*Stephanie Meyer owns all things Twilight related.*
Chapter 3
Bella's POV
"So where are we going?" I asked Alice as we walked out of Regina's and headed for the main road.
"I told you. We're going to Drink." She answered simply.
"I know we're going to drink. We drink every Friday. Where are we going to drink?" She laughed and turned to me.
"We're going to drink at a bar called Drink." Of course. I should have known it wouldn't be an ordinary bar. A bar called Drink had to be trendy and hip. I'm knocked out of my thoughts when I crash into her. She had abruptly stopped and twirled around to inspect me or more specifically, my outfit.
"Alice! I thought you said that I was fine. That I didn't need to dress up or change!" I panicked after a couple of minutes of scrutiny. She pouted and gave an award-winning innocent look.
"No…I said you wouldn't have to dress up. But I didn't say that you wouldn't have to change." She smiled her sneaky, loop-hole finding smile. I growl.
"You sneaky ballerina you. I'm not going to do it. I'm not changing!" I yell and whip around looking for an exit. Overdramatic? Yes. But the only way for Alice to get it. She scowls and shakes her head.
"Fine! But how about just adding something?" She asked grabbing me.
"One thing." I put my foot down. She gasped and looked towards Rose who just shrugged and went back to her Blackberry furiously typing an email.
"How about just two things?" she bargained using the infamous pout.
"Okay." Before I even finished agreeing, she was pulling out a dark gray vest and multiple bracelets out of her bag.
"What the heck Alice? Do you just go around carrying clothes and jewelry in your bags?"
"Hey, you never know when you might need emergency clothes!" She smiled. "And besides, I saw you wearing your jeans and striped shirt before you left for work so I figured that you could use something to jazz up your outfit." She explained.
I should have been surprised but I wasn't. I should have known that Alice would have already planned for us to go out tonight. I slipped on the vest and started to button it up but Alice stopped me.
"Leave it opened and wear the bangles." She ordered handing me the bracelets. Then she stood back and surveyed me. I was wearing my jeans, a navy and white striped shirt, the grey vest, silver bangles, and flats.
"Tell me the truth. It's not dressy, right? Like, I won't be underdressed?" I asked fidgeting with the vest.
"No, there's no dress code" answered Alice.
I checked her and Roses' outfits. Rose looked even more cutthroat and Amazonian than normal with her high-powered, black, high-waist pants, edgy red blouse, and high heels. Alice was wearing a self made creation: a dark shirt tucked into a playful floral skirt with high purple heels. I nod, she nods, and we head off to find a taxi to Drink.
On the ride, Rose regaled us with her day at work. She didn't have 'casual Friday' today because of an important meeting with people from England thus the need for the extra fierce outfit. Although, I have to say, a 'casual Friday' outfit for her was still an 'important business meeting' outfit for me. By the time we got to the bar, I found out that men from Britain—while they may have an, oh so awesomely sexy accent, are hardly such. Apparently the English businessmen were uptight and awkward but not in the cute, endearing, gentlemanly way that Hugh Grant or Colin Firth made us females believe. Apparently they are the same as the American horndogs and cutthroats that hit on and try to one up Rose every day.
"I am sick of those assholes!" Rose yelled and gestured as she was stepping out of the cab and onto a sidewalk filled with people. Some had the sobriety and reason to ignore her. While others either already a bit tipsy or just looking for an argument, scoffed, rolled their eyes, and feigned indignity at the offense of supposedly being called assholes.
Rose just looked at them with a confused look and once she realized their mistake. She just shrugged it off and said, "Relax. I wasn't calling you assholes. Self absorbed much?"
You would think I'd be embarrassed by this but after however many years we've all known each other, it was commonplace now. I just shook my head and hoped that this line was going to be a short one. While we waited in line, Rose went on her tirade against her job and the people that she had to deal with everyday. She is a high power executive of something at Bentley Motors. Yes, that Bentley. She's apparently some bigwig in the North American division of the company and has access to any car. People from all over are constantly emailing or sending her things in hopes to get a preview or a showcase or whatever else from her. Even in these poor economic times, there are still the wealthy that want the latest greatest toy.
"Goddamn Jay-Z and Paris Hilton. The stress and crap I have to deal with is their entire fault." I cocked my eyebrow. "Well, he is constantly talking about Bentleys in his songs. Now every rich gangster wannabe and their cousin want one. Also, Paris. Well, she's just ridiculous but somehow people idolize her and want to be just like her. That stupid stunt, getting pulled over in her car was really not what I needed. Now every rich skank wants 'the same Bentley that Paris drove or better'." She said imitating a rich bimbo. I almost felt bad for Rose. She always said that was really the only terrible part of her job, having to deal with rich spoiled people that felt they deserved everything just because of their money, family, looks, or name. She has told us before that there are certain people that she made sure are banned from getting a car, at least directly from the company because they are such 'assholes'.
Ten to fifteen minutes later we're finally by the door and waiting for seats to open up. "Wow, I thought you guys hated waiting in line. What's so special about this place?" I asked. Alice shrugged.
"I heard that it was the new place. It apparently has the best bartenders in town that can make a drink to your mood. You just tell them what you usually like and they create a delicious cocktail for you."
Rose groaned. "So another trendy super bar?" As much as Rose loves to dress up and make men fall to their knees, I know deep down she truly loves to hit a low-key place that wasn't pretentious and complicated. Alice shrugged again.
"They say it's different." She easily replied.
"Well, I guess it's different enough if there's no dress code." I said gesturing to three guys that were leaving. They were in jeans or cargo shorts and shirts. Not even the cool vintage shirts. Alice looked at them wide-eyed. I smiled thinking that Alice must be wondering what kind of hipster place lets in people who probably according to her 'can't dress properly'.
Not even a minute later a perky, Bettie Page bouncer/hostess with flaming red hair and tattoo sleeves came out and led us in to a counter. There were a few other groups that were waiting to find seats at the bar. Rose took one look around and muttered. "Oh hell no. We are not waiting for seats at the bar. I need a drink now."
"Rose, relax. I think there's a waiter." I said pointing out the waiter that was speaking with another group while simultaneously trying to prevent any Rose shenanigans. She just arched her brow. As if sensing her thirsty need, the waiter came right over and asked us what we would like.
Alice with her usual bouncy self answered, "Something sweet and has a cherry. I love cherries."
Rose with her hard day of work answered, "Something that'll cure my Friday. With scotch." She added. He turned to me and I have to say that I was totally lost.
"I don't know." I was going to say my usual easy rum and coke when Alice jumped in. "Give her something that'll give her a kick in the butt." He looked to me for consent and I just nodded and shrugged.
He came with a Manhattan for Alice, a Penicillin for Rose, and a Dark and Stormy for me. We each took a sip of our drinks and simultaneously moaned. My Dark and Stormy was insane. The ginger beer was so spicy and delicious. It was a serious kick in the pants. We looked at each other and laughed. Then we proceeded to trade drinks around so that everyone was able to try all of them. All of the drinks were fantastic and a perfect fit to what we described.
We enjoyed our drinks and after everyone was sufficiently liquored, we jumped into our 'get seats' strategy. This involves three people; it could be done in two but was best with threes. In the first part of the plan, everyone watches the crowd. You have the tallest or quickest persons (Rose and Alice) watching for seats and the last (me) watching the other people that could potentially steal those seats. The second part happens when seats are found. The quickest person (Alice) has to head over and grab the open seats while the tallest and clumsiest (Rose and me) are left to distract and block the other people from stealing found seats. We perfected this routine down to a tee in the years since college and it only took us ten minutes to have prime seating with a very cute bartender team.
We quickly settled into our seats and finished our drinks. Alice was sitting between Rose and me. Rose was sitting next to a couple that was in deep conversation. And I sat next to a pair of blonde girls, one of which clearly thought she was all that and a bag of chips.
Both were furiously flirting with the bartending team. It wasn't hard to see why. Both were tall and muscular. But one was leaner and he had short wavy blond hair and blue eyes that always seemed to be assessing the crowd. The other was a bit more muscular and he had short curly brown hair and these cute dimples that always seemed to deepen with his laugh. Both played off each other. The bartenders made our next drinks explaining and giving us background stories. About an hour or so later, I was finishing my third drink and thinking about my next drink. I asked Blondie.
"What do you think I should get?" He looked at me.
"Well, what do you feel like?" Before I could even form a sentence, Alice jumped in.
"We've been hanging out with you for over an hour. What do you think she'll like?" He looked at her and then me again and smiled. He signaled his partner and they both made a show of huddling to the side and conferring with each other, giving me small glances. After a moment, both smiled and broke apart. Dimples went to refresh someone's drink and Blondie came over.
"Your charming friend tells me that you are a reader-writer." He continued cutting me off from my protest. "And I can tell that you, my dear, are an old romantic soul. My coworker—" he nodded to Dimples, "agrees with me. So, you deserve someone that fits that bill." He said mysteriously. He moved quickly and efficiently around behind the bar and after a moment presented me with the drink. "Meet Bobby Burns, the most famous and beloved Scottish poet." He said shooting a quick bow. I had to laugh.
"Thank you so much. Bobby and I have rarely had a chance to speak since college." I played along. He nodded and went back to speaking with Alice. The drink was delicious of course and Alice and Rose were on their way to getting the bartenders' numbers.
I nudged Alice when the bartender had to leave and mix a drink for someone.
"Alice, I'm getting tipsy. I'm calling a last round." She pouted about to argue but she saw me and nodded. She leaned over to Rose and passed the message. She glanced over to me and nodded. Now, my plan was to nurse this drink so that I could be giddy-normal when we got home but then I realized with the development of this cute bartending duo, I was going to be hearing a lot about them. So I decided to grab a final drink and hope that I'll be allowed to head straight to bed once we got home and be spared the initial cute new boy gushing.
Edward's POV
We didn't even polish off the Chinese food when Carlisle and Esme started to gather their things to leave for their early morning meetings and appointments.
"Aw, you guys leaving so soon?" I asked. It was nine o'clock.
"Don't worry. We know how tough it is for an old bachelor like you to have to spend your Friday night with your Mom and Dad." Esme teased. Carlisle laughed. Even though it was warm earlier, once the sun had been down for a few hours, the air was a little cooler. After helping Esme into his jacket, he clapped me on the back.
"Be good, Edward. Tell the boys we said hi and that we'll see them on Sunday." After arguing about who was keeping the leftovers and seeing them off, I came back to my apartment and gazed around at the finished interior. Even if there hadn't been a mix-up with the movers and I had gotten my furniture on time, my apartment would still not look like this. Esme has a knack for taking things and putting them together and making them seem as if they completely belonged together.
I walked around the place, finally having a chance to look at everything together. The apartment, or condo as the real estate agent called it, was large. It wasn't uncommon for condos in this building to be large. The building was old and had lots of smaller apartments. But when the area started to become popular again, the interior was renovated into fewer but larger condos. They almost all had high ceiling and large windows that ran the length of the walls.
When you entered my apartment, it opened up to the main area. Next to the door was a place you could hang your coats and hats. On the left side, there was another door which led to a powder room as Esme calls it. If you walked in a bit more you would pass by the kitchen on the right. Then once you cleared the kitchen, the living area was open. One wall was basically just large windows that continued from the floor to the ceiling. On the left side, there were three steps that led up to the private area. There were two bedrooms and a bathroom. One of the rooms was my bedroom while the other was a guest room/office. On the right was an exposed brick wall which was covered in floating shelves and housed my entertainment system that was set up and ready to be used. In front of it was a huge, cream-colored sectional and darker square ottoman. According to Esme, it was a 'bit modern but perfect for modern bachelor'. I liked it because I could lay on it and stretch out comfortably. Thinking of stretching out, I went to sit on my couch but it was filled with pillows. I had to laugh. I don't know what it was with Esme and pillows or 'finishing touches' as she called them but they were always a nuisance. I just moved them off the couch and stretched out.
This is the life.
The only thing that could make this better would be a long hot shower and shave with normal sized products. Then maybe I'll get some work done or maybe I'll finally listen to that new album on a decent sound system instead of my laptop. I was going to grab my briefcase to bring into my room when I passed by my room.
Eh. I'll decide while I shower and shave. I strip down and step into my shower. Okay, I thought showers were no big deal. It's just so you can clean yourself. However, after cramming a week's worth of moving into a day, showers became a big deal. Or maybe it was the fact that I didn't have to worry about unpacking everything or that I might not have a clean towel to use. In any case, that was the best shower I ever had. Even better than after those countless summer camping trips my family use to take. The feeling I got when I stepped out of my shower and into my finished clean room was the best. All of my things were put away. So, when I pull open drawers, there would be clean clothes. No more living out of a suitcase. I sat down on my bed and looked around.
Finally. I have my own place.
All of these places exist in Boston and I have been to each of them and tried each of these things. None of the places or stuff mentioned from the places are my property.