|Son of a Preacher Man
Author: LaViePastiche PM
The wild son of a famous televangelist, Jasper likes to love ‘em and leave ‘em. Will he meet his match in Bella, who’s in love with his sister’s boyfriend Edward? And what happens when Edward finally notices her? AH, B/ERated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Romance - Chapters: 29 - Words: 189,838 - Reviews: 8,069 - Favs: 4,397 - Follows: 2,921 - Updated: 03-08-10 - Published: 05-12-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5058174
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Series or any of the characters. No copyright infringement is intended…this is just for shiggles.
Jasper Hale, 21, is the son of a popular televangelist in Phoenix, and he couldn't be any further from a church-going goody two shoes. His attitude toward work, attending class, or contributing positively to society is lackadaisical at best. He drinks, smokes, and has a penchant for deflowering teenage girls. Bella attends private school with Edward Cullen, a senior who she's been in love with since ninth grade, when he moved to Phoenix. Too bad Edward is dating the most beautiful girl at St. Mary's, and doesn't even know Bella exists. But when Jasper sets his sights on Bella, Edward can't help but take notice. Will he protect her from girlfriend Rosalie's impious older brother? AH/AU/OOC and all that good stuff.
Chapter header indicates narrator.
"The person who sins will die. The son will not bear the punishment for the father's iniquity, nor will the father bear the punishment for the son's iniquity; the righteousness of the righteous will be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked will be upon himself."
"Well, shit, what do we have here, fellas?" I addressed the table, nodding towards the front of the restaurant. "Why, it's a bowl full of cherries. Damn, teenage girls are truly a blessing from the Lord."
Laughter ensued and I took a long pull from my Corona, still staring intently at the four young girls filing in the front door. I knew there was a reason for shit-holes like El Taco Loco—teenage girls sure loved virgin daquiris and pina coladas. And I sure loved virgins. We all had a good reason to convene here.
"St. Mary's girls at that—it must be your birthday, Jazz!" Peter said, laughing and slapping me on the back. There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice but I didn't care much. He didn't understand my taste for the younger set, and I didn't understand his taste for, well, ugly girls.
Of course the school uniform was not lost on me. Nor should it have been on any red-blooded male in this restaurant, but I knew the plaids of every Catholic school in Phoenix just about, and St. Mary's was one of my favorites. There was something so distinctly sexy about that vibrant green, white, and black plaid—it was so much bolder than the traditional blues and blacks of the other schools, and yet St. Mary's girls were known to be quite the opposite. Most guys were disappointed when the Catholic girls didn't live up to their slutty image—but I wasn't "most guys"—the more elusive the game, the more I relished the hunt. Aside from the delicious images a school uniform incited in my mind was the added comfort in the knowledge that these girls, and their families, were more than likely not parishioners of my father's church. I was one of the few Protestants that actively sought out the company of Catholics, although certainly not for the purpose of worshiping. Not the Lord, anyway.
"Doesn't it strike you guys as a little odd that Jasper has a penchant for girls from the school his very own sister attends?" Peter asked the table.
James shrugged. "Not really, but then again, I have a penchant for his sister."
Felix chuckled. "See now, Jazz, how would you feel about a guy like you showing an interest in Rosalie, the way you show an interest in her classmates?" he asked, as he pulled a blinking BlackBerry from his pocket.
I smiled at him as I tapped a book of matches on the table. "Well, I don't suppose I'd really give a shit. First of all, I can admit Rose is a pretty girl, but more than that, she's my sister so I can assure you there is no conflict of interest there. And I would wish a heartfelt good luck to any man who tried with the Ice Queen," I responded, flashing James a cautionary glance.
"Well, it's lucky for you she's already got a boyfriend her own age. I have a feeling you'd be singing a different tune if it were James she was hanging off of," Peter said, nodding his head towards James.
"Oh, but a man can dream!" James said, sighing.
"You know, talking about James and my sister is a real boner-killer, fellas."
"Sitting at table full of dudes should be a boner-killer, man," James said, his finger moving in small circle, gesturing to everyone at the table.
"Not when you've got four pretty little gals giggling away in front of you," I responded, gazing back to the front of the restaurant.
"Now, Jasper, you know gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins. You can only have one, so who will be the lucky lady?" James asked, raising an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette.
"Well, now, I've never balked at the other six, my friend, and judging from the empty bottles of beer on this table, it appears I'm quite all right with the big G as well. So why on earth would I stop at one, when four is such a nice round number?" I played along with James, knowing full well that he was merely concerned with the prospect of having to compete with me.
"Tut-tut, Jasper, my watch tells me it's Friday afternoon so that means we're dangerously close to Sunday—and you've got your father's reputation to uphold," James said, continuing our little verbal spar.
Peter rolled his eyes and Felix had yet to lift his face from his BlackBerry. These boys had no appreciation for the sport. Peter was caught up with the aforementioned ugly chicks, who he more likely referred to as "intelligent" or "age of majority," and whenever he managed to get one of those to be his girlfriend he hung on for dear life. Felix, being the eldest and most driven of our group, was so wrapped up in working towards his MBA that he probably had trouble finding the time just to jerk off. He used to be a lot more fun but somewhere around his senior year at Arizona State, "Money" replaced "Pussy" as his number one priority. James and I had a lot on our plates as well, but at least we understood that pursuing a little fun with the ladies didn't necessarily require a huge time commitment.
"Jimmy, my boy, you're forgetting Ezekiel 18:20; you know very well that the father shall not bear the sins of the son," I said, betraying the sobriety of my tone almost instantly with a wicked grin. "How about I let you go first and then I'll take whichever ones you strike out with. That'll still leave me with at least three."
James let out a raucous laugh and raised his beer. "All right, I like those odds!"
Of course, I had no intentions of chatting up more than one of these girls. They were most likely rather inexperienced after all, and the threat of multiples would no doubt scare them off. Aside from that, there was only one that truly captivated my interest. She came in second in line behind the slutty-looking, short brunette with the big tits and the hiked-up skirt. That one would have been a simpler man's first choice, but I didn't see much of a challenge there.
No, I'd take the doe-eyed brunette with the longish legs and the awkward disposition. She was the true gem of the group—deliciously insecure, obviously inexperienced, and heartbreakingly adorable. I did have some standards after all.
The one that followed her was cute, too—a little thing with tiny features and wild, dark hair—but she looked like a bit of a spitfire and I was running a bit short on patience for that type. Plus, if I knew James, she was right up his alley.
The last one had a pretty face and a cute body, but the mousy brown hair, cat-eye glasses, slightly hunched posture, and darting eyes screamed "Peter's Type," and I was most certainly not looking to discuss books or theorems or postulates or whatever the hell topics got those types of girls hot and bothered. Oh, and as hypocritical as it may sound, the twinkling cross peeking out from the neck of her polo shirt told me that if I somehow did manage to bust the lock on her chastity belt, I'd soon find myself running from her house pants-less with her dad chasing after me, shotgun in hand. It's not like it hasn't happened before.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the hostess, clad in an embarrassing (for both nations) interpretation of traditional Mexican dress, led the girls to a booth across the room from us in the non-smoking section. I smirked to myself, and then turned my attention back to the table.
"You know, Jazz, one of these days you're going to rub one of these chicks the wrong way, and you're going to end up in jail, or getting your ass beat by an angry father or brother, or both," Peter said, pointing his beer bottle toward me in scolding gesture.
"Peter, age of consent is sixteen in this state and you know I don't even go below seventeen," I responded, hoping to ease his little mind.
"Girls lie," he said, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses.
"And I card," I shot back, after downing the last of my beer.
Practically on cue, our waitress appeared in front of me, eagerly asking if I wanted another beer. I always got great service in this town due to my relation to the church or my obvious rebellion from it—depending on to whom you were speaking.
"It isn't Sunday is it?" I asked, flashing her a crooked smile and a playful wink.
She laughed. "No, sir, it's not!"
"Well in that case, shug, I think I'd like another beer and a shot of tequila. Bring these boys one as well, except for WiFi over here," I gestured to Felix, "he's quite obviously the designated driver this evening."
Her laugh was a little overzealous but certainly not a reaction I wasn't used to. When she stepped away I sneaked another glance to the girls at the other table, and sure enough, now there was a brightly colored drink planted in front of each of them, each topped with practically a full fruit salad. The sweet looking one with the long, wavy chestnut hair pulled the strawberry from her drink and brought it to her lips. I just about fainted at the sight of it against her pretty little mouth, but luckily she accidentally dropped it and it fell into her lap and then rolled out from beneath the table. She flashed a quick frown to her friends and then laughed, and I think I fell in love right there.
Of course, my definition of love was admittedly a little loose. I fell in love almost constantly, and out of just as quickly.
I was now fully engrossed in their table, or more specifically, in Pretty Brown Eyes. She seemed to be taking a passive role in the conversation, her head moving back and forth between the little spiky-haired one and Tits. She wasn't shy or self-conscious like glasses chick, who covered her mouth every time she laughed, but just seemed comfortable to let the others do the talking. She seemed at once both naïve and more mature than the others, which made her that much more attractive—cause as much as they were worth it, teenage girls could be really fucking annoying.
She wore the standard issue white dress shirt with a dark green sweater vest that bore the school crest. Her lower half was clad in the green and black plaid skirt—worn to rule—bright green knee socks that made my cock twitch, and the standard issue black Mary-Jane style Doc Martens. But that little green headband in her hair was what drove me over the edge, inspiring visions of me bending her over that table right in front of all her friends…
Tits, like my sister, Rosalie, preferred the more traditional style: blouse unbuttoned to her chest, exposing a lacy black bra, and skirt rolled up until her ass cheeks practically fell out the bottom. Not that I didn't appreciate the view, but it was that little sweetie next to her that made my imagination run wild with possibilities.
Spitfire landed somewhere in between with a tight vibrant green polo bearing the same crest, the collar popped up and her wrists and neck adorned with some flashy, trendy-looking jewelry. No question she was "the cool one."
No further description needed for Glasses—everything was standard issue and regulation length/size. I'm guessing Acme-brand chastity belt with double bolt locks and wet rag personality for added protection.
I shifted my gaze back to Pretty Brown Eyes and found her looking in my direction with a mildly curious expression on her face. Our eyes locked for a moment and I flashed her the dimples and a half grin. Chicks loved that shit. She quickly looked down at her drink, and then over at Tits whose gums were still flapping in the breeze.
No giggle? No coy smile? Not even a little blush? Oh shit, Brown Eyes—Game On.
I turned back to conversation at the table to avoid sending out the creeper vibe. After twenty or so minutes, I noticed them all slide out of their booth and heading over to the bar area. Every Friday evening The Loco, as it was commonly referred to, had some kind of open mic session or featured some crappy local "talent" that basically only appealed to teenagers who needed something to do, and weirdos. They headed for the tables near the small stage. Tits and Spitfire sat at one table, Glasses and Pretty Brown Eyes at another. Opportunity was knocking so I stood up and pulled my wallet from the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled out a couple of twenties and tossed them on the table.
"Just in case I don't come back, let me leave some cash for you ladies," I said as I glanced back toward the stage.
James followed my gaze. "Which one? Let me guess, the brunette with the big…hair?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the latter part of the question.
"All yours, big boy," I said, slapping him on the cheek and then flicking the rim of his straw fedora. "I've got my sights set on the more subtle beauty with the long hair and killer lips." I grabbed my beer and saluted them.
Felix finally returned the BlackBerry to his pocket and looked up at me. "Uh, how can you not come back? Your car is not here?" His statement sounded more like a question, the upward inflection and mocking tone meant to imply that I was some kind of idiot, no doubt.
"Damn. Well, looks like you'll have to hang around and wait. There's room in the back for her, too."
"We better make room for two, cause I'm goin' in," James said, getting up to follow me down to the stage area.
Felix and Peter raised their beers to us, looking rather defeated. "Try to make it quick, I've got to meet with my Corporate Finance group at nine a.m. tomorrow and I haven't even started my project plan," Felix whined.
I looked at James as if to say are you fucking kidding me? He just sneered and shook his head. I led the way down to the stage area. James moved in front of me, always the eager little grasshopper, and pulled a chair up to Tits' table. Both girls just stared at him, stunned. He was unknowingly the perfect wingman—the Goose to my Maverick, although I tell him he's Iceman. He again managed to create a perfect intro to me.
I stood in front of the other table and gestured toward James. "Hey… my friend and I were coming down here for a beer but looks like his plans have changed. Do you mind if I sit with you ladies?" I asked, the charm oozing out, thick like molasses.
Glasses giggled and cast her eyes downward, shrugging. It was actually kind of cute, and she was a lot prettier up close. But when I turned to PBE for her answer, I am sorry to say her demure and unwavering gaze made Whatsherface look like a pile of manure.
"Sure," she said rather softly, smiling.
I pulled a chair over, flipping it so that the back was against the table. I swung my leg around and sat with my arms folded on the back of the chair.
"I'm Jasper," I said, extending my hand first to Glasses, and then to PBE.
"I know who you are," she said, looking almost shocked at the words as they came out of her mouth. She took my hand and shook it quickly. I wanted to yank her across the table so I could suck on her face. "Well, I mean, not really but you're Rosalie Hale's brother, right?"
"That's right, all though I'm not used to being recognized because of my sister. How do you know Rose?" I asked, feeling very nervous all of a sudden.
"Oh, I don't really know her she just goes to my school... She goes out with Edward Cullen, right?" She bit her lip immediately after asking the question and my dick felt relaxed enough again to react to that.
"Yeah, so you're friends with Edward?" I asked.
Whoa…there's the blush. Angela flashed her what appeared to be a knowing glance and her cheeks burned bright red.
She looked up toward the ceiling quickly before responding. "N-no, I just have some classes with him."
"Ah, so you're a senior as well?" I asked. Phew…meets age requirements.
"No, I just take two senior classes—Bio II and Calculus."
Fuck, smart does not equal age-appropriate.
"So, you're a junior? Are you Rose's age?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I'll be eighteen in September," she replied. Bingo! Just made it…
"Well, I'm feeling a little vulnerable as you both know my name, and I don't know either of yours," I said, flashing dimples again.
"Sorry! I'm Bella," she said. Damn right you are.
"Angela," Glasses said, following up with an embarrassed giggle.
Boy, these chicks' parents were being awfully literal when they named them.
Thanks for reading!