So, this is the prequel to Masen Rules, and you'll get to see how Edward and Bella met, dealt with her drug problem, and how they fell in love. The HEA is a given since we know how they end up, but this story is still labeled Angst/Romance. The summary says it all, and the story's pretty gritty. I've spent a lot of time with research, so don't expect a fairy tale.
Beta'd by Lisa, pre-read by Kitty, and Najs is my Philly girl ;)
Posting schedule: I have several chapters pre-written, so I'll post often, but until Masen Rules is wrapped up, don't expect more than one a day. I may post more, but don't count on it.
Masen Rules: The Beginning
Our beginning was rocky as hell; we both screwed up a lot, but we came out strong—solid. The first year was the worst, yet I fell so damn hard for that girl.
- Edward Masen, chapter 30 of Masen Rules
What a fucking high!
I leave Demetri's shop almost with a fucking skip in my step, but I can't help it. For the first time in my life, I've actually given someone a tattoo. Granted, that someone was Dem himself, but he fucking likes it—told me I'd done a great job.
So, when I arrive at the bar where I earn money to afford the shitty little place Dem offered me here in Queens, I enter with a grin on my face. And my boss, old man Felix, notices and tells me, "Looks like you got laid."
I snicker to myself as I tie the black apron around my hips, almost telling him that I got something better than laid, but then, nah. It's pretty fucking hard to beat sex, which I haven't had in too long. But this night can't be ruined, I swear to Christ.
Maybe I should get out soon and try to score, though. I just don't know when I'd find the time. Between the apprenticeship at Dem's during the day and my job at Felix's at night, I'm pretty goddamn wiped out when I hit the sack. I only have Sundays and Mondays off, and that's when I sleep all day and watch TV.
All those thoughts fly out of my head as my shift begins, and I work alongside Felix behind the bar. It's a Friday night and the neighborhood regulars fill up the small place pretty quickly. None of those fancy Manhattan folk who order drinks in every color of the rainbow.
Living in New York, I've been nicknamed Philly by a few old-timers in the bar, and they happen to be from my neck of the woods, too. They speak of when Philadelphia was the country's capital like they remember it—as if they were alive back then.
Then, after my shift, I count my tips and buy a grinder on my way home.
It's when I'm outside my building that a tiny chick stumbles into me.
So...who's in? :)