Greetings and Salutations to those out in Fan-Fictionland!
I know none of you expected to being seeing another story from me so soon, but what can I say? Writing this shit is addicting! Fortunately for me, I've managed to drag someone new along for the ride this trip. The someone new happens to be my darling husband, known on FF as Mystical Rabbit. Yes, I'm popping his author cherry, woo-hoo! Bow-chicka-wow-wow!
Oh, and we don't own!
Chapter One-It's Life Bella, But Not As We Know It
It was a dark and stormy night...
Wait, why do stories always fucking start with that? I mean, come on, I know that the area I live in has over two hundred overcast days per year, but there's got to be some sunshine in there every once in a while or else nothing would grow right? Okay, maybe except for the occasional mushroom or some shit...Stupid fucking fan fiction story, how many cliches can fit in one-
Shit, where was I?
All previous thoughts in my head are ejected as I look up from my laptop to see a man that I can only describe as 'fuck me now' hot on my internal guy meter aka my clit.
Ginger hair, not bad, just means he's passionate about the things he does. Kind of tall, with a runner's build, hopefully that means he has endurance. A little on the pale side, but it's not like I have room to talk, I'm damn near white as a ghost all year round. Moving on now. Dark blue dress shirt, rebelliously unbuttoned and draped over a fitted white tee. Nice. Loose fit blue jeans that look a tad bit snug in a few places. Damn, I think the boy is packing! Either that or he stuffs and I refuse to let that thought derail my fantasy right now.
Then the bastard turns his head and flashes me a smile that makes my panties wet and my ladybits start to throb. His eyes are hidden behind a pair of aviators, but for some reason, I can feel that his eyes are on me.
In that moment, I'm acutely aware of what I've worn today. Black combat boots, my favorite black and white striped stockings that go all the way up to mid thigh, and the shortest pair of jean shorts that I could find in my feeble attempts to stay cool. On top, my black and white skull bones bra that can occasionally peeks out from under the ratty black sweater of my fathers. Okay, maybe the sweater was a bad idea in this heat, but it was all I could find when I got up.
Crap. No wonder he's staring. He's probably trying not to laugh at the plumper-I'm a size 12/14 and society calls that fat, so if the shoe fits-with the crazy clothes, gauged ears, nose ring, and cinnamon colored hair that is filled with purple, blue, and green streaks, I can understand why he would be amused. Now I want to just turn around and ignore him, but I can't seem to make my body obey.
My eyes find his face again and this time, he lowers the sunglasses enough to reveal his eyes, then gives me a mischievous wink. I'm on my feet before I can stop myself and start taking a step in his direction.
Mister Sex On Legs, evidently too busy watching me watching him to see where he is walking, suddenly crashes right into the four foot high sign that bears the map of the school campus. Unable to stop myself, I'm immediately doubled over in laughter.
My bad luck strikes again though, because when I finally stop the guffaws, which have mellowed into the occasional snort, he is gone. Poof. Vanished.
"Great, scared another one off B," I growl under my breath while turning back to the picnic table to gather my things. No use dwelling on it, I've got to get to work anyways. Charlie will be pissed if I'm late again this week.
Once my laptop is stowed away in my bag, I shove my glasses back up my nose and hoof it back to the parking lot where my Firebird is sitting. I unlock my baby then toss my bag in the back as I drop into the driver's seat. Another smirk takes over my lips when the engine roars to life and causes a few students nearby to nearly jump out of their skin.
"God, I love terrorizing the masses," I snicker, throwing the vehicle in gear and speeding out of the lot. I might not be a student here, but I have to deal with their ignorant asses enough at work to justify my actions.
A few miles down the road, I turn into a semi alley and park behind a building with all too familiar white paint that is peeling in a few places. After retrieving my bag, I lock the car up and shuffle around to the back entrance of the structure, pausing to crush my cigarette out before stepping inside.
"Bella, glad to see you're on time for once," a man with weathered skin, bright brown eyes and a mustache that rivals a porn stars harrumphs upon spotting me.
"Charlie, it was the first time I've ever been late since I got this fucking job," I fire back with an evil smile," Besides, I wouldn't have been late if your wife hadn't have wanted to go another round."
"Then you'd better hand over the videotape or your ass is fired," he scowls, doing his best to look imposing. To any one else, that bad cop stance would have someone shaking in their shoes, but it just makes me laugh.
"Fuck you Charlie, I'm selling that bitch on the internet so I can make my millions and retire to my private island full of perpetually naked sex slaves. If you're good, I might let you come along and be one of them."
He tosses my apron to me and gestures towards the bar that takes up nearly a third of the room, "Get your ass behind the bar woman and get to work before I suddenly forget that you don't want me to give Newton your phone number."
I give him the middle finger and make a point to ignore the nasty face an old guy sitting a few feet away gives me. Instead, I snatch his glass and refill it with some putrid beer that, by the looks of it, he's been drinking since this morning.
Being that it's a Friday and Labor day weekend, the bar fills up fast with idiots ready to get their puke on. I forget all about the copper topped sign crasher as my mind is overwhelmed by slurred orders, roaming hands, and reminders of why I'm so fucking glad that I never went to college.
I end up missing my break and my lunch, so when Sue tells me to head on out at half past twelve, I grab my bag, soda, and cigarettes, then bolt out of the place with barely a thank you thrown over my shoulder as I go.
I'm too busy lighting a smoke when I come out, at first, to notice the tall blonde guy and his tiny dark haired girlfriend who are standing next to my Trans Am, studying it. But that situation is quickly rectified when I glance up in time to see the blonde running a hand over the pale white hood of my pride and joy.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my car?" I snap, ready to fuck someone up if they screwed up the paint job.
"Sorry sugar, I was just admirin' a damn fine piece of machinery," the man turns and takes his time looking me up and down before continuing, "But now that you're here, a 1970 ½ Pontiac Trans Am pales in comparison. I'm Jasper, this is my girl Alice."
"Bella, pleased to meet you," neither of them make a move to shake hands, so I nod my head towards the car, "My daddy and I rebuilt her from the ground up after we found her wasting away in a junkyard. It took years to do it, since dad insisted on using first generation parts only, but we finally finished her back in 2005."
The woman he called Alice wrinkles her nose, "What's the big deal between a first generation and a second generation car part? Aren't they technically both still 1970 Trans Ams?"
"Pride," I reply, dismissing her quip, "The black interior was taken from another T/A because the red interior it had got ruined from exposure. She's won a few awards at some of these little car shows that go on around here, but nothing big."
"You don't look too happy about that," Jasper chimes in, his tone concerned.
I shake the thoughts of my dad away and shrug a shoulder, "My dad passed away before he had much of a chance to show her off, so I do it for him. It just bugs me sometimes that I don't have the money or the time to invest in the big shows, he would have loved that."
"I bet he would've," Alice gives me a sympathetic smile, "It sounds like you're quite the gear head even now that he's gone."
I take a drag from my cigarette and shake my head no, "Not really. My dad taught me how to work on her, but I've never touched another car. In all honesty, I couldn't tell you the names of half the parts I helped put under the hood, I just knew how to tighten the bolts."
"Now don't sell yourself short," Jasper gently chides then straightens, his voice growing stern over my darkened expression, "Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't you follow me and Ali back to our place? We could play a little pool, listen to some music, I bet that would make you feel better."
The sounds of a couple of inebriated assholes coming our way makes my mind up. "Okay, I'll follow you, but I can't stay or anything, seeing as we just met and all."
Alice's face lights up like a kid on Christmas, "Brilliant! We're going to have so much fun, I can see it!"
Surprisingly enough, their car is parked only a few spaces away, so I get situated in my baby while I wait, all the while wondering what in the hell I've just gotten myself into.