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Chapter 4- Out of Place
BPOV
"You file these papers like this…oh, and make sure to call Carlisle or Charles if an emergency happens. Sometimes the boys will get hurt or have an accident on the road and will call us," Mrs. Cope tells me. I'm not sure I'm listening.
My mind is still under a heavy cloud. This was the first morning in months that I got up, showered, brushed my hair and tried to put some decent clothes on that weren't wrinkled.
The shrink said I have to start living life like a normal person and not some depressed woman who lost her fiancée and can't get over it.
I can't get over it.
"Honey, are you listening?"
I shake my head, trying to clear out my thoughts.
"Of course, Mrs. Cope."
"Well…" she takes a deep breath and gives me a look full of pity. She takes my hands in her much older freckled ones. "It must be awful to lose the one you love like you did, but you must know that Jesus will help you overcome this. You still have life," she tells me.
I gently pull my hands out of hers. "I don't feel it," I whisper to myself.
~RN~
"You actually started at a good time, Bella," Angela tells me. She's been sort of nice to me since the morning. I don't know if it's because she feels bad for me or because I look like shit. But she was never like this with me in high school. She was always a bitch and hated me for no damn reason. I think she hated me because my family has money and she comes from white trash parents.
Yeah, envy. That's what it was.
"Everyone gets paid today so we have to file their paychecks in their folders. They'll come in during lunch or after their shift to pick em' up or they have their wives get em."
I don't say anything and just nod. I head over towards the front computer of the office and try to do some work. It's not much. Anybody with brains could do this job, but I take my time. I don't want to go home.
Throughout the day, themen start coming in to get their checks.
They are the most disgusting individuals I've ever seen and had to listen to.
Sweaty, dirty and shameless assholes. They eye me from head to toes and even make suggestive remarks that I pretend not to hear.
"You'll get used to that," Angela says. "I once flipped one off and he stopped, but then I did it to another one and he liked it and wouldn't stop bothering me. I just made it worse! But what can you do about it? They're just men."
I look at her as if she's grown two heads. "Are you serious, Angela? That's sexual harassment."
"Well that got you talk in,'" she laughs. "I don't worry about it too much, Bella. They just like seeing women after a long day."
"That's not an excuse. You should tell my dad, he would put a stop to it."
She nervously looks around and then back at me. "Lower your voice, Bella, I don't want to get fired."
"Why would you get fired?"
"It's just that everyone knows boys will be boys and Charles doesn't like whiny secretaries."
"That's ridiculous," I mutter.
She starts typing at her own computer again, with her long nails. That sound and her voice have been driving me further into insanity. "Besides, it's not so bad when the cute guys do it," she starts up again. "But then it sucks when the ones you want don't. Like him for example."
I look up to see who she is talking and then he walks into the office.
It's him.
Green eyes.
The stranger from church.
He pays us no attention while he takes off his dirty uniform jacket, leaving him in a dirtier white t-shirt that sticks to his fit body. I stare at his biceps as they flex with his movements. I trace the strong vein there, up until it disappears under his shirt.
I shake my head.
What the hell?
He folds the jacket over his arm and finally looks our way.
"Good afternoon, ladies," he says. He's the only one that has showed any decency around here all day. He pauses when he notices me. His eyes widen and I can see how his mouth drops a little. "Hello, Ms. Isabella. How are you this afternoon?"
"Fine," I say coldly. "May I help you?" I ask, again in an icy tone. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why I'm acting this way.
"I need to pick up my paycheck," he says, unaffected by my attitude.
"Name?"
"Edward Masen."
I dig through the files until I find the envelope with his check. I toss it across the wooden desk that stands between us.
I place my hand on my waist, raise an eyebrow and dare him to say anything else.
He isn't doing anything!
He smiles to himself, takes his check, shoves it in the right pocket of his dirty jeans and gives me a nod.
"Have a great afternoon, Miss," he says and leaves.
That's it? That's all he has to say?
"Um, why were you so rude to him?" Angela asks.
I ignore her and return to my computer. "I wasn't."
She laughs. "Ooookay. If you say so. He's a nice guy. Very reserved. He ain't like most of the pigs that came in today."
"Angela, please let it go. I need to concentrate on my work and don't have time for gossip or fooling around," I say.
Her eyes fall.
She doesn't say anything else to me for the rest of the afternoon.
~RN~
"Bella?"
"Hey, Lauren."
"Oh, wow. You're calling me? Are you okay, hon?"
"I'm calling you. Isn't that a good sign?"
She giggles, but we've been friends since first grade, so I know that laughter isn't honest.
"Yeah, I guess it is good. What's up?"
"I was wondering…I was just thinking…maybe you and Tanya would like to have coffee or something at Starbucks. I haven't really talked to you guys in forever."
"More like in sixmonths. Coffee does sound great!"
"So it's a date. What time?"
"Oh no, sorry, Bella Boo, we're in Austin right now."
"Austin?"
"Yes, we're on vacay."
I don't understand and I try not get upset. "Why didn't you guys tell me? Maybe I would have come."
"You wouldn't have, babe. Besides, you're just getting better. Why would you want to jump right in? You know Austin is a crazy party town."
I take a deep breath and try to reason with my friend. "Okay, that's okay…it's okay, right?"
"Of course! We'll see you when we get back. Kisses, friend! Bye!" She says cheerfully and hangs up.
I lie back down and try not to think of anything.
But there's no use.
~RN~
"Mom, you have to take me to work."
"What?"
"I woke up late and Dad already left."
She laughs and continues shopping online. "Hon, just take the day off."
"You know I can't. This is a real job, Mom."
"You're working for Daddy. It's not a real job."
"Mom! Please help me get out of this house."
"Here," she says and hands me her keys. "Just take my car."
I haven't driven since…
"Okay. Thank you."
Interstate 20 is crazier than I remember. I hold onto the steering wheel for dear life until my hands hurt. I don't realize I've arrived to the oilrig until Angela knocks on my window.
"You comin'?" she asks.
I nod and follow her into the office.
It's another long day. Angela and Mrs. Cope don't even try to make conversation with me today. They bicker and gossip about people and faces I don't know.
I stare at my computer screen. At times I catch myself thinking of nothing at all. No images. No thoughts. I just sit in my office chair, waiting for something to happen.
It's almost lunchtime. I don't know where I'm going to go. I really don't want to drive anywhere.
I don't want to die.
I sip on some water in the back. Charlie is talking to someone in his office and I try not to listen, but he's loud. He's always been a loud man.
"I don't care what it takes. I don't care if they have to sweat extra. Get that damn pipe fixed!"
"Yes, sir."
"And if you can't fix it, Jasper, I'll find someone to replace you faster than you can say Jesus Christ. Now get out of my office and don't come back with sorry ass excuses."
Suddenly the door opens and Jasper Whitlock, former part of my high school circle, and Peter's goodfriend, walks out.
He's drenched in black oil and sweat. He looks discouraged and stressed out of his mind until he sees me. "Hey, Bells. How are ya'?"
I just nod. "Good."
His dad always had good money, until he died. He left his wife and son a big house and a few debts. They paid off the debts with the money that was left, and now he works for my Dad. Everyone thinks he's still wealthy, but my Dad said he's broke as hell and that I shouldn't have any of my friends date him.
"I'm glad you're working," he says and places his trucker hat over his sweaty blonde curls. "Have a great day, Bella. If you ever need anything, let me know." He starts walking away and I stare as he drags his heavy boots across the floor.
I feel bad for him. I wonder if my father is like that with everyone or if Jasper just screwed up.
"Bella?" Mrs. Cope calls.
"Yes?"
"An Alice Brandon is here and asking for you."
"Alice?" I ask in disbelief. I've been ignoring her calls and texts, just like I've done with everyone else and haven't seen her in months. I walk to the front to find the short and tiny dark haired girl, standing there with flowers in her hands.
"Bella!" She screeches, and without waiting for my reaction, runs into my arms and tightly hugs me. "I've been trying to get in contact with you for ages! How are you? Do you wanna grab some coffee? Starbucks is busy as hell, but maybe we can manage to grab a table."
I freeze, take a deep breath and just nod.
She squeals with joy, takes my hand and leads me out the door and to her car. As we drive off, I notice Jasper staring at us.
"Have you noticed Jasper Whitlock and the looks he gives me?" She asks. "Like I don't know if he likes or hates me…anyway, how have you been, Bella?"
I smile.
I actually smile for once.
I can hear the honesty in her voice.
"I'm alive," I answer.
"Are you sure? Because I think my definition of alive is different from yours."
"Perhaps."
"I guess we'll have to fix that," she says as she gets her small, blue Ford Focus onto I-20.
"I just remembered thatI left work without even asking!"
Alice throws her head back into a laughing attack.
"We'll fix that too. I'll say I forced you. Anyway, let's listen to some non-country, hipster shit!"
I giggle as she shoves her iPod into my hands so I can plug it into her sound system.
I think I still have some life left and I owe it all to my crazy friend, Alice…the liberal feminist.
My mother and father would be horrified.
I smile to myself at the thought.
~RN~
Alice Brandon talks to me about, music, movies, books and more books. She talks about shopping. She talks about her trip to Canada and how she's working two jobs just to afford it. She talks about how she wants a tattoo on her back and wants to join the Democrat group at the university. She asks me about all of the above and never about how I'm feeling, Peter, my injured leg, therapy or the accident. She also just listens to me. Doesn't judge me or question what I'm going through.
She just listens.
And I think I love her.
I don't know why it took me so long to realize again how amazing she is.
But my joy to have her back in my life doesn't last long. Before I know it, I find myself staring at my mashed potatoes as my parents, along with the Smiths and thePrestons talk about their trips to Las Vegas and Costa Rica.
They talk about ski boats, buying homes in different cities for their vacations and shit I can't force myself to care about anymore. I excuse myself from the table and my parents don't seem to mind.
I cry myself to sleep, not knowing how else to handle the sadness in my heart.
~RN~
Mom once again let me drive her car to work today.
It was making a strange noise when I tried starting it, but once it roared with life, I ignored it and headed to work.
My leg is killing me today. I haven't been to therapy all week, but I sure will need to take myself soon. Mama is busy with the Prestons. They're planning another trip and Dad is busy with the company. He says Carlisle has been slacking lately.
I sit at the front desk wincing in pain at the computer. I broke the femur and tore some muscles. It hurts like hell once in a while, andI get bad cramps that drive me insane.
"You alright?" I hear his husky voice ask. I turn my head up and find his green eyes filled with genuine worry for me.
Even though I'm a prideful woman, I dare myself two seconds to wander the features of his face. More stubble on that jawline and oil stains on his cheeks…
"I'm fine!" I snap. "What do you need?"
At first he doesn't answer and just studies my face. I don't know what he's looking for. Is he expecting for me to give him the answers to whatever questions he has about me? I don't need his inquiries or for him to waste my time.
"I just need to know if I can talk to Mr. Swan? He asked for me to come."
I sigh in annoyance with him. "What's your name again?"
Edward Masen.
Of course I know his name.
"I'm Edward Masen," he answers gently.
Why doesn't he react? Why doesn't he yell back? Is he alive? Is he awake? I wish he would just say something!
"Yes, he's in a meeting right now, but sit down and I'll get you when he's ready for you," I say.
He gives me a good nod and heads over to one of the chairs in the waiting area. I try to busy myself and keep my glances away from the man that my eyes seem to wander to.
I take a quick glance and make sure he can't see me staring.
There are small scars on his face and his nose looks like it's been broken before. I can see ink under his sleeves. I wonder what kind of tattoos that Edward White Trash Masen is into.
I suddenly guilty for calling him that.
I don't know why. I think of it for all the dirty men that come in here.
There are the dirty Mexicans with their staring, the occasional black guy with a bad attitude and then the white trash. They all have things in common though. Besides looking poor and dirty, they work for my dad. They chose this hard manual labor. They all probably sucked in school or dropped out to do drugs, and now they're stuck doing this. They'll always be stuck in Odessa, Texas.
Suddenly the guilt of thinking about Edward Masen like that goes away. He looks just like all of them.
I wonder how Edward Masen was in school or how he was overall when he was younger. I bet he did a lot of stupid shit and maybe even drugs. I bet he's even been in jail. He looks like the jail type. I bet he gets drunk sometimes.
Unlike Peter.
Pete was such a great guy.
"He's ready for you," I tell Masen.
He smiles at me; actinglike a damn gentleman as he nods and thanks me before disappearing intomy dad's office.
That's how it goes for the rest of the week.
He'll come in, I'll be rude and ask for his name, even though I already know it, and ask him to wait even though dad is ready for him.
He's never rude and never loses his patience with me. For a rough looking man, he sure is gentle with his words and mannerisms.
"May I help you?"
He gives me a smile. It's one of those kind of smiles you give people when they're being hateful but you're trying to have patient with.
"Yes, I need to speak to Carlisle."
"Your name?"
He smiles again. "Edward Masen…same as yesterday," he says.
I glare at him, but that doesn't bother him one bit.
"Well, Masen, Carlisle is busy right now, so why don't you take a seat?"
"I sure will. Thank you," he says and heads over to the same seat as always.
It's silent for a while. The only sound is my keyboard as I type up reports for Dad.
"Have you ever gone to the beach and dug your toes into the sand?" He suddenly asks.
I raise my eyebrow at him. "Excuse me?"
"It's a hell of a lotta fun. Of course there ain't no beach or even water around these parts, but South Texas does. Sit on the sand, let the sun hit ya' on your skin and let it warm up your soul. Throw in a few beers and that's heaven for sure."
"What are you even talking about?" I ask, because I'm really confused as to where this conversation is going.
"I used to have this buddy, Rick, he used to make the meanest Bar-B-Q chicken in Texas. He would turn on some country music, invite some ladies over and dance the night away."
I continue glaring at him.
"Those memories make me smile," he says. "I'd rather think of those things than about my father for example. He's the meanest son of a bitch in all of Texas. He used to grab a fly swatter and beat the shit out of me when I would act a fool. But I don't try and ruin my day thinkin' bout him. I'd rather be thinkin' of my toes in the sand and margaritas."
"He's ready for you," I tell him, trying to ignore his blabber.
He chuckles and walks towards me. He places his hands on top of the counter.
"Maybe you can think of things that make you smile, Ms. Swan. It'll do you some good. God knows you need to from time to time to save your soul."
He walks away, leaving me staring at my computer screen with no words to throw back at him.
~RN~
"You stupid car!" I shout.
My eyes start to tear up. I know I shouldn't be crying like an idiot, but I am. I'm just tired and frustrated. I just want to get home.
I turn the key again, hoping the car will come to life, but it doesn't.
I cry into my hands feeling bad for myself because I don't know what to do. Dad is out in the fields and I don't know who else that could help me.
"You need help?" He asks. I jump at his sudden appearance outside my window.
"No!" I shout.
He chuckles.
"I think it's your battery. You might need a new one. It don't sound too good."
"Well, Daddy can fix it."
"You're right, but he won't be back until late tonight. I could help you."
I wipe my face and look at him.
The sun is behind him, lighting the whiskers of his almost beard and the small hairs on his arms. His green eyes wait for me to answer him. They're bright too, and a wonderful contrast to his pale but reddened skin and dark hair. They are patient eyes. They wait for me.
They wait for me to let him help me.
"Can you help me?" I ask.
He chuckles again. "Sure. Open the hood."
"How do I do that?!" I ask in panic.
"Calm down, princess. Just hit the button with the picture of a hood being opened."
I throw another glare at him, but go in search of this stupid button. When I finally find it, I jump in my seat and press it. When I hear the hood become unlocked, I look over to Masen to make sure he knows I'm not stupid, but he doesn't care.
He walks over to the front of the car and starts inspecting it.
What if he steals something?
I get out of the car and stand by his side.
He's tall!
So much taller than me. My head barely reaches his pecs.
"Yeah, it's the battery. You won't be able to fix it. You need a new one. I can jump start it and you can drive it to a mechanic, but I can't guarantee that you'll make it all the way to one."
"What?! I thought you were supposed to help me?"
"I am! I'm tellin' ya what to do! I'm givin' ya the options.
"You're not giving me any options! You're just telling me I'm screwed!"
"Well you could do that or you could ride with me. I'll take you to a good shop, I'll show you what battery you need, you buy it, I drive you back and install it for you and problem solved."
I take a deep breath. I look around, hoping someone else will help me, but Edward Masen is all I have.
"Fine, but if you hurt me my daddy is a very important man and he'll…"
"Yeah, yeah princess, he'll kill me, now just follow me to my truck."
"Don't call me that," I shout, as I follow his foolish ass to his truck. I huff and puff as I try to catch up. He doesn't even wait for me. He walks too fast and my leg hurts, but he isn't even looking back or giving a shit.
"Then don't act like one."
"I am not! Wait for me! You walk too damn fast."
"Well, we're on a mission. We ain't got time for slowness."
"I have an injured leg, asshole!"
He chuckles. "Well rub some dirt on it and get movin.'"
"I think you were raised by apes, you damn animal."
"If only I had been so lucky."
"Ugh."
We finally get to an old, beat up Chevy truck. It has a few dents and the color is fading away.
"This is what you're driving me in?"
He chuckles again. "Yes. Ain't she a beauty? Unlike your fancy car over there, its battery does work. Oh, let me open the door for ya.'"
I roll my eyes and raise my hand to stop him. "I don't need your help to open a goddamn door."
He laughs loudly. "I know you ain't a cripple, but this damn door don't open easy. Just let me do it for you. I know its tricks."
I huff and let him open the door.
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