Author's Chapter Notes:

Chapter Summary: We follow Bella as she navigates a trying morning. On her way home from yet another one nightstand with a man whose name she does not really remember, and see how she is dealing with her band, friends and Charlie

I want to thank the great beta's at Project Team Beta. Most of all I want to thank Rebecca a.k.a Love of Escapism one of the best Beta's ever.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners (Stephenie Meyer). The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

BPOV

I woke up suddenly and groaned. I was so hung over from the night before and my head was pounding. Not to mention that the room was tilting a little to the right. I couldn't help but wonder exactly what the time was as I turned to my nightstand to locate my alarm clock. However, I noticed it wasn't there and became confused; this was not hard, considering the state I was in. Looking around, I realized that the room was unfamiliar too. It suddenly dawned on me that I didn't know where I was. My memories then came flooding back – I had gone home with that guy that I had met at the bar last night. I racked my brain for his name. I went through several alternatives like Austin, Archie and Andrew, before I remembered his name was actually Aaron. I turned my head toward the sound of gentle snoring that I had not noticed it before. He was still asleep.

I knew I had to leave; I could not waste the day away on someone I didn't even know. I jumped out of the bed, covering myself with a sheet as I went to look for my clothes, which were strewn around the room. Yes… it was definitely a good night! I thought.

"Where you goin', babe?" Aaron asked suddenly. He must have felt my quick departure from the bed.

Urg! He dropped his g's, he was only useful when he was not speaking, I mused, while flashes of last night flickered though my mind.

"I have band practice," I replied, not really wanting to be bothered with this shit.

"Well, last night was great. Can I see you again? Maybe grab a bite?" he asked, looking rather hopeful. Why shouldn't he look hopeful? I'm the hot lead singer of Hamarita, a very popular underground indie rock band and, from what I hear, a great fucking lay.

"Last night was fun, but I don't do relationships," I stated as I put my top on.

"Come on love, we could be good together," he said with raised eyebrows. My blood ran cold when called me "love." I had to suppress the panic that was flowing through my veins. I knew I never wanted to see this guy again, EVER.

"No. So bye." That was all I was capable of saying as I quickly finished getting dressed and walked out of the apartment. I hailed a cab to get to the band's rehearsal space, otherwise known as the garage of the house the girls in the band and I live in. I grabbed my cell and called home. Liza, my best friend who played electric guitar, answered the phone.

"Hey!"

"Hey B, you doing the walk of shame? Not a bad score for a Thursday night. That one was cute. But then again, you do like the pretty boys," she mocked me, and I rolled my eyes.

I had heard it many times over the years, that I liked 'pretty boys,' and it bugged the shit out of me. The thought that I had a type made my skin crawl because, when you really looked at it, I did. Most of my conquests were beautiful, had unruly sex hair at all times, were pale, and quite a few have had green eyes. When ever the girls have pointed this out, it was knife in my heart. It was like I was trying to find a clone of him, the human version I never knew. None of them ever were him though. Aaron had copper unruly hair and we all knew how well that just worked out. No, Edward Cullen, the son of a bitch who left me, was my type and I hated it.

"Ha-ha, the only reason you don't have to do it was because you brought that guy back to our place. I just called to tell you I'm going to be late for practice today, but I think I have a new song. I came up with it last night and I'm e-mailing it to you, so the rest of you can work on the music while I am in transit. It will not be ready for tonight, but it should be started now. Okay, right now it's 11:00, I will not be there until 12:30, or noon if traffic cooperates, because apparently Aaron lives in the boonies. We have to be at the club at 7:00 for our sound check, okay?" I asked. Somehow I had been elected band manager, and I had to take my duties seriously, even when it meant micro-managing my friends/band-mates.

"That's fine, I'll tell the girls. Is this another bitchtastic heartbreak men suck song?" She sighed.

"Yeah, but my heartache, sex, drugs and rock-and-roll lifestyle has been our bread and butter for the better part of the last two and a half years," I snapped. She knew all about my past, about the boy I loved and lost, the one I could not live without but could not have. She knew that my parents were no longer in my life as a result of the devastation I went through four years before. She knew all this and yet she mocked it. She thought it was funny or cute to belittle my pain. It was my pain that made us the band that we were-sure, she wrote the music, but the lyrics were all me. I knew she could not do any better so why was she being such a little bitch?

She must have felt remorseful after my reprimand because all she said was, "True, true, so I scored some weed. We'll take a hit and write the music. You want me to save you some?"

"Fuck yes," I answered and the cabbie glared at me. I guess he didn't think my vocabulary was very lady like. As if I cared what he thought of me. Screw him; you definitely aren't getting a tip buddy, I silently scolded him.

"Don't get too fucked up before the show!" I warned, as if there were such a thing for us.

"Yes, manager," she droned, and then cackled with laughter.

I heard my phone beep; I had another call. I checked the caller ID while she laughed and the screen indicated that it was Charlie. I had not spoken to him in weeks nor seen him in like a year, maybe 18 months… I never kept track. It was too hard to go back to Forks or even speak to my parents because they disapproved of my … lifestyle choices. Part of the reason that I had not seen him was the fact that I was in New York City. The main reason was that I had long ago cut him out of my life because of what he tried to do to me.

"You're getting beeped and I have to wake the others. That is if they are all at home. So, that is my cue to scat," she giggled.

"Ok, bye babes," I replied and clicked over.

"Hello," I said, a little distain seeping into my voice. I couldn't help it. I was sick of Charlie trying to reason with me and bring the 'old Bella' back-she was gone. He didn't seem to understand that Edward took her with him when he left. I was just B, that was it.

"Bells," he answered happily, but there was a tinge of weariness to his voice. For a moment, I felt bad for him. Then I remembered that he had tried to send me to a mental institution and that thought effectively steeled my resolve. I would never forgive him for that.

"Yes?" I asked. I was being a bitch and I knew it. I felt bad, but not bad enough to stop.

"Honey." Oh no, I thought, nothing good ever came of his calling me honey; he only started that after Edward broke me.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Fine, you?" I quipped

"I'm okay," he answered meekly.

"Good." I wanted this conversation to be over. I was way too hung-over for this. Could this day get any worse? First, Aaron turns out to be stupid and clingy and calls me that vile pet name. Then something crawled up Liza's ass and died. Now, I have to deal with an awkward conversation with Charlie? Maybe if I just asked him he would tell me why he called and then go away.

"Why did you call? Do you need something?" I rudely asked. I was so over this conversation that I didn't care how I sounded.

"Can you come home? I miss you, I haven't heard from you in so long. Jake asked about you again when I was at Billy's. He says he wants to visit you in the city if you don't want to come home. He misses you. I know you told me not to give him this number, but I was hoping that you would change your mind. If not for him, Bells, for me. I need to know you're OK. If Jake could come, he could allay some of my worries since I know you won't come home," he begged.

"This is my home now. This is where my life is. Please don't give Jake this number, EVER. He and I don't see eye to eye on things, and as much as you would love me to fall for Jake, marry him, live in Forks and birth his children, those things are SO not going to happen. That is NOT the girl I am. It never was-my mother taught me better than that." I was fuming.

"Then who are you, Isabella? My daughter was responsible and smart. She would not have done the things you have like blown off college to move to New York and start a rock band-"

"We have been over this time and time again, this is my choice and my life. I took care of everyone and now my life is my own and this is what I want to do. I have to go." With that I hung up the phone. Remorse washed over me. I pulled out my steel water bottle, filled with vodka, from my purse and took a swig. Funny thing about vodka, it made the remorse simply melt away. After that, I sat back and enjoyed my cab ride.

Chapter End Notes:

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