[Disclaimer] Everything Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

[A/N] Hey, everyone & welcome to my newest fanfic project. I've not posted anything in a month and it feels like an eternity to me. I have missed writing so much, it's not normal.

A big shout-out goes to Bellice Fan for giving me the idea to this story. I really hope you are going to like how it turned out. Let me know.

This is an AH story and if you don't enjoy Bella and Alice having a pulse, you know where to click to close this site. Also, I've decided that I want Bella to be curvy in this fic. There are enough stories out where she's size zero or something close to that. I have a heart for Bella with a bit more meat on her bones and I hope you'll like her too.

Also, it is not my intent to offend anyone like people who love Emmett, Australians, Catholics, Wearer of Mom Jeans and everyone else I might have forgotten.

Thanks to all of my readers who are willing to give this ride a try. I'm grateful to have you by my side.

*1*

A good friend is cheaper than therapy

(Author Unknown)

This is your end, I thought, biting back tears in my eyes. The only thing that was left for me was to go down in dignity. I had a tendency to cry too easily. It had always been like that. With a sigh I took another deep breathe in a pointless attempt to calm down my nerves. My hand quivered when I lifted my lip gloss to my pale mouth to tint it with a hint of color. Then I forced myself to smile. Just get over with it, I tried to encourage me. In a few minutes everything would be over. My future in this company, Volturi Fashion Press, would be ended before it had actually begun.

Wiping a single dark-inked eyelash from my left cheek, I walked out of the bathroom. I closed my eyes and carefully blow the tiny eyelash from my finger, making a wish. The only wish I could think of right now apart from the other one. The one, I knew was impossible for whatever kind of higher power to make come true. Maybe that would give me some extra points in this situation now.

I don't want to get fired.

It had been a week since I had changed an article my boss, Mr. Marcus, had given me to get it ready for print. Technically, all I had to do was proofread the entire thing and discuss the pictures we were going to use with one of the photographers. It's not that difficult. But for some reason, I didn't do how I was told last week.

When I read through the article, Marcus had written, I found it to be so horribly boring that I couldn't resist making some, well, maybe a bit more changes to the manuscript.

The day after the edition of the magazine was published I received an email that had left me sleepless for the rest of the week.

I was asked to attend a meeting with the highest boss in the company, Mary Jane Volturi, herself. During the three years I had been working as an assistant to Mr. Marcus, I had never got to speak a single word to her. Assistants were below her. Secretaries were below her. Well, actually everyone in the company, apart from her own father maybe. Aro Volturi was an ambitious man who was determined to make Volturi Fashion Press bigger than Vogue one day. For this goal he was willing to try anything, possible within his power.

"You can go right through to her." Jane's secretary Chelsea told me, granting me one of her faked smiles. "Good luck, Miss Cullen."

"Thanks," I muttered, straightening my back before I opened the door to the gates of hell and walked inside.

She was small, a petite woman, even a head lower than my own 4.7 frame. Jane always dressed completely in black, what made her ghostly white skin appear a bit sickish. When she noticed me, she looked up from her polished silver-framed glass desk.

"Good Morning, Miss Cullen. Have a seat." She greeted me without the slightest hint of a smile. Her lips were colored in a burgundy red and her grey eyes seemed small and cruel to me behind the thick layer of black eye-shadow she had applied around them today.

"How are you today, Miss Cullen?"

"Good, I think. " I croaked. "Maybe a bit nervous to be honest,"

This made her smile now. A creepy smile that reminded me of that of a witch in one of the fairytale books my mother had read to me when I was a child. If Jane's hair had been red instead of a bright wheat-blonde the comparison with a witch would be easier. During the last three months this woman had fired five people, two of them long-term employees. If you managed to displease Mary Jane Volturi, she didn't bother with giving people second chances.

On the edge of her table was the calamitous magazine. The article I had written was marked with pink and yellow post-it's all over it.

"I'm sorry, Miss Volturi." I told her, my voice trembling with tears I was suppressing. "I don't know what came over me, when I changed that article. I'm so sorry. I had no right to do it."

"You're right about that, Miss Cullen. Or may I call you Mary Alice?"

"Just Alice, please."

"Fine, Alice, then you shall call me Jane. I never cared too much for the extra Mary added to my name. It's a name for losers, don't you agree?"

I nodded in silence. My mouth felt terribly dry and my palms were sweating against the fabric of my blue skirt.

"I could fire you for that stunt you pulled with that article." Jane told me in an overly sweetly voice. "In fact, Mr. Marcus himself has suggested this to me, when he found out about it."

"I'm sorry." I whispered desperately. My eyes filled with tears. I was going to cry. So much for going down in dignity…

Jane stood up from her chair and cleared her throat. "Save your tears for another opportunity. I don't wish for you to make some hysterical scene in my office."

"I'm so sorry, Miss Vol- Jane. Please, don't fire me. I need this job. Send me down to work for that weirdo who runs the filling department, if you like. Just don't fire me, I beg on you."

"Stop whining and crying, I can't stand such behavior." Jane scolded me, before she pulled out a box of tissues from underneath her desk.

"I wasn't planning on firing you, Alice."

"You were not?" I gasped. The feeling of relief that spread through me was overwhelming. Quickly I cleaned my nose and tried to wipe my face without smearing my mascara too much all over my cheeks. She wasn't going to fire me? How wonderful!

"That article you've written, it shows that you have some talent. Talent but not enough experience."

"I'm sorry about that."

"Stop apologizing. That's something for the weak. You aren't weak, are you, Alice?"

"I don't think so, Jane."

"Great. See, I'm planning on getting some fresh air into this company. Your writing is full of fire, of love for fashion. The way you talked about how you can sense a woman's mood on the shoes she's wearing. That was brilliant. I liked that part in the article a great deal."

"Thank you, Jane."

"Oh, it's just the plain truth. I'd like to see more of your work in the future."

"I'd love that." I stuttered nervously. "But I didn't know there were any jobs for writers open."

She grinned, her small teeth flashing up against the dark red of her lips. "Well, let me tell you a little secret. Mr. Marcus is only going to stay with us until October. Then he's going to retire and his job will be free."

I raised one eyebrow. Mr. Marcus was planning to retire? He had never mentioned something about this to me.

"Are you sure, he's going to retire? He's a bit too young for that."

"I am sure. Marcus wants to return back to England to stay with his parents. They are both in a retirement home and he wants to be closer to them. "

"I see."

"What about you, Alice? Don't you want to move back home to the States any time near?"

"Not really. I like it here in Sydney. It's a wonderful place to live."

Jane nodded her head and sipped on the bottle of Evian water that was standing next to her phone. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass. It looked like blood.

"You are going to work under Mr. Caius for the next weeks. He's a bastard but if you can learn from anyone how this business is done, it's him. When he returns from his trip to Canberra next Monday, you can start right through."

"I don't know what to say to this, Jane. This is not what I expected when I received that email from your secretary."

"What did you expect? I don't tend to waste my time, firing little assistants. We would have sent you a letter to do so. Now, about what you should say. A thank you would be perfectly enough."

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Jane. This is an incredible chance you are giving me."

"You're welcome. Try not to disappoint me. I don't like that."

"I won't. " I promised eagerly while I fought the urge to nibble my nail polish off my thumb. It was a nervous habit that I had developed as a young teenager and never managed to give up.

"Let's hope so. My father is terribly fond of you as well. He has a thing for American women."

Aro Volturi was a creeper whose breathe permanently smelled like mint gums and alcohol. The first of them a clear attempt to cover up his drinking habits.

"Your file states you're from Seattle. How is it like there?" Jane asked me, sitting down on her chair again. She kicked off her heels and rubbed the ankles with her fingertips. Wearing high heels wasn't very comfortable. I knew about that.

"Okay. A bit cold from time to time perhaps,"

"Tell me something about your family? Are they journalists as well?"

"Hell, no! My Mom is a social worker and my father works as a pediatrician. Both of them don't care too much for fashion at all."

"A doctor? That's impressive. I like doctors. Tell me, Alice, don't you miss home?"

I shook my head. Sure, I did miss my mother and the rest of my family terribly. But for me there was no way I was going to move back home again—ever. Moving back would mean to be forced to face her and him again and I couldn't endure the very thought of it.

xxxxxx

"Congratulations, sweetie!" Charlotte greeted me. She hugged me tightly and kissed both of my cheeks. During the last days I'd been whining to her about my upcoming meeting with Jane, the fashion witch, like people tended to call her behind her back.

Charlotte, my best friend here, was thrilled that I was going to get promoted.

"I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. We need to celebrate. Look, I've already ordered some drinks for us. Don't try to talk me into letting you live on diet coke the whole night again. Such an occasion calls for champagne."

"This is beer."

"It's good beer. They don't serve any champagne here. Are you hungry? Let's order some pizza."

"I already ate."

"What?"

"I don't remember. Some sandwich I bought in my lunch break. I think it was turkey."

Charlotte rolled her eyes at me. For some reason she had a tendency to act like a mother hen around me. She was always trying to make sure I was well fed, healthy and happy. The last one was probably the most difficult one of them. I met Charlotte during my first week in Australia. She found me sobbing in front of a café, drowning myself in the misery of my broken heart. It didn't feel like it was only my heart that had been ripped apart, more like my very soul, had been crumbled into countless, tiny fragments.

I highly doubt I was any kind of good company for Charlotte during the first weeks of our friendships. All I did was cry or stare into open space while Charlotte tried her best to cheer me up. To me, she's the kindest, most warm-hearted person. She has adopted me into her life like someone would adopt a dirty puppy you'd find in a box at some street corner.

"You need to eat something warm. The pizza here is good. Jasper likes it."

Jasper was a photographer who helped me to get my current job at Volturi Fashion Press. He worked for the company himself a few years ago but now he prefers to be his own boss. Charlotte was dating his friend Peter and I knew, she'd be more than happy if Jasper and I would end up as a couple. It wasn't going to happen. Neither me nor him are interested in the opposite sex. Even if we were, there is no way I'd be able to open myself up to a devoted relationship. Maybe some people can only love once in their lifetime. I think I could be one of them.

"Mushrooms or bacon?" Charlotte asked, startling me in my daydreaming.

"What?"

"As a topping. Don't say you want tuna. It's gross. You know I can't stand the smell of it."

"Mushrooms sound good to me. Let's order that." I told her, lifting the bottle of beer to my mouth. It was cold and delicious. With a sigh I savored the slightly bitter taste of it on my tongue.

"I'm so happy for you getting that new job. It was time someone noticed how hard you are working."

"I don't think Mr. Marcus is too happy about Jane giving me his job." I said, taking another sip from my beer. It was my third one this night or maybe my forth? I didn't remember.

Charlotte chuckled and leaned over to me to whisper in my ear. "Are you drunk?"

"No," I giggled, feeling the heat stream through my head. Alcohol didn't do well with me. Maybe it was because I was such a lightweight. I got tipsy after one glass of wine.

"I think you are. Eat the rest of your pizza."

"But it's cold now." I giggled. "I don't like cold pizza."

"Eat up, like your momma told you to." Charlotte demanded, waving with a slice of greasy pizza in front of my face. I swallowed it in hungry bites. Drinking alcohol always increased my appetite for salty food. I was just about to dive my hand into the bowl with peanuts on the table when I felt a big hand around my wrist.

"Don't. You never eat peanuts in a bar. They are full of germs."

"But I want some now." I whined, crossing my arms in front of my chest like a sullen child.

"Charlotte, for fucks sake, how can she already be drunk?" Jasper asked her, sitting down on the chair next to mine. He peeled his leather jacket down his shoulders and placed it on his lap. "You know she can't handle alcohol."

"We're just celebrating. Alice, you aren't that drunk yet, are you?"

"I'm fine." I prattled. "I just want to eat some peanuts now. They are yummy."

"Eat them, if you must." Jasper sighed, pushing the bowl closer to me. "If you get food poisoning I won't visit you in the hospital."

"Deal." I chuckled, stuffing a handful of crunchy peanuts in my mouth. "What have you been doing today? Made any nice pictures?"

"Yes."

"Show me." I pleaded. I had developed a liking in Jasper's photographic skills. He had a talent to magically freeze emotions into black and white pictures. It's his dream to open a gallery in a couple of years. I'm sure it's going to be a success.

He wrapped his arm around me and held his camera up, clicking through a row of sunset pictures that appeared on the tiny screen.

"Lovely. Why don't you ever take pictures of people?" Charlotte asked, leaning over to peak on the screen.

"Oh I do that. I have a thing for nudes. Just need to find the perfect muse for me I guess."

"Pervert, "Charlotte teased him. "What you need is to get laid."

"My sex life is perfectly fine. Thanks for your concern. It's Alice who needs to get laid if you ask me."

"No one is asking you." I growled, pushing his arm from me. My constant status as a single was something my so-called friends always felt the need to do something about. After telling Charlotte I was a lesbian she had set me up on dates with every other gay woman she knew. None of these dates had ended up in more than a one-night-stand. I liked sex. I didn't like the thought of falling in love. It would end painfully and I couldn't risk that to happen.

"He didn't mean it like that. Crap, Jasper, apologize to her. You know how sensitive she is with that subject."

"Sorry, Alice." he mumbled. "I'm just looking out for you. The right one, she's out there for you, I know."

"I don't think she is." I said, finishing off the rest of my beer that was already lukewarm by now. Inside of my chest my heart cramped at the memory of her. Better to have loved and lost or however they say. The thought didn't comfort me the tiniest bit.