfect nose at that moment in— "Unfortunately I already have lunch plans," he concluded winking at me. What an asshole. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"How unfortunate. We would have loved having you join us, Edward." I smiled as my nails dug into the palms of my hands.
"I hate to disappoint, Isabella."
"Our girl is finally home," Charlie added excitedly. "Are you sure you can't have a quick drink to catch up with us?" Oh, for the love of God.
"Yes, she is, and you're right—this is cause for a celebration. Where will you be dining?" he asked. "I'm sure I can—"
"Here, actually," Charlie replied. "At the Cabana Cafe."
"Here?" he stammered, taken aback. "I'll be on site as well." I noticed his hands begin to fiddle with the cell phone I knew he had in his pocket. Cullen had a case of nerves. Interesting. "As soon as I wrap up my lunch meeting, I'll be sure to meet up with the both of you."
"Who are you having lunch with?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow. Yes, who indeed, Cullen?
I smirked and dropped my head to hold back from saying something bitchy. That lemonade must have been spiked, I thought sarcastically.
"Oh," Charlie interrupted. "Jane, will you wait a minute, please?" He held up his hand up to get someone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt, guys. Bella, why don't you go and get us a table and I'll be over in a few minutes? I have to fill Jane in on something before she leaves," he said, kissing the top of my head. "Edward, hopefully we'll see you in a bit," he called out as he briskly walked over to talk to some blonde in a pinstripe suit.
I groaned and side-stepped Edward as I headed towards the doors. I wasn't even going to bother saying goodbye to him, hoping he had more sense in that head of his and was just trying to be polite in front of my father. Lunch meeting? I highly doubted that. I snorted, unaware someone was trailing me.
"Care to let me in on the joke, Swan?"
Startled out of my internal debate, I jumped and almost sent myself into a nearby bush. "None of your business," I replied curtly, snatching my arm away from him. "And why are you following me, Cullen?" I spat. "Creepy as fuck," I mumbled under my breath.
"I figured since I'll be seeing a lot of you from now on, I'd try—against my better judgment—to get along, at least for the sake of appearances. Let's shoot the shit, Swan, for old times' sake at least."
"Old times' sake?" I shot back, bitch brow fully in place. "That's rich, even for you, Cullen."
"Humor me," he pleaded, giving me what he must have thought was a conciliatory smile. "Please?"
"Not on your life."
"Ouch, you wound me." He placed a mocking hand over his heart. "The last time I saw you, well, parts of you, had been at the—" His eyes lit up with amusement as he not-so-subtly turned his head to check out my ass.
I scoffed, cutting off his verbal vomit, and turned my body away from his prying eyes. "And last time I had the displeasure, you had your tongue shoved down Scarlett Johansson's throat while palming an obscene amount of silicone."
"What are you talking about, Swan?" He seemed truly intrigued.
"There's a time and place for everything, and the 'Thank You Cam' isn't one of them. Tsk, tsk, Cullen." I doubled my steps in hopes of reaching the restaurant sooner and ridding myself of him.
"Scarlett is old news, not that she was ever news to begin with, and I had nothing to do with—"
"Don't care," I interrupted in a frustrated tone.
"I'm sure you don't. Obviously you didn't stick around for the thank you part.
"Your point?"
"Do you even have a point to this mindless rant? If you do—"
"You're an asshole. There's one," I said, cutting him off as I walked into the hotel and spotted the ladies' room. I wasn't above hiding out in there for a few minutes to bide my time and ditch this piece of work.
"That's not a point." He grinned. "It's a fact."
"You want a fact?" I stopped in my tracks as Edward quickly took a step back to keep from knocking into me.
"Go for it." He leaned into the wall, crossing his ankles.
"Leonardo DiCaprio still hasn't won an Oscar."
"Still missing the point."
"You haven't either, Hollywood." I laughed as I pushed open the bathroom door. "Have fun with your lunch date, Cullen," I shouted back to him as I walked in.
AN: Don't you think it's about time Leonardo DiCaprio won an Oscar? I do. Thank you to ADF for the Monthly Hidden Gem find/rec and to all of my reviewers. It honestly does make me smile to hear from you guys. That being said I hope to have another chapter out within a week, give or take.