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LadySharkey1 rocks my world by being the most amazing, kick-ass beta I could ever imagine.

21.

"Rise and shine, Edward." The pitiful lump of man on the bed emitted a groan as the blinds were pulled away from the window and bright light shone in. "You have an album to record."

Edward's body felt like that of an old man as he sat up, squeezing his eyes shut as he reached blindly for the bottle of aspirin on the bedside table. "What the fuck are you doing here, Aro?"

"I paid for this hotel room, remember? In my book, that gives me the fucking right to enter whenever I like." Aro sneered, mercilessly continuing to bring more light into the room. "And in case it escaped your notice: you have a band and a small army of producers and technicians waiting for you in the studio. Every single moment you're not with them is a waste of my damn money."

"I was getting to that, jesus!" Edward complained, rolling out of bed and into the first pair of jeans he found. "Ever heard of letting a man wake up on his own?"

"That is a luxury I have never been able to afford." Inwardly, Aro rolled his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. It was in moments like those that he tried to remind himself why he bothered with this man. For a few weeks that summer, he had held high hopes for his most talented client. It had seemed like Edward had turned a new page as pieces of the bright young man he had taken on years ago started to resurface. His music had been nothing but genius—instant hit after hit—and reports from the studio told him that very little time had been lost on goofing around or otherwise wasting money and precious time.

Ever since he had returned from his sister's home, though, all Edward had seemed to be interested in was bringing about his own destruction. He drank too much and did too little, frustrating every single professional surrounding him. Not to mention his bitchy attitude…

"Well, I need a little time in the morning to wake up," the headstrong young man grumbled on, "so you might want to remember that the next time you book us studio time."

"Had it still been morning, you might have had a point there," Aro sarcastically agreed, "but since it's one in the afternoon, I would say your reasoning is rather flawed. Besides, if the papers are to be believed, you were out partying the night away last night."

Edward shrugged, annoyed at being lectured like a child. "A guy's allowed to have a little fun now and then, isn't he?" Inwardly, he cringed as memories of the previous night started to flood back into his mind. He hadn't meant to stay out that late but, as always, James and Victoria had made sure to keep the drinks flowing liberally which meant that after a while all rational thought had flown out the window.

"Your only saving grace up to now has been the fact that you have managed to keep yourself out of trouble with the law," Aro warned, hoping a little pressure would bring this wayward lamb back into the fold. "Though only a fleeting glance at this morning's papers would immediately bring me to question how long your luck will hold out." He shot Edward a stern look, noting with some satisfaction that the younger man at least had the decency to look abashed. "I don't believe I need to remind you of what would happen if your parole would be revoked, or should I?"

Shaking his head, Edward let out a long sigh. "No, there's no need for that." It was true that he'd been courting trouble left and right. Ever since he'd returned from the Hamptons, there had been only one thing on his mind: oblivion.

He didn't want to think, because thinking would immediately lead him back to her.

Even his songs, the ones he had written for her, were painful to perform since he'd placed the woman who'd inspired them out of his reach.

It had been his own doing and he didn't regret a single thing he'd done—but God!—he missed her so much. At times, he could still feel her skin under his fingertips or breathe in that sweet, feminine scent that clung to everything she'd touched. There were times he woke up in the middle of the night, convinced he heard her voice or felt her body next to his.

Those were the worst nights.

So he drank, bringing himself into state of mindless stupor every night after they'd finished recording so that he didn't have to feel anymore. He knew Aro, good, upstanding citizen that he was, probably thought he was destroying himself by doing so, but what the good man didn't see was that it was the only way for him to function without her.

It was literally that or jump out of the window of his twelfth floor hotel room.

And Edward was pretty sure he would be wasting even more of his manager's precious money if he did that.

Not to mention create a god-awful mess on the sidewalk.

While Edward had been contemplating suicide, like he had so often those few weeks since he'd walked away from the only person who made his life worth living, Aro had grown more impatient. "So are you going to sit there moping and wasting even more of my money, or are you going to act like a man for a change and own up to your responsibilities?"

And just like every time a scene like that had played out, Edward had to sit on his hands to keep himself from decking his employer—which wouldn't be a smart thing to do. If Aro had only known how much effort it took him not to take off and run all the way across town to throw himself at Bella's feet and beg for forgiveness, he would have commended him for his responsible nature. Being as it was, Edward would just have to resign himself to feeling god awfully wrong about doing the right thing and try to make do with what was left as best as he could.

"Let's go then, he grumbled," grabbing his room key and wallet as he trudged on after Aro to the studio.

Just like every day since he'd arrived back in town, the usual suspects had already gathered in the studio; their producer and his army of technicians looking pissed off while his band mates seemed more disinterested.

Or just plain inebriated.

"Edward, my man!" James veered up, clapping him on the shoulder as he offered him his bottle of Scotch. "We were starting to think you were a no show today, though that shouldn't have been surprising given the shit that went down last night. Man, you were an animal!"

Edward scratched his head, fighting the aggression that always seemed to rise whenever his former friend was near. "I'm here now, so let's get this shit back on track." His motivation to actually get into that recording booth and play the songs he'd written for her couldn't be more lackluster if he tried.

Singing those words would be like poking a stick into an infected wound; you revisited the pain only to make matters worse and, at the end of the day, you were left in no better state than at the start of it.

But he knew he had to.

"You remember what happened last night?" Laurent whispered as they lingered in the control room.

Edward shook his head. "I was pretty fucking plastered, wasn't I?"

"You can say that again!" Laurent chuckled as he flung a newspaper at Edward's head. Edward cringed as, right in the middle of the front page, he saw a picture of himself—or a wilder, completely out of control version—spitting at a bunch of paparazzi as they huddled outside what looked like a club. "If they weren't out to get you before, they sure as fuck are now!"

"Shit!" Edward hissed, Aro's sudden appearance in his room suddenly made a bit more sense. After seeing those pictures, anyone would have concluded he was off the rails again. He even suspected his parole officer would be by for an unexpected visit soon.

He sighed, trying to hide the disappointment he felt with himself by checking his guitar strap and carefully placing it around his shoulder as he started to tune his instrument. What would Bella think when she saw that? Would she be glad to be rid of him? What a catch did he turn out to be! Would she congratulate herself on a narrow escape?

His day only went further downhill from that point. Most of it was spent trying to churn out their new record, which was coming along nicely even though his heart was no longer in it. The alcohol he consumed between sessions helped to dull the pain and mellow him up to the point where he could put down his vocals without sounding forced or detached. And even though his producer couldn't stop reminding him of how flat his voice sounded compared to the first bunch of songs they'd recorded, it was all he could do.

By the time they were done, he was pleasantly sloshed and feeling no pain so he didn't really put up a fight when James and Victoria tried to persuade him to go out with them. The club they took him to might have been the same as the one he had been in the previous night, but it could also have been a completely different one. After many nights spent drinking himself to a stupor to the background noise of bass music and people dry humping on or around the dance floor, all those places kind of started to blend into one.

There was a little crowd gathered in the VIP area by the time they arrived; some of the people who usually hung out at James and Victoria's loft, others just randomly tagging along in the hopes of scoring whatever James had on him at that time.

As he sat down in the quietest corner and motioned for the waitress to bring him a fresh bottle of Jack, he saw the familiar process of little packets changing hands and people disappearing for short intervals of time only to return with spaced out looks on their faces and pupils the size of saucers.

He missed it; the true oblivion that only drugs could provide.

Drinking did the trick for the time being, and he wasn't anywhere near as stupid as to risk going back to jail again but it wasn't as fun. Jack only dulled his pain where Molly would have taken it away completely for as long as she lasted.

He missed her.

"What has you thinking so deep that you're completely forgetting to have fun?" A woman's voice sounded in his ear, as a hand found its way to his thigh. "Do you need me to remind you?"

Bree.

"I didn't know you were back." Through a haze of alcohol, he angles slightly towards her. "I thought you'd become a citizen."

In her day, Bree had been one of the most famous groupies on the scene; famous for the wide array of services she offered. They'd fucked a couple of times when he had just started out on his first tour and she'd traveled with them for a while until she dropped out in search of the next best thing. Over time he'd heard she found a legit guy and had settled down somewhere with a kid on the way.

"I thought that, too," Bree replied quietly, the lines around her big, drug-lit eyes deepening. "But things didn't exactly turn out as planned. It turns out you can take the girl out of the scene, but you can never take the scene out of the girl."

If he had been in a better mood, he would have asked her what the fuck she meant by that string of bullshit. Being as it was, the only thing she was doing was distracting him from his drink…and his numbness. "We are what we are," he muttered, taking a big swig straight from the bottle. "There's no changing that."

"You're right about that," she spoke, straddling his lap as she took the bottle from his hands and guzzled down a good portion. "So how about we take this to someplace quiet so that we can both forget how fucked up we are?"

"I have to be in my hotel room for curfew soon anyway." He shrugged, allowing her to pull him to his feet amidst the hoot and hollering of James and Victoria. His whole being was protesting his actions but over the past couple of weeks, he had become so battle weary that he was beyond caring. "So, sure, lead the way, sugar."

He was already in hell, so he might as well make sure he burned to a crisp.

Thoughts?