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WitFit Jan/Feb 2013

90's Sex, drugs and rock-n-roll

Word Prompt: Café

Plot Generator—Idea Completion: Snowed in

-PoM-

"Did you get everything?"

Rose paused in shoving the last of her things into a suitcase. Her room looked like a level five tornado had ripped through it. Clothes were slung over every available surface because they were deemed not cool enough; tubes of makeup lay scattered after being tossed aside in favor of some other color; dresser drawers were stacked haphazardly in piles on the floor. The only clean spot was the small square of bed where I currently sat.

"I think so," she said slowly, glancing around at the mess. "And if not, I'll just buy it."

I shook my head—any chance to add something new. "You just gonna leave it like this?"

"Probably. I'll clean it when I get back. Lord knows I'll probably have a stack of laundry to do then, anyway."

I hummed in agreement and looked at my fingernails while she started reciting a checklist out loud. It was hard not to be jealous watching her get ready to go meet up with the guys.

The very same night they got the call about the tour was the night they'd had to leave. I'd had to watch Edward do this same thing, so thrilled for him and so bummed for myself all at the same time. He'd been so amped that it was easier to push my own hurt aside and help him gather clothes and soap for his beat up duffel bag.

He'd been a chatterbox that night musing on what songs they would play and where they'd get to go, and I added in on the conversation only when necessary. I'd never hated going to school more than I did that night, and the realization that he was leaving soon started to get to me when he drove me back to my place. It wasn't until we'd arrived at my apartment, his last stop before heading to meet the guys that he began to notice my less-than enthusiastic responses.

Even though Jasper was probably going to be mad about it, he sat on the front stop of my building with me for an hour, huddled so close beside me to ward off the chill of an early March night. He'd kissed and hugged me, tried to work out weekends where I might be able to get away from school and work. Told me that he wished I was going, too.

And I felt like an asshole for showing too much emotion when he stood to leave, hated the look on his face like he thought I wouldn't be able to handle it. He should be excited to go because it was what he'd worked so hard on. So I wiped my eyes and smiled big, held him extra tight and made him promise to call me any chance he could get just so I could hear how awesome they were doing. I told him repeatedly that I was so proud of him because I really, really was.

Now Rose was leaving me three weeks later to meet them in San Jose for the middle leg of the tour. She'd raided the small inheritance her grandmother had left her, paid the rent for two months and quit her job at the office complex where she worked because they hadn't been willing to give her that much time off.

Brave, that one. She'd find another job, of that I was sure, or she'd tell Jasper to piss off and take over managing the guys.

"Sure you can't come with?"

I looked up from my pity party, shook my head. "I wish I could. God, I can't even begin to explain how much I wish I could. But it's my last quarter and I've got to put some money in the bank for books and tuition next year. I'm still holding out hope for L.A., though. Fingers crossed that it works out."

"Did you talk to Edward today yet?"

"Yeah, he called earlier when I got home from classes."

"How's he doing?"

I smiled at that—it was hard not to. "Oh, man, he's so freaking pumped to see what they can do with this."

"And how about you?"

"I'm really excited for them; they've worked so hard."

She pushed a pile of clothes onto the floor and parked beside me. "That's not what I asked."

I shrugged. "Can't help it if I feel a little bummed, ya know? I want this for him, swear to god, but it's like all of a sudden there's this void and it sucks, too. I keep telling myself that it's for the best, but sometimes . . ."

"She sighed. "I know what you mean. I'm over-the-moon stoked for Emmett, but I've been missing him a lot. Sucks that I get to go see them while you have to stay here."

"That it does. Ugh, if I start bawling when you get ready to leave, well . . . I'm sorry in advance. First Edward and now you. Who am I gonna talk to?"

"Aww, chick. The L.A. show is in two weeks. Just count down until then. At least you've got work and school to keep you busy in the meantime. Not the same, or whatever, but you'll get through this. And we'll party so goddamn hard when you join us."

"Hah, true. I was thinking of going and looking for a different job, actually. Maybe an internship for the summer. Probably have to work a few nights at the store to supplement the pay difference, but . . . I kind of want to move in with Edward when he gets back."

I didn't look at her, scared to see her reaction. We'd been roommates for so long now, but being apart from Edward had made me realize how much I wanted to be with him. And that I was no longer falling for him; I loved him flat out. It wouldn't hurt so much to be separated from him if I didn't.

"Well, I think that's awesome, Bella."

I glanced up, saw that she was being honest.

"Maybe I'll work on Emmett and see if he wants to come live here. I'll miss you and all, but it'll be nice to see my man walk around naked and make me pancakes."

"Oh my god! Too much sharing there, Rose."

"Just being honest. If your man had an ass like mine, you'd want to see it unclothed as often as possible, too."

I laughed, and for the first time since I'd entered her room to see her packing, felt a little lighter. "Gross. That was a mental picture I didn't need."

She glanced at her watch. 'Shit, I need to jet if I want to get through the airport on time. So, don't kill yourself working too hard, okay? It's only five weeks until they're back, and that time will pass before you know it."

"I'll do my best."

She hugged me before she stood and grabbed her bag. "I'll call you as much as I can."

She blew me a kiss as she walked out of the door, and I tried not to let the jealous tears fall. Not that I succeeded.

-PoM-

It was delicious, and dirty, and so, so good. Hands worked my body in a slow and sensuous tease. Lips wrapped around my nipple and made me arch up. That voice was all honey and bourbon when it whispered at me to be still and enjoy.

And then the ringing started, and I woke up.

The fucking phone . . . interrupting a really, really good dream about Edward.

I punched my mattress and rolled over. It was dark as hell outside, and my old fashioned alarm clock didn't have a light on it. I grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

From my dream to my ear. I sat up and fumbled for the light. "Edward? What time is it?"

"It's two-thirty. Were you asleep?"

"Uh, yeah, but that's okay. Except you just interrupted my dream about you," I said, all raspy voiced like a frog. Nice. I cleared my throat.

"Was it dirty?"

"Shush." I giggled and told him to hold on a second while I got resituated in bed. "Okay, back. I'm not telling you what I was dreaming about. Where are you?"

"Sacramento. We're about to get on the bus to head to San Jose."

"Oh, cool. Rose should be there already to meet you all."

He started to say something when there was a shout too close to the end of his line. Sounded like Jasper. "Hey, Edward. C'mon man."

And then some giggling . . . that certainly wasn't male. My sense went on full alert and I pressed the phone to my ear. There was a scratchy sound, and then his voice drifted over it, softer, indistinct. "In a minute, man. Sorry. Baby, you still there?"

"Yeah. Who's that with you?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but the ring of distrust in my tone was evident to me.

"The band, some of the guys from the other one who're riding with us. Some random chicks they picked up, too. I don't know, it's been a weird night. I made them stop because I saw a payphone and I wanted to hear your voice."

Deep breaths, I told myself. He'd wanted to hear my voice, and I had to trust him or this wouldn't go over well. "Oh, gotcha. It sounded loud is all. Anyway, why was the night weird? Is everything okay?"

"Up until tonight everything's been great. And then we almost got booed off the stage in Redding."

"Oh no! Why?"

"They were expecting the other band so some people started throwing stuff. Ty got hit with a full glass of beer, so he got pissed and grabbed the mic, and then started reaming the crowd. It got worse after that and before I knew what was happening, Emmett and Ty were hucking things back at the crowd."

"Oh, damn. Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. It's just kind of stuff that goes with the territory. They calmed down a little once we started to play."

"Jeez. Doesn't sound like much fun."

"It would be if you were here."

For a moment, that sure-of-himself attitude he wore like armor slipped. It was in his voice, slurred because it was a show night, but the loneliness was evident in his words. Even surrounded by all of those people, he missed me.

The girls being around didn't bother me as much anymore. My words got stuck in my throat, and when I finally got them out they sounded watery. "I wish I was with you. I miss you so much and I can't wait until I can see you."

"Edward, get your ass on the bus!"

"Fuck, I gotta go."

"Sounds like it. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Yeah. Hey, Bella? I love you."

Despite the fact that the confession might have been fueled by alcohol and just being away, I believed every word. That he'd said them at all made my heart fucking soar. I nodded at the phone, which was just stupid, and then smiled so wide it hurt. And, soon, I'd get to see his face when he said them.

"I love you, too. Be careful, all right? Call me the next chance you get."

He hung up and I listened until I heard the dial tone, reached over and pressed down the button, and then slowly placed the receiver back down. Curling back into myself in the bed because it was cold, I felt a little warmer inside knowing he loved me, too.

-PoM-

"Hey, what are you doing here? I didn't think anyone would be out on a day like this. Looks like we're going to get snowed in. Isn't it wild?"

I looked up from my notes when a tattooed, skinny ass plopped down across from me. The cafe was one I visited often when I had a few hours to kill in between classes. "Hey, I greeted. "Trust me, if I didn't have to meet someone, I'd be at home. I've got a job interview in a few minutes.

Leah, a girl I knew through the local band scene, and also because she made my overpriced coffee every time I came in and gave me free refills, raised her eyebrow. I thought it was cool how her piercing wiggled when she did so.

"Did you quit the store?"

"No, but I'm looking for something else, too. Something I might actually enjoy."

"Rad. You could always come and sling coffee with me, you know."

"Maybe. If this doesn't work out, I might just take you up on that offer."

She glanced at the empty place in front of me where my cup of coffee would usually be by now. "Want your usual?"

"Oh, please? And thank you."

Once the deep mug was in front of me, I lened over and dug a folder and one of my journals out of my bag. The coffee wouldn't help calm the jittery feeling I was already experiencing, but I sipped it anyway, glad for the warmth.

Fifteen minutes passed and I was worried I'd gotten the meeting place or time wrong. I kept looking at my watch and glancing at the front door, nerves making me reshuffle my papers constantly.

The windows let me see how thick the show was getting outside, and I prayed my ancient vehicle would get me home without throwing in the towel. I tried not to imagine Edward and Rose in California right now, away from all of this unexpected, late-season cold. Lucky asses.

I was flipping through a few pages of my journal for the third time when the bell above the door jangled. Someone entered on a wave of arctic air, and I shivered before I looked up. A tall man, sandy-haired and with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, was stomping snow off of his shoes just inside the doorway. He glanced around the shop, and when I waved, headed my way.

"Bella?"

I pushed away from the table and stood. "Yes, sir."

"Hi, I'm Peter. Knock off the 'sir' nonsense, though. I'm not that old."

I smiled and held out my hand. "Sorry about that. It's so nice to meet you. I'm an admirer of your work."

Before I could ask him if he wanted a coffee Leah was there.

"What can I get you?"

"An Americano, please." He gestured to my mug, looked me in the face. "You still good there?"

"Yes, but thank you."

"Sorry I'm late. The snow's been a pain in the ass today. I would have had you meet me at the office, but, honestly, I wanted to get out of there, and after we're done here I'm heading home." I chuckled. This guy was the most laid-back interviewer I'd ever met.

"Not a problem."

"So, let's get down to business. Tell me why you think you'd be a good fit for us, Bella."

This was the moment I hated in interviews. I took a deep breath and prepared to sell my awesome skills to him.

"Well, I'm a journalism major at the UW, just finishing my second year."

Not the most original, sure, but it was my first point of attack. Obviously having heard that one before, he looked terribly unimpressed. I pressed on, determined to do this.

"And while I realize that doesn't make me different from other potential interns, I do think I have an edge on them. Working with you would be a perfect opportunity to get experience in my chosen field, and especially one that I have such an insane passion for."

Leah interrupted then, setting the order down, and shot me a concealed thumbs-up before she scurried away.

"You realize this job is basically as an intern with little money to start with."

"I do. I have another job a few hours a week to offset that, not that it would get in the way. But, you see, the opportunity to learn things that I'd never get the chance to learn in school is invaluable to me. I leaned across the table, looked him square in the eye. "I know music. This is what I should be doing."

"Wow. You are enthusiastic, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." I shuffled through my papers, grabbed the item on the bottom of the stack. "I brought along one of my journals to show you. It's a hobby of mine, and one I took so seriously that it created a dream of becoming a journalist. Recently, it's been become so much a part of me that it made me realize what I wanted to do with my degree."

He held out his hand and took the bound notebook. As he thumbed through it, I began to explain.

"Every single piece of music I've listened to in the last decade has been recorded in one of these. This is an earlier one, but I have a newer one if the rating system of stars and . . . hearts is a little too juvenile."

He laughed. "I see that. Do the different color hearts represent something?"

I smiled. "No, just a young girl's need to make things colorful."

"Hmm. So, you started doing this at the age of ten?"

I nodded. "I did. I find that it helps me to focus on pieces of music, to listen to what's beyond the surface." I dug my latest journal out of the pile so he could see my progression, and handed it to him.

"I've never seen anything like it." He paused to read entries here and there and stopped on my most recent one.

"This is impressive. I like your descriptions."

"Thank you."

"Look, I can't promise you anything fancy, but if you're willing to learn and can put up with my copy editor, you've got yourself a job."

"Thank you, Peter, um Mister . . ."

"Just call me Peter. And welcome to the staff of The Rocket, Bella. I think you'll be a great addition to our team ."

-PoM-

Thank you so much for your comments. They truly make my day.

So Far Away – Dire Straits (yeah, I know 1985...)

xo