..::.. Chapter 30 - That Face You Always Make ..::..

Young - high school, continued …

"Lock your arms," Edward says. I do. My arms quiver. I've been locking arms for twenty minutes. "Lock your arms, I said."

I grumble. "I am! I have been. Just give me a second."

Emmett chuckles from where he sits.

I drop my guard and let my arms swing about.

"I've told you, don't point it at your feet!" he yells again.

I gape. "Oh, my God!" I look at Emmett. "Did I just point it at my feet?"

"No, you didn't point it at your feet," he replies.

I look at Edward. "Thank you!"

"You pointed it at his feet," Emmett corrects.

I sigh. I did point it at Edward's feet.

"If I lose a toe because of this bullshit, I swear to you—"

I glare at him.

He flicks his wrist letting his pointed finger fall to his side. "Do it again."

Relenting, I lock my arms. I aim. I take the shot. Then I empty it out. The paper torso tears far away, one hole on the makeshift head for good measure.

I put the gun on the counter with a thump. That shit is heavy. I cross my arms over my chest and wait for their inspection.

Emmett leans over his shoulder to see. His lips quirk, and he's impressed. Edward is blank, but he blinks. He's impressed, too, I know it.

He looks at me up and down. "I didn't tell you to put the gun down."

Emmett's shoulders bob with laughter. I roll my eyes.

"I'm going home," I say. "I have homework and responsibilities." I make to leave, but Edward pulls me until I'm crushed to him. He kisses me.

He was definitely impressed.

"I'll drive you home."

Really, it means someone drives us home. There's always someone to get him places unless he's in his car. On days like these, per my insistence, he teaches me how to handle a knife or a gun, like today. Emmett is usually there to administer. Maybe he's Edward's bodyguard. I don't really know, but all I know is I never see Edward without someone hovering.

Usually, we sit in the back of the car, and he doesn't come up for air until I push him away when we're in front of my house. I'll give him one last kiss, and he'll watch me the entire way up my stoop.

But today, he's quiet. He's looking out the window, and I know something's up. The car stops at the front, and I stay where I am until he looks at me.

"You're not going out, are you?" I ask.

His brows knit like I'm overstepping.

"I'll go with you. I'll get ready."

He tilts his head a little. The audacity of my request, I guess.

"Bella, get out of my car," he says. And there's no arguing.

But I do the opposite of getting out.

He's said it before; gun lessons are as far as we go.

He didn't agree when I asked to learn. He refused. No girl of his was doing such things. No need. I made the argument that I could be in danger at any moment. I would need to be prepared. When I asked Emmett to help instead, Edward relented, handing me over his beloved pocket knife right then. Now I carry that in my bra.

I get out of the car after a few minutes of silence, but I know what I'll be doing tonight.

I shower. I slip on Edward's jacket with pockets full. I do a bit of homework, and all the while I'm taking peeks out the window.

At about midnight, I see the headlights of his Polara glow. I rush out as quietly as I can. I grab that door handle like it'll vanish between my fingers and hop inside.

He looks up alarmed. His hand instantly reaches for the console between us.

And then I figure this was a bad idea.

He relaxes, but not his expression.

"Get out of the car." I don't respond, and I don't move either. "I'll drag you out," he warns.

"Not this time," I say, shaking my head. "If you're gonna go kill someone or fuck another girl, I'm gonna be there. I'll be lying right next to her if I have to; watching you make that face you always make. You haven't shown me what you do. What you really do. So, you will."

His nostrils flare. Then, after an excruciating pause, he pulls on the shift so hard I bet it will break on his next try.

He speeds through streets, and I'm in wonder thinking of myself in this front seat where other girls have been. I never thought I'd ever see this view. But I do, and it's surreal.

Wherever we're going, it's far away. The clock turns to one A.M., and I'm dozing a little. Sometimes he glances over, and I quickly straighten in my seat and compose myself.

It's been a long week with school and essays. I dare to wonder how he keeps up with all this. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe someone else does it for him.

Then, I feel his warm fingertips on my cheek, running to my lips. I realize my eyes aren't open. I blink awake and lean into him before he pulls away.

He stops down a desolate alley and parks by dumpsters. The shift makes it alive with a thrust. He pops open the door and says, "Let's go fuck."

I look up to see a blonde standing by an open doorway and my stomach plummets.

That was a joke. I was joking. Why wouldn't I think he'd be involved with other women, older, with more experience?

Joke's on me.

He doesn't wait for me. I scramble out of the car, and my heart is thundering.

He's swallowed up by the entrance after she pecks a kiss on his cheek. She waits for me, as her eyes scan me.

I feel pathetic.

I run a few fingers through my hair and wish I'd wear something less … adolescent. There are tattoos under her snug T-shirt tied with a knot at her waist, peeking through her chest and spine. She wears her hair in big curls around hoop earrings, a tight pencil skirt, heels, and maroon red lips. Everything wraps around her curves.

My heart tightens, devastated. Jealousy grips me. It's so instant. Awful visions of Edward with a woman like this floods my mind. Maybe that's reality, and I'm the domestic girlfriend who grounds him and plays the part in his epic lie.

I follow Edward and his … accomplice up some stairs under dim lights. We find ourselves in a lobby. We came in from the back. Some guys stand around the front doors smoking. They're barely boys out of high school. They look alarmed as Edward walks by. One nods his way, Edward doesn't respond. We enter a shaky elevator and go up. I stand to the side as blondie smiles slyly at Edward and touches him.

She touches him.

She giggles and wipes her lipstick off his cheek. Her fingers curl around his jacket collar and tugs gently on his shirt beneath. He asks her about her day, how the new landlord gig feels, and how her husband is. The last question doesn't seem to faze her. She sashays here and there, flips her hair and answers as if sex oozes through words and I'm not five feet away.

"I've missed you," she whispers in a thick accent. And that just drills a hole through my chest. Edward looks up at her through his lashes.

"Forgive me. I'm rude. Did I introduce Bella, my girlfriend? We used to make mud pies together when we were wee, little things," he says.

"Aw," she says with a laugh. "That's so sweet."

The doors open and she steps out. I go right after her. My fist balled up just picturing it; me pulling on that nest she has on her head.

Edward presses a hand on my chest like he knows. "Easy," he says. "You do what I say when I say it, and how. You hear me?" I see her over his shoulder, and she looks over hers with a grin.

He lifts my chin with a finger to get my eyes. "No scratching yet," he whispers. I push his hand away.

The hallways are too narrow as apartment after apartment doors line up. Some are open, music pouring out of one. The smell of garlic in the air still seeps through the walls from last night's dinner. Not much activity outside the doors, but life is happening inside … loudly.

A young kid is sitting on the filthy floor, his face is saggier than his backpack beside him. He looks up and lights up the same. This time, Edward nods his way. He inquires about his state. The boy mumbles a few words sheepishly. Their fists bump. Their conversation ends. Edward flips a palm up to expose a few bills.

"Don't tell her this time," Edward assures over his shoulder. The boy is all thankful eyes and a sigh of relief.

I have to catch up as I've fallen behind just to watch.

An apartment at the end of the hall is surrounded by men in black. Some look like they've been staking out in cop cars all night.

I glance at a badge on one, and maybe I'm right.

A brawny looking one steps forward and grasps Edward's hand for a hard shake. Pete stands behind him and nods. His eyes catch mine instantly. He takes me in and purses his lips.

"What have we got?" Edward says to everyone. He moves in through the apartment, and there are stacks of cash in plastic, segregated into groups on a kitchen table. I tilt my head to see around shoulders when he's suddenly out of view.

Pete pulls back. His red head shaved down to speckles. Freckles line his nose under his green eyes. There's a slight twisted front tooth, making him look like any regular classmate trying to grow into himself. But his eyes are sunken in, his broad chest, height, and scar over his lip make him look beyond his years. I don't know what Bree sees in him. Repulsive.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asks.

"Same as you, dipshit," I answer back. "What's this?" I ask as nonchalantly as I can. I never give this guy the satisfaction of intimidation, but I'm quaking.

He gives me a dirty look. "A delivery, genius."

I scan the full table and furrow my brows. "It's … a lot. Was it a screw-up?"

"What do you think? It's why we're all here and not getting our beauty sleep. The culprit will pay."

I watch silently for a moment. Edward looks everything over. I don't know what he's looking for. He asks questions. I strain to listen.

I lean toward Pete. "In cash, though? Isn't that … messy?" I ask.

I turn to look, and everyone heard that. They glance back. The awkward pause gets Edward to turn, too.

Fuck.

Pete tenses beside me and steps a good foot away.

Asshole.

I'm in shades of red.

"Come on in," Edward says where he paces inside. I look around. I didn't quite hear, and everyone is staring at me.

Pete turns his eyes my way. He nods toward the apartment. "You're up."

My legs go jelly, my heart pounds, and all I hear is the whoosh of my heartbeats. But I square my shoulders and lift my chin. I pushed to be here. Now I am.

I step in as the crowd splits as if I'm Moses.

Blondie is by the sink smoking, with a fucking smirk on her face. I hate it, so I stand right by her. I stare daggers at her until Edward has to call on me.

He leans over the table, palms down.

"You've got ideas? Let's hear 'em."

I'm taken. Blood seems to drain my face and how could he push me into the spotlight like this?

I blink at him. He's waiting. Blondie is smiling. She says, "Mr. Cullen, maybe we should leave this to our associates who would think of a good plan, not a grade-school science project."

I look at her.

All I seem to feel now is the urge to cut.

"Actually, yes. I have ideas," I interrupt. "This looks bad. Real bad. Whoever did this is an armature. There's this new concept with technology, people transfer money all the time," I say sarcastically. "Paperless shipping. Less trees. Earth-friendly."

All we can hear is the faint thumps of base, music still playing somewhere.

Edward breathes in. "And how do you suppose we avoid any trace? It's how we've been doing things. It's how it's done."

I shrug. "Someone must know an accountant. I'm sure her associates would know." I nudge an elbow at blondie who knows it all. She staggers a little. "Don't you have one?" I ask him, meaning the Cullen's.

He doesn't respond. So, I keep talking.

"Hire a hacker who's willing and give them a cut," I add. Isn't this in movies?

I see the top of Pete's head over others moving around like he's pacing. Maybe cringing right now.

The Boss comes around the table. He aims for me. I tense. He leans in and kisses me. It's soft and slow. I flush all over when he comes in for a slow and deep one. My eyes drift closed.

"So what do you suppose we do with all this mess?" He asks when he pulls away.

Blondie is all arms crossed and peeved. I grin at him still close.

I look over his shoulder. All the idled men are pacing around, too, trying not to look.

"Well, you got cops. Corrupt ones. With cars, authority, and egos. I think they can figure something out temporarily."

He smirks. "Want to watch me make that face I always make?"

I grin.

"Let's get out of here," he says.

Blondie touches his shoulder to get in the last word. I get a good grip on her hair and yank hard. With a bang, she's lying on the table over stacks of bills, arm pinned behind her.

"You don't touch," I say to her screwed up face.

"You heard her," Edward says walking out. "No touching."

She's fallen under the table, scattering. "Fucking bitch!" she yells behind me.

I pass by Pete with a faint smirk on his face. I push him away, and he laughs.

I hear him behind me saying, "Someone take her out. She's fired." Blondie, the culprit, is now screaming.

….