Chapter Eight

~Wait, What?~

EPOV

I push my way through the rest of the crowd and out the pub door into the humid night air. It's difficult to catch my breath because an anvil just landed on my chest.

Married.

She's fucking married? And she married that sniveling jackass, Alec?

If there was ever a place called Douchebag Island and I had supreme authority over who was banished there for eternity, the first one to get the mandatory invitation would be Alec King…followed closely of course by Karl Rove and most of the Bush Administration, but that's beside the point.

Fucking Alec King. There was never a more whiny, conceited brat in the world…well, next to Isabella, I suppose. I shake my head, disgusted. They deserve each other! A match made in douchebag heaven.

Pissed off after his run-in with Isabella

SONOFABITCH!

How could her father have possibly allowed that to happen? I told him, I fucking TOLD Mr. Swan what I walked in on that night…what Royce, Alec and his friends were saying and planning to do to Bella…and he still lets her marry that snake?

Bastards. Every single one of them.

I can't believe this shit. But you know what? I don't need to be concerning myself with this crap any more. This is old news, obviously. They didn't seem to care enough to stop a marriage, so there's no sense in dwelling on it.

But come on! I don't get it.

I guess I wasn't ever meant to get it. They were from a different walk of life and I couldn't relate to them. Their greed, their 'holier than thou' attitudes, their self-righteousness…it was all too much.

That's why I left Flanders after that summer. I couldn't be around them anymore. I couldn't be around HER anymore. I'd had enough by mid-summer that year that, when I announced that I wouldn't be back, my supervisor wasn't about to argue. He knew what a tough bunch the Swans and the Kings were to handle. He was upset to see me go, but he also knew I had bigger and better plans for my future.

I was already through my sophomore year at Wharton for business, while James had just enrolled at the Culinary Institute. We knew the dreams we were shooting for and it was important to buckle down and start making them happen. Even though I could've tried to suck it up and press through another summer or two at the Flanders before finishing with my MBA, I couldn't take another year of watching Isabella bitch, moan and boss me around which, while repulsive, still did nothing to quell the gravitational pull she had over me. It was fucking torture. It was like offering myself up to be fileted every year. My heart couldn't handle it anymore.

Knowing now that she eventually married that asshole, I know we were never in the same league; regardless of lifestyle frivolities or otherwise. I could never be with someone so uncaring; uncaring about others but more importantly, someone with so little regard for herself.

It's over now. Nothing to wallow in. She's married. And I'm getting married in seven months. I can't allow her to be a factor in my thoughts any more.

Game fucking over.

~~~~~L~A~S~T~C~A~L~L~~~~~

"What are you doing here?"

"I stayed the night to make sure your asshole boyfriend and his goons didn't come back for you. I was worried about you."

"Worried about me? Please. You don't give a shit about me so don't start acting like you do, all of a sudden. And I was having fun last night…I didn't need your fucking rescue."

"Oh what-thefuck-ever, princess. Even though you pitched a goddamn hissy-fit, if I hadn't dragged you up here, you would've been doing a whole lot more kicking and screaming, but with someone who didn't give a rat's ass about you, your safety or your feelings."

"What? And you're telling me that you care about me and my feelings? What a fucking joke. You barely even talk to me, Edward. I didn't need you last night and I don't need you now. BYE!"

BYE BYE. Don't wanna be a fool for you, just another player in your game for two. You may hate me but it ain't no lie baby, bye, bye, bye…

Ugh. I pull the pillow tighter over my head and refuse to allow the light to coax me out of my bed. This morning's come way too early…and what the fuck am I listening to?

…It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie, baby, bye, bye, bye.

I smack my hand down on the alarm clock. I'm all about listening to the mix radio stations from childhood, but that damn song was hitting a little too close to home, after having that damn nightmare of a flashback.

This weekend was absolutely nuts. Open to close shifts on both days, with just a few hours of break time in between. I'm wiped out. Hopefully that kid who I was talking to yesterday will come by today for a quick interview. I need another body behind the bar pronto. Aside from the relentless crowds, I felt like I was looking over my shoulder every minute waiting for Swan, scratch that, KING to pop out and mindfuck me again and again.

"GODDAMMIT!" I scream out to the universe and throw the pillow off my head. I need to get up and start the caffeine flowing.

No rest for the weary. My brother's probably just as dog-tired as I am and he had to go down to Last Call today to receive the delivery at the butt-crack of dawn. I hope those back to back weddings went well this weekend. I haven't heard from him at all…speaking of which, I need to find my phone. I tossed it in the car Friday night after escaping from the pub and I haven't seen it since. It's probably wedged under the seat or in the crack next to the center console. I look at the clock to see that it's almost ten.

Ugh, time to get up. The first step's always the hardest.

~~~~~L~A~S~T~C~A~L~L~~~~~

As I'm enjoying my third cup of coffee while trying not to ruminate on my dream about Swan, I stretch out on a lounge chair on the back deck to get some fresh air. A few minutes later, I hear my brother come trudging up the stairs and promptly crash into the lounger next to me.

"Damn, J. You look as good as I feel. Rough weekend?"

His muffled response from the cushion makes me laugh. He attempts to repeat himself, "I can't talk with you until I have some of what you're having. Is there any left?"

"Yep, just brewed a fresh pot. Help yourself."

James rolls himself off the lounge and stumbles his way into the kitchen and back out again with a steaming mug of coffee. Once the caffeine starts flowing in his veins he perks up enough to start a conversation.

"You about ready to get going to Four Seas?"

"Yeah…I have a college kid coming over for an interview. I hope he works out, I feel like death after this weekend. I won't be able to keep this shit up."

"You're telling ME? I killed myself this weekend at those two weddings. They went off without a hitch, by the way, and thanks for asking." He smirks in my direction and I respond with an eye roll.

"Chill out. I was getting there. So— how did the weddings go this weekend?" I cheese it up with an obnoxious, toothy smile which earns me a middle finger in response.

"We survived, but it wasn't easy. Set-up and breakdown is always a bitch. I was behind the bar for both events. The bar was closed during dinner for both parties, so I was able to take a break from serving drinks, but then I was carving the prime rib both nights as well. The girls and Justin worked their asses off even more than usual to make up for the loss of Erin. We owe them big time."

That's a Cullen cardinal rule that we were taught by our parents, who have always taken great care of their employees. James lives it well. He's extremely generous with our staff. At all times, we try our best to respect and value the people who work for us. It's an important value that has been engrained in our thinking since we were very young.

"Hey, I tried calling you a few times this weekend. Did you lose your phone again?" James questions after plunking down his mug. Time for a refill already…that's a Cullen trait through and through.

Must. Have. Massive. Amounts. Of. Caffeine.

"Ugh, I've got no idea. I ran out of the bar pretty quickly on Friday night and tossed my phone in the window. It must've rolled under the seat or something.

"Yeah, I wanted to grab you to introduce you to our new waitress but I got so busy. One minute, you're with Tori's dad; next thing I know, the lights in the office are off and the door's locked. What had you running out so fast?" James goes to pour his second cup.

"You mean aside from the fact that I knew I had to open and close for the next two days?" I shrug, not really wanting to get into it. If I give it oxygen, the fire will spread. "Man…I dunno. I just saw a girl I used to know. Bad memories, that's all."

"Well, who was it? Anyone I would know?" James settles back in his lounge.

"Nah. One of the girls from a cabana family from the Flanders days. Spoiled brat. Certainly nobody I cared to run into again, that's for sure."

"Wow. Everybody's having run-ins this weekend. Speaking of which, I need you to make sure that Eric isn't working when Bella is."

I continue without even listening to my brother. "I mean, she was such a silver spoon back then, and seriously never gave me the time of day. And now she shows up all of a sudden acting all friendly? I don't fucking get it. She acts like everything was fine between us years ago."

"Did you hear me, E? The new waitress has issues with Eric. We have to try and schedule them on opposite shifts whenever possible."

"Oh God, did Eric break another heart? I swear, he might be bad business for us. It's like watching you back in your Chatterbox days."

"Oh, whatever. He's not that bad. And I don't know what he said to her, but she was pretty shaken up Friday night. She wanted to meet you, but I couldn't find you and then, when I went to check on her, she was in tears and heading out the door." James shrugs.

"So wait, what happened? What did Eric say to her?"

"Hold up. We don't have time for this conversation right now. If we don't get moving, we'll miss our appointments. Let's talk at Four Seas." We drag ourselves out of the loungers, drop our mugs in the sink and I lock up the house.

Fifteen minutes later, we're both sitting at the kitchen table at the B&B while the food warms in the oven for our 12:30 tasting. I keep checking my watch, knowing that Dave kid should be here any second as well. He said he'd be by just after noon. Hopefully, they'll both get here soon, we can conduct business, and then I can put out some more feelers for the wait staff.

"Okay, so pick up where you left off at the house. You were saying that Eric got into it with a customer or somebody? I didn't hear exactly what you were saying earlier. What the hell happened?"

Eric can be a bit of an ass.

I squeeze my eyes shut willing the headache to stay at bay. GOD please, I really don't want to have to fire someone when the summer's just starting!

"Man, I've got no idea. Apparently last weekend, he was talking trash about her to her friend of all people! Anyway, her girlfriend told her; she got upset and wanted to quit before she even started. I felt badly for her, so I offered to work them on different schedules," James explains.

"Well, it doesn't make it easier for us, that's for sure. Now you've got me scheduling her opposite you AND opposite Eric. This isn't some crazy high maintenance chick you're getting us wrapped up in, is it? I'm not having a newbie employee order me around."

"Ugh, it's not like that at all. I'm a bartender, she's a waitress, Eric's a waiter…if you're gonna whine about it, let me do the fucking schedule, it's not rocket science, for cryin' out loud!"

"No, you're right. And hey, at this point, beggars can't be choosers. Whatever. It'll work. So, when am I gonna meet this girl, anyway?"

James looks at me like I'm losing my mind and starts speaking very slowly so as to ensure that his message is received clearly.

"Well, she'll be here for the food tasting in about twenty minutes. Have you not been listening to anything I've been saying? You're all over the map. You might wanna get your head in the game. Like I said, she wanted to meet you Friday night but you took off like a bat out of hell. So, what about you? What's got you so bugged about this girl you mentioned? You've got Tori. Old girls are just that, old news. But you and I both know they can start up new problems. Nobody should be rattling your cage at this stage of the game."

"I know. She was always this shallow bitch with a dipshit of a boyfriend….they were just a really awful bunch of people."

"Okay, so again, why is she even registering on your radar?" James questions.

"I don't know. I was happy to be rid of them once I finished there," I wince, knowing that's not the full truth, but I press on. "But she was always something to look at. I crushed on her almost the entire time I worked for her family at the Flanders. And she's still got her looks, so of course, I'm gonna look again…but NOW she's acting all innocent and nice! It's freaking me the fuck out!" My voice rises to a fever pitch.

Get a hold of yourself.

James's eyes widen. "Well, then let her be nice to you! But wait— what does it even matter? You said she was just a patron at the bar on Friday? You might not even see her again! Why worry?" James is trying to understand where I'm coming from. I get that I'm sounding like a fucking fool right now.

"Yeah, I thought that too, but I saw her two Fridays in a row, now! What if she lives here? I can't have someone playing mind games with me! Tori's already gone for fucking months at a time! Do you know how hard it is to just politely ignore the offers I get at the bar? You know how many hot girls walk through those doors! You get numbers slipped to you all the time too! Only you can act on them, I CAN'T! I need a sexual intervention, like, really fucking soon!"

My brother reasons, "Well, unless you plan on screwing around behind Tori's back, which isn't you, by the way, you better find some porn and get busy. Don't let some girl from the past mess with your future. You'll hate yourself for that." James gets up and opens the oven door to check on the chicken in wine sauce.

"I know. Forget it. Let me sit down and start figuring out this schedule. You said your girl is coming in to train with me tonight?" I reply, drained.

"Yeah, Bella said she's available any night this week for us."

"Okay." I shake my head in confusion not hearing James correctly. "Wait, what?"

"I said Bella's available," James repeats to me with his head in the oven.

"YOU said 'Bella'?"

"Yes, I said 'Bella.' I've been talking about Bella since I got here, E."

"Huh? Wait, so how do YOU know Bella's available?" I respond, confusion seeping out of every pore at this point.

"She told me."

"She told you she's AVAILABLE? She told me she's married."

"What? What are you talking about?" James rights himself and stirs the sauce on the stove top.

"You said Bella's available and I'm telling you she told me the other night that she's married!"

James questions me over his shoulder,"When did you talk to Bella?"

"On Friday night! At the bar!" Again…whenever it comes to this girl, I find myself starting to shout! I need to get a grip and dial it down a thousand.

"Oh, wait— so you met her already? She didn't tell me that on the phone when we spoke."

"Hang on, why would you be talking to Bella on the phone?" I ask as calmly as possible.

"So that we can say 'hi', 'how ya doing'? Why do YOU talk on the phone?" James is chuckling in confusion while looking at me like I have a third eye sprouting on my forehead.

"I don't talk to her on the phone." Bitter much? Perhaps.

"Okay, but why are you asking me why I'm talking on the phone to the girl I'm dating?"

"I'm not talking about the girl you're dating, I'm talking about Bella!" He's starting to piss me off.

"Well, I'm talking about Bella, too! What the fuck is this, Abbott and Costello?" James tosses the oven mitts on the table.

Deep breaths, Edward…aaaaand, go. "So let me get this straight. You're talking to Bella on the phone?"

"Yes."

"And you said you're dating her?"

"Yes, JESUS, I've told you this, Edward. I mean, I guess 'dating' is a strong word, but yeah, we've been out together and we've spoken on the phone several times. I'm going out again with her tonight. Why does any of this matter to you?"

"You're going out with Bella, Isabella Swan." I speak clearly so that there's no confusion.

"No. I'm going out with Bella, Bella King. I have no idea who Isabella Swan is."

"Christ! Isabella Swan is the girl from the Flanders!" I'm throwing my hands in the air and shouting like a damn cartoon character at this point.

"Okay, calm down. So you ran into Isabella Swan from the Flanders…the spoiled brat?"

"Yes. But you're calling her Bella and now I'm getting really fucking nervous because you called your girl Bella and my girl was always Isabella, but the other night she called herself Bella, too." Who's on first? What's on second?

James starts scrubbing his face roughly and starts up again. "Okay, so there can be more than one Bella on the planet, right?"

"Of course there can, but how many Bellas were at our pub on Friday night?" God, give me strength.

"So wait, you said you saw your Isabella, and she called herself Bella, at Last Call on Friday?"

"Yes. I saw her the first night of Memorial Day Weekend with her girlfriend and then I ran into her again this past Friday night. She didn't recognize me either night as me, Edward Cullen, but just as someone who might've been vaguely familiar. And though I know she's shallow enough to possibly not remember me at all, she was acting all nice! THAT's what has me so fucked up!"

Fever pitch, my friends. Fever. Pitch.

"Hang on. So your Bella was with a friend last weekend, too? Was this friend blonde by any chance?"

"Yeah. And she had a dude who looked like a bouncer hanging off her arm last week and again on Friday night." Hello headache, we meet again.

"So wait, did you see Eric talk to her?" James keeps digging, eyebrows furrowed. Sherlock is on the scene, now.

"No, but that doesn't mean that he didn't. What did he say to her anyway?"

"Her friend, Rose, said that he was a real dick and said she used to be a 'raging bitch'…or something along those lines. Whatever it was, it wasn't pretty."

"So Eric used to know her, too? And my Isabella was definitely a raging bitch. That I can attest to." Listen to me, 'my Isabella', HA! I've got some fuckin' nerve. But wait… I called her a raging bitch, too. What the what? I suppose if the shoe fits…

**DING-DONG**

I get up scratching my head. My thoughts are all jumbled, trying to figure out who James is dating and who he saw on Friday.

What are the chances that we are talking about the same girl?

The same 'twist me up in knots, ball-breaker, drop-dead gorgeous girl'? I shake it off. No way. No fucking way.

"So hold on, your Bella called herself Bella King?" James gets up and starts following me out of the kitchen.

"Well, at first she agreed to the 'Isabella Swan', but then she corrected me and said her name's Bella King."

"Edward." James grabs me on the shoulder to get my attention and we stall in the hallway. "You do realize that I'm going out with a girl named Bella King? What's your Isabella look like?"

"Pssshh. Let's get this straight, she was NEVER my Isabella. But she's petite, long brown hair, plump pink lips and legs that go on for days." I hope I'm not drooling as I stare off reminiscing; visions of teeny suede bathing suits dancing in my head. The doorbell rings a second time, waking me from my memories. James stops me again as I turn to walk toward the foyer.

"E, my Bella, the one I am talking to on the phone AND the one I've been out with, also has long brown hair, she's got a small frame like you said and has really long, trim legs. What the motherfuck? Are we talking about the same girl, here?" James rubs his forehead in borderline disbelief.

"Hang on…we'll work this out later. It can't be. I gotta talk to this kid about the bartending job."

I hear James still calling after me as I stretch my arm to open the front door. "Just be aware…this appointment for the Harrington Memorial is with—"

And at the same time I hear my brother call out her name, I see her with my own eyes standing on our porch in all of her mind-fucking glory.

You've GOT to be kidding me. This can't really be happening.

"—my Bella," James finishes. "Isabella," I sigh.

What did I say the other night? Oh, that's right.

Fuck.

My.

Life.

Game fucking ON!