Hey Guys! How did you like the previous chapter? If you didn't review I would love it if you did, you could just say potatoes of you want to. I don't care. I'm a review nut. But anyway. I hope you like it. This chapter is really long. It gives a lot of background and you must read it all. It's good stuff guys. Anyway. here you go!-
Pre-school is when I began to realize... my family wasn't like the other kids.
Picture this: I'm bundled up like that poor kid brother on A Christmas Story when I say.
"Where's daddy?"
"He's asleep Edward. After lunch you'll see him."
"But everyone else's daddy takes the bus or drives or gets on a train and goes to work. Why doesn't daddy?"
Get this, here's what she told me. "Well Edward. Your father has a different sort of job than the other dad's. He's in the... Vending Machine Business. He works odd hours because you never know when one of those machines breaks down."
That was her excuse for why my dad has to skip town for his bussines. I honestly used to belive that somewhere there was a jammed up or cracked soda machine and dad would go off at three o'clock in the morning to fix it. Hey, I was only four.
Brother's Vending Machine Inc. Was what my mom said the company was. Which I always thought was strange because Carlisle is an only child. But even so, there are plenty of uncles. I have uncles coming out of my wazoo. One time I was bored enough to make a list of all the uncles I have.
I was up to twenty five before I gave up.
The main ones are, Uncle Jasper, Uncle Aro, Uncle Marcus, Uncle Felix, Uncle Alec, Uncle Uncle, and no that wasn't a typo, we actually have an uncle called uncle. Everyone calls him that except his real nephew who call him Fred. And Uncle Rosalie. Which... confused me deeply as a child. I thought all relatives beside immediate family were called uncle. That was a humiliating day in kindergarden. Kids can be so mean. And dirty, I once saw this kid pick his nose and then give it to his girlfriend. Wow, off topic... anyway.
Seven years old: I wake up in the middle of the night. I'm really thirsty so I go down the hall to the bathroom to fill up my cup with the sink faucet. I walk in there and there is blood splattered on the towels and I have now the right to say I saw an actually blood bath. Scared out of my mind, I run into my parents bedroom and I find that the light is on and there's a little surgery in progress.
Plastic sheets are over everything and my uncle Laurent is lying face down on the bed whimpering.
Esme is holding him still while Carlisle digs at him with a pair of tweezers.
"I almost have it... there. I got it." He exclaims holding a piece of gore covered something.
They told me it was a kidney stone but I wasn't fooled. My teacher agreed with me about my suspicion that kidney stones don't come out of your butt cheek.
The peruliarities mount up.
Like the sudden camping trip we took in the city hotel. And when I get back no one knew I was on a camping trip. They all thought I had strep-throat. Or one day at lunch I opened my lunch box and it was full of cut diamonds. Everyone was laughing and having a good time while I sat in a corner guarding my stash of 'snacks'. They had to take me to a psychologist because of my obsession with food.
One day I walked home when Uncle Rosalie drove up to me and said that she was supposed to take me to see a movie with her and then go to the park.
A day later I came back to my house and gawked. Carlisle said they had special cleaner's at the house and that he didn't want me to get in the way.
They were pretty losy cleaners. All my teddy bears were cut open. Not... that... I have teddy bears...
You know. Stuff like that.
By that point Emmett's told me, "Dad's mobbed up." But back then I assumed it just meant he had a lot of friends.
But my dad is a great father. He always finds time for us. He plays games and makes jokes and he has these funny little rituals that I thought were so hilarious when I was a kid.
Every night before I went to sleep my dad would look up at the ceiling and yell. "And a very good night to you Agent Numb-nuts."
Or before we go out to eat he'll call in the garage. "We're going to go eat now if that's okay with you Agent Bite-Me. Could we get you something?"
As a kid I thought that was a riot. Only now - years later - do I realize that he's actually talking to real people . FBI agents to be exact. Our house is was and always will be bugged.
It was a horrible day when It finally hit me that every burp, every bathroom break, everything was being listened to by the Federal Agents, worse, it was all preserved on tape.
At least now I understand why dad flipped his lid that time when I found a cash of bearer bonds.
"Dad what's this. It looks like money."
The man who didn't so much as spank me grasped an iron clad grip on my mouth.
"It's nothing son. Just play money. Like monopoly."
Uncle Vick cuts our lawn for the next three summers.
So just think about this, what a horrible situation it can make for a teenage kid. If I say the wrong thing, I could send my dad to jail.
One day I cornered mom in the laundry room. The noise from the machines was so loud that we could talk without some agents listening in.
"Mom, you don't have to pretend with me anymore. I know dad's in the mob."
She stared at me in shock. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Oh come on mom. I know you know."
I have to give Esme credit. She never moves an inch. Either that or she really is that dunce... which would explain Emmett.
But Esme can serve dinner to twenty guys in four o'clock in the morning with ten minutes notice.
Our basement is full of freezers just in case. She likes her eaters ravenous. And her cooking is really great! If not a little heavy. And not just in you stomach. Carrying a Tupperware full of Mom's cooking is like carrying fifty pounds of Purina dog chow.
And not to mention her cooking can really pack a punch.
When Emmett dropped out of highschool to join "The Life", he was working with this kid named Demetri, he was part of Uncle Felix's crew. Well, Emmett was just about my age, and dad said he would never intervene on his son's behalf. Apparently Demetri had some antagonism with Emmett and he had asked for Carlisle to help.
"You'll never get any respect on your own." He had said.
But things just keep getting worse and worse. Emmett was really getting bullied and pushed around by this guy.
So one night when Uncle Felix and his crew are over for dinner, Esme asked Demetri to help her bring the food out. There were in there alone and then a scream of bloody murder came from the kitchen and Demetri flew out of the kitchen and out of the house.
We ordered chinese food that night. An event so rare that it only comes about every solar eclipse and should have fireworks and a parade to go along with it.
"I thought we were having pot-pie." I stated.
"The pot-pie," Esme sighed. "Is totally out of commission."
I don't push it. Totally out of commission from my mom's mouth means that it's gone and never to return again in this life time or the next. But I do see it again. It was on the floor in the garage intact, except for the crust mold of a hand-print. And I saw Demetri walk around with a bandage on his hand for a few weeks. Second degree burns.
The incident is never mentioned again at our house, but from that day on I realize that Esme has a titanium backbone to go with her heart of gold. And if food is her medium, it can also be her message. Where family is concerned, nobody messes with Mom, not even her powerful husband.
Demetri stopped bugging Emmett. I think he's somewhere out West right now.
-
Jacob, who turns into a statue everytime Dad, Emmett, or any of the Uncles come in the room, has plenty to say when we're alone. "Don't you ever watch Mafia movies? Do you have any idea the kind of chicks these guys get? I challenge you to show me one gangster with an ugly girlfriend."
To say that Jacob has a one track mind is an insult to people with one track minds.
"Jacob. Stop. This is never going to be a part of my life. Carlisle knows where I stand."
His eyes shined and his lips turned up in awe. "Really? What did your dad say?"
It was less than a year ago. Dad didn't say anything at first, and it wasn't because of our latest eavesdropper, Agent Con. We were in the basement workshop, the only room that is guaranteed safe. It's Emmett's job to sweep the place twice a day for bugs. A lot of conferences take place there, and a lot of uncles have made their way down the basement stairs.
Well I sit in the loopsided ricity chair that rocks precariously on the concrete floor. Why do we have this piece of junk? Because It's a Carlisle Cullen handmade special.
For years my dad had wanted to bring it down a notch, and be not quite so busy. Uncle Laurant had just died (actually, I think he had help) and it reminded Dad that life is short.
So my father took up woodworking to relax him. And he has to be maybe the lousiest carpenter on the planet.
But he doesn't know that. He's Carlisle Cullen. Who would tell him? I've seen many of the toughest wise-guys in the tristate area oohing and aahing over a napkin holder that would languish on the shelf of the 99-cent shop.
"So," He begins. "you're not interested in the vending-machine business."
I wanted to argue, but what's the point? We both know what we're talking about. "Yeah, vending machines," I say. "It's a little touche for my tastes."
Dad breathes a heavy sigh. He knows I don't approve of his line of work, but I think he always hoped I'd grow out of it. As if obeying the law is a silly phase some crazy kids experiment with. "A man has the right to choose his own destiny," he acknowledges. "So now we know what you don't want. Tell me what you do want."
My mind goes blank. Carlisle smiles as if he's expecting that. "When I was your age, Edward, we had nothing. So I was the most motivated guy in the world to get out there and do better than my old man. With you it's different. You've got a great deal here - nice house, room service, new car . . ."
I drove a Porsche back then (sixteenth-birthday present) until the cops came and took it away to give back to the guy who really owned it.
"I've got ambition," I interrupt. "I just haven't figured out what I'm ambitious about yet."
"The law's a nice career for a kid with the gift of gab, "He suggests. "You can never have too many lawyers."
"You don't get it," I insist. " I don't want to be involved, period. I don't want 'vending machines' touching my life in any way."
Carlisle looks amused with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Too late kid. You think we'd live the way we do if I was in any other business? You're already in it, Edward. Right down to the clothes you wear, the food you eat, your allowance..." He pauses. "What you say makes sense. If you're not motivated by what I do, then fine. But you're seventeen yours old now. It's time to get motivated about something."
That's classic Dad - reasonable, sensible, supportive. People who meet him outside of the business find it hard to believe that this classy, soft-spoken gentleman is who he is. It only becomes clear when you see how the uncles tiptoe around him, the fear in people's faces when they hear his name, the scrambling that goes on when he asks for something. It's only at those times that I realize the great guy I call Dad is a man who runs a criminal organization that operates by means of violence and intimidation. And I really, truly, honestly want nothing to do with it.
Emmett says the word on the street is if you deal with Carlisle Cullen, you'll never get ripped off. Conversely, if you rip off Carlisle Cullen, you'll never deal again. Not in this life.
The word on the street is very important in that business, especailly for a guy like my dad, who keeps a low profile and only poeple in the circle know about him.
The only time Dad got any publicity was in the papers in 1998 the gangland assassination of James Calabrese. The cops are sure that my father ordered the hit, but they were never able to pin it on him. They just assumed he did it because the James out of the picture, Dad was able to take over as the vending-machine king of New York, Dad won't say anything about it one way or the other, not even to Emmett, who joined him in the business shortly after that.
It didn't take long for Emmett to develop a reputation just the opposite of Carlise's. Emmett's loud, crude, and rough, with a temper like a cherry bomb. When the door bell rings, he's the last guy you want to see standing there, except of course, Uncle Jasper.
Emmett has plenty of enthusiasm for his job. Maybe too much, as Jamie Rat could tell you. So Carlisle brought over his top young guys to be Tommy's partner... keeper would be a better word.
Sam Uley used to work as one of the loan sharks over on the east cost. If he's upset about babysitting a hot head, but he doesn't show it.
He's not an uncle but I guess he could be a cousin. Even though we are not related. I wish we were. Sam is one of the best guys I know. I have to stop myself and remember that he's a criminal.
Remember when I said that my sixteenth birthday present had been confiscated? Well, I had to go to jail. And all the uncles thought it was the funniest thing seeing me behind bars. Even Emmett just left me there. But Sam helped me out. He bailed me out, while Emmett and uncles act like it's just another days work to be put in jail. Sam understood how awful that was for me, and he didn't look at me like some odd specimen from the zoo when the guys found out I wanted no part in 'The Life'. Sam didn't judge me.
Even my dad doesn't get it. "We'll get you a new car."
"No. That's it. I laid down the law. No more stolen cars. I'll buy my own car and pay for it with my own money. No more allowances. I'll get a decent job."
They all laughed saying it was silly and childish. That I wouldn't get a good car.
But I didn't care. At least it would be mine and the feds couldn't take it away from me. And no one will have to use the words grand theft auto.
Sam stood up for me... even in front of Carlisle. Not even Uncle Jasper has the guts to do that. He helped me find a decent affordable car. It was my good old trusty Mazda Protege with only forty thousand miles on it.
"I can't believe I'm getting this for only three thousand dollars." I said pridefully.
"You're not. Don't tell him that I told you, but your dad gave me a couple thousand dollars to make sure you got something decent." Sam braced himself for impact.
He needed it. I blow up on him. Poor guy. He has to take care of Emmett and face the mob bosses other son scream in his face. But his a good guy, his patient.
"Just take the car. Your father just wants to help you out."
"No. I'm not touching any part of 'The Life'."
Sam grabbed my shoulders and looks me in the eye. "The Life is paying for yours. The clothes on your back, the bed you sleep in at night, your mother's cooking, it wouldn't be possible if it weren't for your father's business. Your father's business is why you can stand there and be all high and mighty about the vending machine business. So... as we say, fur git about it."
I bought the car.
My father always has a special smile when he sees my Mazda, even though it looks pretty lame next to the parade of limos and Meamers and Mercedes that are always coming and going at our place. Sam says Carlisle still disapproves of the way I got it. You know, legitimately.
But that's what he likes about it - that his younger son did something he disapproves of.
So he should get an explosion of fuzzy feelings when he finds out what I'm doing now.
wow, that was long. Review!
Okay the good part is coming up. But hopefully it's all good.
Oh, I want to change the name of this story. What should I change it to? It has to be something catchy, like How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. I mainly just want ideas. But if yours is amazing and I use it. I'll give you an invisible trophy. (I have a thing with invisible trophies)
You guys rock
-Rosalie