A/N- Thank you to all of you reading, rec'ing and favoriting this story. It means the world to me. Katydid2363- I love you more than you know and I had too much fun talking and giggling with you on the phone. Fngrcufs, dinx, and angstaddict09 thank you so much for your eyes and advice. A special big fat thanks to burntcore for rec'ing this on the Up to Scratch thread! A million kisses to you!

Same warning as with chapter 1. Don't hate me. I'm an equal opportunity kind of gal. With that being said, let's hear from Edward. The song used for his chapters will be, Take Me Back to New Orleans, by Cowboy Mouth.

Stephanie Meyer owns all, except a Green Wave flag (Tulane University) and I don't own one either. GEAUX TIGERS!

*important A/N at the end

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Chapter 2

The Texas sun beats down upon me
Like the devils smile
I'd rather be anywhere else than here
Was it a blinding lack of subtlety
Or just a lack of style
Responding to the ways and means of fear

Take Me Back to New Orleans, Cowboy Mouth

EPOV
October 8, 2005

I stood at the window of my apartment overlooking the New York City skyline. The events of the past month had rocked me to my core. I had been a New York boy since I graduated from college in 2002. For three years now I had lived and worked in this city, but this wasn't home and it never would be. What had happened to my home devastated me. The world around me seemed to want to help in any way possible the city that care forgot but me. Hell, I was too chicken shit to go back. Even after all this time, I was scared to see my beloved city in shambles.

When I left New Orleans it wasn't under bad circumstances. It wasn't like a bad breakup with a girl. We parted on amicable terms. I loved her though, more than any other place in the world yet I could hardly sit and watch a news broadcast in fear that they would show her beauty wrecked.

My parents and sister traveled north when the storm hit. They bunked with me until the all clear was given to return home. My dad had heard though the grapevine from old friends that our neighborhood faired much better than others. After two weeks in New York with me, my family left to return to their roots. My father begged and pleaded with me to go with them. He knew what the answer was without having to ask. It was all too much to witness. I wasn't sure when I would be ready to return, if ever. Some might consider me a fair weather New Orleanian. Only taking pride in my city when something good occurred.

Over the years I had slowly lost my one of a kind accent. It was still there and was more predominate when my family visited. The more time I spent away from her crescent form, the more of myself I lost.

The city was in my soul, it was apart of who I was. Hell, anyone from back home would have constantly reminded me who I was the son of, the illustrious Doctor, a New Orleans legend. All things considered, that may have been a reason for why I left. I wanted to find my own place in the music world without having my father's last name and everything he stood for attached to it. When I moved to New York I changed my last name to Mason, an old family name, and started landing gigs left and right. Before I knew it, I was playing at the Metropolitan Opera House. It was a far cry from the jazz bands my dad was used to playing with. Jazz was in my blood however and I knew that I would always have it running through my veins.

There weren't many people who actually knew of my true identity. My manager, my girl friend, and a few close friends I had made along the way all knew I was really Edward Cullen, not Edward Masen. Then again, these were people who really had no clue how big of a star my father was, nor could tell you the right pieces that made up a jazz band so it wasn't like it really mattered. But those in the music industry who knew of my father spoke of him often. It never failed, as soon as someone realized I was also from New Orleans, the endless questions of did I know 'The Doctor' or had I ever played with him would arise.

My father never understood why I had taken such drastic measures to distance myself from the family name. He stood by me, of course, but he never really fully recognized why I just didn't acknowledge who I truly was. Maybe he never would. New York was my city whereas New Orleans was his, but good God in Heaven did I ever miss New Orleans.

The door to my apartment opened and a slim, petite blonde entered in a trench coat and heels. I surveyed the beauty up and down as she strutted over towards me. Walking slowly, she untied the belt around her waist and dropped the coat so that it fell to the floor. Without breaking eye contact she continued to stalk towards me. I smirked at her little game as I began to walk my own path to her.

She was dressed in a black lace bra and crotchless panties that were held up by a garter belt. She smiled as I drew closer, watching as I adjusted myself. In one swift movement I picked her up. Her long, lean legs wrapped around my waist, the heels of her shoes dug into my backside. Without warning I kissed her hard and fierce. My tongue slipped past her lips tasting the inside of her mouth. She tasted like mint as I ran my tongue over her top teeth. She slid herself lower down my body, rubbing her lower half against my straining erection. I felt her smile against my lips as she pressed her body closer to mine.

My hands began to rub her taut breasts, releasing them from the confines of the lacey material. My kisses dropped to the outline of her jaw and down her neck as she tilted her head back to give me full access, right down to the valley between her store bought tits. I took one in my mouth, sucking on the hard nipple. She moaned in response. I sucked harder causing her to rub herself against my dick. My hands roamed the soft curve of her ass until I was met with the slick center of her sex. I dipped one, then two fingers into her pussy causing her to moan out my name. It was the first word that had been spoken since she had arrived.

My fingers continued to rock themselves in and out of her body while she worked her best to free my throbbing erection from my pants. In that particular moment I was grateful for the loose pants I had chosen to wear that day. The cold air of the apartment hit the tip of my dick as it sprung out of my boxers. I slowly stepped out of my pants that had pooled around my ankles as the woman in my arms stroked my cock. I released my fingers from inside her at the same time she lined herself up perfectly over my tip. She teased me however, slowly grazing it over her wet folds.

"Don't tease me Lauren. I haven't seen you in two weeks," I said huskily as she giggled.

"Miss me much?" she asked shyly as she pulled a condom out of her garter belt.

"Let me show you just how much," I said as she slid the latex down my shaft and then realigned our bodies so that all I had to do was thrust upwards or push her down on my aching dick.

She braced her arms on either side of my shoulders as I began sliding into her body. We both moaned as soon as I fully entered her. Slowly I led us over to the wall so that I could properly work myself in her. Once her back hit the wall I let go. I began to pump furiously in and out. Her nails dug into my skin while her breasts bounced up and down. She wrapped her legs tighter around my waist which pulled my body deeper inside of her.

Sex with Lauren was anything but vocal. Being an opera singer she usually saved any, if at all, noises until she climaxed. Every time she came I was thankful that I lived on the top floor of the building. The neighbors were bound to call and complain if they heard her mezzo-soprano wails. While she saved her outbursts for the end of her performance, I kept mum the whole time. She had told me once how she never liked for a man to talk dirty to her or voice his pleasures during the throes of passion. I obliged because I wasn't a stupid man. I enjoyed sex just as much as the next guy and sex with Lauren was good. All except for the part where I couldn't tell her just how good her pussy felt wrapped around my cock.

I felt her body stiffen as she drew in a deep breath. I knew it was time; she always did this same move as her orgasm began to take over her body. I pumped harder, working myself up to my own finish. Her nails dug deeper and her head fell back. I raised her body up just a hair to allow myself to go just a fraction of an inch deeper. In that one move her walls clamped down and her cries began.

In her operatic voice she called out my name in every language her vocals would allow. I pushed myself as her voice reverberated off the walls of my apartment until I unleashed my seed inside the condom that filled her body. We both panted heavily as we came down from our high. I held her against the wall, gasping for breath. After a minute she pushed my body backwards and slid herself down. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed me gently before waltzing off to the bathroom. I watched as her bare ass left my living room and walked down the hall. Pulling the condom off, I wrapped it in a paper towel and threw it out in the garbage can. Picking my pants up from the opposite side of the room, I pulled them back on and fixed each of us a glass of water.

Lauren and I had been dating for several months. We had known each other since I first moved to New York. She had always been an Opera singer and I occasionally would work as a replacement on a few of the shows she performed in. Work kept both of us busy so it wasn't until I got the permanent position with the symphony that we started dating. As luck would have it, I played in the musical she was currently staring in. Rehearsals and show times were the same so our schedules coincided perfectly. That was until she was called to star in a production in Paris. For the past two weeks she had been in France singing her heart out in french.

I looked up as she re-entered the living room and saw that she had changed into one of her lounge outfits, a cropped shirt and yoga pants. She smiled as I handed her the glass of water. She took a sip before placing it back down on the counter.

"How was Paris?" I asked, interested in how the show had gone.

"Oh Edward, it was amazing! They want me to come back soon and hopefully for a longer stay. Isn't that wonderful?" She radiated happiness as she recalled all that she had done on her trip.

"When do you think you'll head back?"

"Well, we're on hiatus here and they won't start the new season until around Christmas so if all goes according to plan, I'll hopefully head that way after Thanksgiving to start prepping. You know," she said running her hand up and down my thigh. "You should consider coming with me. Can you imagine? Paris at Christmas?"

I shook my head smiling. "No doll I can't but I bet it's amazing."

"Have you heard from your parents any more?" she asked as she made her way over to the couch.

"No. I'm assuming that everything is okay though."

Lauren began to flip through the pages of one of the many magazines I had scattered on my coffee table. I appraised her from my vantage point in the kitchen. She was beautiful, there was no denying that but in all the years I had known her I couldn't find it in myself to love her. Fact of the matter was, I had love for only one girl in my heart and right now I wasn't doing anything to help ease her pain. As I continued to stare at Lauren, taking in her perfect form, her long golden hair, and her perky breasts I blocked out all other noises around me.

"Edward?" I snapped my head as Lauren called my name. "Are you going to get that?"

It didn't even register with me that the phone was ringing. I nodded and made my way to my desk and picked up the phone not recognizing the number on the caller ID. It was a New Orleans area code but other than that, the person on the other end remained a mystery.

"Hello?" I asked picking up the phone.

"May I speak with Edward Masen please?" a woman's voice asked on the other end of the line. I didn't register the voice but she was no doubt one hundred percent from south Louisiana. I smiled at the familiarity of her voice.

"This is he. May I ask who is calling?"

"Um, you don't know me but I was given your numba by Carlisle Cullen."

"Carlisle gave you my number?"

"Yes. My name is Bella Swan and I was wonderin' if you might have a minute to talk with me."

I held up a finger at Lauren who honestly wasn't paying attention to me at all and I stepped outside on the balcony for a little privacy.

"Ms. Swan, I'm listening."

"Bella, it's just Bella. I'm sure you are aware of the tragedies that have struck New Orleans recently."

"Very aware. New Orleans is my home and I hate to see the love of my life so destroyed."

She hesitated before speaking again. "Your home? I'm sorry; you don't sound like you're from these parts."

"Years of living away I'm afraid has hindered my accent. I assure you though, when I'm around my family it comes right back. What can I do for you Bella?"

"Well, my father owns a local jazz club in the Quarter and with the help of some local musicians and Carlisle, we are going to hold a benefit concert to help raise money for local musicians that can't afford to fix their homes or just need assistance in getting home."

"And what does Carlisle think I could do to help?" My curiosity was piqued now. I wasn't quite sure what my father had in mind or what the hell he was thinking having this girl call me.

"He mentioned that you are a cornet player and might be interested in playin' with our house band for the benefit?"

She sounded timid as she asked. I on the other hand was livid that my father had done such a thing. It was his way of getting me to return home knowing good and well I wasn't ready to face the aftermath of Katrina.

"Bella, I'm sure Carlisle had the best intentions when he sought after you to call me but I assure you, I am not interested in participating. Now, if you'd like I'd be more than happy to donate a large sum of money to help out your cause. As a musician and a native New Orleanian, I understand the importance of getting the musicians home."

She paused, thinking over her words no doubt. "Bella, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Listen, I don't know you and I just met Carlisle, but I can't understand how someone who is, as you said yourself, a musician and a native New Orleanian, can sit back and let this happen to their city. I've lived here my whole life. Music is apart of who I am. It's the backbone of this city. How can you just stand back and do nothin' to help bring the heart and soul of this city home?"

"You're right Ms. Swan, you don't know me and you obviously don't know much about Carlisle either."

She cut me off before I could finish my sentence. "I know enough to know that he's one of the greatest musicians to ever come from this city and he's givin' back to it. He apparently has put a lot of faith in you to think that you might consider doing the same thing. I'm sorry I've disturbed you Mr. Masen. Thank you for your time."

Just like that she hung up the phone and I was left holding the receiver to my ear. This woman knew nothing! She had no clue that Carlisle was even my father or how much it pained me to consider coming home. I had offered her money. I offered what I knew I could do for my city and she hung up in my face.

I walked back inside, red with anger. Lauren looked up and smiled patting the seat next to her.

"Who was that?"

"Just somebody wanting money."

"You should get your number blocked Edward. I don't understand why you even give them the time of day."

I laid my head in Lauren's lap as she continued to look though the magazines. Anger was still inside of me while I ran my hands up and down the inside of her thigh. Without thinking, I dipped my finger into the waist band of her yoga pants and tugged on them. She smirked at me but never lifted her eyes from what she was reading. She lifted her body slightly up from the couch. I pulled her pants down and tossed them over my shoulder once they were completely off. I pushed her legs apart at her knees, sliding my hands back towards her thighs. I grabbed the back of her ass and pulled her body forward. She dropped the magazine and looked at me and smiled. Smiling back, I lowered my head and let my tongue do the rest of the work. I needed to hear the mezzo-soprano scream of Lauren to drown out the sexy Cajun drawl of Bella Swan out of my head.

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Sunday morning I woke to the sound of my cell phone ringing. I was alone in bed which wasn't unusual. Lauren never stayed the night. I never asked her to do so and she never made it seem like she wanted to. We both had our own apartments that we paid enough money for. There was no sense in sleeping over unless we had planned on moving in together and I had no plans of that happening anytime soon.

I rolled over and rubbed my eyes. The ringing stopped so I continued to lay there until I was ready to face the day.

Thirty minutes later, I fixed myself a cup of coffee and sat down at my kitchen table with the paper in my hands. As I read though the articles, some about the clean up of New Orleans, others about the people that were still missing, I replayed the conversation with Bella Swan. Who was she and how in the world did she know my dad? Those were questions I never got around to asking before she had rudely hung up on me.

Laughing to myself, I found it typical behavior from a hot-tempered south Louisiana woman. Hell hath no fury like a Cajun woman scorned. But it was more than just the conversation. It was the sound of her voice. It was sexy and deep. She enunciated all the words just right. She called to me for some reason. Maybe it was that she sounded like home and the only other female voices from there I had heard in the last few years were my mom and sister. That had to be it. I had never laid eyes on this woman before. How could I possibly feel drawn to her voice?

My cell phone rang and it took me out of my reverie. I pushed off from the table and grabbed it from the table I had placed it on to charge overnight. Looking at the screen, I saw that it was my dad.

"Good morning dad. How are things?"

"I don't know Edward. You tell me?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He drew in a deep breath before speaking. "It means would you care to explain to me why you offered Isabella Swan money instead of agreein' to jump on the next plane down here?"

"Dad, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. I talked to a Bella Swan yesterday. Not Isabella."

"Bella, sorry, she goes by Bella. Now would you care to elaborate on why she called you every name in the book last night?"

I let out a strained laugh. "Dad, I don't know what you mean. She called out of the blue and asked me to play with a local house band for a benefit concert. She said you gave her my number."

"I did and this just isn't some house band Edward. This is the band of my old friend Charlie Swan and his jazz club in the city. How could you offer her money Edward?"

"Because it was the right thing to do?" I asked, not sure if he would accept that answer. I knew deep down that the right thing to do would have been to accept her offer and see the city and all of its destruction for myself. The right thing to do would have been to make my family happy and return home. Of course, how often do we really do the right thing? Eventually I knew that I would have to get over my fear of seeing New Orleans so distraught but I kept thinking that maybe if I bought myself enough time that she would be somewhat back to normal when I did. Then maybe the pain wouldn't be so hard to bear.

"It was the selfish thing to do!" he yelled. I suppose it was the wrong answer after all. "You should be at the airport right now on your way down here to help your city out."

"Well I'm not dad. What does it matter if I come back or not? It sounds to me like money is what they need to get people back and to rebuild."

"What they need son is the musicians that pride themselves from being from here to show a united front in gettin' people to come home and rebuild. Offerin' money is the easy way out." He sat silent for a moment before he unleashed his second wind.

"You sit there in your fancy apartment in New York pridin' the fact that you are a New Orleans boy. You boast your fleurs-de-lis, your Saints gear and fly your Green Wave flag proudly yet you can't actually come down here and really do somethin' to show the world just how much of a New Orleans boy you really are? Do you have any idea what your mother and sister are doing?" He didn't give me the chance to answer. "They are both out every single day, postin' flyers, going door to door, talkin' to people tryin' to make a difference in the rebuildin'. Yet you offer money Edward."

I didn't have to be face to face with him to know he was shaking his head in disapproval. "I'm sorry Dad but it's all I can do." It was a lie. I could do more. I just wasn't sure if I was ready to do so or not.

"That's bullshit, Edward and you know it. Yes, I know it pains you to see the love of your life beyond help but it's us, the heart and soul of this city, who are the ones that are going to be responsible for her resurrection. Don't you want to be apart of that? Don't you want to be here when bands start marchin' again and the first second line marches through the city?"

"Dad, I just…"

"I got it. You just can't. It's not that you can't, Edward, it's that you won't. Listen, I've got to run. If you change your mind you know where to find me."

The sound of the dial tone hit my ears. Two days in a row now I had been hung up on and honestly, I really hadn't done anything to deserve it. Sure my father had a point. I was copping out and offering money instead of my talent but I just couldn't see where going home was really an option.

The phone rang again, several minutes later, and I hastily picked up it. Without looking at the caller ID, I answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Edward, my man. Guess who I just got a call from?" Tyler Crowley, my manager, asked on the other end.

"I have no idea Tyler. Who?"

"The Doctor. Man, I swear, I get goosebumps every time I hear that man talk. It's a shame you've let a place like New York strip you of your accent."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. "What did my dad say Tyler?"

"Oh, I'm sure you know what he said and I don't get why you don't want to go. Think about it Ed. Big New York musician goes home to help his community. Working alongside his famous father, among other stars, this could be huge, Edward. Huge!"

"I just don't know Tyler. I mean, I haven't been home in years."

"My point exactly. This will show everybody what a compassionate person you are. Not to mention we could somehow work in that you're really Edward Cullen. People are going to eat that shit up when they find out your dad is the Doctor. Think about the possibilities after that. Father and son team up to put out a stellar record with local New Orleans musicians. I'm telling you Ed, the possibilities are endless on this thing."

"So you think I should go?"

"Hell, I think I should go with you. I've always loved me some Cajun food."

"Can I think about it for a couple of days at least? Let you know something maybe at the end of the week?"

"Yeah that ought to work. You've got nothing but time my man. The next show doesn't start until after the first of the year so right now all you've got is time on your hands. Call me when you've made up your mind."

I agreed and hung up the phone. Staring blankly at the wall I contemplated my decision. The sweet sounds of a Cajun woman filled my ears along with the soulful mix of a jazz band. The smell of beignets and coffee and good fried seafood surrounded my thoughts.

Maybe Tyler had a point. Not only would I be doing something to help the city I loved but I could also do something to further my career. Maybe this was a double win for me. That was a selfish thought but in the end it would make everyone happy. Bella would have a cornet player to play this benefit, Carlisle would have his son home, Tyler would be behind an epic album I knew he was already scheming to make and I… I could finally face my fears.

Reaching for the phone, I dialed her number. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hey lover. You coming over?" she answered.

"In a little bit. Hey listen, you maybe want to take a little trip down to Cajun country?"

"Sure why not. I could use the vacation." I imagined her shrugging her shoulders while she flipped through a magazine.

It was settled. I was going to call the airlines and book two first class tickets out of New York headed to New Orleans.

"Pack your shrimp boots," I told Lauren before we got off the phone. I laughed because I knew she'd scour the city the next week in search of a pair of Manolo shrimp boots.

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A/N- Bella got hers so Edward had to get his. I promise again, you won't see any interactions with anyone else unless it's those two together, which will happen, eventually. Just give it time. Okay so a few things.

Burntcore started a thread on twilighted for this story. Come and check it out and play! I'll post teasers and what not's over there. www (dot) twilighted (dot) ?f=44&t=9898

I've started a blog where I'll also post teasers and pictures and music to go along with the story. But… because I can't shut up, I'll talk about other things there as well. I'm a huge American Idol fan (GO LEE!) and I'll post my recaps there as well if you're so inclined to check them out. holly-hollister (dot) blogspot (dot) com.

If you have questions regarding the speaking dialect of the characters or need to hear first hand what they might sound like, you can check the blog out where I have links to help you. The video isn't up yet but when I find a good one it will be on there. In the mean time, think Harry Connick Jr. That's a good example.

Until next week, let me know what you think!

Xoxo
Holly