A/N: So this is my first full length fic I'm posting to day because it is my friend (and fave author) TailoredDream's birthday! She is on twitter so go say happy birthday.

Thank you to my beta mabarberella who is beyond amazing and improved my writing so much in just one chapter.

Thanks to the wifey revelrae. Thanks to all my h00rs especially my pre-readers sadtomatoFF, duckynoel, jslpisces and monamour (get better soon bb, I need your positive energy and for you to have better internet access!).

I don't own Twilight, I do however own...(checking student debt)…absolutely nothing…not this computer, not this couch, not even a pen…stupid needed education! Oh well, Enjoy!




"Good evening and thank you for calling Cullen International Resorts. My name is Bella. How may I assist you?" Eighty-two. That is the approximate number of times I say that exact line or some variation of it, every day.

"Yes, I wanted to book a hotel room."

"Certainly. City and state?" Yes, I have to ask the state. Do you know there are twenty-three Fairviews, twenty Springfields, and sixteen Winchesters in the United States alone? Plus, God forbid I not realize that all the Cincinnati airports are actually in Kentucky and end up with a twenty minute geography lecture from granny-pants on the phone. Seriously, people actually go to Kentucky? Willingly? Like I should talk. I live in Forks, Washington, a.k.a the edge of nowhere.

"Atlanta, Georgia."

I quickly pull up a list of hotels in the Atlanta area. "Alright, so what we have available are The Cullen Eclipse Downtown on west Peachtree, a Breaking Dawn in Midtown on 14th St. and a Twilight..."

"Oh my, wait a minute dear; did you want to know where I wanted to go or where I live? Because I live in Atlanta, but I want to go to Ft. Lauderdale."

I hit the mute button. "Why the fuck would I care where you live lady?" I whisper to Mike across the cubicle wall.

"Excuse me?! What did you say?" I apparently also whispered this to the lady on the phone.


Fuck. My. Life. And this shitty non-functional Cullen equipment. James is going to pull my ass into the office for that one for sure.


Yup, nine minutes into my shift and I already have a mandatory impromptu disciplinary meeting. Whatever. I think it's a new record for me, and I strive for excellence.

I grudgingly change the status of my soft phone on my computer to Aux 5, the code for manager meeting. It took me forever to figure out that I could operate everything on the computer through a soft phone rather than fumbling with the keys of the hard phone sitting on my desk.

I hear the soft snickering of my fellow customer care service specialist assholes – I mean, associates – as I exit down the row of cubicles. I'm pretty sure the carefully tossed paper plane aimed at my head is the one Jessica has been working on through her last five calls. She'll get hers when I'm done feigning remorse to James for my 'unsatisfactory behaviour'.

As I seat myself on the couch across from the manager's office, I can see Maggie, our loveable, loud, and inevitably slightly intoxicated operations manager in her office waving at me. She loves everyone here, and tells us all, all the time. I shake my head, a small giggle escaping my lips as I wave back to her.

"Alright Swan, in you go." James' trademark creepy smirk takes up most of his face as he motions for me to enter his office.

I can see he's been hard at work; the scores of last night's baseball game flash across the plasma TV mounted on the wall. James starts spewing company spiel about proper guest management and appropriate call verbiage, but I'd tuned him out at "have a seat."

It's not that I don't find what James is saying riveting; I'm sure in his mind it is. I just can't focus on what he's saying. It's not even because of that slimy feeling I have to fight off every time he's near me or that his eyes never seem to quite make it up to mine. No, what has my undivided attention is the commercial that is now playing on the plasma. Flashes of beaches with palm trees, soft flowing canopy beds and delicious gourmet meals being served flood the screen. Then the face of a man that I fear will haunt me for the rest of my life appears.

Paul Madison, CEO and the face of Madison Worldwide Hotels smiles out from the screen, welcoming everyone to be his guest. I like to think of him more fondly as my totally scummy, revolting, philandering prick of an ex-fiancée. Ugh now I have to actually listen to what James is saying so that I can clear my head, which is quickly becoming cluttered with images of Paul with that whore.

"So Bella, are we clear on the proper usage of the mute button or do I need to write up an official report on you?" James brings me out of my musings.

"Yup, sure, whatever," I say as make an obvious duck of my head to revert James' attention up to my eyes. "So can I start break now?" Anything to get off those phones early.

"Sure," he says as he fills out my manager slip with the extended break time on it. "Actually Bella, why don't you and I knock off early, head on down to Clearwater's, and start our weekend together?" Oh gross, he actually even licked his lips as his eyes traveled south again. This time I physically move his face to line up with mine. "Never gonna happen bubs, but thanks for the extra break time." I squeeze his chin extra hard and then grab the slip from his hand and skip off towards the break room.

When I enter the break room Jessica is perched on the edge of the large black leather couch nervously glancing at the door every five seconds. Her face explodes into a grin when she sees me.

"Hey Jess, and why may I ask are you in the break room?" I ask, her eyes still focused on the door. I grab my Rainbow Brite lunch box from the fridge and pour some tea from the vending machine dispenser before sitting down on the couch.

"Oooooh Bella, haven't you heard about the super juicy new man meat that has found its way into the new training class?" She is squealing and practically vibrating. If Mr. Man-Meat didn't know about her lust-filled crush before, he certainly just heard her.

"Shhhh, Jess, their classroom is located just down the hall." I take a peek at the door before I continue. "Besides, I thought the only man-wich you were interested in was our loveable Mikey-Mike." This earns me a swift kick to the shin.

"Bella, did you tell him? Because I swear to god if you did..." Her face instantly scrunches up and she's looking a little constipated.

"Whoa Jess, Frankie says relax! No I didn't say anything; you do a well enough job of showcasing the obvious yourself with the way you stutter and bat your eyelashes every time you are around him."

"Ugh Bellie-Bells, believe you me, the second I saw new-recruit boy I was like 'Mike-Schmike!' Well, maybe not, but I certainly wouldn't mind if I was picked to be the new guy's peer trainer." She waggles her eyebrows at me.

"Anyway, apparently he was in some training class in Seattle, but-"

I interrupt her "Jess, there is no call centre in Seattle."

"Bella, seriously? Who cares? Point is, the hottie is here now and James is assigning the class's partners as we speak." She's back to vibrating again.

Great, just what I need. To be hooked up with some punk who has relied on his good looks most of his life and thus never developed any acceptable level of intelligence or modicum of personality.

I sink into the leather seats of the couch, lay my head back and close my eyes, thanking whatever diety happens to be up there that management finally replaced those disgusting, dirt-coloured, disease-infested excuses for couches last week. At least these can be wiped down when some of the disgusting, dirt-coloured, disease-infested excuses for employees take up semi-permanent residence on them.


Ugh. "If I can't see you, you can't see me. If I can't see you, you can't see me." I repeat this mantra in a low whisper, convincing myself that this will make James disappear.

He doesn't. Stupid, crappy, non-functioning invisible powers. I don't even open my eyes even though he has walked so close to me that I can feel his legs touching my knees as he stands in front of me.

"I've assigned a little training buddy for you, Isabella," I can hear his smirk as he speaks to me.

"That's fucking fantastic, Fido," I reply in an exasperated tone.

"You bet it is, picked out a real winner just for you," his smirk has turned into a full on giddy grin. "Betcha you're wishin' you'd taken me up on that drink now eh?" I don't even have to open my eyes to know where his are focused.

I cross my arms over my chest and sigh in response, "James, I would buddy-jack every damn day before I would even have juice boxes in the lunch room with you."

"One day, my little Swan, one day," he laughs to himself as he walks out of the lunch room. I actually shudder at the thought of that. I slowly allow myself to drift back into daydreaming now that I'm alone. You know you hate your job when you are daydreaming of being at home refining your thesis on media conglomerates and the 'McDonaldization' of American media.

I've been enjoying my happy place for almost an hour when I'm interrupted and sucked back into hell.


I open up my left eye in a small squint shifting my sight towards the lunchroom doors. I see James standing there with a clipboard. He actually looks annoyed but in a weird way. I quickly glance at my iphone: nope, I still have two minutes left on my break so I ignore him.

"Here's your buddy-jack: Edward. Play nice," I've closed my eyes again by the time he mentions buddy-jack. I feel the couch move as someone runs into the side, and I hear a faint groan. The couch then shifts beside me. That must be Eddie and Eddie must be blind because this side of the room has a couch and a TV, so how the hell do you run into the only piece of furniture in front of you?

"Hey," I mutter, eyes still shut. I wait for a response. Okay, so Eddie must be blind and deaf.

"Yo, you talk?" I tilt my head towards him but keep my eyes closed so that I resist showing him a facial expression letting him know just how annoyed he's already made me.


"Seriously you have to think about that?" This is going to be a long week, especially if Eddie here can't get it together to form a full sentence and answer a call.

"N..No. I...uh...Ya, I can...um...hey," he finally stammers out.

The Rhodes Scholar and I enjoy a few more minutes of awkward silence before he clears his throat. "Uh, are we supposed to just sit out here?"

"You've got a better plan there, Eddie?" Seriously I could be asleep right now. I wish he would go back to being mute.

"Well, I was told that we were supposed to be answering calls, and I just..."

I cut him off, "Dude, simmer, I'm on break, therefore you, my little buddy, are on break too."

"Well, James said you were on break but that it was ending in two minutes, and then,"

"What are you dude, the aux 9 Nazi?" I sit up to give him my best bitch face but I'm met with an unexpected sight. This has to be the guy Jessica is salivating over. This kid is prettier than any of those supermodels gracing the covers of the magazines Jane whines for me to bring to her every Monday.

I close my mouth to ensure no embarrassing drooling occurs. I literally shake my head to clear myself from his obvious dazzling super powers. I've fallen for that 'I'm so gorgeous I can stun you with one glance' shit before. Never again. Not gonna work, pretty-boy.

"Alright, fine, let's go teacher's pet," I say as I get up off the couch and snap my fingers at him to follow me. "Let me guess you won 'star of the class'?"

"Oh, we haven't voted yet," he mutters.

I look at him incredulously for actually answering the rhetorical, but clearly not-so-obvious, slam.

"Well Eddie, are you ready to buddy-jack?" I might as well get back on the phones as I don't want any more one-on-one time with James tonight.

"Uh...Wh...You..B..b...buddy-what?" Eddie is going to seriously have to reign in this stuttering problem if he actually expects to answer a call. And now, now I'm going to play with him a little bit, just 'cause I can.

"Yup. We have a long, hard night of buddy-jacking ahead of us. Don't worry virgin-boy, we'll start off slow and gentle until I get you all warmed up." I gently pat his knee and he jumps and turns red. Geez, this kid must be really nervous about talking to strangers on the phone.

"Seriously yo, simmer down. We get unlimited Aux 9 time. If you get nervous and blow your load early, we will just take a break and talk about it. It's okay; it's a perfectly normal thing, especially for virgins." I try to reassure him but his expression is a mixture of confused, embarrassed, offended, and like someone just described his prom night.

"Aux 9," I continue. "You know the call-blocker code? Unpaid time off the phone? It allows you to get up, stretch, take a bathroom break, a smoke break, for some of the guys who work here a personal break, if you catch my drift." I waggle my eyebrows with appropriate hand gestures, at my last insinuation trying to get Eddie to lighten up just a smidge. "We are normally only allowed eight percent of our time in AUX 9, but virgins need extra TLC."

He shakes his head and comes out of his sputtering daze, "I'm not a virgin. If anyone is going to be jacking someone off around here, it's..." I cut him off before he can go any further with a 'talk to the hand' gesture.

"Dude," I let out in an exasperated sigh. "Buddy-jacking is a professional customer care service specialist term. What on earth did you think I was talking about?" I feign a horrified look and cross my arms in front of me, tapping my foot as he gets more and more uncomfortable by the second.

Revelling in his discomfort, I wink at him just for fun, wondering if he'll ever to ease up. With a resigned sigh, I nod my head towards the floor, gesturing that we should get going.

As we make our way out of the lunch room and enter the floor I turn to my new buddy. "Hey, you got all your stuff? Headset? Nameplate? Res book?" I suddenly feel like I'm sending a five-year old off to their first day of school.

He looks down at his arms, "Uh yeah, ready to go."

"Alright superstar, let's go." I lead him back to the second-to-last row of cubicles. As we turn to make our way down my row and toward my pod at the end, I catch a glimpse of Jessica's face. Her eyes have practically popped out of her head and her jaw is virtually on the floor.

"Hey guys, this is my buddy for the week, Eddie," I introduce him to the row, and yes, derive a small amount of smug pleasure from the brief stares of jealousy from Jess, Rachel, Lauren, Kim and Stefan. Hmmm…Stefan. I file that last one away for an in-depth analysis at a later time, remembering how Stefan didn't put up much of a stink when we forced him to be the fifth Spice Girl last Halloween.

I decide to make quick introductions for my jealous team: "Eddie this is Jess, Rachel, Lauren, Kim and Stefan."

"It's actually Edward"

"Hmm?" I stare at him.

"My name, it's Edward. No one calls me Eddie," he indignantly states.

"Well, now someone does." I turn and walk away.

I reach my station and shove my chair towards Eddie and grab the chair from the empty pod next door for myself. I sit down, grab my headset, and turn towards Edward. He's just standing there, staring at me. I roll my eyes. "Simon says sit."

As he fumbles to sit and get his stuff set up and slip on his name plate, I start logging back into the reservation systems and the soft phone. We spend half of our break time logging in and out of this damn crap.

As I adjust the brightness of my monitor I flinch as an electric shock zaps my forearm. I look down and see Edward's hand resting on my arm, his other hand on the computer tower. I glare at him.

"Wow, did you feel that?" he asks with a look of wonderment on his face.

"Yes, jerk. That's what happens when you have your headset on and then you touch the monitor and the tower at the same time. You'll be feeling more than a just a shock if you do that again, asshole."

"Oh, sorry," he says, looking appropriately chastised.

"S'okay," I grumble. "Not really your fault. There should be a chapter included in the training class about this craptastic equipment we are forced to use. The blame really lies in those whose name is at the top of my equally craptastic pay check every other week; fucking Cullens prance around the world representing this glamorous hotel chain, while we wallow in this hole with the daily fear that we'll be electrocuted by our 'industry standard' barely-functional equipment."

I notice his brow furrowing slightly as I tell him this. I guess the week he's spent here hasn't made him disgruntled towards the royal Cullen family yet, unlike me, who has a Cullen family picture on my dart board at home. I've been searching for one that includes the snot-nosed trust fund kids. I've found the blond Amazon one; she's in the tabloids every week, but the others seem to keep themselves out of the public eye. No amount of googling has allowed me the pleasure of finding what the others do or look like, so, unfortunately, they've not made it to the honorary spot on my dart board collage as of yet.

As I sit here, honouring my internal musings and avoiding doing any actual work, Edward just stands there, looking at me, expecting me to direct him.

I spot James turning to head down our aisle. I immediately busy myself checking random things on my phone and my monitor. "Hey, keep those hands visible and folded in your lap buddy, I've experienced enough bodily harm for one day today," I whisper to Edward.

James has a tag-a-long with him, another newborn, as we call them. They are all much like Eddie here: eager to please. The rest of us are constantly reminded by management how strong the newborns are and how we should constantly try to incorporate that same enthusiasm into our jobs.

This particular newbie would clearly make for a less than desirable buddy-jack. In fact, I can smell his body odour wafting in our direction as soon as the wind from the fan breezes by him. I turn towards them with a relaxed smile on my face. Pretty boy here may be lacking in the brains department but he clearly makes up for it with his lovely aesthetic and impeccable hygiene, and that I can more than live with.

Watching the scene unravel is actually quite entertaining. A look of terror reigns on everyone's face at the thought of being paired up with this guy for a whole week. I almost let a giggle escape when I realize who this newbie resembles. He's the spitting image of the comic bookstore guy from 'The Simpsons'.

Jessica's eyes widen to the point where I think they may pop out of their sockets as James comes to a stop in front of her. He doesn't even glance up as he makes a checkmark on his clipboard. "Ms. Stanley…" He only started calling her by her last name once their "deep" love affair of two and half weeks ended a few months ago. "This is Peter, your buddy-jack. I'm sure you two will be the best of friends by the week's end. Petie here didn't quite catch on as fast as the rest of the class, so you guys might even get two weeks together." James now looks at her with the sweetest smile; it makes me sick to my stomach.

"I...uh...but...wouldn't Bella be a better choice? I mean she has like way, way better stats and verbiage than I do. And, um…earlier, I kinda felt a good vibe between me and Edward," she pauses to give Eddie a flirtatious wink and smack her gum a few times. "And you know how important that is in the jacker/jackee relationship, and I just don't..."

I sneak a look at Edward who winces then looks up, allowing us to share a knowing smile at his earlier naiveté with call centre lingo. I hear a familiar sputtering but this time it is coming from Peter whose eyes are popping out of his head. I could have sworn call center terms were day one material in training.

"James you're the moron" Mike says standing up for Jessica. Eddie and Pete's mouths drop at Mike's less than subtle insult to James.

"What did you call me Mr. Newton?" James sneers at him.

"Why James I am just informing the newbies here that you are the MORON. The Manager Of Reservations on the floor tonight. The MOR-on." Mike enunciates the last word as if he's speaking to a toddler. Mike then gives James a double thumbs up just to rub it in that little bit more.

The group's snickering quickly turns into full on laughter.

James is already walking away, not listening as he makes his way back to the 'moron' desk, where he belongs. Just as he reaches the end of the aisle, he yells out "Swan, you better be back online in under fifteen minutes or I'm giving you an automatic adherence."

I stick my tongue out at him. I already have one adherence on my file for leaving my phone in Aux 9 while arguing with him a few weeks ago when he was being completely unreasonable, punishing Jess for something that was not her fault. Then I argued with him for giving me the adherence, as yelling at him for 10 minutes was clearly not over my allotted 8 percent. He threatened another one for that. If I end up with three, I'm a goner, for sure.

Edward looks at me expectantly.

"What?" I stare back. "You heard what he said. We get a fifteen minute break."

"I really don't think that is exactly what he meant." He's already questioning handing over his virginity and my buddy-jacking capabilities.

I grab my grocery store smut magazine and I give him my best bitch face, effectively shutting him up.

I take a quick peek towards Jess and her new best-buddy. She's muttering to herself and typing so hard I think she might break her keyboard.

"Yo Jess, are you mad at your computer?"

"No Isabella, I type with purpose!" She's clearly pissed. There is no way though I'm offering up Eddie here for what currently resides beside her.

"Alright," I sigh as I resign to getting back to work. "So, for today do you just want to listen?" Eddie nods his head at me.

I hook up his head set to my amp box and click the switch so that Eddie is only listening. I click the soft phone so that we are live.


"Good evening, thank-you for calling Cullen International Resorts. My name is Bella; how may I assist you?"

"I would like to book a room for December 16th of 2011. Did you hear me, 2011. This year is 2010 and I want 2011. That is one year from now. 2011..." I tune this broad out after the 3rd mention of 2011 and roll my eyes toward Eddie.

Seriously, just because we work at a call centre doesn't make us idiots. "Hold on...um ... 2011, does that come after 2010, or...?"

"Yes. 2011 is one year after 2010."

She clearly doesn't get that I am joking. Sarcasm is a dying breed in this country. I give up. "Certainly, what city and state are you travelling to?

"What do you mean what city and state am I travelling to?"

"Oh, I mean: What. City. And. State?" I speak slowly and distinctly, as if to a young child.

"I'm confused, you mean you aren't at The Midnight Sun Chicago downtown?"

"May I ask what number did you dial?" I have a feeling I know where this is going.

"Well, the number under Cullen Hotels in my phone book obviously. 1-800-CULLENS"

I shake my head in disbelief that people like these exist.

"So, I am correct in assuming that you called the 1-800 number in your phonebook and magically the call was instantly forwarded to where you wanted to travel? What about tomorrow when you want to go to Dallas? Or next week when you want to fly to the south of France? You will instantly get 'Bonjour, madame, comment allez-vous?' I don't freakin' think so lady." I am so annoyed with this woman that I'm this close to cutting the call.

I can see out of the corner of my eye that Edward's mouth has dropped open. Yeah I bet they didn't teach that verbiage in training class.

"Well I never, you are the rudest person I've ever spoken to! I demand you transfer me to your superior. This is simply not acceptable for..." she's actually escalated to screeching by the time I transfer the call.

To the Spanish line.


Let someone over there deal with this bitch.

"Uh, Bella. I think you transferred her to the wrong line." Eddie has remembered how to speak.

"You're right, but I don't have a direct line to the 1-800-you're-too-fucking-stupid-to-function centre, so Pedro is gonna have to take one for the team."

I put our phone back in Aux 9.

Eddie looks slightly distressed again. "Shouldn't we be answering another call?"

What is up with this kid? "Dude, are you already making a run for associate of the year? The only reason I agreed to babysit you is because when you're training you get unlimited aux time for the week."

If he doesn't watch it he is going to have my inner bitch coming at him in ways other than just sour facial expressions.

He still appears conflicted, "But don't I need experience? I mean in one week I have to do all this on my own."

"Yup," I answer. "Like I said, today was a listening day, you listened."

"That was one call. You switched into that aux stopping thing so fast I didn't even see it coming," he's pouting a little bit.

"Eddie," I give him a condescending smile. "I have extended expertise in all things call-blocking."

I grab my coke can and gulp some down. Eddie boy has once again placed a looked of shock on his face. I wonder if he's only allotted so many shocked faces in his lifetime before his face gets stuck like that? If we have a whole week together we are bound to find out.

"Y...ya...you...you can't drink that," he eventually sputters out.

I'm confused. He grabs the Cullen handbook of acceptable customer care service specialist behaviours. Yeah, I would have come up with a shorter name as well.

"Right here," he points. "All liquids that are to be consumed on the floor must be in a re-sealable container. What you're drinking is illegal!"

Illegal? Is this guy for real? "Really dude? I just practically told a customer off and you're concerned about my liquid consumption practices? Now if you don't mind," I gesture towards his hand that is currently resting on top of my rag mag.

Ah, back to reading about which celebrities have become one hybrid entity simply by dating each other. I actually snort when I see a picture of a yacht in some European marina. Aboard is the princess Cullen herself, in all her bleached-whore glory. She is in these magazines with a new 'true love' every few weeks. I squint to get a closer look; let's see who it is this time. I take another sip from my illicit liquid container.

Oh. My. God. The only portion of that sip of Coke that doesn't erupt into a spray all over the glossy pages in front of me ends up coming out my nose. Gross. Not as gross however as what I read on the now sopping pages.

The caption under the paparazzi photograph reads: "attending to the young Cullen heiress is her rumoured fiancé Emmett McCarty."

No way.




A muffled whimper escapes me unintentionally – somewhere between a laugh, a gasp of shock, and a groan of disbelief.

Smiling up from the page is Emmet, my best buddy and partner in crime from kindergarten until middle school, when he moved to Seattle with his dad. And now, he's engaged to her majesty, Rosalie Cullen.

Emmett and I used to get into the best trouble. He's actually partly responsible for why I failed kindergarten. I still owe him one for that. Now we've been reduced to a facebook/text/email/twitter relationship. Yes, I twitter because it's actually one of last sites not banned by the evil work internet 'big brother'. Also, the General Manager here isn't exactly in-tune with modern culture; she only just found out about facebook last week.

Emmett is the most down-to-earth yet lovably irresponsible person I've ever met. I really miss him, and I can't possibly ever see him hanging out with let alone engaged to a pretentious little princess like Ms. Rosalie Cullen.

My reverie is suddenly broken.

"Why on earth would you read that flippant crap?"

I focus on my witty response as to why delicious rags make my job just the teensiest bit more bearable when I realize he just used the word 'flippant'. "Flippant? Really Masen? And in which prep school pray-tell did we pick up such a fanciful word?"

He isn't deterred by my teasing.

"I just don't understand why you would want to read a magazine that is entirely full of lies. Do you know they follow her around day and night with cameras? No matter what country, what time of day. From hospitals to funerals, she's continually hounded."

"Whoa. Chillax dude. Did you date her or something? Because you are taking my reading this a little personally…"

"No, I didn't date her. I just think people deserve privacy, and buying that crap is just perpetuating the stalking and exploiting." He's actually going a bit red in the face as he exclaims this.

"Erm...no. What is perpetuating this is little Miss Rosie-Ro flaunting her plastic surgeon's skills over half of Western Europe. You don't see her little trust-fund siblings splashed all over these pages do you?" I shoot back at him, still curious as to why he's so concerned about her welfare.

"Rosalie just doesn't want to live incognito every minute of her every day. I bet she has to employ first rate Marine-type tactics to stay private. You always see that shit on shows like TMZ. They hold hands getting on a plane or kiss outside their hotel and it's front page freakin news!" He's angry now.

"I really don't understand why you are so concerned for this girl? She will never have to work in her entire life and the price is a little bit of her privacy. Pffft, I wish"

"She asked for that as much as you asked to be born into your family. I really don't think anyone should have to hide out simply because..."I am tuning him out again.

My phone vibrates and saves me from the irritating turn this conversation is taking, so I grab it to look at the screen. I have three messages from my mother.

Mama Nay-Nay – B, FYI 2mrw = 1st day of Sprng & UR Vata-Pitta U rly need to switch to a Pitta-
pacifying diet ;)

Mama Nay-Nay – Put a whtgrs/spirulina dry mx in ur lnch-bx, u can mix w/ur T ;)

Mama Nay-NayU cum'n hme l8r? ;)

I wish Jake had never taught Renee what a 'wink' is. She now thinks is the appropriate conclusion to every message. She also thinks it is perfectly acceptable to remove most vowels and short form everything. I message her back.

Bella Mom, I drank the tea (thanks) and I'll be staying at Jake's tonight. I will see you

Bella - p.s. Use your words (except the word cum, never ever use that word!) and full sentences
please, we have discussed this!.

I check the time. It's eight o'clock. One more hour and then I'm free until tomorrow. I'm excited to be going to Jake's. I popped by his garage yesterday when I went shopping in Port Angeles but I haven't seen Jane and the kids in three days. Jake has been working extra hours so that when the baby comes he can spend more time at home with them. He may drive me nuts sometimes, but he's my big brother and next to my dad he's the best husband and father I've ever met. I press the mute button and click myself out of aux on the soft phone to let the calls come in. I take my head-set off and rest it on the desk.

Edward's eyes have gone saucer-like again. "Wha...wha...what are you doing?"

"Jeez, I just don't know how to make you happy. First you are worried about our time off the phone. So here you go, I put us live on the phone. Now you're worried because calls are coming in? What do you want?"

"I'm worried because calls are coming in but only I can hear them because you've taken your head-set off." He sounds very distressed. He's been on the job for an hour and I can just imagine that he already has an ulcer forming.

"Oh," I laugh. "Sorry," I say as I pull his head-set off of his head and set it beside mine. "There, now no one can hear them, problem solved." I give him my sweetest smile.

"Bu...but, the guest will be talking and no one will be answering."

"Don't worry, they'll eventually hang up. Most don't hang on for longer than 30 seconds." I'm starting to get annoyed. He is very pretty but at this point it's not making up for my annoyance with him, "Relax, if a manager or lead or whatever comes by you just say that the soft phone messed up again. Trust me, I do this for a living."

I pat his hand condescendingly, giving him another sweet as pie smile as another call that we won't be answering comes in.


A/N: Do you like? Do you hate? Let me know. Oh and tell me what your absolute worst job you ever had to do was! Can you guess mine? I'll let you know and give you a teaser of next chapter which happens to be a little POV from Mr. E, just hit the button below.