Chapter Five

A/N: First and foremost, characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Rated: M

Chapter Five -

Sunlight shouted the arrival of a new day at seven o’clock the next morning. The dull grey overcast of the Los Angeles sky parted ways for the lovely bright rays of sunshine, inviting me to face the day.

I blinked twice, than rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. A slight chill in the air sent a wave of cold through me causing me to pull the small throw around my shoulders a little tighter.

Who covered me up?

A wave of terror pulsed through me as I tried to recollect every pertinent detail from the dark recesses of my mind about the events that took place the evening before.

Music. Smoking. Drinking. Masturbating. Isabella. Martinis. More music. Playboy.

Fuck!

Propping myself up on my left elbow, I scanned the room with a sober set of eyes looking for any evidence of doing something stupid; or as Heidi so eloquently put it, something irrational.

The empty Jim Beam bottle was lazily sprawled under the coffee table. The beautiful Czech crystal ashtray that I received as a gift from Ava Gardner was sullied in ash and cigarette butts. Two empty Martini glasses gently rested atop my polished black coffee table, one marked gently with a tease of red lipstick.

Two Martini glasses. One empty, one with a swallow of alcohol left floating in the glass.

Holy hell!

I threw the small blanket to the floor and stood up with a little too much enthusiasm. My sobriety was mocked with a spine chilling headache that would’ve even knocked Joe Louis on his ass. Every movement I made was wrought with pain. It sounded like I had my own pair of cymbals ringing in my brain. I sank back down into the couch slowly.

I mentally flogged myself for being so goddamn stupid.

No more drinking.

Isabella had been here. She had seen me in the worst condition possible: drunk, confused, and guilty of the biggest case of emotional larceny anyone could be tried for. She came over to tell me something exciting, something life-changing and I had been too inebriated to even listen to her properly. I had taken away from that excitement. I was a terrible friend, if I was nothing else.

At least, no more drinking binges.

I dropped my head in my hands.

Was my head always this heavy?

My eyelids began to flutter shut as the telephone bellowed angrily. I knew going back to my state of unconsciousness would be too good to be true.

You don’t need sleep, do you Cullen?

I picked up the receiver on the seventh ring, “Hello?” I croaked.

“Cullen? Cullen is that you?” The booming, authoritative voice could only belong to one person.

“Yea, it’s me, Jenks. How are you this morning?” I looked back at the clock, seven-fifteen. That meant it was ten-fifteen in New York.

Thank goodness, Heidi made it to New York in one piece. She always came through for me.

I silently crossed myself hoping Jenks’s response would only be a favorable one.

This was the call I had been looking forward to and the call I had been dreading. Jenks was either going to ask me where in the hell my head was or to congratulate me. I was hoping for the latter.

I let out a slow breath as Jenks held his pause. I don’t know if he was contemplating suicide because it was too racy of a photo for the cover of Life magazine or getting ready to write me one hell of a commission check, either way his silence was driving me mad with curiosity.

Speak, dammit.

What seemed like an eternity, which undoubtedly was only a half of a second that had passed before he finally cleared his throat, “Do you really give a rat’s ass how I feel this morning, Cullen?” Without waiting for my response, he continued, an obvious smile tainting his normally sour tone, “Cullen, you’re a goddamn creative genius, boy!”

Genius? Me? I could barely keep my cock in my pants and I was being called a creative genius by the biggest editor in the magazine racket.

“Well, uh, thank you Jenks. I don’t know what to say.” I stammered sitting up. I could feel the blood running back through my veins, bringing some source of life back into my system.

I ran my hand through my hair and grinned. Isabella would be thrilled with the news. This would catapult her career right into a movie contract.

“Well, for starters, son, you can say thank you to the pretty lady who delivered the photographs for your lazy ass. And then you can thank that little starlet of yours for agreeing to be photographed by the likes of you, by taking her to a very nice dinner.”

Yes, I would have to thank Isabella in a very special way. Candlelight dinner. Etta James on the phonograph.

“Cullen, I will send payment for the pictorial with this lovely specimen you call Heidi.” Jenks chuckled.

The man was a pig.

Look who’s talking, Cullen. You haven’t been a complete gentleman with your thoughts over the past couple of days.

“Thank you, Jenks. It’s been a pleasure, as always, to work for you.”

“Cullen, you ever think of working for me full-time? Working for Life? Pull up stakes and come to New York?”

The bastard wanted me to work for him? Leave Los Angeles. Beautiful weather. Beautiful people.

Isabella.

“Are you offering me a job, Jenks?”

“You’re the biggest free agent out there. Every starlet, glam girl, cheese cake, high fashion model, actress and actor in Hollywood wants you to photograph them. Since they want you, I need you.”

I couldn’t keep the grin off of my face, “You are offering me a job.” I stated, more surprised then shocked and shaken, like I should’ve been. Jenks had always been a blabbering fool, but he was brilliant at his job and even more so, had brilliant people working for him. This was my affirmation that I had become a success.

“How many ways do I have to ask? Are you going to ask an inconsiderate prick like myself to beg?”

“It may help the situation, Jenks.” I mused, than continued, “Answer me one question, if every star in Tinseltown wants me to photograph them, why would I move across the country when they’re here in Hollywood?”

Jenks’s affable disposition turned businesslike, “This is the pulse of where great things happen, boy. This is where everyone who is anyone will end up. Trust me.” I could almost picture Jenks starting to sweat the longer I sat silent.

I sat back into the couch, thoroughly enjoying making Jenks uncomfortable. Jenks was known for being a slight pompous, but when confronted with uncertainty, he could be sent squealing like a pig to the slaughterhouse. I was amused that I was one of the men who could do that to him.

The fact remained still remained that Jenks was a big influence in the magazine industry and he could make me into the success I wanted to maintain or he could easily throw my worthless ass under a moving bus during free-moving traffic. Which meant only one thing: I couldn’t be arrogant for very long.

Career longevity, Cullen.

There was a fly in the ointment though, I couldn’t leave her. I couldn’t be away from Isabella. It was proving to get more and more difficult every time I would see her.

But I couldn’t say no to Jenks. Not yet, anyway.

You say no and it would be career suicide.

“It’ll come with a penthouse on Park Avenue, a car and driver, an unlimited credit account…for God’s sake Cullen, what more do you want?”

Isabella to share it with.

I let out another slow breath, “Can I think about it?”

There. That was better then saying no.

“Take all the time you need, son. It’s a big step. A huge move, so I understand the contemplating you may want to do.” He stopped short. I heard Heidi’s infectious giggle in the background. The tramp was truly playing the gold digger card today. I rolled my eyes as I heard Jenks cover the mouth piece to the phone and mumble something inaudible that sent Heidi into another frenzy of girlish giggles.

I cleared my throat, “Jenks? You still there?”

“Yes, I’m here, boy. Yes, yes…think about what I have to offer you and get back to me. Take all the time you need, Cullen. As long as you are a commodity to me, I will still want you on my payroll.”

“Thanks, Jenks. That really hits the old ticker. You really are full of heart, that’s what you are.” My voice dripped in sarcasm.

Horse’s ass.

“It’s just business, Cullen.” With that, the phone went silent.

I sighed, placing the receiver back into its cradle, and rubbed my face with both hands.

Slashing career’s wrists with a switchblade has been put off for another day.

As I sat trying to decide whether or not to make some sort of half-assed attempt at standing, I noticed the grey sky had turned a beautiful Southern California shade of blue. Cars began to clutter the streets of Los Angeles in long snake-like streaks of color. The city was waking up one tired soul after another and I also, had to force myself to move out of the comfort of the couch.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the morning ran as uneventful as could be expected.

A short swim in the pool to clear my head, a quick shower, and I was on the road in my ’52 Cadillac Convertible by ten forty-five, pictorial photos in hand.

It turned out to be a gorgeous day. The sun dripping its golden rays of light onto the City of Angels was a beautiful sight. The great thing about L.A. was that it was beautiful three hundred and sixty-five days a year.

Driving with the convertible top down, wind whipping through my hair as I sped through the city, my mind was entrenched in thoughts of my Isabella.

My Isabella? When did she become yours, Cullen?

I stopped in front of the famous Brown Derby restaurant, jumped out of the idling car, and threw James, the valet, my keys.

“Have a nice lunch, Mr. Cullen.”

I turned on my heel to meet James, “Is Ms. Swan here yet?”

“Ms Swan and Mr. Black arrived about ten minutes ago, sir. The hostess will show you to their table, Mr. Cullen.”

“Wait…what…are you sure Mr. Black was with her today, James?”

“Yes sir.”

I pushed five dollars in his hand and thanked him. James looked at the five dollar tip, than showed me his million dollar grin, “Thank you, Mr. Cullen.”

“No problem, James.”

Jacob should be in Paris, not here, being a damn fly in the ointment.

I crossed the threshold of the Brown Derby, immediately removing myself from the brilliant sunlight into the ill-defined shadows of the restaurant. I removed my Ray-Ban pilot shades, allowing my eyes to adjust to the muted lighting of the dining hall.

Anyone who cherished their privacy loved the atmosphere of the Derby: secluded and intimate. The deep cherry wood that graced the inner sanctum of the dining room went hand-in-hand with the iron-wrought chandeliers that hung low from the ceiling creating a dim lighting scheme making the room seem more comfortable, more relaxed.

I was greeted by, Irina, a tall, leggy brunette with a wonderful Spanish accent.

“Mr. Cullen, Ms. Swan said you’d be joining us today.” Irina armed with a menu, began to lead the way towards Isabella’s table. As we walked to the back corner of the room, I perused the famous faces sitting within the warm confines of the rich, red velvet chairs. Judy Garland was sitting with her agent at a table for four, engrossed in business. Bill Holden was lunching with his wife over a filet mignon that looked fairly delicious. Cecil B. DeMille was joking with colleagues over a glass of what looked of either Scotch or bourbon.

Just another day in Tinseltown.

As we rounded a corner into a more secluded portion of the already-private restaurant, I caught a glimpse of her.

She was the bright shining star that lit up the entire room.

Isabella’s hair was swept into a delicate twist, pinned neatly to the top of her head. Her make-up was not as extravagant as I was so used to seeing on her.. She wore a touch of mascara, with a twinge of red hinting at her pretty lips. Her white skin was powdered to sheer perfection.

I caught her innocent glance as she stole a small sip from a water glass the waitress had set in front of her. Isabella set down the glass, her heart-shaped mouth curving into that beautiful smile I fell in love with.

In love? Is that what we’re calling it now?

“Edward, so glad you finally made it.” Isabella breathed as I slid into the high-backed red booth.

I smiled at her. She wore a smart dark blue Coco Chanel skirt with a white-collared blouse and matching jacket. Her hat was a Dior original navy linen leaf hat. I only recognized it because it was the same hat that adorned her head not a month before for her Harper’s Bazaar shoot.

Jacob looked up from his menu, “Edward, dressed for a photo shoot or a lazy Saturday at home with friends?”

“I think a wool jacket with a white shirt is entirely appropriate for an early lunch at the Derby. You’re acting like I walked in wearing a cardigan sweater and a polo.”

Isabella giggled lightly, “You two are as bad as women. Who knew men would be so overly concerned with what they wore to lunch at eleven in the morning?”

Jacob snapped his menu shut, and took a sip of his drink, never pulling his irritated gaze from mine.

Prick.

Irina handed me my menu. Without a glance, I gave it back to her, and replied, “Scotch.” Then I turned my sights back to Jacob, then back to Irina, “Double, no ice.” Irina gave me a nod laced with the hint of a sweet smile and walked away.

I pulled my pack of Kool’s from the inside pocket of my jacket, offered a cigarette to Isabella who agreed with a nod of pleasure, and out of habit, lit them both. I handed one to Isabella. She inhaled deeply, allowing herself to get lost in the haze of smoke for a slight second, than she looked back at me, appreciatively.

You’re welcome.

“Are you going to light one for me, too?” Jacob asked defensively, taking his own box of cigarettes out and lighting one of his own.

“I figure the only way one learns manners is to be shown. Since you never offer Isabella or me a smoke, maybe it was time you learned correctly, then shown how rude it is when you don’t offer.” I blew my cigarette smoke towards Jacob’s face and smirked.

Jacob, obviously perturbed, grabbed his drink, and waved down a random waitress. The blonde locked her gaze with Jacob and nodded as he replied, “Another bourbon.”

“Drinking much these days, Jacob?” I said, replying to his actions.

“No more then you, I’ve heard.” Jacob threw back the remains of the alcoholic beverage, than took another drag off of his cigarette.

Touché, Jacob.

I was tiring of his childish banter, so I turned my attention back to Isabella. “Would you like to see the photos for the pictorial?”

Isabella’s face lit up at the mention of the pictorial, she turned her attention towards Jacob, “Jacob, do you want to see the photos from yesterday?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Jacob’s voice had a surly undertone to it that Isabella seemed to miss.

I shot Jacob a disapproving look as I took out the brown envelope I had brought in with me, “I heard you were on your way to Paris. What happened?”

“I leave in the morning. Plans change. Let me see the pictures so we can talk about her next job.”

Your next payout, you mean.

I laid out the photo Jenks was using for the July cover of Life magazine, “This is the cover Jacob.”

I looked over at Isabella, who seemed to be more enraptured with the photo then I was, “It’s wonderful, Edward! You outdid yourself again!” She threw her left arm around my shoulders and gave a squeeze. Every synapse in my body began its normal shots of misfiring from her one touch. My skin cheered with overzealous joy as she let her arm rest on my shoulders for that brief moment.

“A little too taboo for Life magazine, don’t you think?” Jacob locked eyes with Isabella, who nervously bit at her lower lip, dropping her appreciative gesture from my shoulders. I felt her knee begin to fidget, something she had been taught to control when she began in this business. Jacob continued to stare at her with his disapproving eagle eye.

“Jenks called me a creative genius over that shot. He told me Isabella was the perfect cover for their summer edition.” I replied with a raised eyebrow. Jacob broke his stare from Isabella and narrowed his eyes at me.

“A friggin’ genius?” Jacob scoffed. The waitress reappeared with Jacob’s fresh bourbon. He took one swallow and continued, “More like fucking lucky.”

“Luck has nothing to do with this. Unlike you, Isabella and I have talent.”

“You arrogant son of a--”

“Boys?! Please.” Isabella’s voice raised an octave above her normally demure tone as she interrupted. She smiled delicately at Jacob, placing her hand gently over his, than locked eyes with me, “Please stop. You have been friends for such a long time.” Isabella turned back towards Jacob, “Please Jake? For me?”

Jacob pulled his hand from underneath hers and replied in a strong tone, “It’s just business, Bells.”

Isabella’s eyes quivered. She was hurting. With that one simple, indiscriminate movement of his hand, Jacob had hurt her. My heart cried out to her.

I’m sorry, love. I never would’ve hurt you like that. I could never bear that look.

And to be honest, Jacob could never deny that he couldn’t stand it either, for in fact, he undoubtedly loved her as much as I did.

I had known Jacob Black for eleven years. We had been through a lot together: high school, girls, sports, the passing of his mother. It wasn’t until the war that we grew apart. Jacob had fought over in Japan for two years and came back a changed man. Long gone were the days of his fun-loving, carefree ways. His zealous passion for life had been left at the train station the day his dad and I had sent him off to fight.

Upon his return, my friend was unrecognizable. He was an older, darker Jacob: stoic and foreboding. His affable demeanor became surly and antagonistic, at best. Every comment that left his mouth became sour and sarcastic. Women loved him. Drinking and partying consumed him.

After months of this behavior, I had decided to take him to a Vogue Magazine party and introduce him to Isabella.

Mistake number one.

That’s when he changed. He seemed happier, to some degree.

But the more Isabella and I were together, I knew we were falling for each other. And she knew it too.

But the one thing that had gotten in the way was Jacob.

He was in love with her for a time, but before long he began to understand the money train that hung on to Isabella’s coattails and that began to consume him. He fell in love with the parties, the business contacts, and the glamour of what was defined as Hollywood. He was rubbing elbows with some of the most famous faces in Hollywood and Isabella’s little price tag that accompanied her kept growing. Her success was his success.

Then something happened. Something I saw Jacob do that would hurt Isabella, that could never really be undone, but I made sure I undid it anyway. I covered the mistake for my friend and that cover-up would undoubtedly hurt me the most. I did it for someone whom I considered my brother. My friend.

It was nice to see Jacob happy again. And she had the power to make him that way.

After they were engaged, I could no longer take back the lie I had so carefully constructed to save Jacob’s ass. Isabella would never again see me as the same man after the incident.. , but my friend was happy.

Happy and consumed with the fruits of her success.

By that time, it was too late. After a short engagement of one month, Jacob and Isabella exchanged their wedding vows.

Then Isabella became his client, and I began to realize that I had become Jacob’s rival. No longer his friend.

After numerous fights, jabs, and insults, combined with the greediness that seemed to overtake his life I had learned that I mirrored the same feelings of dislike that Jacob had for me.

Remember, Cullen, you created this monster.

Isabella’s delicate eyelids fluttered shut for a brief moment as she sighed. Jacob looked guilty, like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner, as he watched her pain unfold like a dying flower. He touched her cheek, “Bella, I’m sorry.”

I almost felt sorry for Jacob.

Our waitress approached our table with a dubious expression masking her somewhat homely features, “What can I get for you this afternoon, Mr. Black?”

“Filet for me. Cobb salad for the beautiful lady.” Jacob replied not taking his eyes off of Isabella.

“Mr. Cullen?”

“I will not be eating today, thank you.” I turned my sour expression towards Jacob’s pitiful mug, “My appetite has just left the building.”

Truth be told, he still had Isabella and I still didn’t.

The waitress nodded and left the three of us to pick up our conversation where we left off. Isabella cleared her throat as Jacob turned his attention back to me.

Isabella began to pick away at nothing on the white tablecloth. She locked my gaze through her luscious lashes and looked back towards Jacob, “Jake, I have something to tell you.”

“I got propositioned last night.” Isabella knees started to shake again under the table.

“By whom?” Jacob responded reverting back to his normal icy tone. He lit another cigarette, this time looking at me mid-light, he smirked, “Oh, my apologies, Mr. Cullen, would you care for a smoke?”

I shook my head slowly, glaring at him.

Fuck you.

“Hugh Heffner.” Isabella stated simply, obviously ignoring the banter Jacob wanted to start with me. I watched her relentless fidgeting come to a screeching halt.

“Hugh Heffner? The beatnik who wants to take half naked woman and put them on display?” Jacob looked directly at me, “I suppose it was you who set this up?”

I would try to be diplomatic about this, “Jacob, its Hugh Heffner. He is producing a magazine that could catapult her career.”

“Life magazine is doing that. Harper’s Bazaar proved my point. She doesn’t have to show her tits every time she gets in front of the camera. She looks like a two-bit tramp in those cheese cake shoots you do, Cullen. ”

My blood began to boil. “Never bite the hand that feeds you, Jake.”

“We don’t owe anyone squat, Cullen.”

“It’s those shoots that made her and it’s those same people who are a pivotal part of this town.”

Isabella’s eyes grew icy, as if in realization to what her husband just said, narrowing in on Jacob’s smug expression, “Jacob Black! Are you kidding? Is that what you think of what I do? If it is then why did you bother marrying me, some quote-unquote two-bit tramp?”

Because, unfortunately, you married someone who thought exactly like Jenks, you are a hot commodity. Jacob only cares about the bottom dollar anymore.

Isabella meeting and falling in love with Jacob Black was the fault of only one person.

Me.

“Bella, sweetheart,” Jacob’s hard features softened. He took her chin in his hand, than continued, “You are a gorgeous talent that is well beyond what this guy has to offer you. He’s a bottom-feeder, a womanizer, and a drunk.” Jacob’s arrogant gaze floated to mine.

I was seething. Without realizing it, I crushed the glass of Scotch I was holding in my hand. Shards of glass shot everywhere. The amber liquid sullied the crisp, white tablecloth. I looked up apologetically at Isabella, whose eyes were wide with concern. Jacob’s mouth turned up into a sinister grin as small drops of blood tainted the cloth. Isabella wrapped one of the cloth napkins around my right hand. Her gentle touch sent shivers down my spine.

I pulled my hand gently away from Isabella, “I have it, love. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry Edward. This is all my--” That was so Isabella, taking blame for things that were through no fault of her own.

I smiled to the best of my ability and interrupted her, “Love, don’t blame yourself.”

Jacob stared at the both of us incredulously.

I turned back towards Jacob, “I will be shooting Isabella for the Playboy shoot, if she so desires.” I slid out of the booth, holding my haphazard bandage tightly around the palm of my hand. It was beginning to sting. I continued, “Let’s set the record straight Jacob. As much as you want to believe it, or shall I say, as much as you may want her to believe it, I am not a womanizer and I am far from a drunk.”

“After the Rose incident, I’m surprised Emmett still hasn’t disowned you.” Jacob replied hotly.

After the Rose incident I’m surprised I didn’t disown you.

“Maybe because my brother knows what really happened that night.” I shot another look at Isabella, who had suddenly donned a look of confusion, then back to Jacob.

As I turned to leave, I heard Isabella reply, “What in the hell is that supposed to mean Jake? What did he mean by you wanting me to believe he’s a womanizer?”

I couldn’t resist a small, satisfied smile as I placed fifteen dollars on the hostess’s perch for the Scotch and the clean-up, then walked out the door into the warm California sun.

Now, there’s a fly in your ointment, Jacob.