A/N: Love and thanks to my wonderful beta Ms Kathy. We get to spend next weekend together since my work will take me to her hometown – soooo excited!

The Tips outtake has been posted! Check my profile to read about what Carlisle and Poppy talked about in the diner last month.

Work continues to kick my ass, but I will finish the story. Have faith, people.

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July

"Um … where should I put this?" asked Edward. He had a hot coffee in hand and was hunting for a place on the paper-strewn table to put it down. Bella shuffled things around to make a spot for the mug.

"Thanks, honey," she said absently, turning back to her work.

Outside, Chicago sweltered. The heat and humidity had pushed the temperature into the triple digits, sending everyone fleeing to air conditioned quarters. How Bella could drink hot coffee in weather like this was beyond Edward's understanding. But it was what brought her into Poppy's on an otherwise dull Sunday afternoon, and that alone was enough to make him accept it.

Edward leaned against the table beside Bella's and tried to read some of her papers upside down. She didn't look up, but he could see a reluctant smile appear on the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, Edward?" she asked.

"Just wondering what you're working on." After six months or so of being friends (or whatever they were), he figured he was entitled to ask a few questions. Whether she would answer them or not was another question, he thought, as the smile faded from her face. She looked at the pages for a moment, then drew a sheaf of them out.

"Here you go," she said, handing them to Edward. "A topic near and dear to your heart." He looked at the pages. They looked like some kind of play - blocks of text with names beside them and descriptions of what the action should be. Edward's eyes glazed at the huge chunks of text. It reminded him of Shakespeare, and he had hated that fucker.

Bella watched his reaction thoughtfully, then took the papers out of his hands. She dug through her messenger bag and pulled out a slim binder.

"This might be more interesting," she said. Edward leaned over her shoulder to look as she opened it. His face brightened.

"Hey," he said. "It's like a comic book." Each page held a series of boxes, some with sketched figures, some with words and diagrams. "This is cool." His lips moved silently as he read down the page. "There's a quiz at the end. Just like school."

"Yes," she answered, flipping the page. "Like school. This is a storyboard for a corporate compliance video on information security." Edward smiled and nodded, and hoped his total lack of comprehension didn't show on his face. Bella cocked an eyebrow at him and waited.

"Okay, I have no idea what you're talking about," he finally admitted. "What's a compliance video?"

"It's a video that employees of a company have to watch. Then they answer questions about the material in it so that their employer knows they understand the subject." Bella pointed to the boxes on the page. "The storyboard tells you what's going to be in the video, scene by scene."

"Cool," said Edward. "So you produce videos for a living?"

"No," she said. "The video company asked if I would be the narrator for the video. See?" Bella pointed at a box with a sketch of a dark haired woman in a business suit. "That's supposed to be me. Here's what I have to say, right here." Edward read a few lines then laughed.

"Oh, it's about Internet stuff … like not telling other people your password or personal information. Like you showed me." He paged through the binder, fascinated. "Do you like go to a studio to record this?"

"Something like that," Bella said. "It's tedious, but they pay me well. And it's supposed to be good for me to do this stuff."

"Why is it good for you?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, well," she replied, "I'm supposed to be an expert in information security. Their employees find it amusing or interesting, I guess, that I'm doing the voiceovers for these things. It's not my favorite thing to do though."

"Then why do you do it?" Edward persisted. Bella put down her pen and sipped her coffee, looking amused.

"Why do you wait tables here? Because you love it so much?" She gestured to the quiet restaurant.

"That's different," Edward said. "I work because I have to. For money, you know?"

"And I don't?"

"Well, no. You're rich!" Bella stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. Edward didn't know whether to feel embarrassed or simply revel in the sound of her laughter, which he rarely heard and was almost exclusively provoked by Frankie and no one else.

"Oh, sweetheart," Bella finally managed. "I'm not rich. Comfortable, maybe. Reasonably well-off. Regardless, where do you think the money comes from? A trust fund? I earn it, kiddo, by working – just like you. There are no free rides in this life."

"Well, that's not true," he said. "Some of my friends don't work. They never have. Their parents are really rich and they'll never have to get a job. They just get to do whatever they want – you know, open online boutiques, rep for nightclubs … cool stuff like that."

"Really?" asked Bella, fascinated. "I don't know anyone like that. Imagine that." She lapsed into thought for a moment, then came back to reality. "I don't think I'd be very good among the idle rich. I mean, what's the point of life if you don't work?" Edward could think of a great deal of merit in a life that never required one to get out of bed before noon, but he didn't think Bella was asking for specific examples. "Back to the question at hand. Do you plan to wait tables for the rest of your life?" She asked it like it was a serious question, not a scolding.

"No!" he said indignantly. "No, that's not what I want. I'm just doing this right now for the money."

"Nothing wrong with that," Bella said. "But what's next after this?" Edward said nothing. What could he say? He had no idea what was next. "Not sure yet?" she asked, her voice kind. He shook his head. "Nothing wrong with that either. You're young – there's lots of time to figure out what you want to be when you grow up."

"I am grown up," he protested.

"How old are you again? Twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three last month," he said defensively.

"Whatever. I've got a hangnail that's 23. Seriously, kid, no one expects you to have it all figured out yet." It was the first time Bella had ever made a reference to her age, and Edward's eyes widened. "What do you want to do?"

Nothing. Goof off. Do drugs and party all night.

None of these seemed like appropriate responses.

"I … um …" He stopped, deflecting. "My dad wants me to join his real estate business."

"That's nice," she said blandly. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you do?" Edward countered.

"I run my own business. Which includes doing video voiceovers for Internet security videos. What do you want to do?" She wasn't giving up.

"I don't know!" he blurted out. "I'm not very smart, and I'm lazy. So there's not too much I can do. Don't you know that by now? I'm stupid." His voice rose until he was nearly shouting, and he knew his face was red with anger and humiliation. Bella looked at him in astonishment.

"Who told you that happy horseshit?" she asked. Edward was so startled by her words that he couldn't respond. "Seriously, kid. Did someone tell you that you're stupid and lazy?"

"My English teacher in my junior year said I was the densest kid she'd ever taught." He shuffled his feet and looked away, feeling uncomfortable. "The guy who fired me from my last job said I was an idiot." The air in the diner suddenly felt too warm. "My dad says I'm a lazy ass," he said in a quiet voice, "but he's pretty much right about that."

Bella said nothing. Edward glanced up; she was looking at him, a troubled expression in her eyes. He waited for her to start in with it – an outpouring of pity, a lecture, a pep talk. He'd heard them all before. Bella took a long drink of coffee.

"Edward … answer me. What do you want to do?"

"Not wait tables for the rest of my life, that's for sure," he whispered. "I don't want to be a real estate agent either."

"That's a start," she said. "What kinds of things do you like to do? I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb to assume you're not interesting in becoming a lawyer or a banker."

"I guess not. I'm not smart enough …" Bella cut him off before he could finish the thought.

"Never mind what you can't do. Do you like to build stuff? Take things apart and put them back together? Fix broken stuff?" He made a face. "No, huh? What about creative things? Do you enjoy writing? Painting? Playing music?" Edward nodded at the last one.

"I can play guitar and piano. But not well enough to make money, see?"

"Okay, good to know." Bella pursed her lips for a moment. "Do you like math, then? Ciphers? Fibonacci numbers?" Edward stared blankly at her. "Never mind. It was a long shot. Let's keep going … you like to play music. Do you like other artistic things?"

"I can draw," he said. "I'm pretty good at that." Bella's face lit up.

"What do you like to draw? People? Or things?"

"Both, I guess," said Edward. He waited for her to ask another question, but there was nothing forthcoming. Bella's gaze had moved up, over his shoulder. He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder.

"Okay, Edward," said Poppy kindly. "I need you to come back to work." In horror, Edward spun around and realized the blue plate hour was in full swing, and he had been sitting there talking on the job for almost 45 minutes. I am so fired!

"My fault, Poppy," Bella said. "I've been monopolizing Edward's time. Please forgive me." Poppy waved her apology off.

"I saw you two were having a heart-to-heart, so it was no problem for me to take some tables. But it's getting busier now, and I need my number one boy back." Sputtering, Edward tried to apologize, but Poppy shushed him. "It's all right, Edward. Off you go to work. Can you pick up the tables from the far section, please?"

Unable to believe he wasn't going to get reamed, Edward grabbed his order pad and scurried away without looking back. But he was acutely aware as he freshened coffees and cold drinks, took orders and delivered food, that Poppy and Bella had continued on, deep in conversation for several minutes more.

At the end of his shift, Edward cashed out wearily. His back ached and he wished he could sit down for about 10 years. The thought of going out into the sticky night heat disgusted him. Ignoring the chattering of his coworkers around him, he focused on his cashing out, knowing that if he allowed himself to be distracted, he'd fuck it up.

Edward slouched out to the parking lot and drove home. He showered – he had to get the stink of the restaurant out of his hair – and flopped on to his bed in a t-shirt and boxers. He knew he should call Tanya (he wasn't really enjoying her company as much as he used to, maybe it was time to move on) or maybe connect with his friends, hit a bar and unwind. Instead, he stayed on the bed, dozing.

So tired…

He awoke with a start, disoriented. The room was dark and there was a light blanket over him. Edward lifted his head and squinted at the clock radio – it was just after midnight. So much for going out, he thought blearily. His eyes closed and he started drifting away again, chasing the dream he'd been having before he woke up. It had been nice and Bella had been in it, and …

Bella.

My tip. I forgot about my tip.

His eyes snapped open, and he reached across to the bedside table where his iPhone sat. Struggling to a sitting position, Edward scrolled through a long parade of waiting texts. Two irate ones from Tanya. Various friends asking where he was. Two or three people who wanted to score some weed, despite the fact that he hadn't sold any for weeks. And Bella's.

You were busy when I left, but wanted to say thanks for coffee and company. I'll send you an email later.

Edward took a moment to marvel at the fact that Bella always spelled everything out in her texts and never used short forms. Then he slid out of bed, shuffled to his messy desk and opened his laptop. Bella's email was entitled "Some ideas".

Edward,

Think of these as inspiration for what you might want to do next.

Beneath this was a short list of jobs. A couple of them were familiar, and one of them he'd never heard of (what the fuck is an AutoCAD designer?).

I forgot to ask if you were into computers. Every considered becoming a graphic designer? Or a Photoshop artist? There's lots of work available there.

And let's see … what number are we at?

Tip #15: Don't believe everything you hear. Even from your parents. Everybody says things they don't mean – even to the people they love most in this world – when they're really upset or frustrated. That said, you can take this to the bank: You're a hard-working young man with plenty of brains. You'll find your way.

Bella

Edward leaned back in his desk chair. That was a lot to think about all at once. He yawned hugely, snapped the laptop closed, and went back to bed. Despite the new ideas floating around in his brain, he was asleep in less than 10 minutes.

It never occurred to him to check his account to see if Bella had sent a tip there. The thought of money hadn't even crossed his mind.

A/N: Thanks for your patience in waiting for this update. Hopefully things will settle down going forward and allow me to post more regularly. I'm on the road for the next two weeks – your reviews will make the travelling easier.