Because I'm an idiot, I accidentally deleted the entire story when I tried to update/revise the chapter. So, if you think you're following the story/favoriting/reviewed it before. You haven't anymore. I tried to PM everyone who reviewed to let them know. Sorry! Again, I'm an idiot.
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
...in which the principal bitches me out
The light from the sun enters my bedroom and abruptly ends my sleep. I roll over, sticky with sweat. I peek open my eyes and look down at my naked body and slowly turn my head to the left. I roll my eyes at myself when I see a naked brunette lying next to me snoring lightly.
"Shit," I whisper. I slowly peel back the blanket and place one leg out of the bed at a time. I pick up a pair of sweatpants lying on the floor and throw them on quickly. I do my best to make a quiet exit by tip toeing to the door and shutting it quietly behind me.
I make my way to the kitchen in hopes that Carla, my housekeeper, has arrived already.
"Carla, Carla, Carla,"
Carla (short, dark hair, and suspicious of everything) whips around, spatula in hand. Yes! She's already started breakfast.
She smiles at me, warm and motherly, even though she's the same age as me. "Buenos dias, Edward."
I smirk at her. "Carla, when are you going to remember I don't speak a lick of Spanish?"
"When you start at least attempting to learn it," She scolds. I pull out a stool from the counter and sit down. "I swear, Edward, if you could memorize phrases as well as you memorize lyrics…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. When are you feeding me?"
She glares at me. "You know not many people would take your shit, Edward." She says as she hands me her famous hangover cure. I take a sip and sigh.
"Good thing you love me, then." I wink at her. She scoffs and turns back around to the stove. I watch her cook for a few minutes when my phone rings from inside my pocket. I answer a few messages and check my email. By the time I finish Carla has set a plate of scrambled eggs and pancakes in front of me.
I place my phone down quickly and take a huge whiff. I let out a huge grin at the smell. "Carla, marry me, will ya?"
"Never in a million years."
Before I can respond, the brunette from earlier enters the room in my t-shirt and boxers. I will never understand why women feel the need to put on guys clothes the morning after. Like, why can't you just put your own clothes back on instead of wearing my dirty boxers? I roll my eyes and Carla glares at me even harder than before.
"Sorry, honey, I didn't realize I needed to make breakfast for two."
The brunette waltzes over to me and comes within literally 3 inches of my face. "That's okay. I can just share with Edward."
Bitch said what now?
"Actually," I drag out thinking of a quick excuse. "I have to get going pretty soon. Meeting with my manager and all that. You know that goes."
She nods seriously, clearly impressed with my lifestyle.
I continue, "But, I can call you tomorrow and maybe we can hang or whatever?"
"That would be great." She smiles widely. She puts her arms around my neck and kisses my lips. "I had a lot of fun last night, Edward. This is surreal."
"Uh," I try my hardest to remember anything that happened last night as I put my hands on her waist. I came up blank, but I'm sure if sex was involved I had loads of fun. "Me too?"
She giggles and then hops up in order to straddle me. She shoves her tongue into my mouth and lightly sucks my upper lip. She shamelessly (because Carla is clearly still in the room) grinds her crotch against my pelvis. I quickly still her hips because I'm a guy and if she didn't stop her motions I was going to embarrass the hell out of Carla with my boner.
She ends the kiss by placing to smaller ones on both corners of my mouth. And mumbles, "You better call me."
"I most certainly will." I nod.
"Okay," She smiles brightly. She hops off and mumbles something about grabbing her clothes and heading out. I smile and wave and turn back to my food.
I hear Carla sigh loudly. "Edward,"
She continues as if I hadn't spoken. "Edward, you're 35."
I stuff eggs into my mouth. "I know exactly how old I am, Carla."
"Don't you think it's time for you to start thinking about settling down?"
For someone who's on my payroll, she definitely doesn't fear me at all.
She frowns at me and places a hand on my arm. "Don't you want to be happy?"
I stiffened, slightly offended by her comment. So, I snapped. "What, like you?"
She drops her arm quickly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I quickly regret my comment and try to do some backtracking. "Nothing. Just that you know, you tried it and now you're divorced with two kids. Doesn't seem like you're that happy to me, is all."
She takes a step back and I instantly want to punch myself in the face.
"Carla, that wasn't supposed to be… I didn't mean…"
"I think I know exactly what you meant, Edward." She goes back to cleaning the kitchen. "It's okay."
"It's not okay. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
She shrugs. "You don't get it now. You don't get it now and that's okay." She fervently scrubs at the same spot over and over as she keeps repeating that phrase. Whatever she thinks I'm gonna get that's instantly going to change my mind about settling down and starting a family makes me want to roll my eyes.
When I think about my life and where I am in the grand scheme of things, I always end up smiling. After many trials and tribulations I finally became the international best-selling artist that I always dreamed I could be. I'd won 7 Grammys and toured all over the globe. I'd made friends in high places and made millions of dollars. People knew me and that feeling was great. It got me all the sex I ever could have needed. I got success. And there's no better feeling.
Sometimes I think back to that moment where I came so close to giving up the possibility of having all this for a girl and I laugh at myself. Thank God, she broke my heart or I never would have known what greatness tasted like.
"There's nothing to get, Carla. It's not for me. I just want to have sex and have fun." And then as a side note I add, "And make music."
Carla shakes her head and whispers to herself again. "You just don't get it now." And then a lot louder and fiercer she says, "But, could you please refrain from insulting me and my way of life while you're figuring it out." And then she stomps out of the room.
I place my head in my hands and let out a huge breath of air. Why am I such an asshole?
"She's irresponsible. She's lazy. She lacks motivation. She doesn't demonstrate any type of effort whatsoever. She's disruptive. She's hostile. She's – I mean – I could go on, but I'm sure you are already aware of these terrible traits." When I nod the dark-skinned woman licks her lips and pulls at the collar of her blazer and I do everything in my power to keep from cringing in fear. She folds her hands on the table and looks directly into my eyes. "Miss Swan, here at Forks Prep we do not condone this kind of behavior from anyone, especially those whose families don't regularly donate back to the school."
If it were possible for me to turn any redder, I'm sure that I would have. I wrung my hands and did everything in my power not to burst into tears. I am an adult, of course. I am not going to sit in the principal's office and cry my way out of a mess. And, it's not like I'm the one in trouble here; although it certainly feels like it.
When I pictured where I would be when I turned 35, I never pictured the fuckery which I call my life. I never pictured being in a long-term on-again-off-again relationship, I never pictured being a single mother of a 15-year-old brat, and I never pictured sitting in a principal's office being chewed alive by possibly the rudest woman to have ever lived.
Life has a way of repeatedly throwing curveballs at me, especially when I'm in the process of figuring out where the hell I put my bat in the first place.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Patterson. I think –" I sigh and run a hand through my hair. What excuse can I pull out of my ass today? "I think Rose is going through a bit of a phase."
Mrs. Patterson folds her arms, leans back and glares. "Teenagers go through phases all the time, Miss Swan. I will not allow that to be an excuse. Forks Prep does not educate delinquents."
My eyes involuntarily tear up. "She's not a delinquent, Mrs. Patterson. She's a child! She doesn't know any better."
"Fifteen is more than old enough to know right from wrong. No wonder she acts like this, if this is the kind of discipline she has to look forward to at home!"
Quickly my emotions shift from embarrassed to anger. I cross my arms across my chest. "Excuse me, Mrs. Patterson, but are you trying to tell me how to raise my child?"
Mrs. Patterson remains quiet for a few seconds and then says quietly. "Forks Prep doesn't often accept students from… uh, your socio-economic status. We were going out on a limb here because of your good references, but we will not have any students ruining our reputation. If Rosalie does not want to be here, she does not have to be."
My fingers begin shaking and I stutter out, "She's angry. At everyone. At the world. But, really just at me. And, I don't know how – I mean… I guess I just don't know what I'm doing."
Mrs. Patterson sighs and clicks her tongue three times. "I understand it must be difficult raising a daughter on your own, Miss Swan, especially a teenager. If it weren't for Rose's high test scores, I would have no problem expelling her. But, clearly, she is very bright." I try to keep hope from spreading to my eyes but it sounds like we're almost in the clear. "One more chance, Miss Swan. One."
I breathe out a huge sigh of relief and place my hands over my heart. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Patterson. I promise this won't happen again. You won't regret this."
"I'm sure I will." She frowns and holds her hand out to the door.
And, I guess that's my cue to leave.
Rosalie is a beautiful young woman, but she's also a bitch. As her mother I can say this because it goes without saying that I love her more than any other human being on the entire planet. Facts are facts though. I don't know where she learned this behavior. I've been nothing but loving towards her since she was born. Unfortunately, since I had her at the ripe old age of 19 our closeness in age has made our relationship more of a friendship than anything else.
Rosalie is also intelligent. Sometimes I just sit and wonder how much smarter she could be if she actually gave two-shits about anything other than her guitar. Her test scores are extremely high; however, never turning in homework or participating in group projects illustrates the lack of A's and B's on her transcripts. Rosalie hides behind her beauty. She often uses it as an excuse to not have to try as hard.
I walk outside the school and see Rose sitting on a bench with her head in her hands.
"Car." I spit out and walk over to my red truck, get in and slam the door closed. She enters the car a couple seconds later and I glare daggers at her.
"I thought we were passed this."
Rose shrugs and continues staring out the window. I look down at her uniform which is disheveled and stained with what looks to be spaghetti sauce and groan loudly.
"Great! Looks like I'll have to buy you another uniform, too, again." I roll my eyes. "Rose, I don't have the money for this."
"You don't have the money for anything." She says snidely.
"Rose – "
"What was I supposed to do, mom?" Her eyes blazing as she turns red with renewed anger. I pull out of the parking lot. "Let him keep talking shit about me?"
"No, but you didn't have to vandalize his car."
"He's lucky I didn't saw off his dick."
"Rosalie!" I grabbed her arm over the console. "You cuss one more time and you're grounded for a year."
"Oh no! What are you gonna do? Take my laptop away? My car?" She hisses. "Oh wait, you can't do that because I don't have any of those things!"
I clench my teeth together in an effort to hide the hurt. I whisper out, "This is because I don't make a lot of money."
She groans loudly, "It's not because you don't make a lot of money."
I look at her incredulously. "Then what is this about?"
"He called me a slut, mom!"
My heart slams in my chest and my vision becomes blurry. "Were you… are you sleeping around Rosalie?"
She gasps loudly. "That is the complete wrong question. I cannot even believe you would ask me that!"
"Well, I don't know what to expect from you anymore, Rosalie. You don't follow anyone's rules. You're out at all hours of the night. You don't consider mine or anyone else's feelings when you make a decision – "
"You're supposed to be on my side, mom." She runs her hands through her hair wildly and yells, "You're supposed to be the one person who's on my side no matter what!"
"And what side is that Rosalie? Because I honestly have no idea who you are anymore. I just sat there and got chewed out by your principal telling me about this girl whose horrible and mean and I didn't recognize that person. So tell me again exactly what side I'm supposed to be on?"
Rose stiffens and becomes very still in the seat next to me. She doesn't speak for a few seconds but then says darkly, "Well, I'm sorry if I have to do things differently than everyone else at Forks Prep who gets handed everything on a shiny fucking platter. Maybe if we weren't broke I wouldn't have to act the way I do in order to get some goddamn respect. I'm not just going to let people walk over me like you do, mom. At least I respect myself. Maybe I wouldn't have to work after school in order to pay for my fucking cheerleading uniform and to be able to hang out at the mall with my friends - "
"Do you know how expensive Forks Prep is? I can't pay for those things because I'm paying to give you the best education!"
"I don't have to have the best education, mom. Not if I have to be made fun of and treated differently because I don't have a BMW sitting in my driveway or work my ass off just to be able to afford a fucking homecoming dress. It's not worth it to me." She finally turns to look back at me as I turn into out apartment complex. "I want to sing."
"Don't, mom. Just don't." She continues. "I don't feel like having my dreams crushed again this week."
"I work so hard for you to go to a great school. I'm not saying you aren't talented, baby. You are. Singing just isn't a practical career."
She rolls her eyes. "You mean, like, being a secretary?"
I clench my teeth. "Executive assistant, Rosalie. And watch your tone."
She continues as if she doesn't hear me, "Just because you didn't believe in yourself and you let your dreams go, doesn't mean you have to keep me from achieving mine. Maybe you felt like you couldn't escape this life, but small town life just isn't for me, mom. I'm not like you. I believe in myself and I want to accomplish things."
It's a good thing we're parked because if we weren't I probably would have smashed the car into the nearest object. I never knew that was how she felt about me and all the things I had given up for her. My eyes watered and I turn away from her. It's one thing to hear negative things about yourself from peers or boyfriends. It's quite another to hear it from your daughter.
I clear my throat and muster up every ounce of dignity I have left and mutter, "You're smart, Rosalie. You really are. And, all I want is what's best for you. Without a scholarship, I'm not going to be able to send you to the college you deserve to go to.
"I know you resent me. I know you wish you could have a car or a pretty house or a sweet sixteen birthday party, but I am doing the very best that I can and I just wish you could see that."
I open the door and swiftly exit. Because I'm a grown ass woman and I refuse to let my daughter make me cry.
Later that night as I lay in bed, my phone rings alerting that I have been sent a text message. I roll over toward my nightstand and pick it up. It's from Rose.
I'm sorry I made you cry.
A few seconds later there's a quick knock on my door before it opens. I know who it is so I don't turn around. Rose walks through the door and crawls in my bed, hugging me from behind. She tightens her arms around me and I can tell that she's sorry. She's strong willed and moody, but she's still my baby girl. Sometimes I don't recognize her. Days go by and I wonder how she became this headstrong teenager with a dirty mouth and a bad attitude and if I could have done something to prevent it.
"I love you, Mom."
I sigh and hug her arms to my body. "I love you, too, my Rose." I close my eyes and add, "But sometimes you drive me crazy."
"It's you and me against the world, right?" She asks repeating the mantra I've been telling her since before she could speak.
I tighten my hold on her. "You and me against the world."
And sometimes, she's still the sweet little girl who I gave up my whole world for.
Annnddd, I bet you can tell where this one's headed.
I searched around and I couldn't find any ExB stories where Edward finds a long lost teenager it's always a little boy or a little girl. So, I thought I'd give this a try. Hopefully, it's not an epic fail.
My "Musicianward" is kind of a cross between Robin Thicke and Justin Timberlake. If you haven't heard either of the two stop reading this right now and please direct yourself to youtube for some life changing experiences. lol
Also, I'm looking for a new beta. If you're interested please drop me a line.
Lastly, reviewers get teasers.