Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight.
Chapter 2
"Wait! I'm coming!" Bella waved as she ran towards the parking inspector, pulling up flushed and panting as she fumbled for some spare change. "Please, I'm begging you!"
The Inspector levelled her with a weary look and sighed. "Miss, you only bought ten minutes' worth of parking, and you've been here for at least an hour."
"I know, I was running late and didn't have enough change." She proffered what she hoped was a winning smile and a handful of coins. "I just broke a note and bought some chocolate, so if you'd like an afternoon snack you're welcome to that too." She tried to look suitably apologetic.
"What were you late for?" The inspector wore a resigned expression on her weather beaten face. She was not expecting that this excuse would be any different to the hundreds of others she had heard before, and she had heard plenty in her years on the job. Also being the mother of two teenage daughters made her repertoire of available excuses even more extensive.
"I had to interview someone about a film they're in."
This got a flicker of interest. "Oh?" she replied, with raised eyebrows.
" Yeah, some new vampire film. I haven't had a chance to actually see yet, it's …"
"Bitten! You're talking about Bitten? Who did you see?"
Bella paused. The inspector was looking animated now, so she decided to press her advantage.
"Edward Cullen, he's the …"
"Oh my lord, are you serious?" Definitely excited, and yet this woman was surely old enough to be his mother. Wow. Edward wasn't joking.
"Sure, hang on, I'll prove it." A quick dig through her tote bag produced an extra press kit she had snaffled on the way out. She watched with quiet amusement as the inspector flicked through the folder, admiring the postcard publicity stills and articles. "You can have that if you want it, I've got another I can use for my prep work."
"Really? Oh that's wonderful." For someone that was used to unhappy customers, this was obviously an unexpected highlight in an otherwise dreary day. She looked around furtively for a moment. "Go on, get outta here."
"Oh no, you're wonderful!" Bella could have hugged her. It wasn't often that she got a lucky break, praise be the powers of Hollywood. She keyed the lock on her Chevy door and made to throw her bag onto the passenger said. "Wait, do you want some of the chocolate as well?" It was part of the original bribe offer after all.
"Don't worry honey," the press kit was patted lovingly. "I've got all the candy a 'sugar Mommy' needs right here."
Bella laughed. For a reluctant freelance article, Edward Cullen was already paying dividends.
After another a quick search through her totebag, she flipped open her cell phone. Five missed calls from Angela. Poor girl. She'd be so excited about the interview, but thanks for a last minute head cold from hell, she had to call in a favour to send Bella as a proxy. She'd be dying to know all the details. Bella debated about giving her a call, but after seeing the Inspector tuck the press kit under her arm to issue a ticket on a less fortunate commuter, decided she'd better not press her luck. A quick stop at a liquor store for a bottle of bubbles, and she was on her way.
* * *
"Do you know how many times I tried calling you this afternoon? I need to know everything."
Red eyes and runny nose aside, Angela looked excited as she greeted Bella and practically hauled her into the apartment. She was still dressed in her pajamas from that morning, and by the looks of the couch had been self-medicating with daytime television.
"Poor you, are you feeling any better?"
"My cold seems to be a bit better, but I don't think the pain of missing out on Edward is ever going to go away." This pronouncement was made with a heavy sigh as she dropped against the cushions, rolling her eyes sadly for maximum effect. "I can't believe I had to end up sending someone else."
"Not just anyone else, your best friend."
"True." She agreed.
"What can I say? You needed me, I needed money, it was a perfect solution."
"Except that you were the one seeing the man of my dreams while I've been surrounded by tissues."
"You'd better not let Ben hear you say that."
"Ben, schmen." Angela waved a hand dismissively, but promptly looked guilty for her apparently easily dismissal of her devoted boyfriend. "Come on, you've met him now, you have to agree that he's pretty good."
"He was …" Bella took a moment to consider as she sat down on the couch with the bottle * and two glasses. "Really nice."
"Nice? Nice? Most women I know would walk over broken glass to get to him, and all you can say is that he's nice?"
"Well, yeah." She felt defensive for some reason, and suddenly opening the wine bottle took all her attention. "It was a really great interview, I got some great quotes. He was really talkative, and … what?"
"I can't believe this." Angela shook her head slowly, and then blew her nose.(")
"You sound like a lovesick goose." The cork came free with a large pop and Bella began to pour.
"Don't change the subject. Now you," she pointed a stern finger at Bella, "have just interviewed one of Hollywood's hottest actors right now, after I've spent weeks jiggling that interview time with press secretaries over and over again. I finally think I get my moment with my favourite hottie – Ben's not here so I can say that without fear of incarceration – and I turn into a biohazard." Another nose blow. "So I pull some strings, call in some favours and get my bestest buddy who I know can write rings around everyone else I know, and she agrees to take the gig."
The tissue was discarded and she took the proffered glass from Bella. She was clearly warming to her topic. Bella poured herself a glass and leaned back against the cushions.
"And so she gets to meet Mr Wonderful, and I get to sit on the couch and fester all day."
"Ewww" Bella brushed invisible germs off the seat.
"And then she gets home, and I rise up like the Phoenix from my deathbed," a pause and long suffering sigh, "to let her into my home, and what do I get in return? He's nice."
The two women stared at each other for a moment and then began to laugh.
"Oh alright then, what do you want to know?"
"Only everything."
"Okay," Bella agreed after a moment of silence. "He was … gorgeous. I don't know how else to describe him really. People like him just don't exist. And he really was nice. I know it sounds cheesy, but it's true! He stood up when we met, he came across as being a really genuine guy, and … " Bella looked at Angela who was gazing at her intently, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "Oh fuck it, he was totally hot."
"Amen to that sister!" They laughed and chinked their glasses together in lusty appreciation.
* * *
"I think I'm dying."
The announcement was from Angela.
"You're not dying, you just can't think of anything better to do."
"I think my cold has gone, but the rest of me has completely given up the ghost."
What had started with champagne had continued with chinese take-out, and then completely degenerated with whiskey and icecream, all accompanied with a viewing of Edward Cullen's last four movies. Bella had to hand it to Angela, she knew how to pick 'em. The man was good.
After waking up the following morning with a pounding head and a dry mouth however, Bella's thoughts had moved beyond Edward and were focussed entirely on water and breakfast. She got up and gingerly made her way into the bathroom, groaning with relief as the jets of hot water hit her.
Showered, dressed and feeling moderately human, she scuffed her way into the kitchen. Angela was already there, slumped over the morning paper nursing a glass of orange juice.
"Coffee … where's coffee?" That couldn't be her voice, it sounded too raspy.
Angela shakily indicated the coffee pot, and the room was silent again. Eventually Bella finished her cup and put it down, trying to do so as quietly as possible.
"I need food."
"I need to know why the Sandman decided to skip sending me nice little dreams about Edward Cullen taking his shirt off, and filled up my mouth with the Sahara."
"We need to get out of here and get something greasy. Tell me there's somewhere in this town where I can get a recovery breakfast that's so bad my arteries will slam shut just by looking at it."
"I know the place."
"Are you sure?" Bella was sceptical.
"Trust me."
"Like I haven't heard that before."
"Hey, trusting me got you time with Mr Wonderful."
"You have a point."
* * *
It didn't seem right that so much congealed fat could actually cure a hangover, but perhaps she was living in an age of wonders after all. After fortifying themselves with a breakfast that would have satisfied a team of passing lumberjacks, Angela had gone to work, leaving Bella to her own devices for the day.
Returning to Angela's apartment, Bella had tidied up the remnants of the evening, opened all the windows to let the remaining dinner smells to dissipate, and set to work. She set up her laptop at the kitchen table, poured herself some water and got started.
Four hours later, she had a completed draft that she was happy with. Edward was surprisingly easy to write about, and his quotes had fit in well with the tone or the article. She had minimal experience with celebrity interviews, and generally likened them to pulling teeth. Edward had been a surprise. Their conversation had flowed easily, he had elaborated enough detail for her to create an article that felt genuine. Either he was the real thing, or his acting skills were immensely better than anyone realised.
She emailed the article to Angela, and began to shuffle her papers together. She paused, picking up a postcard from the press pack. Damn he was gorgeous. She caught herself mooning over the artful picture, and promptly filed it away.
He's a movie star. That means he's meant to date other movie stars.
They had met because it went with their job descriptions. They had met, talked and laughed, and then they each returned to their separate worlds, and their paths would never intersect again. She shopped at The Gap, and he got bespoke suits by Armani. She drowned her dating sorrows with her girlfriends and tubs of icecream, he had to read about his latest breakup on the cover of Us Weekly.
Anyway, Bella told herself with a brisk internal shake, she was happy with her life. She didn't swim in the goldfish bowl of fame, she could come and go as she pleased. The only problem was, the gloss she put on her life seemed to pale that little bit when it was next to Edward's megawatt smile.
Unable to help herself, Bella scrolled through interview notes she'd taken at the hotel.
"I love the fans, but sometimes I just don't know what to do. Some of them scream, others just stand there and shake. Still, I'm incredibly grateful that I've got that kind of following. The day it all ends is when I know the party's over."
"Do you have any acting heroes of your own?"
"Oh sure, Paul Newman, Robert Redford and Jack Nicholson. Those guys are pure class, but they never forgot where they'd come from either."
"How so?"
"I read somewhere that Newman knew exactly what his fans liked, and used to joke that his tombstone would read 'Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes suddenly turned brown' …"
They had both laughed at that.
"It just goes to show that he never forgot what people wanted him to deliver. He pushed boundaries for sure, but he did it in a way that meant he stayed true to himself, and did what interested him."
"And that's important to you too?"
"More than anything. The day I start believing my own hype, I'm outta here."
She closed the document, and snapped her laptop shut. He was just a man, normal like everyone else. He just happened to do a job that got him a lot of attention.
And he had certainly caught hers.
* * *