Chapter 7
Song: Californication by The Red Hot Chili Peppers
My plane touched down in L.A. just before noon, and I was greeted with a bear hug that effectively squeezed all the air out of my lungs. I did not know that was possible, but my cousin defied science in ways that only he could.
“Bells! I've missed your scrawny ass! Fuck you're pale, we need to get you out into some California sunshine!” he said in his booming voice that made me want to cover my ears.
“Hey Emmett,” I squeaked out after taking a deep breath.
My brightly colored luggage was easy to spot on the baggage carousel, and Emmett lifted it in his left hand as if it was as light as a pillow. My carry-on was slung over his shoulder with the same ease. He took my hand in his and dragged me out to the parking lot to find his souped-up Jeep. No top or doors on it, of course. He always preferred to enjoy the California sunshine and breeze.
Emmett and I had always been this way. We spent our early years together on the outskirts of Seattle, where our families lived at the time. Our fathers were half brothers – my dad Charlie was the eldest and from their mother’s first marriage. Carlisle’s father was her second husband. Prior to relocating to California, our families were very close, spending a great deal of time together. Emmett and I were both only children, so we were as close as siblings. He was two years older and used that as a means to pick on me, but he also served as my protector.
When I was seven, Carlisle left Emmett's mom, Esme, for Mommy Version 2.0 and took off to L.A. to pursue his career in plastic surgery. Apparently, it wasn't quite as in demand in our area, and mommy number two didn't like the rain. Using his money and clout, Carlisle managed to secure primary custody of Emmett, leaving me and my dad in Washington, and Emmett's mom broken and alone. I was too young to remember many of the finer details, but I’ve been told that Carlisle claimed he wanted Emmett raised “right,” whatever that could mean. Esme was never anything less than a wonderful mother, and I have often wondered if Emmett would have stayed with her, had he been given the choice. At the time, he was just too young to have a say in any of it. Uncle Carlisle wasn’t a bad man, perhaps just a little self-righteous and shallow.
Lucky for me, Emmett was a tenacious and annoying little bugger, and managed to convince Carlisle to let me come spend one month of the summer with them every year. Uncle Silicone Dreams gave in, and even paid for my entire trip and travel each year. I think he knew how much Emmett missed living near the family, especially me. Plus, I made an amazing cherry cheese cake that neither of them could resist.
Those summer trips are some of my fondest memories. When Em and I were together, everything was more fun. As kids, we would spend our four weeks together splashing in their pool and running amuck in the mansion. When we got older, we explored the city, lounged on the beach, and enjoyed the carefree days of summer in the Sunshine State.
My cousin and I were like two peas in a pod. We could be real with each other, we could harass each other, or we could cry on the other’s shoulder. In the end, we always came out of it calling each other fucktards and making bets about who would win the next time we played caps.
“So, you still a tramp, Bells?” he asked me on the drive home.
“But of course. And you, my dear cousin? Have you managed to nail all of your bartenders yet?” I asked. My voice was laced with sarcasm, just as his had been.
“I tell you, I'm working on it, but that one keeps holding out on me. She insists she's a lesbian, but come on, I'm Emmett.”
“It's true, it's true,” I agreed with an exaggerated sigh. “Maybe I can warm her up for you first, and then you can take over.”
His head whipped to the right to look at me, serious now. “Would you really do that for me?”
I burst into a fit of laughter that brought tears to my eyes. When I managed to stop long enough between giggles, I spoke again.
“Wow! She's really getting to you, isn't she? I don't do chicks, but you know I'm your eternal wingman.”
“Nah, I think she's just a little tease. She's going to the wedding with my roommate,” he sighed.
“You mean the one who DJs at the club?” He nodded at my question. “What's his name again?”
“Jasper Whitlock,” he told me. “Whatever you do, don't call him Jazz or Jazzy. He flips shit about that with the whole DJ thing. I've had to throw so many damn people out for calling him DJ Jazzy Jeff. He hates that shit. He goes by DJ Rebel.”
“DJ Rebel?” I asked. “What the hell does that mean?”
“He's got some sort of Civil War obsession. I don't know. He's a cool dude, but he's got his quirky side. I just let him do his thing,” Emmett said.
“Hey, we’ve all got our quirks. I mean, you refuse to eat red M&Ms,” I teased. “I can't wait to meet him. Is he hot?”
“Come on, don't fuck my roommate, Bella.”
“Why not?”
“Cuz I don't want to hear you moaning through the walls of my condo.”
“Whatever, Em, I haven't even met him yet.”
. . . . . . . . . .
Emmett's roommate was hot as fuck.
He had this perfect surfer hair - honey blonde with sun streaks all through it. His body was tall, lean and toned, and I could only imagine that he'd be pure sex in a wet suit. He even had this hot shark bite scar on his arm. I eventually persuaded him to tell me the story behind it, and he admitted that the shark was only twenty inches long. I thought it was still pretty sexy. I would probably never go back into the ocean if that had happened to me! His face, neck and arms were scattered with lots of other faded little scars that made me want to take off his shirt and count them as he told me the story behind each one. Or lick them…just saying. And he smelled like the ocean. All the time. I had never met anyone who smelled that way without cologne.
The night that I arrived, Emmett insisted that we spend it at his club. Thanks to the trust fund Carlisle allowed him to tap into after earning a college degree, Emmett bought a restaurant in a prime L.A. location and turned it into an extremely successful club called Rendezvous. I wasn't sure Emmett could even spell that, but he sure knew how to run the place. Even on a Thursday night, I spotted more celebrities than I could count. I hung out with some NBA studs Emmett had made friends with, and I even danced with a certain blonde heiress and her entourage for a while. Sure, that girl is a twat, but she's funny as fuck. I can totally see why so many people in Hollyweird like her. I told her to throw my cousin a bone and quickly found out that, well, he'd already thrown her a bone, if you know what I mean. Go Emmett! He loves him some blondes.
By the time the place cleared out, it was the wee hours, and Emmett and Jasper had to carry my tired, drunk ass back to the condo. I was relieved to find coffee when I woke up, and I took it out to the porch where Jasper was sitting.
“Where's Emmett?” I asked, sinking into the chair next to him.
“Probably out running. He's usually gone for an hour or so,” Jasper replied.
I hadn't noticed it last night, considering the vast amount of vodka I had consumed, but Jasper had the cutest bit of a southern accent.
“Where are you originally from?”
“Texas,” he told me.
“Hmm,” I hummed, rubbing my chin to look playfully deep in thought. “Southern Confederate good ol' boy turned SoCal surfer-DJ. That's hot.”
He laughed, and we sat there chatting and sipping our coffee. It was fun getting acquainted with him. I had heard stories from Emmett, but they've never done Jasper justice. There was just something about him that made him so easy to be around.
By the time Emmett returned, we had already been swapping hilarious stories about our favorite person for ten minutes.
“Dinosaur pajamas and slippers?”
“Yes! I told you, he had dinosaur everything. Wallpaper, sheets and bedspread, stuffed animals, books. You name it, he had it. That’s where his mom came up with the nickname,” I explained.
“That’s priceless. Please tell me you used that against him in the awkward teen years,” Jasper laughed.
I giggled back at the thought of Emmett as awkward. “There was no such thing for Emmett. He’s always been big and muscular somehow. Definitely no Jerry O’Connell years there.”
“Oh, wow!” he responded with a lighthearted smile. “I haven’t watched Stand By Me in years. Maybe we can all do that while you’re here.”
“Only if you promise to sing the lollipop song with me,” I said with a wink.
We were interrupted by my cousin’s booming voice coming through the house. “Hey guys! Where are you?”
“Out here!” Jasper and I called back at the same time.
“Great. Getting to know each other?” he asked as he made is way through the kitchen to the open sliding glass doors.
“Hey Emmiesaurus Rex!” Jasper said, turning in his chair on the porch to face Emmett.
“I'll fucking kill you, Bella!” he exclaimed.
“Not so fast, Em. I want to see those leather pants I've heard so much about first,” I cackled. Jasper and I were doubled over with laughter. When I looked up at Emmett, his whole face was tomato red. He eventually just shook his head at us, muttered some words I assumed were expletives under his breath, and retreated to his room to take a shower.
. . . . . . . . . .
Emmett and I spent much of Friday afternoon and the evening with Uncle Carlisle and Mommy-To-Be v5.0 before the rehearsal dinner. I can't say anything about either of them really surprised me. Carlisle only got more vain and shallow with each year and wife that came along. This tramptastic plastic woman, Tanya, was as cookie cutter lame as they come. Her hair was an unnatural shade of strawberry blonde and she obviously had hair extensions. Her nose had that super thin, weird look going on from one too many nose jobs, and her lips were a bit too plump for anyone who wasn't Angelina. It's not to say she wasn't pretty because I supposed she was, but it was just so fake. I didn't see the attraction to self-mutilation for the sake of vanity.
But whatever; it wasn’t my place to judge. Uncle Carlisle was content, or if nothing else, he pretended to be. My only guess was that after all those years creating fake bodies for women, he had forgotten how a genuine woman looked and felt.
The rehearsal dinner probably cost more than most normal people's weddings, and Emmett and I made it our mission to out drink everyone else at the party by testing the bartender's range of martini recipes. It turned out he knew a lot. When it was all said and done, we decided the night was still young and went to enjoy the Friday festivities at Rendezvous.
Emmett attempted to point out Ali, the last of his bartenders who hadn't yet fallen for his antics, but my vision was a little too blurry to make out her actual face. I remembered that she was very small and had dark hair. Beyond that, I had no idea. I recalled seeing Jasper, too, but again, the details eluded me.
I woke up facedown in a feather pillow I had elegantly decorated with a puddle of drool and smudges of last night’s eye make-up. An attempt to lift my head made me cringe, and I flipped the pillow over for a soft, dry place to hide.
“The fuck, Bella? Get your ass up!” I heard from the doorway.
In a most ladylike manner, I introduced Emmett and his loud self to my middle finger. Must speak to Emmett about using his inside voice.
“Hit the showers, Swan. It's past noon. You have less than three hours to get ready for Daddy Warbucks' big day!”
“You go to hell. You go to hell and you die,” I mumbled, not even attempting to use the appropriate South Park voice with my quote.
“Smart mouthin', eh? You know what that means!”
I did know.
Before I could scream, protect myself or hide, Emmett was flying through the air toward the bed. He crashed down into me with a loud thud that made the headboard crack off the wall. He then proceeded to steam roll me for good measure.
“Help!” I yelled as best as I could under Emmett's weight. “Jasper! Help me!”
A few moments later, I could hear Jasper in the doorway laughing right along with Emmett.
“That's a nice wax job you've got there, Bella,” he chuckled.
“What...are...you...talking...about?” I asked from beneath my massive cousin who still refused to let up on the torture.
“Well,” he continued. “The next time you pass out in a mini skirt, you may want to consider panties.”
Emmett erupted into another fit of booming laughter, steam rolled me once more, and then hopped off the bed, running out of the room like a maniac. “Two and a half hours, Swan!”
I had managed to pull a sheet up over myself and I noticed Jasper still standing there. I gave him a questioning stare. He shrugged.
“What? I was just enjoying the show. Maybe I'll get another peek this weekend.” And then he winked at me before leaving my doorway.
Not quite sure what to make of that in my hung over state, I shouted out to him and he popped his head back in the room. Note to self: Don't yell, idiot. It hurts!
“You saw me last night, right?” I asked.
“Umm, yeah. You were pretty entertaining from up in the booth,” he chuckled at me.
“Well then, riddle me this. Did I just dream it or was I...”
“Dry humping Ryan Gosling on the dance floor? Indeed you were, Bella,” he said with continued laughter.
“Sweet baby Jesus!” I cried, hiding my face in my hands. “Now that's humiliating.”
“Fret not, sugar,” Oh hello there, sexy southern accent. “From my vantage point, I do believe he enjoyed it. His lady companion on the other hand, well that's a different matter. But I've seen much worse in that place, so forget about it.”
He gave me a reassuring smile, and then ducked out, pulling my door closed so I could get ready for the wedding.
Two hours later I emerged, greeted by a pair of low whistles. I knew I was blushing, but I still beamed at the guys and did a little twirl to display my dress.
I had selected a deep teal Nicole Miller that fell just above my knees. The halter neck dipped low into my cleavage, and the silky fabric hung gracefully over my curves. I had paired it with strappy heels that were something between a shade of gold and bronze, and I had the cutest clutch to match. I left my hair down in soft, shiny waves, and my make-up was light and understated. Even without their praise, I felt great.
“Damn Bells,” Emmett said. “Never been touched by a scalpel and you're still the hottest thing in L.A.”
“Word,” Jasper agreed with a nod.
With that, we were off to the wedding. Emmett and I went straight to the country club in his Jeep, and Jasper left in his hot little Cadillac CTS to pick up Ali.
. . . . . . . . . .
Several hour and numerous glasses of champagne later, I wandered away from Uncle Carlisle's colleagues and friends and made my way back to our table. The last time I had seen Emmett he was on the dance floor with New Mommy's nineteen year old sister, but Jasper was there at the table alone.
“Not much of a dancer, are you?” I asked him. I plopped down in my seat and put my feet up on the chair between us.
“There is a reason I stay in the DJ booth,” he smiled.
“I see. So where's Ali?”
He sighed, but didn't say anything. He was...brooding. What is that all about?
“What's wrong?” I asked after a moment.
“I'm pretty sure Ali is wherever Emmett is,” he said.
“Oh, burn.”
“I know, right?”
“Is that all?” I asked. There seemed to be more to it than what he was telling me.
“I don't want to get into it” he said flatly.
“Are you sure? I'm a good listener. And I'm an outside party. I have nothing invested in whatever it is, so I might be able to give you some perspective,” I offered.
Jasper finally gave in and explained that he and Ali had been involved before, but things fizzled out when she decided they couldn't work together and continue seeing each other. He wasn't completely sure about the whole lesbian thing because, with her, anything was possible, but Emmett's pursuit of her was getting to him a little more than he liked to admit.
“The way I see it,” I said, “Is that Emmett is probably oblivious to the fact that you ever had real feelings for her, and now he's just being Emmett. What does Emmett do? He tries to get laid. Put a girl in front of him who doesn't give at will, and he sees it as a challenge.”
“You really have him pegged, don't you?” Jasper asked me with wide eyes and a knowing grin.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “The only two people I know better than Emmett are myself and my best friend, and sometimes I wonder about myself.”
He laughed with me, though I tried to convince him I meant it.
Just then, a waiter walked by with a tray of champagne and I stopped him to grab four glasses. Jasper eyed me skeptically.
“Thirsty?”
“Shut up and drink,” I said, shoving a glass into his hands. I held mine up in a mock toast. “Screw confusing relationships, let's get drunk!”
He clinked his glass against mine, and we both downed the contents in one continuous gulp.
“Now,” I said, grabbing another glass in one hand and his hand in my other. “Let's go.”
“Bella, I told you I don't dance,” he scowled.
“We're not dancing, we're walking. Get your drink, bitch,” I said with a playful grin.
He stood and we wandered around for a while through the crowds of people, talking about all the obvious nips and tucks of the guest that were likely courtesy of Carlisle himself. People watching is always more fun in this city, and I hoped that all the talk about boobs would cheer Jasper up a little.
After an hour of mindless wandering and two and a half more glasses of champagne, he had finally loosened up, and we were having a great time together. I couldn’t stop smiling, and there was never a lull in our conversation. I was attracted to him, of course, but I could tell that Jasper was someone I could really be friends with, too. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of our time together and our flirtations, though. He came to the wedding with Ali, and he had confided in me about her. Was his mind still on her, or was he now interested in me? There was no lack of playful and affectionate touching between us, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous and make the next few days of my visit awkward or uncomfortable. That didn’t mean I was going to avoid contact with him, however; he had his arm around me as we headed inside the clubhouse to the restrooms. When I came out, he was already there waiting for me with a mischievous look on his face.
“Come on, Bella,” he said, taking me by the hand. The main clubhouse had been styled like an old southern plantation house, and two curved staircases led up to the second floor.
We walked up the steps, and I proudly only tripped up them twice. We continued down a quiet hall, peeking into doors to find various offices and board rooms. When we got to one in the far back, he led me inside and walked over to the windows. The room we stood in overlooked the party below, and the crowd of several hundred looked even larger from here.
“Wow, I wonder if these people will ever get tired of coming to Carlisle's weddings,” I said with a giggle and hiccup. Yep, I'm a little tipsy.
“Doubtful,” Jasper replied. He pulled the curtains on the windows and I eyed him suspiciously.
“Bella,” he spoke again, making me shiver. His voice was suddenly low and husky, and I couldn’t ignore the mischievous way he was looking at me. His eyes glinted with lust, and a playful grin graced his lips. As he moved closer to me, I couldn’t help but notice his confident gait or the way his dress shirt clung to his broad shoulders. “Have you ever heard that theory, 'the best way to forget someone is with someone else?'” he finished.
Yes, I do believe I'm familiar with that theory...
It's the edge of the world
And all of western civilization
The sun may rise in the East
At least it settles in the final location
It's understood that Hollywood
sells Californication
And all of western civilization
The sun may rise in the East
At least it settles in the final location
It's understood that Hollywood
sells Californication
Red Hot Chili Peppers
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