A/N: Edward Cullen is 105, and a vampire. But he's posing as a young prodigy concert pianist this go-round. He's stunningly talented, reclusive, hugely successful... and lonely. My first multi-chapter fic!

I'll be posting links to the pieces of music and the pianos mentioned in my profile for this fic.

Rated M for norty words and possibly some very VERY light citrus and/or adult situations. Let's go for a ride!

Edward's POV

The last notes of Chopin's Opus 25 Number 12, Etude in C minor still rang through the air as the crowd of elegantly and expensively clad concert-goers surged to their feet for my standing ovation. It was a favorite of mine, because it ended so angrily. It expressed the inner me better than anything else I could play. Angry, with a touch of sadness. Without being emo.

Carnegie Hall, New York, New York. I was at my pinnacle as a concert pianist. And a vampire. Probably not at my pinnacle there.

I stood next to my piano in black tie and tails, a 1970 Steinway & Sons 9 foot model D that I had purchased new. The piano traveled with me to every venue, at great expense. What can I say; I'm picky about what instrument I'll play. I tune it myself before every concert.

It didn't hold a candle, though, to my 1869 Steinway & Sons Rococo Style 1 Victorian Concert Grand that sat in my studio at home. It had graced the front parlor in my parent's home in Chicago when I was still human. It was the piano on which Mother had taught me to play. Mother had brought it with her to her marriage to Father, telling me that it had belonged to her father, my grandfather. I'd had it shipped to my home in Washington, and lovingly restored it myself. It had a sound like no other.

I gave a crisp bow, and walked off the stage. I didn't do encores. Ever. I gave them their money's worth the first time. That was just the way it was. I had cultivated the reputation of an eccentric, and recluse. I gave no interviews. I avoided cameras. It was the best way, so I could sink back into obscurity when it started being obvious that I wasn't aging. Overfed, self indulgent snobs. They didn't come for the music. They came to be seen doing something "cultured" by the other overfed, self indulgent snobs who didn't give a flying fuck for the music, either.

It was also just "how I roll". Fuck 'em.

For some reason, it made me more popular then ever.

Stepping into my dressing room back stage, I met the gaze of Alice, my sister and publicist. 'You can be such a stingy bastard, Edward.' she thought, and smirked. I shrugged. I played for me, not them. It was just a perk, if you could call it that, that other people wanted to hear me play as well.

Oh, did I forget to mention that I can hear everyone's thoughts? Whether I want to or not? Yay me.

I stripped off my tail coat and pulled the end of my black tie, flinging both to the sofa that graced the opposite side of the room from the too-brightly lit dressing table and mirror. It was almost identical to every other set-up in every other dressing room in every other city I had played in. Not that I needed either. My hair did what it wanted, and I needed no makeup. I didn't allow spotlights at any concert, just pink footlights. The glow made my skin look nearly human. We had this down to a science.

Jasper, my brother and manager walked in at that moment. "Another flawless performance, bro," he grinned. "Sold out, of course. I wish you'd let me make them charge more. You're so in-demand right now, we could make some serious bank if you'd let-"

Alice cut him off, "Sweety, it isn't about the money. Is it, Edward?" She didn't bother to let me answer. "It's about the music. It's therapy. Besides, we make plenty on the CD sales." She nodded, agreeing with herself.

I rolled my eyes. "Alice, where are we off to next?" I asked, trying to change the subject. The last thing I needed was another analysis of what the fuck was wrong with me. I knew what the fuck was wrong with me. I was 107, and I had yet to meet my mate. And I was damned lonely. Yes, I had people around me all the time. And when I wasn't touring, I had my family around me; Carlisle and Esme, AKA "dad & mom", Rosalie and Emmett, and on the road with me was, as always, Mary Alice and Jasper. They were all vampires, too.

Being around mated couples was, as always, torture. Seeing the way Jasper looked at my sister made my chest ache with the need to have someone to look at like that, too. Seeing her stretch up to kiss his lips reminded me that I had never kissed a woman's lips, aside from my mother. I was The 40 Year Old Virgin, times two. And a half. I had become resigned to walking the earth alone for eternity. I mostly tried not to think about it. Hearing their thoughts when they were off making love made it damned difficult, though.

Alice smiled a bit nervously, and she was blocking her thoughts from me. That did not bode well. "Alice," I growled. "What have you done now?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. Just... um..."

"Spit it out, Mary Alice," I gritted.

"There was a charity auction. For children. Children, Edward! Sick children!"

I groaned and gripped my hair with both hands. "Alice..."

"They came and asked what we could do, what we could contribute for the auction. I knew you wouldn't part with your piano, so... I... um... sort of... offered you."

Jasper's full throated laughter filled the room. "Oh god, I wish Emmett was here! My wife auctioned off Eddie's virginity to the highest bidder." He was laughing so hard he had to grab the chair to keep from falling over. Which is saying something, for a vampire with perfect balance. Even Alice giggled a bit at that. I, apparently, was the only one who didn't find it amusing in the least.

"Alice!" I shouted. "He had better the hell be joking!"

She laughed nervously. "Of course he is, Edward. Be serious! What I auctioned was a private concert. The winner gets two hours of you, playing their favorites. Just you and the winner... and nine of her friends." She cringed slightly at that last bit.

I collapsed to the sofa, head in my hands, hands fisted in my hair. "Why do you do these things to me? Don't you love me at all?" I groaned.

Alice was instantly seated next to me, rubbing circles on my bowed back. "Oh, it won't be so bad! What's two hours? The winner paid nearly twelve grand for the winning bid! Think of all of the sick children that will help!"

Always so damned chipper and optimistic. I could have optimistically snapped her neck for her, right then.

Of course, Jasper had to chime in, "And if she's hot, she can have your virginity for free!" And he was off in gales of laughter again. Really, really not funny. He'd call Emmett. I was in for months of hell. Maybe I could just keep touring forever.

"Do you know who won, Alice?" I moaned.

"As a matter of fact, I do! Her name is Isabella Swan, and she lives on the upper West Side. Obviously rich. I don't know anything else about her, other than she's a recluse. She had a proxy at the auction, so I didn't get to see her." She was blocking her thoughts again. That damned pixie knew something.

But upon reflection, doing a concert for a group of blue haired old ladies shouldn't be so bad, right? "When, Alice?"

"Tomorrow night. It's all set. She has a grand piano in her salon. We'll take you there, drop you off, you play for two hours, and we come scoop you back up, done deal." She dusted her hands together.

"Fine," I said with poor grace. "Does she have a preference of music?"

"Chopin. She likes Rachmaninoff as well, and Mendelssohn if you'd prefer, but she said her favorites were the Nocturnes. You can play any of those with your eyes closed. Do you want me to bring sheet music?" She said brightly, happy that I was giving in.

"No. I'll just play Chopin's Nocturnes until they all fall asleep into their tea cozies." I snorted. "Now get out. I want to get into a t-shirt and jeans and get the hell out of here. If this is going down tomorrow night, we need to drive out of the city tonight and hunt. You in, Jazz?"

Jasper grinned. "Yeah, bro. Gotta fuel up so you can go sex up some cougar." He made a growling sound and pretended to swipe at me with a claw.

Is killing your brother, even if he's really not related to you, still considered fratricide?

E/N: Well, wadda ya think? Should I go on? Review and let me know! Reviews are my Bella blood! *insert more shameless begging here*