All characterizations, plot lines, backgrounds and details belong to the author. Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. March, 2011.
Thanks as always, to my beta the incredible xrxdanixrx. Check out her new story Washed Up. XO BB
A million thanks to my dear friend MizzezPattinson who pre-reads this story. Much love, hun. I couldn't do it without you. XO
Let's check in with Bella.
Come, join me.
Vegas means comedy, tragedy, happiness and sadness all at the same time. -
Artie Lange
Chapter 6
Bella
I shut the door, leaning against it before I fall down. My heart hammers in my chest as I try not to hyperventilate.
Holy fucking shit.
This whole night, dealing with the egos in that room, our little banter, him walking me home… just him; it's all overwhelming. He is overwhelming. I've never been with someone so simultaneously frustrating and tempting in my life.
I need a drink, and I don't even drink. Well, not very often. Okay, so that's a lie. I have been known to enjoy a glass of wine and a daiquiri… Hmmm. I wonder what kind of wine he likes.
Oh my God! Snap out of it, Bella!
He's just a man. You know, like you told him come around every twenty minutes or so.
The bags I'm holding slip from my fingers, landing on the floor. Oh, fuck. I'm surprised he hasn't fired me ,given my little show this evening. My snarkiness was in fine form tonight.
He's my boss, for God's sake, and I talked to him like he was anything but. I turn to face the door, rising up on my toes to check through the peep hole.
Like he's still going to be out there.
I blink, looking through the tiny hole, only seeing the muted amber glow of the street light. Of course he's not there. He's probably called his driver to come pick him up to avoid going on the bus, again. I wouldn't blame him. If I had a driver, I'd want him to pick me up, too.
You're never going to have a driver.
No. I'm not. That thought brings me back to reality. and I abandon the door, moving to the living room on extremely tired and shaky legs. I set the Prada bag down gently on the back of the overstuffed arm chair on the way to the kitchen.
I open up the fridge and peer inside. I need to get to the grocery store. It's like Old Mother Hubbard's cupboard in here.
I have some salad makings, strawberries, a carton of milk, and half a bottle of Orangina left over from my famous Sangria I made last week when Alice was over.
Alice!
I didn't call her at all tonight. I groan, thinking of the litany of messages I'm sure are waiting for me on my cell phone.
I grab the Orangina from the shelf, shut the fridge door, and move back to the living room, sinking onto the couch. God, it feels good to sit down.
I root through my bag for my phone, pulling it out. Of course, the little red star flashes to me, signaling my text messages.
They start off in typical Alice fashion.
Just wanted to say good luck tonight! You'll do great! XOXOXO
I kick off my shoes and curl up in the corner of the couch. Yeah, I should probably get a new one, but I've had this couch forever. It's seen me through studying for exams and more movie nights with Alice than I can count. Its old brown leather is fraying, and there's a rip in the cushion, but it's familiar, comfortable, and warm. And right now, that's exactly what I need.
Tonight has been eye-opening, to say the least. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into with the high roller room. Clearly, I had no idea. I've never felt so intimidated and out of place in my life. I'm the polar opposite to every single person in that room, except maybe Seth and a few other members of the team.
It's like a whole other world I never knew existed, with people that don't seem real. Expensive dresses and private drivers ready to whisk them all away at a moment's notice. All of them there to try to one up each other. The tension in that room was excruciatingly thick. I suppose when that much money and pride is on the line, that's to be expected.
I twist off the cap on the Orangina and take a sip, turning my attention back to my messages.
Oh, Jazz says good luck, too. XOXO
Don't forget I'm coming with you to see Charlie tomorrow. XO
Smiling to myself, I set the drink down on the coffee table, rubbing my foot, which is throbbing. Cullen was right about cheap shoes, not that I would ever admit that him.
I snicker, imagining him trying to navigate the bus system in his expensive suit. Talk about out of place. Edward on a bus is a visual that I won't forget anytime soon.
Want to scope out the new jewelry store before work?
It looks tacky, like gimmickyVegas tacky.
I shake my head, sinking down to the pillow and enjoying Alice's random thoughts.
Alice opened her store three years ago. It's tucked just back from the main strip where she sells the designer silver jewelry she makes. She does extremely well with a steady and loyal clientele that frequently come to her for unique pieces, as well as the constant stream of tourists that flock to shop.
It's also where she met Jasper. He came wandering in, looking for something for his then girlfriend. After three weeks of playful banter, and Jasper making way more visits to the store than he needed to, he broke up with his former girlfriend and has been with Alice ever since. The two of them live in bliss, riding the horse Jasper's father gave him on his mini ranch near the canyon.
In addition to riding horses, lately they both have taken a more than active interest in my lack of a dating life. I know the day is coming when I'm going to be set up on the inevitable blind date from hell designed to test my patience.
It's not as if I don't want to date. I do. I just don't really have the time. Working and trying to help with Charlie's rehabilitation takes all of my time and energy. I'm the type of person who doesn't want to do things half-assed. If I'm going to get into a relationship, or anything else for that matter, I'm going to give it everything I have, and right now, I don't have much left to give.
Which is why I'm seriously starting to doubt my decision to take this job. I know in my heart, it isn't the right fit for me. Tonight, I gave everything to that room, and I still feel like a failure.
I feel unsettled and out of step with who I'm supposed to be. I'm more comfortable in yoga pants and socks than designer dresses and shoes that cost more than my paycheck.
I wonder idly how long Angela is going to be away. How long I'm going to have to do this. I shake my head, knowing I am extremely lucky to have a job like this. I should be content and happy, and I should just learn to keep my mouth shut.
And then, there's Edward. I have absolutely no idea why he got onto the bus or walked me home. It doesn't make any sense. He could have been going home with some woman; stunning, tall, perfect body, every other woman's basic nightmare.
Instead, he was with me. I fight back a smile and continue to scroll down through the messages, trying desperately to put tonight behind me.
Have you lost your phone?
So help me, Swan.
I text her back a quick message, letting her know I'm safe and not lying in a ditch somewhere, before turning off the phone and setting it on the coffee table. I'm pretty sure the rest of her messages are only going to get more frantic, and I shudder to think about the voicemails. I'll hear more than enough ranting to last a lifetime tomorrow or today—I don't even know what time it is.
I do know I'm exhausted. I don't even have the energy to get up from the couch. I pull the soft blanket off the back of the couch and drape it over me.
I shut my eyes, immediately assaulted with images of flipping cards and poker chips, and in the middle of it all, Edward, trying to navigate the Las Vegas bus system. I feel the smile creep across my face and let the night take me.
WC
"Bella!" I practically fall off the couch at the unmistakable pissed off voice of Alice.
I sit up, rubbing the kink in the back of my neck as she stands before me with her hands on her hips.
"Good morning to you, too," I grumble, stretching my arms up and squinting as the light peeks through the slats on my living room blinds.
"Does this thing not work?" she rants, picking up my cell phone and tossing it at me, her silver bangles clicking together around her wrist.
"I was busy last night. What time is it, anyway?"
"Eight o'clock, and why are you still in your uniform? We have to go see Charlie and then check out the competition," she rambles, plunking down beside me.
Sometimes, I really question my decision to let Alice keep a key to my place. It obviously was required when we lived together during college, but now, I'm not so sure it was a good idea.
I try to stifle a yawn, while she shakes her head at me. She picks up a large take out cup off the coffee table that I can only hope and pray is a latte.
"Non-fat, no foam, soy latte. Drink up, we're already running late." I manage a smile and take a sip, letting the liquid work its magic. "I want to hear everything about last night. How was it? Did anybody give you a hard time? Oh! How was Edward?" she asks excitedly.
"Jesus, slow down. How many of these have you had?"
"Three. Well?"
I take a sip, while she practically vibrates in anticipation beside me. "I'm not really sure I can explain it. It was overwhelming. The whole thing was just really intimidating," I mumble.
"Intimidating?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at me. "You never get intimidated."
"Yes, I do. I just usually hide it." She rolls her eyes, waiving me off. "I've never been in a situation like that before. I mean these people have money… lots of money, and there's this sense of entitlement about them. It kind of rubbed me the wrong way. It's just not me, Alice."
"What are you talking about? You can totally do this job. You're a smart, confident woman."
"Yeah, I know I can do it. That's not the point." I take another sip, leaning back into the couch. "I don't know. It just all kind of felt fake, like I had to pretend to be someone I'm not. I was walking on eggshells the whole night, trying not to offend anyone."
"Well, you didn't, did you?" I grimace a response, holding the cup between my hands. Her eyes widen. "Oh no. What did you do?"
"I'm surprised I still have a job, actually. I wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine with Edward, and I kind of, might have talked back to him."
"Kind of, might have? Bella, you need this job," she scolds.
"Don't remind me." I glance at the stack of bills looming on the desk in the corner.
"Well, what about Edward? I mean, I've met him with Jazz at a couple of parties and stuff. He seems nice," she says casually.
"He's intense."
She cocks her head to the side. "Intense good or intense bad?"
"A little of both, I think." She gets a devilish look on her face that I'd know anywhere. "What's going on in that crazy head of yours?" I ask warily.
"Nothing," she says, her leg bouncing.
"I know that look."
"He's single, right?" she presses.
"Just stop right there," I warn, getting up from the couch with my latte. "He's my boss, and even if he wasn't, he's a player."
She lifts an eyebrow to me. "How would you know that?"
"I'm not having this conversation. This discussion is over." I'm in desperate need of a long, hot shower if I'm going to make it through this morning with her. "I'm going to jump in the shower."
She nods, her eyes falling to the Prada bag on the back of the chair. "Holy shit! You went shopping?" she shrieks.
"Yeah. Jasper forgot to mention that the standard uniform wasn't exactly acceptable."
She bolts from the couch, unzipping the bag and pulling out the dress. "What necklace did you wear with this? Tell me you wore the big silver hoop one I made for your birthday last year."
"I didn't exactly have time to accessorize."
"So, you didn't wear any jewelry?" I shake my head as she holds the dress up to me. "You didn't need to. This is perfect for you. Did Edward like it?" she asks.
"He better. He paid for it."
She lowers the hanger, her eyes widening. "Edward bought you this?" she asks in disbelief.
"And shoes." Her mouth drops open. "From Manolo Blahnik," I clarify.
"Holy fuck."
"Yeah. Welcome to my alternate universe."
WC
"Morning, Charlotte." I smile at her as she flips through a chart at the reception desk. She looks up, returning my smile. "How is he this morning?
"He's good. We tried a bit of a longer walk yesterday. It tired him out, but it's good for him," she says firmly. "You can go on back."
"Thanks." Alice links her arm with mine while we make our way down the hall to Dad's room. I peek in and see him, his back pressed against the headboard, looking at the Las Vegas Sun, his brow furrowed.
"Morning, Daddy. I brought a visitor." He looks up from the paper, setting it in his lap, one side of his mouth trying to curl into a smile.
"Aaaalice."
The smile breaks across her face, and she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Even though she saw him three days ago, it's like it's been weeks. With Alice and I being so close during high school and beyond, she's like a second daughter to him.
"Nnnnew bbblling?" he asks, pointing a shaky finger to the bangles that swing on her wrist.
"Yeah. I just finished them last night. Do you like them?" she asks, twisting her wrist so the fluorescent light overhead catches the silver.
He nods, turning his attention to me. "Hhhow w…was last ni…night?'
"It was good. One of the players won over five hundred thousand dollars." His eyes grow wide. "Yeah, I know. It's crazy. I can't even imagine winning that kind of money."
He shakes his head, holding the paper out to me. "Nnnnew sshow?"
I furrow my brow, sitting down on the opposite side of the bed from Alice and reading the headline at the top of the paper.
Oasis Announces its Latest Production, Dawn
My eyes fall to the stock photo of Edward, looking equal parts handsomely corporate and tempting while he stands with his arms folded across his chest in front of the lobby of the casino. No one should look this good.
"If you're done ogling your boss, maybe you can share with the rest of the class?" Alice's voice breaks me from my haze, and I stick my tongue out at her.
"Looks like we're opening some new acrobatic act at the casino," I explain.
"Eeeclipse t…too," Dad adds.
I scan the rest of the article, nodding. "Yeah, I guess so." I place the paper back on the bed, folding it so I'm not distracted by Edward's picture. "Charlotte said you went for a walk yesterday."
He nods slowly. "Oooonce a… around the nnurses st…station."
I smile, squeezing his hand. "That's great! Feel like going again?"
His eyes dart to Alice and then back to me, a look of sadness overtaking him.
"Mmaayybe l…later," he manages.
"Later my ass!" Alice says, standing up from the bed and holding her hand out. "Come take a walk with us."
He looks between us apprehensively before slowly placing his hand in Alice's, and we begin a new round of baby steps.
WC
"How long do they think rehab is going to take?" Alice asks as we pull into the parking lot behind her store.
"I don't know. The doctors can't be sure. We're just taking the days as they come," I answer quietly, twisting my fingers together.
There's nothing I want more than for Dad to get better. I can't even imagine the emotional strain he's going through. Days like today are huge for him. Seeing him with Alice, hearing his broken laughter, I got a glimpse of who he used to be, and it gives me the resolve to do what I have to do to make sure he gets better; even if that does mean enduring more nights of raging egos in the Twilight Room.
She puts her Honda Civic into park, turning to me in her seat. "He's going to get better, hun. Charlie's never been someone who gives up, and neither can you."
"I won't."
"Good, because this morning, the way you were talking, it sounded like you wanted to."
I reach across the console and hug her. "Thank you for not letting me."
WC
I place my red cloth lunch bag in the employee refrigerator, glancing up with a smile at the black dome that hangs from the ceiling. I wonder who is watching. If he is watching.
Of course he's not watching. The man runs a multimillion dollar casino. He doesn't give a shit about employees in the break room. I shake my head, moving back to the reception desk and quickly get immersed with Emily in checking in the latest crowd of Louis Vuitton welding guests.
It's almost two before I take a breather from reception, and I wonder if Edward even remembers our lunch date.
Date? No, it's not a lunch date. It's a meeting, one which he seems to have forgotten.
I can't seem to get a handle on the foreign feeling that courses through me. I'm disappointed? Hurt? Rejected? I shouldn't be feeling any of those things. I need to keep grounded in reality. My reality, which does not include minimum bets of five thousand dollars.
I think about the amount of money that went through that room last night. It could make such a difference to much more worthy causes than lining the already bulging pocketbooks of the high rollers.
I know that Edward does support various charities. There are frequent fundraising events and various galas that we've had at the casino in the past, which is more than I can say for some of the other casinos in the city.
Still, he could have at least had Mrs. Cope call down to cancel, instead of leaving me here waiting while the anxious feeling gnawing in the pit of my stomach grows with each passing minute.
I close the spa reservation book with more force than necessary. It was just a stupid meeting. A stupid meeting with my incredibly hot boss in his office, where we would have been alone.
I feel my face flush and look up to the elevators in time to see Mrs. Cope emerging. My heart hammers while she glides to me, the mandatory agenda tucked under her arm, her hair pinned back into a tight bun.
She's the picture of calm in a tailored beige suit, her reading glasses perched on her nose.
"I'm sorry, Bella. I should have called down. He ran late with a conference call. He's ready now," she says, smiling warmly.
My mouth goes dry. He's ready… I most certainly am not.
"It's okay," I squeak out. "I mean, if he wants to cancel. It's not a big deal."
"He doesn't want to cancel." I nod, moving out from behind the desk and trying not to pass out. "Aren't you forgetting something?" she asks, her smile inching up further.
I furrow my brow in confusion. "Um, was I supposed to bring something?"
"Your lunch?" she asks in amusement.
"Oh. Yeah. I'll just be a minute."
"Take your time," she says, watching as I leave Emily in charge before moving down the hall and into the break room.
Edward remembered about me bringing lunch. I wonder if he's done the same. What does someone like Edward Cullen bring for lunch with an employee? I open the door the fridge and pull out my lunch bag, tucking it under my arm and returning to Mrs. Cope.
I follow along behind her as she leads me to the private elevator, punching in a code and holding the door open.
I step to the back of the elevator, flattening my hand over the front of my skirt and watching while she presses another code that closes the door and whisks us up. Once again, my stomach is left in the lobby, while I stare out the glass encasement, the casino floor disappearing below us.
"In all the years I've worked for Edward, he's never brought his lunch to work," she says casually, looking up at the digital numbers.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. "He hasn't?" I clutch the bag closer to my chest, going through what I packed for lunch; a Greek salad, some pita bread, and strawberries. Fairly basic. I wonder what he's packed.
She turns to me, shaking her head. "No. It's a first for him."
"Is that a good thing?" I ask tentatively.
"I think it's a very good thing."
The elevator dings, opening to a large hallway with a black marble floor. She holds the door, waiting while I take a step out.
"This way." She turns to the right, our high heels clicking along while we make our way down the longest hallway in history. I try to take it all in, because let's face it, I'll probably never be up here again.
The walls are covered in a rich burgundy paint, art deco paintings on the walls, intermixed with black and white photographs of what looks like old pictures of the Vegas strip.
I glance up to the ceiling, seeing more of the black domes; the eye in the sky. I can only imagine the security system that must be in this place, and for the first time, I wonder how Edward really feels about all of this. It has got to be daunting being in charge of a mammoth operation like The Oasis, and knowing that at the end of the day you are ultimately the one responsible for its success or failure.
It seems to take forever before Mrs. Cope stops at a set of massive, frosted glass doors with the Oasis logo embossed in the centre of each of them.
She opens one of the doors and steps into a huge waiting room, complete with rich coloured hardwood floors, plush black leather sofas and chairs, and floor to ceiling windows.
She moves behind a large, stylish black desk and sits down in front of a computer, typing something on the keyboard.
I stand, gaping at the sheer size of the room and the overstated feeling that engulfs me. It's just like I felt last night; out of place and overwhelmed.
You will not be snarky. Remember what Alice said. You are a smart, confident woman.
"Bella?" Mrs. Cope stops my internal mantra, and I turn to look at her. "You can go on in. Enjoy your lunch."
I manage a smile and move to the imposing mahogany doors, staring up at the copper engraved letters.
Edward Cullen, CEO
With my heart in my throat, I turn the knob and push open the door.
Chapter end notes:
So, mixed emotions for our Bella to deal with.
Thoughts?
Orangina- A delicious carbonated citrus beverage. It's perfect for Sangria, trust me.
If you're reading BTN you know that I recently lost several chapters of my work do to a computer crash. We are now at the point in this story where I am having to rebuild those chapters. This is not an easy process. Update hopefully in the next two weeks.
Twitter: CarLemon