Too fucking early

Too fucking early, and far too fucking cheerful, Seth called on Saturday morning.

"Site visit! Remember?" he practically sang.

"What the fuck time is it? Why didn't you get drunk last night and why aren't you hungover now?" I snarled down the phone. "Don't tell me - you're a goldfish collecter. You don't have a social life, you spend Fridays sitting fascinatedly in front of your aquarium."

"Oh, I socialize and I drink, Sleepyhead. But I can handle it," he replied. "Are you safe to drive?"

"Yes, I'm fucking safe to drive. Whether I'm safe to be in company is another question," I said, but something I'd come to notice about Seth was that nothing seemed to faze him. Dude had unshakeable equilibrium.

"Oh, you'll be all right," he answered. "Get yourself here, I'll take over the wheel, we'll put on some rockin' music and you can just watch the scenery fly by. It's a real nice trip out to Forks. Nobody could be in a bad mood unless they hate green."

As he spoke I was lurching around, getting my head together. Site visit. Forks. Whoa - just a minute!

"Guess Bella needs to come. I'll go downstairs and fetch her, and she can ride shotgun," I said, finally feeling wide awake.

"No need, she's here. She's heading off straight after we've had breakfast, but I'll wait for you," Seth said. So casually. Meanwhile, I staggered towards the bathroom and my dresser jumped out and attacked me. I swear it broke my fucking toe.

"Bella's at your place?" I almost stammered.

"Yeah, man. She drove up last night to see Jake."

Stop right there.

Who the fuck is - "Jake?"

"That's what she always seems to do lately. I swear, since I organized the garage and set it up for him he's the main reason she's around. I mean, she's working really hard on the wedding, and she's doing her editing stuff from my place, but after a couple hours she's saying, Oh I'll just go and make sure Jake has something to eat, Oh Jake really should get some fresh air, Oh Jake and I will probably head down to the park - can I take your frisbee?"

So. Jake is someone who needs food and fresh air and frisbees, and he lives in Seth's garage.

Jake must be - a dog? And Seth keeps him in the garage because otherwise Jake would eat the goldfish. And wag his hairy tail and break things. And do smelly dogfarts.

"Look, Seth, I'll just get myself together and I'll come on over. Give me, say, three hours," I said.

He snorted. "You're going to be together and here in three hours?"

"Laugh at me, face death," I warned. Shit knows how, but we'd evolved a pretty funny way of talking to each other. I really fucking liked the guy. His work was great, his work ethic was great, and he was very cool. I would probably even like his stupid spaniel. Of course, Seth wasn't right for Bella, and I was going to have to tell him so at some stage soon, but I would be more than happy to help him find his own true love, because he deserved to. There were a zillion lovely girls out there who would love a boyfriend like him. Shit - I could even set him up with Ginger.

"Do you like red hair?" I asked, handing him my carkeys once I'd arrived at his place.

"On you? Or for myself?" he said, giving me a momentary cause for pause. Was he not into Bella at all? Was he gay?

"On a woman."

"Not really, man, no. I mean, personality should be the deciding factor, right? Even though what they look like certainly counts. But no, I like 'em dark-haired."

Like a certain Ms Swan, you mean?

"But Seth, come on, if you fall in love with someone, it shouldn't matter if her hair's pink, should it?"

"You meet many girls with pink hair? You can have them. I'll take the brunettes. Now get out of the pilot's seat, big boy. I refuse to drive sitting on your lap."

I didn't even get the chance to check out his home, which I'd been wondering about ever since he'd correctly identified items of my furniture.

"You're not letting me go inside," I remarked as we drew away from the curb. "Scared I'll steal something? Or do you live in a pigsty?"

"You can see my place some other time, Edward, I just wanted to get going."

Seth's idea of rockin music turned out to be the Black Keys which was fine by me. The miles blurred by and an hour later I was starting to see what he meant about the green.

"Nice out here, huh?" he said.

"Nice enough. You a country boy?"

"Nope. This ain't country Edward. I'm a woods boy. Sky, trees, and the cold, gray sea. That's what's all around where we're going."

"Seth, you know that's what my color scheme represents, right? The design I've put together for the Hall?"

"No, you haven't mentioned it. Interesting, though. I like your thinking."

"Of course you do."

"Don't get too pleased with yourself - it's not me you have to impress. It's Billy, the chief. He's the one who'll decide if your ideas get the go-ahead."

"And if he doesn't like them?"

"Not your problem. It'll be my head on the block for bringing you on board."

I thought for a minute. Seth seemed very knowledgeable about our client.

"Hey buddy, what did you mean about being a woods boy? You're from around here?"

"Oh, Jesus, Edward, of course I am. I'm from the Rez. How did you think Bella and I knew each other?"

I didn't know. Not a fucking clue. I thought she must have done a search for wedding planners.

"Ah - so you already knew Bella - before this?" I asked.

Seth laughed heartily, making the car swerve. "Only all my life," he answered.

Sweet Mary mother of God - that's what I'm up against. Bella's lifelong love. All wrapped up in a hunky parcel of funny, talented designer goodness. Marvellous.

"Well, put on some fucking ambient fucking sky tree sea music then. I want to sleep," I muttered, turning my head away.

"Sure, Eddie. Fucking ambient sky tree sea music coming right up. You like Beach House?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not intending to listen."

I needed some processing time. The threat of Seth was far more serious than I'd thought, if he wasn't just some pretty face Bella had sourced form the internet. And by the way, stop making me like you, Seth, when I want to hate you. You're fucking with my head.

Sleep, sleep, sleep. I don't hate green, but on this day I wasn't going to spend half the afternoon looking at it.

"Fine. Go ahead, Edward, check out. I'll just drive along quietly here as if I'm by myself while you get some shut-eye. Don't worry about a thing. I can do self-contained. I'm not a needy guy."

"What the fuck, Seth? Are you seriously getting petulant on me?" I said irritably.

"No, I'm being understanding. You're going to need your strength. You're not going to be playing in the sandbox on the Rez, you know. When there's work to do, we work hard. We'll have the Hall finished today as long as Billy's cool with your designs."

"A sixty by one hundred room painted in an afternoon? In your dreams. And please stop interrupting me in mine."

What felt like moments later I was woken by a thunderclap right next to my head. Opening cloudy eyes, I tried to figure out where I was. Surrounded by fucking trees and green, that's where.

"Back off, losers!" Seth's voice shouted next to me. That got my attention, making me shoot bolt upright in my seat. Laughter echoed around me as I saw a bunch of guys surrounding the car. There seemed to be about twenty of them.

"Fuck, you're like a gang of idiots," Seth was claiming as he got out, but he was high-fiving and even hugging them, and once I could see straight their number narrowed down somewhat. Perhaps there were only half a dozen guys there.

"Are you the welcoming committee?" I mumbled, to more laughter.

"Edward, this is - oh, you don't need to know names. They're your crew. You just tell 'em what to do and they'll do it. Guys, this is Big E. He's the man," Seth said.

Every single one of my so-called crew was as tall as me, at least, and I'm six-two. For some reason I couldn't begin to work out, not one of them was wearing a shirt. They were all so fit and muscled they looked like an Olympic team. And fuck, not that I'm checking guys out to see if they're handsome or not, but this gang had definitely all emerged from the genepool of the aesthetically blessed.

"Yeah, hey," I said, trying to sound a lot more manly than I felt. They all had natural six packs, which I took as a personal affront. The only way I'd ever have a six pack was if I painted one on. Next to the boys from the woods I was untoned, limp and pale.

But fuck, never mind that. Today, I was the boss. They had to do what I said. Seth had told them to.

My good buddy took me, amidst a certain amount of fanfare, to the community hall, where it was apparent the crew had already made preparations. The walls had been sanded down, the window edges and door frames had been taped.

"So far, so good," I said cautiously.

It seemed the entire community had turned out to gawp at the out-of-towner and Seth introduced me to more people than I could keep count of, but one was of special significance.

"This is Billy. He's the chief," Seth said, stopping me in front of an older man in a wheelchair.

"It's an honor to meet you," I said, because this guy had serious gravitas, even though I had to bend to shake his hand.

"What's your full name?" he asked sternly, and I told him.

"Do you take any drugs?"

"No. Sir."

I hadn't called another man Sir since I was a teenager but it felt in order now.

"Do you drink?"

"Now and again."

"Today?"

"No."

His narrowed eyes stared at me speculatively. I met his gaze unflinching, because shit, my presence here was under invitation and surely didn't warrant an inquisition. My designs were good and I'd do my best to see them through. He had to approve one of them first, though.

"So - you have something to show me?" he asked.

My portfolio was tucked into the man-bag I had slung over my shoulder that Seth had hooted at the second he saw it. Billy's face was inscrutable, but I thought I saw one of his eyebrows raise. Well, how the hell are you supposed to carry something that doesn't fit into your back pocket?

I'd spent hours on my designs - first with the actual concepts, and then with painting them. They were all done by hand, not on computer, because colors don't reproduce accurately with different screens and different printers. I'd used sample pots of the paint shades I was proposing for the Hall, and had reproduced everything to scale. They looked damn good, actually.

"Not bad," Billy shrugged, leafing through them. "What's your mother's birthdate?"

His question completely threw me but I answered with confidence. To my surprise, Billy laughed.

"I never trust a man who doesn't know his mother's birthday. It's disrespectful. You'll do," he chuckled. "This first one you've got here is exactly what I want. Round up the wasted youth and put them to work. Anyone not pulling their weight - send them to me."

He had an aura of such authority that I was pretty sure none of the wasted youth would want to earn his displeasure. And of the four designs, he'd picked the one that was my personal favorite.

It was an hour and a half round trip to buy the paint from the nearest town - a couple of the guys were dispatched, and I spent the time prepping the room further. The floorboards would stay the dark brown they were already stained, a greyish teal would cover the walls to about four feet high, evoking the sea, then there would be a horizontal band of dark brown to symbolize tree trunks, and a band of silvery green for the trees. Above that, the walls would be a soft pale grey, suggesting air and sky, space and peace.

The paint arrived, we were ready to go, and fuck me, Seth was right. His band of brothers were a well-oiled machine. Despite constant joking and paint-flicking at one another, they got on with the job. Before I could blink, we were halfway done. The bare walls were assuming the hues of the environment beautifully thanks to my new BFF's, who took direction without demur, proving themselves efficient and capable.

Too fucking good to be true, really. I was immersed in the day, in the vibe, in the activity and the process, and really fucking enjoying myself, when an aroma hit my nostrils, stopping me in my tracks. It stopped all of us, and we turned as one to the wide double doors of the hall.

Food. Lasagne. Carrying a steaming oven dish surely big enough to feed a platoon of ravenous men, stood the elusive Isabella Swan.

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