A/N:
This is basically a short bonus chapter that I may move to outtakes later on. I tried to fit it in with the next one, but the moods were clashing too much. The rest will be up tomorrow.
Now...Remember Mike's request/demand at the end of chapter 3? Maybe not, but I won't tell if you peek.
"I run a couple of newspapers. What do you do?" - Kane
July 24, 2010
Edward
"This is Edward. Edward Cullen. I'm going to Forks for a little while. I'll probably stay the night at my brother's...bye."
"Next message, sent July 23. At 8:02 a.m."
"Edward Cullen. I'm headed to Port Angeles for a meeting. I'll be back home later today."
"Next message, sent July 23. At 6:13 p.m."
"This is Edward. I just wanted to let you know that I'm about 5 feet from the Seattle boundary line. See, it's a beautiful day and I thought, 'What the hell?' There aren't many days in the Pacific Northwest when it's not raining or snowing, and I don't hike like I used to. So, here I am. If you need me, I'm a little ways into the foliage, near a tree with a rather mischievous-"
"Next message, sent July 23. At 8:21 p.m."
"Hey, Edward here. I'm in the next town over because I ran out of Nutter Butters. I had to go to Renton to get the special edition kind. You know what I'm talking about, right? The patty version that lays the peanut butter on all nice and thick, so you're not left scrounging for more. I think they stole the idea from double stuffed Oreos or Cakesters, but you won't see me complaining. Actually -"
The machine cuts off with a long, tired BEEP as a chubby finger jabs an ominously red button. Mike glares at me, looking like a harmful mix of high blood pressure and constipation. He gestures wildly toward the now-silent machine.
"Do you think this is funny, Cullen?"
I match his stare as I calmly uncross my legs.
"No, I don't think it's funny at all. In fact, I'm almost over my cell phone minutes."
He watches my straight expression while his own face flames with ire.
"You've called so much that my guys have just started letting your number go to the machine automatically. And do you know who gets to supervise the machine and its logs?"
My lips twitch. I can guess.
I lean back slightly in my leather seat. Coincidentally, it is much more comfortable than the previous chair they supplied me with. Tax dollar number 5,052.
"I'm just following orders, Mike. I'm a busy man. I need to travel a lot."
He sends me a withering look.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that Nutter Butters were a requirement of being a millionaire."
I shrug. "Oprah flies to get her favorite donuts. I like to think that this is more environmentally friendly."
Mike gazes at me with a mix of disgust and awe before he focuses on his cluttered desk instead. He glowers at the answering machine as if he wants to hit it, but is afraid that it might bite.
"You can go now. And only call us in the future when you're at least 50 miles away from home."
I finally let myself smile at his misfortune and my gain. He's not looking at me, but I'm sure he will hear it in my voice.
"Sure thing, Boss."