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Changing Prejudices by IHateCleanBreaks






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[Reviews - 8]
Table of Contents
- Text Size +
Story Notes:

Supervisory Beta: qjmom

Sr. Validation Beta: MsKathy

Author's Chapter Notes:

Disclaimer: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.  I only own any original characters and plot. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Thank you very much to my team of betas on this chapter: ProjectTeamBeta and bikechick3 you girls are amazing!

This story has already been published as complete at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4526862/1/Changing_Prejudices.  I have decided to edit the crap out of it and repost it here in it's better form.


Chapter 1:

BPOV

I guess I was sort of prejudiced against famous people. Really, it was famous anything, not just people. Anytime something became a big deal to most of the country, I shut down and lost interest. There were few situations where I was able to hold on and persevere. I hated for people to think that I was just following the crowd. I wanted to prove that I was different, and I hated it if my interests converged with the interests of the majority of people.

My aversion rarely reached to books, however.  My favorite book series had me hooked before I even realized how popular they were, and then I was drawn in by the movie based on the first book.  That film was amazing, and it had catapulted the male lead, Edward Cullen, into fame.  I reluctantly admitted that he had been amazing in the role, but his name was like a curse word to me now; it was spoken far too often. 

I worked as a night manager at a small but luxurious hotel in Forks, Washington. I had been working there for ten years and had finally worked my way up to manager. I chose the night position because it not only came with a raise, but it also gave me a few hours of uninterrupted time in which to study. It was hectic for the first few hours and for the last hour; however, I usually had about seven hours in which to work on the homework for my Master’s Degree in Creative Writing.

Every year, there was a huge fishing tournament in Port Angeles, about an hour or so away from us.  The Red Lion Hotel was the place to stay for the tournament participants who could afford it.  It was more expensive than most others and usually filled up months ahead of time; however, where I worked, the Meadow Hotel and Suites, was the next best option. We were close enough for guests to feel okay with driving, yet far enough away from all the traffic and crowds. The competition lasted for two weeks, and we were full the whole time.

It was in the middle of the fishing season, during the first week of the big tournament. Most of our guests had already checked in on Sunday, so it was a slow night.  It was late, almost 11pm, and I wondered which one of our sleeping guests was the VIP we were expecting. Our manager had informed us that we were to be extremely professional for the next three weeks, because of said VIP.  I didn’t think that he would be our late arrival.

Ericka, the desk clerk, had let me know that the last guest, a Mr. Richard Masen, would be checking in later than expected. Most VIPs would not check in so late, risking their comfort on a skeleton night crew.  As I was thinking this, I noticed that a group of five men and one woman had walked in.

With their high fashion clothes, expensive luggage, and air of money and importance, I could tell that these people were the type we usually got in the Meadow Hotel and Suites. I hated when these people checked in on my shift. They paid my check, yes, but they were so pompous and arrogant. And they looked down on me as though I was dirt or something. The woman looked a few years older than my twenty-six years.

“Excuse me, miss. We need to check in.”

“Sure, may I have your names?” I got a good look at the man who stepped up with her. He seemed to be the center of the group, and I almost let out a gasp when I recognized him.

“The reservation should be for three rooms in the name of Richard Masen,” the woman said, inclining her head towards the man next to her. “We will be staying for at least three weeks, maybe more.” But of course, Richard Masen was not the man’s name. 

Inside, I was freaking out, but I was determined to keep a professional attitude. This was not Richard Masen; this was Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen. One of the hottest new actors on screen today. What was he doing in Forks

“Okay, I need one person from each room to fill out one of these cards, please.” I held the cards in between the two of them, not knowing which one would take them. The woman was obviously a secretary or assistant and the four other males were assistants or bodyguards of sorts. My voice was calm and steady. Good, no trace of the butterflies in my stomach. “Richard” filled out one of the cards and handed it back. 

“Okay, here are your room keys. 519, 521, and 530. Room 530 is the larger suite.  Welcome to the Meadow Hotel and Suites. Enjoy your stay.” I rang the bell and the bellhop Tommy came from behind me with the trolley. The woman, “Richard”, and one of the men headed towards the elevator. The other three men put the luggage they carried on the trolley and went out to the car for the rest. They ended up needing three trolleys in total.

Every room in the hotel was now booked. I typed in the command to turn on the No Vacancy sign outside. I tried not to be too interested in the luggage they brought in, and thankfully I was distracted from staring by a phone call from one of the rooms.

“Meadow front desk, how may I help you?”

“Yes, Isabella, this is Richard Masen, we just checked in?” I barely registered that he’d noticed my name in the flutter over his English accent. In the back of my mind, I once again wished that my manager had listened when I’d said to put Bella on my name tag.  I blushed, glad that he was not in front of me and that Tommy had gone up the elevators with the guards. “There seems to be a problem with our rooms.”

“I’m sorry, sir, what can I help you with?”  My voice was professional; I didn’t sound flustered at all in spite of the fact that I was speaking with a celebrity. 

“Well, none of our rooms have a jacuzzi, and I was really looking forward to a relaxing bath after my long day of travel.” I blushed again at the thought of him in the tub, but kept my voice steady and professional. I was such an idiot. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but those are our most requested rooms and we have so few that you have to ask for one.”

“I did ask for one, but there’s no harm done. We have not unpacked yet, we can just move rooms.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Masen, but we have no other empty rooms. We’re booked solid.”

“But surely there has to be a room somewhere in here where the guests have not yet checked in. Move us to one of those rooms with a jacuzzi and give our rooms to them.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but these are the busiest two weeks of the season for us, and all of our guests are checked in. You took the last three empty rooms.”

“But we asked for a jacuzzi, and we didn't get one. Could you not call one of the others and see if they would switch with me? Even if I have to be on another floor, I’d be okay.” His voice was tinted with a bit of sarcasm and rudeness.

“Mr. Masen, you did not ask for a jacuzzi.”

“Yes, I did.  Besides, if it isn’t in the computer, how would you know?”

“No, sir, a Jacuzzi was not requested. I am looking at your account right now, and I know that no jacuzzi was requested.” I struggled to keep my voice polite.

“Are you saying I'm a liar? That is not customer service, miss. I say I did ask for one, and how would you know I did not?”

“Mr. Masen, I know because when, um, a Miss Jessica Stanley,” I read off the computer, “called to reserve the room, I was the one who answered the phone and set up the reservation. There was no mention at all of a Jacuzzi.” He was silent as he processed the information.

“Oh,” was all he said before hanging up on me. I was instantly over the butterflies. He’d reminded me that I didn’t like things or people that were too famous. Celebrities never seemed like real people as they tended to be fake and snobby.

At about five feet five inches, with brown hair, boring brown eyes, and very pale skin, I was very plain in comparison to our spoiled guest. Not one of the beautiful people. Now, I didn’t have bad skin, and my hair was beautiful when it behaved. Twenty-six years of experience had taught me, however, that I wasn’t beyond average.

Edward Cullen, aka “Richard Masen”, on the other hand, was dazzling. He’d been in several extremely successful movies in the past few years. Most of his movies were based on books. I hadn’t been very impressed with his character in his first movie, but whether that was Edward’s fault or not, I didn’t know. I vaguely remembered not liking the character in the books, in spite of him supposedly being very nice and handsome. Then, Edward’s next movie floored me. He’d played my favorite character from my favorite book, and he’d actually matched my mental image of that character fairly well: alluring, with a very nice British accent. And he was only three years younger than me.

I would think that last part to myself sometimes, imagining that I’d like to get to know the person behind the celebrity. But now I knew he was just like every other stereotypical movie star. Rude and demanding, expecting everything to be rearranged to fulfill his every whim.

I was so furious with him that I had to calm down before I could go back to reading my book.  I just happened to be reading the very book whose movie version had changed my opinion of Edward. That connection was probably another reason I couldn’t just go back to reading. He had been too convincing in the movie. He was the main character to me now. Crap.

After I calmed down, the night passed fairly quickly. I didn't get too upset after that, even though our newest guests kept the night shift busy with the requests that we could fulfill. Mr. “Masen” did not call again, but his secretary did. They finally turned off their lights in all three rooms at 3:15am.

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