Hot Bubblegum by SoapyMayhem
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
0. . . oO•.o.Hot Bubblegum.o.•Oo . . .0
Chapter 3
*~Bella Swan~*
First on the agenda - food.
Ever since I got my driver's license, I'd been sneaking In and Out
burgers on a weekly basis. The first time I ate one, I sat there hidden behind
the tinted windows of my car, moaning as I proceeded stuff my face with the
most delicious fucking thing I'd ever tasted.
After being deprived of red meat for the last few years, I of course
puked my guts out, but I wasn't one to give up so easily. The third time I had
one, I was able to enjoy it without getting sick, and I'd been a burger junkie
ever since.
Of course, Phil noticed the extra couple pounds I'd packed on, but I
just attributed it to the birth control pills Renee had me taking.
After scarfing down a Double-Double
with extra spread, I set off toward my real agenda for the day - I was
going to find an apartment to rent and get a tattoo.
First, I headed down to the Real Estate office that I always passed on
my way to the studio.
Careful to hide behind my shades and baseball cap, I walked through the
doors and plopped myself down in a plush chair across from a large wooden desk.
In front of me a prim looking woman sat wearing a black blazer, her
reddish hair pulled back severely. She looked up at me from her paperwork,
taking in my appearance with a raised brow before deciding to ignore me.
I smirked, realizing she hadn't recognized me with my hat and glasses.
"Can I help you?" she finally mumbled disinterestedly.
This could
get amusing.
"Yes, how quickly can you find an apartment I can rent… like… could
I be moved in within a few days or maybe even today?" I asked loudly,
knowing she'd be forced to listen.
That caught her attention - Red looked up from her paperwork, annoyed.
"We only deal in luxury properties." Her tone was cold and
condescending, her nose wrinkled in disdain. "Besides, are you even old
enough to rent an apartment?"
"I think you'll find I'm old enough, Miss-" I trailed off,
barely managing a polite tone, waiting for her to introduce herself.
"James, Victoria James," she huffed, sneering at me.
"Well Miss James, Victoria James… unless you're the rare breed of
human, who doesn't like making money, I suggest you stop acting like a snobby
bitch and help me find a place to rent," I growled, pulling off my hat and
glasses. "If you have a problem with that, then I'm sure one of your
co-workers would be more than willing to help me."
Her eyes bugged out comically as realization dawned on her face.
Don't
laugh, Bella.
"Oh… Miss Swan… forgive me... I didn't know… of course I'll be
happy to help you," she replied worriedly, panicking that she'd offended
me, which of course she had, but not in the way she probably assumed.
I wanted to shout at her and tell her to fuck off… that she shouldn't be
treating anyone the way she treated me - famous or not. Instead, I waved off
her apology and let her get started showing me some listings.
It was nearly noon when I finally saw an apartment I liked - open floor
plan, in-house decorator, large hot tub, a fantastic kitchen, private gym, and
a great view of the city. It also didn't hurt that the building was known for
their privacy and security for high-profile residents.
And it had a huge fucking pool on the rooftop.
"That's the one," I said suddenly, startling Red.
Once she composed herself, she glanced over to see which building I'd
chosen. Her eyes bugged out again - I could almost see the dollar signs
flashing in them as she sat a little straighter in her seat.
Greedy
whore.
"Can we go look at it now?" I asked unable to contain my
excitement.
"Of course Miss Swan… just let me make a quick call to the building
manager," she said, grabbing the phone. I picked at my fingernails for a
minute, waiting on her to finish.
As she ended the call, I noticed her face visibly paled, her expression
grim.
Who died?
"The manager won't be available to show it until around three or
four," she said nervously, cringing as if I was going to start screaming
and shouting about it.
I was a damn teenager for fucks sake - did she think I was gonna smack
her on the head with my cell phone because I had to wait like a normal fucking
person?
She was probably just worried she'd loose the fat commission she was
about to make off me.
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