Hey, peeps!

This outtake was donated to the Fandom4Animals. It's snippets throughout the story from EPOV, like when E/B first met, and some moments with Carlisle that I know a couple wanted to see! I hope you like them. I liked getting into his head :-)

= Edward POV =

"Are you going to Big C tonight?"

Sighing, I stretch out on the couch and reach for my TV remote. That's how much I wanna go out tonight, and I'm almost annoyed my brother's even asking. I haven't been there in weeks, maybe months, and Carlisle knows this. He also knows it's intentional because I haven't been up to 'clubbing' in a while. "Wasn't planning on it. Why?"

"Well, Esme wants me to go over there."

I wait, thinking there's going to be more. She always wants him there with her—this isn't news. But when he doesn't say anything else, I can't help but ask, "What's that gotta do with me?"

"Ed, stop being a dick."

Can't help it. Not right now. Not after the day I've had—not after the day he knows I've had. Honestly, he's lucky I even answered the damn phone. "You realize I just got back this morning, right?"

"And I'm sure you need to unwind. How'd that go anyway?"

"The same way it always goes." I shrug, though he can't see me. "I don't see myself going up there for a while."

I love my mother's family—my aunts and cousins on her side—but they're annoying as shit sometimes. Over a decade since she passed, and more than three decades since I was born, and they still haven't forgiven her or my dad for their affair. 'That's not how she was raised,' they always say.

All I want to do when I visit New York is see how much my younger cousins have grown up, then spend some time at my mom's grave; talk to her about my life, and pretend she can hear me. Unfortunately, I have to put my extra energy into trying not to cuss some bitches … I mean, ladies, out.

They don't get it. Their opinions about my father and grandfather are their business, not mine. And the last things I need to hear.

I had my moments growing up where I hated him; hated that my mother was 'the other woman'. But when things came to light that she knew exactly what was going on, there was only so much hate I could hold on to. I didn't like the knowledge of how I came to be in the world— being the mistress's son—but I was loved. Ed Sr. was always a good father to me, and in the end that's all he really owed me. When my mother died, my father could have handled it differently. He could have ignored me and let me figure things out on my own, but that didn't happen. He was there for my mother's family, and he was there for me.

No matter what it cost him, he gave me a good life.

Unfortunately, not only have my aunts forgotten about that over the years, they always seem hell-bent on getting me on their side—getting me to view him as some evil bastard who took advantage of my mom, and killed her ten years later. Like I'll magically think she died of heartbreak, and not from the cancer.

Shit, just thinking about all this makes my head hurt.

"On second thought, I do need a drink. You buying?"


"Why do we even come here?" I tear my gaze away from the glass that overlooks the club, and stare at my brother. It's not like he actually comes here to look at the girls—make sure they're up to par, or just watch a good show, like I do. Or did, I should say. "And by 'we' … I mean 'you'."

Once upon a time, I used to come here for other reasons. Shit, one of the reasons I even wanted to open this damn place was because I knew I would have my fill of ass at the ready. A buffet lined up for me to do what I want with. At twenty-five, and newly divorced, getting the option to do whatever I want … I was a piece of shit. And I was, and still am, unapologetic about that time in my life. I was young, dumb, heartbroken, and out to prove something to myself.

Now, I know better.

So I chill out up here and remain out of sight and out of mind for most people. And though it's been years since I've given into the temptation, I won't pretend I don't enjoy watching.

As I'm about to go back and have seat next to Carlisle, something downstairs catches my attention. Like usual, there's scattered ass all over the place. But right there in the middle of it all, talking to that butch bartender I can't stand, is the sweetest face I've ever seen.

I press my forehead closer to window, as if it'll give me a better look, and watch her in a weird state of awe.

My eyes track every movement she makes. She has a look on her face that screams determination, yet it's clear she's out of her element.

She's different.

Sometimes you can just tell about a person.

I can tell by the way she's dressed.

No other girl that works here would wear just a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, put their hair up in a ponytail, and keep their face void of any make up.

And fuck it all if I'm not willing to break every rule I've placed on myself—to not mess with any of the girls that work here anymore—just for her.

"Carlisle." I snap my fingers to get his attention. "Car." I call out to him again, and this time he appears at my side. "Is she new?" How long have I missed out on seeing this girl because I've been avoiding the club for months?

"Maybe … I don't know."

"Find out."




"Her name is Bella."

"The hot brunette from last night?"


"What else?" I sit up, and this time I mute the TV—giving Carlisle my full attention. "Is that her real name or …"

"No, she doesn't have a nickname. Well, yet. She just started, and Esme said she's friends with Ivy. That's how she got the job."

"Ivy?" Is that supposed to ring a bell?

"Yes. Ivy is—"

Not at all my concern. "She got a man? Bella, I mean." Not that it would stop me if she did.

Carlisle barks out a laugh, and it's really not that funny.

"Are you done?"

"Oh, little brother. I'm not laughing at you—well, no, I am. But mostly it's because you're crazy if you think I'd ask Esme that kind of question."

Good point.

"Is Bella working tonight?"

"I think so."

"Good." I nod. "Get dressed."


"How about you get a dance or two?"

I whip around, and stare at blue, amused eyes. My brother actually pushing me to get a lap dance? "Are you serious?"

Laughing, he shakes his head and takes a sip of his drink. I try not to glare at it, knowing we pretty much only carry that Blue Label shit for him. No one else orders it. And I find it a waste. "You seem distracted."

"I am." I nod, and go back to staring downstairs. Should I be ashamed of myself for coming here with the sole purpose of watching Bella? Yes. Am I ashamed, though? Not at all. "I want her."

"I doubt she dances, though."

"Yet." I wink at him, wondering when, or if, that might change.

It's not uncommon for some of the girls to start working as waitresses or bartenders, only to turn to the stage once they see how much money they can make.

It's good for us just as much as it is for them.

Most guys who come here want the one thing they can't get. They drool over the one chick in the whole place that isn't half naked, while ignoring the naked girl on full display onstage. Day in and day out, they focus on trying to turn her —get her to dance. Then when they succeed, they come to watch her—convinced they had something to do with it. And when a new girl starts, the cycle repeats itself. That's how we keep our regulars, and that's how we pay the bills.

However, the thought of Bella on that stage suddenly thrills and enrages me all at once.

I want to see it, but I don't want anyone else to. Just the thought …

"Whoa. Are you all right?" Carlisle places his hand on my shoulder. I let out a breath, not realizing how tense I'd become. It takes me less than a second to come up with a decision.

"Talk to Esme, tell her I said Bella is to never get on the stage."


"Yeah, I don't plan on repeating myself."

From his heavy-ass sigh, it's obvious he wants to say something else but one glare from me stops him.

"And when you get a chance …" I smile at him, hoping to lighten the mood. "When you come back from talking to Esme, can you bring me a piece of paper?"

At hearing I'm a little 'sweet' on the new girl—Carlisle's words—my father and a few other colleagues decide to spend some time at the club a couple weeks later. Really, it's because he wants to check her out, and I don't like that shit at all.

I still haven't grown the balls to talk to her. I have no clue why I'm acting like a little bitch about it. And the last thing I need is my dad sniffing around.

"Wow, she really is a looker."

I fight not to growl at the man. Who, in my eyes, is far smoother than anyone his age has the right to be. I've seen him render the smartest of women into a fit of giggles, and I might have to tackle him if he so much as winks at my Bella. I could take him if I had to. I think. "Don't even go there, old man."

"Wouldn't dream of it, son." He grins, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair "Plus, with Maggie and all, I wouldn't want to start any trouble around here."

Both mine and Carlisle's jaws drop. "That's still going on?"

"Yeah, well …" He winks.

I don't even want to think about the things she might be doing in order to keep him around.

After some more shit talking, Carlisle makes his way downstairs to hang out on the floor.

He's never really done that before, and when I ask him why he does it now, he smiles all secretively and tells me he's 'doing research' for me.

Whatever that means.

"Looks like you have some competition with the youngin' down there." My father teases and I narrow my eyes, watching as the little shit with the long black hair and Goth clothes stares at Bella's every move. "Piss or get off the pot; like I'm about to."

He waggles his eyebrows, then gives me a quick pat on the shoulder before walking off. I'm left in a place I often find myself—proud that my dad is a ladies man while simultaneously being disturbed about it.

Trying not to overthink what I'm about to do next, I text Jacob and ask him to come upstairs. Then I ask my dad's friend, Nahuel, whose arm is the size of my leg, to let Jacob in but no one else unless I say otherwise.

When he gets upstairs, we're happy to see each other. Most people don't realize this, but Jacob Black is the head of our security. Not just for the club, but for our personal lives as well, when the occasion calls for it. We met ten years ago, around the time I was starting the club. He started as our only barman, but over the years Jacob has proved himself as a friend

"That new girl—Bella? What's she like?"

"Sweet girl. Funny. Sometimes lacks a filter …" His forehead crinkles. "Why?"

"You think you can get her up here?"

I'm surprised when he frowns. "She's not like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the kind of girls that normally come up here."

Since I had Carlisle give Jake the letter to give to Bella, we hadn't had a chance to talk about her. He doesn't know my intentions are good, and I appreciate him being protective of her, but I really don't need his shit, either.

"First of all." I try and keep my voice low and calm. "When's the last time you saw me bringing anyone up here for that? And second, that's for me to decide what kind of girl she is. If I ask you to bring her up her, your job isn't to question me."

His jaw tenses, he crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a curt nod. He'll do what I say, but this is his way of telling me he doesn't like it. That's not good; I need him on board.

"Fuck, Jacob, calm down all right? I saw her a couple weeks ago and haven't had the chance to talk to her. Just relax."

"Do you like her?"

Do I? I don't know if I like her yet, but I do want her. I nod, slowly but maintain eye contact. I don't have the words, so whatever he's looking for he's going to have to find it that way.

"Fine, fine."

I watch through the glass as Jake approaches Bella. My jaw clenches when he grabs her chin to turn her focus upward. I don't give a shit how loyal he is to his wife, or that he wouldn't try and cross a line knowing I've shown interest in Bella, I don't very much like the fact he's touching her.

We'll be talking about that later.

When Bella starts making her way toward the back stairs, I scramble to sit down in the corner. I'm suddenly nervous, and need a few extra seconds to compose myself.

The door opens and I lean forward in anticipation, watching her take everything in. A minute or so passes before she actually sees me, because even though the room isn't that big, I'm hiding out in the cut—sitting in the corner.

My heart skips a beat with every step she takes, and by the time she's standing in front of me I swear I can hear my own heartbeat. I knew she was cute, thought she'd be hot, but didn't realize she'd be as pretty and downright fucking sexy as she is now that she's up close.

Both my hands and my dick twitch. It seems we both want to touch her, but since he can't just jump out through my zipper, I lean back and ball my hands into fists to control them.

I'm still nervous, but when I catch her staring at me, checking me out … fuck yeah, I start feeling a little good about myself.

"What can I do for you?"

And this is when I realize I hadn't actually thought about what I was going to ask her for when she got up here. So I try and buy time, and rub my hands together while thinking.

"You're the one who called me up?"

"I am." I nod, my voice shaking slightly from nerves. I still have no idea what to ask her for. We already have drinks. I'm sure she'll kick my ass, or Jake might try, if I actually ask her for a dance. She seems to have a little bit of an attitude with me, and I don't know why. Normally it would turn me off, but with her it works. I want to fuck that attitude right out of her.

After I blurt out for her to get us all some shots, I see she wants to make a mad dash out of here and away from me. I'm hoping she's uncomfortable because she's feeling me—liking me—and not because she already detests my presence. I dart my hands out to grab her arm. I want to pull her back and tell her she should make that a bottle instead, but I change my mind at the last minute.

As soon as she's out the room, I'm back at the window watching her. Only this time I don't make my way back to the seat when I see her returning. Now that she's out of sight, and I'm not being affected by her being right in front of my face, I decide I'm actually not that much of a fan of the attitude she was giving me.

When she questions me about my drink, sounding a bit like a bitch, I shrug. Not my fault she wasn't paying attention before.

I'm not sure what possesses me to ask her to bring Alice upstairs. Maybe it's because I expect her to rip me a new one. Everyone knows Alice doesn't agree to any kind of private dance or alone time. Frankly, when she started dating my nephew I wanted him to make her quit altogether, but that didn't happen. Rumor has it, Emmett's with one of the girls as well. I can't judge—I'm not judging. Their girls can do whatever they want, be whatever they want. That just couldn't be me. I wouldn't be able to handle the idea of dudes seeing my girl like that.

But it backfires because Bella doesn't hesitate, and I realize she doesn't know Alice's rule.

Before I blink, Alice is in front of me barely reaching my chest and hitting me with her tiny fist. Playfully, I bend my head down and pretend like I'm gonna motorboat her or something. Even though I'm playing, I hope no one would take it the wrong way. I love her like an annoying little sister. "Introduce me," I whisper in her ear.

Thankfully, she doesn't try and give me shit, and introductions are quickly made. Bella smiles, and I have to bite down on my lip—control that moan. Then, even though I told myself I wasn't gonna go there, I ask her if she dances.

I wait for the smack, it doesn't come and I celebrate that I've caught her off guard. If she wants to verbally spar with me, I'm game. She just needs to make sure she can keep up.


Over the next few weeks, I do some digging on Bella—Isabella Swan.

I watch her at the club while I'm there, and when I'm not I have her watched. I want to know what she's up to and make sure she's okay. Make sure no one's bothering her. That's what I tell myself, at least, in order to not to admit I'm turning into a stalker.

But as I watch her changing right in front of me, I know the window to make a move is starting to close.

Wearing fewer clothes, more make-up, and becoming flirtier are all signs a girl is days or weeks away from the stage.

I'd sooner burn this place down or make Esme fire her before I let that shit happen. She might not give a fuck about me, or know I'm alive, but the past few days all I've been able to think about is her.

Not sure how to approach her, I resorted to old school style of getting Jake to give her little notes for me here and there.

I assume she knows it's me. So it throws me a little when Jake never comes back with a message from her. Even if the message was for me to fuck off.

I can't help feeling a little deflated.

When my dad says he wants to celebrate his birthday at the club, I have mixed feelings.

I have no say, not that I'd try to talk him out of it anyway, but he'd already called up Esme and told her to make sure the upstairs was stocked and ready for him to have his party there before he even spoke to me.

As expected, Maggie is our waitress for the night and her every move and presence slightly annoys me. She's nice, but a shitty waitress who's actually been fired before. Esme isn't that big of a fan of hers either, but that decision went over her head. She's a pretty enough girl, and people come just so they can look at her, so I guess in the end it's a win-win. Good for business, and she keeps my dad busy and happy if only for a short amount of time.

When they both disappear for a while, I start getting annoyed again. I don't care what she does with her spare time but if Maggie is supposed to be waiting on us, the least she could do is first get us our drinks then go blow my dad.

I'm minutes away from saying fuck it and going down to the office to get my own drinks—we keep our more expensive bottles locked there—when a few of the girls offer us dances.

Ironically enough, we'd brought some outside 'entertainment' for tonight. I knew for a fact that Carlisle and I wouldn't be doing a damn thing with them. But I couldn't say the same thing for the rest of the guys. The last thing I needed was for one my dad's business partners to stick their dick in one of our girls and leave them with a broken heart and not wanting to dance at the club anymore.

Carlisle shrugs at them. He isn't the least bit affected, and tonight I'm not either. I won't turn them down, though. I am a man after all; I just don't plan to engage.

We turn to talk, letting the girls do their thing in front of us until we're distracted by someone stepping up to our table.

When I see it's Bella, I try not to react.

Damn, she looks really nice tonight.

"Hey, Beautiful."

I flare my nostrils at Carlisle's nickname for her. He's spoken to her a few times—interacted with her around the club, but what's with the name? I want to ask, the words at the tip of my tongue until I realize the girls are still dancing.

I snap my fingers to excuse them. It's either that or I tell them they need to get the fuck out of my face. Bella isn't happy they're here, I can tell. Though she has no right to be jealous, I know what I want, and acting like it's none of her business that these girls are here is not gonna bode well if I want to see her again.

Staring at her, I wonder why she's making it a point not to look at me. I'm not dumb, it's obvious she's giving my brother extra attention while purposefully ignoring me. I know the tactic, I just can't figure out what the fuck her deal is with me. As for Carlisle, if he wasn't so devoted to Esme, I'd have to question him a little. There's a good chance my older brother might be able to take me down, but I wouldn't care. Bella's mine, I've made that clear. The flirting needs to cease to exist.

When she makes her way out, after making some bullshit comment and shooting daggers at Shelly my cousin twice removed - I'm right behind her, and ready to put an end to this game once and for all.

But what comes out of my mouth is, "That nasty attitude doesn't suit you. Neither does the jealousy."

Had it been anyone else, I would have laughed at her audacity, but it gives me hope. Jealousy usually means someone is interested, right?

After we exchange a few words, I'm left smiling and she seems to have calmed down a little. I try to drop a hint to her about the letters which I'm pretty sure she understands.

That's when the good side of my night ends.

At one point Maggie gets drunk and tries to argue with my dad, who laughs in her face and dismisses her for being a spoiled brat. In response, she throws a tantrum worthy of her age, I presume, and ends up throwing up all over my father and Jasper.

Smooth or not, in his day things were handled a little differently. So when my father's hand twitches, like he wants to raise it, I tell Carlisle to take his ass home.

When it turns out he's just as drunk, Jasper has to intervene because, for whatever reason, Emmett has been MIA all night.

This change of plans leaves quite a few people stranded, and me having to offer up my services as a chauffeur. By the time we all get together, the club has long since been closed, and we're the last to leave.

My heart drops at seeing Bella in the parking lot, hovering over some piece of shit car. I do my best to help her, but under the dark sky I can't see shit.

"She's interested," Shelly says, trying to reassure me on the way home.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I can tell." I guess that's good enough. She'd understand the mind and workings of women better than I ever could.

"I feel so out of practice," I admit, casting her a look that I hope says, 'give me advice' without needing to come out and ask for it. "I asked her out for breakfast. She said no."

"You'll do fine. Be persistent; show her you're really interested, and that you're a good guy. It'll all fall into place."

With that advice in mind I show up at her apartment first thing in the morning hoping that even if she doesn't want to go out with me for breakfast, maybe she'll let me in.

When she agrees, I take her to my aunt's place because it's somewhere I can trust, somewhere I can be myself, and somewhere I can let Bella in.

As expected, Maria falls in love with her. With a simple smile, I knew my sweetheart would be able to win anyone over. But I was ready to hand Carlos his ass if he kept looking at her like that. That little shit stuck his dick in just about anything. He never thought about the repercussions or cared whose girl she was. Which got him in trouble more times than I cared to count. And while he tried to act like he was tough, he would run to Carlisle or my dad like a scared little bitch, wanting them to save his ass. After his last stunt, though, Carlisle washed his hands of it.

No matter how hard we all tried to guard him—as well as Emmett and Jasper—from that side of shit … we knew we could only control so much. And as much as I loved my family, if Carlos went down for something he was going to go down by himself.

If anyone had access to any kind of drug you could think of, it was me, but that wasn't my thing. He made his bed. Therefore, he'd have to lie in that shit on his own.

Throughout our breakfast, which turns into lunch, all I can focus on is how Bella will react when I tell her I got her car towed. She hadn't said anything all morning, so I wonder if she just thought the city towed it and was trying not to think about it.

But once Laurent tells me the cords in her battery were cut, I don't give a fuck if she gets mad anymore. That shit didn't happen by accident.

All I cared was that she was safe.

But she wasn't.

A week later, when her apartment caught on fire, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that that shit was on purpose.

I knew it was.

I just didn't know who did it.

And I didn't know how to tell Bella.

Thanks for reading! :-)

And thank you to all who donated to the compilation.

I hope you enjoyed some Luckward POV. It probably wouldn't have happened without the girls pushing and encouraging me. And as usual, I'm thankful to them (Vancouver Canuck Girl, Capricorn 75, Ajasperfor me, Kimberly Ann T) and I'm thankful for you guys! :-D

Until Next Time