Chapter Nineteen: I Have Dee-a-bee-ties.
I looked up, annoyed beyond all measure that someone dared to threaten my Edward lovin' time. The shadow of a man entered into the room, holding a hand to his chin in a pondering manner.
"Would you continue to stay on this bus and rock my world?" Bret Michaels asked as he came into the light, the gold strands of his wig glistening beautifully around his overly eyelined face.
"BRET MICHAELS!?" Edward yelled, jumping up in all his nude glory to face the dead-beat rockstar. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"
Bret paused before answering, glancing down at Edward's (not quite) raging hard-on. He raised an eyebrow slightly then shot me the accusatory eyes. Clearly he thought I wasn't doing my job as a wife if Edward were not fully aroused.
"I'm here for the music and the love," Bret said after he brought his sightline back up to Edward's grinning face. "The music. And the love."
"OH! MAH! GAH!" Edward fanned his face with both his hands as if to stop himself from fainting. "I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT BRETT MICHAELS IS IN MY HOTELROOM! Bella," he turned towards me bouncing up and down like a little kid in a candy store, "It's Brett Michaels!"
"I gotta say," Brett Michaels chimned in, "Your rabbid fandom. It's turning me on,"
I couldn't figure out what Bret Michaels did to make him famous. All I know is that he had that reality TV show where he dated the girls that had the world's biggest boobs.
"So why are you in our room?" I asked trying my best to mask my intolerence of yet another unwanted guest in our little sex and intamacy haven.
"Well you see," Brett Michaels plopped himself on the bed, leaving his Cheehta print cowboy hat on a hook that was connected to the Hotel Room door. "I have the disease know as Dee-a-bee-ties,"
"Dead Beasties?" Edward asked loudly with a confused lilt.
"No," Brett matched Edward's tone, "Dee-A-Bee-Ties,"
"Dead beat Ties?" Edward asked again leaning so his ear was facing Brett Michaels.
"DEE-A-BEE-TIES!" Brett screamed
Edward looked up towards the ceiling his mouth a ring, "OHHHHHH! DIABETES!"
"Well now that we have that mystery solved," I added sarcastically, "That still doesn't explain why you're here,"
"Well I was feeling a bit sick from my Dee-a-bee-ties so I decided to look for some food. Some nice man named Ernie Boch Jr. told me you guys set you room on fire from baking bread, so I thought I'd stop in and see if you had any left."
"WHY TOSS ME IN THE OVER OILED UP IN ZUCCINI SAUCE!" Edward smacked his thigh with excitement. "I WOULD BE HONORED TO FEED YOU MY ROCK OF LOVE!"
Bret grinned weakly at Edward's reply, lying down on the bed while Edward went to search for the remains of the bread. Edward returned moments later with the speed only a vampire could have and handed the loaf to Bret. The rockstar took it graciously, stuffing it into his well sung mouth.
"fank oof," he said, mouth full of yeast and dough.
"It is my pleasure, Bret Michaels. I would do anything for you..." Edward replied reverently.
"Would you... would you stick a needle in my leg if I needed an injection?" Bret asked.
I knew where this was going. I had seen that episode of Rock of Love Season 1. Edward fell to his knees, placing his head in Bret's lap, weeping softly.
"Of... Of course..." Edward said as Bret pet his bronzen locks.
"Then you can continue giving me your 110 percent and stay here and rock my world," Bret replied, placing a tour pass around Edward's neck.
Edward looked down at the pass and held it like Charlie would hold the ticket to the Chocolate Factory. He leaned up and embraced Bret, far more intimately than he'd ever embraced me. I felt a twang of jealousy as I witnessed their bromance growing with each passing moment.
It was not to last.
Unexpectedly, Bret broken into a sweat, gained a chemical odor on his breath that was similar to that of acetone or alcohol, experienced fatigue, fainting, and reddening of the skin for he was Caucasian.
"BRET!" Edward screamed. "OH GOD! BELLA! WHAT DID YOU DO!?"
"I didn't do anything!" I yelled back, panicking slightly. Bret Michaels was twitching around on the floor so much that his bandana and wig were beginning to seprate themselves from his scalp. I scanned the room for something useful and eventually happened upon my cellphone. I grabbed it and called the first name that looked helpful.
"Carlisle?" I said hurridly. "We need your help! Bret Michaels is here having some sort of... shock-thing!"
"I cannot come down to Tennessee in time, Bella. You should call an ambulanc--"
"I WILL CARRY HIM!" Edward said. "CARLISLE, READY THE BEST BED IN YOUR HOSPITAL!" He picked up Bret Michales, cradling the rock star to his breast. "Bella. Call a cab and meet me back in Forks. I'm going on foot. With my fantastic vampire speed and strength, I will have him to Calisle in eight minutes. Maybe nine if I avoid speed traps and get stuck on the freeway during rush hour without my E-Z-Pass."
I could only stare blankly as I watched Edward (thankfully) pull on his pants and dash out the door.
"What just happened?" Carlisle asked from the phone.
"I... I think Edward's running there..." I replied after a moment to regain my brain's working."
"Oh," Carlisle replied unemotionally. "How are you getting back here then?"
"Taxi?"
"Oh, um, well then. Good luck to you Bella. I think hear Edward coming up the way. I guess I'll send him back here for you."
"Um okay. If it's not too much trouble."
"No, not at all. Ah my dear sweet stupid son. A heart so big, but yet a brain so small," with that Carlisle hung the phone. I could hear Edward's hopeless screams filling the background before the cellphone clicked closed.
I sat back on the bed, not sure how to react. I was just left in Memphis by my husband on our honey moon for some rock star that he seemed to have a more than friendly relationship with. I began to ponder how normal he seemed before we were married. I groaned aloud coming to realization that I had just married a vampire two screws loose from having a sturdy table.
"IT'S HORRIBLE!" Edward screamed the minute his nimble, silent feet touched over the threshold of our room.
"Is Bret okay?" I tried my best to sound concerned, but how could I be concerned about some guy who was my husband's Rock of Love.
"YES!" Edward sobbed freely now as he tossed himself face down on the bed.
"I'm failing to see the problem here,"
"ITS...ITS....ITS A WIG!" he slammed his fist down on the pillow and thrashed his legs around.
"You didn't know that?" I rubbed his back soothingly.
"IT WAS COMMON KNOWLEDGE?" my dear vunerable Edward turned his eyes dry with shock.
"Yeah...that's why he always wore a bandana."
"NO!" Edward's sobs broke freely again. "I THOUGHT THAT WAS JUST A FASHION STATEMENT! A FASHION STATEMENT!" he screamed for emphasis as he ran his way into the bathroom.
I sighed, and haggaredly followed him only to be met with a closed door.
"Edward honey," I leaned on the door. "It's a natural thing for a man to go bald. He's still the same low grade rock star that you know and love,"
"EVERY ROSE HAS IT'S THORN!" he screamed in reply before the sound of hair clippers could be heard buzzing from behind the door.
"Edward?" I began to panic. His bronze locks were beautiful. Why any woman would die for his hair. If he wasn't a vampire that lived off his father, he could be a hair model his hair was that great.
"IF BRET MICHAELS DOESN'T HAVE HAIR I DON'T WANT IT EITHER! I WILL SING MY SAD SAD COWBOY SONG TOO!"
"Edward... please don't..." I begged. I had already had to deal with the chrome dome on top of his head from the time earlier when he had needed to get in the mood to be Judas during his one man Jesus Christ Super Star performance. I could only pray he was at least making the carpet match the drapes.
Moments passed until Edward came out of the bathroom, completely hairless save for a slightly overgrown hair coming from his nose which he had neglected to trim during his morning grooming.
"I should take a photo of myself," Edward said. "And send it to him with get well greetings."
"I think that would be a lovely idea," I sighed, glad that Edward was out of the bathroom although not so thrilled that he would be sending another man naked photographs of his silky smooth body.
Edward grabbed my camera and began posing like an emo kid for Myspace infront of the full length Elvis shaped mirror in the room. He held the camera at all sorts of strange angles, making the photos overblown and un-white balanced. I hoped to god that Bret Michaels didn't have a secret love of proper photography for, as much as I wasn't fond of him, I didn't want him to die of a heart attack in the way only a famous superstar could.
"How do you think this one looks, Bella?" Edward asked as he held the camera above his head and pointed it at himself, making a kissy face.
"I... I plead the fifth, Edward," I replied, shaking my head. Why this style of self protrait ever became popular is something I'll never understand.
"It's great, right? He'll love it. Tons. It'll cheer him up in no time," Edward nodded to himself as he began uploading the photos on my computer. Moments later, an e-mail was sent off, filled with photos of Edward's hairless body and good wishes. Edward smiled to himself, proud of his generous deeds.
"Allen Shawn Fienstien would be so proud of me," he said to me after a moment. "I'm a Junior Scholar, you know. He loves me. His son, Ari said so in a commerical I saw once."
"That's nice Edward," I replied half-heartedly. I was getting rather upset that everything in the world seemed to be against me having an orgasm.
"Bella... what's wrong?" Edward asked, sensing my dissatisfaction.
"I... I just want... you," I admitted.
He leaned over me, eyes a blazing with lust. "Why didn't you say so, Bel----OH!" Edward jumped, glancing at my now ringing phone. "It's Carlisle!" He sprang for the phone like a lion springing for a gazelle. "HELLO!?"
"Edward...? It's me, Carlisle. Your father," Carlisle said from the other side of the call. He was using his best simple voice to make sure Edward didn't get confused. I was thankful. With Edward in this jumpy state, anything could set him off.
"WHAT IS IT?!" Edward yelled unneededly.
"We... We have a problem."