Nightmare on Broadway (California Dreaming Sequel)

Chapter Thirteen

I know no-one has commented on the last chapter but I hope a few people are still reading it! So, I thought I'd finally upload the next chapter :) It would be lovely to hear from you, what you think of the story and the new characters, but if not, thank you for reading anyway. It means the world to me xxxx

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   I started to flit around his kitchen, opening up various cabinets to find the ingredients we would need, lining them all up on the sideboard along with a chopping board and two large, stainless steel knives. 

   “Are you sure you bought the lemongrass?” I asked Ed as he sat, perched on a barstool at the island counter, watching me make myself at home in his kitchen. 

   “Yes, I’m sure I bought the lemongrass!” He laughed, standing up and leaning across me to the cupboard beneath the sink. He crouched down and pulled out a handful of long, green leaf like things. 

   “What the hell were you doing keeping it in a cupboard?” I criticized, taking it from him and putting it with all the other ingredients. “It’s practically a vegetable, surely you store it in the fridge?” I raised my eyebrows and he just rolled his eyes submissively. 

   “Whatever,” he sighed, although he flashed me with a cheeky grin. 

   I had spent quite a lot of time at Edward’s house the past week or two, it gave me a place to go where I wouldn’t be with Henry or Remy. If I spent all my time with them, I fear I would end up shooting them, or myself, sooner or later. Ed had a small, cosy apartment in Brooklyn; a large, red, brick house with black railings and steep front steps. It had only one bedroom, and a large front room containing the kitchen, living room and dining room; this kept the rent from being too excessive.

   If you wanted to live in New York City, without having an apartment paid for by your wealthy parents, you had to put up with the leaky ceilings and the troublesome neighbors. You had to be okay with the fact that you could very well be living next to prostitutes and drug dealers. You had to know how to look after yourself. Edward had told me that after the fifth time you’d been mugged, you kind of got the hint that carrying your wallet in the back pocket of your jeans wasn’t the best of ideas. 

   “Come on then, chef,” Ed bounced around the island counter and switched on some music, before coming and standing next to me, “give me something to do.” He gave me a broad, cheesy grin and I reached across for the printout I had brought with, a recipe of how to make a proper curry. 

   “Chop up the chillies and the garlic,” I instructed, handing him one of the large knives before taking the large onion and starting to un-peel the outer layer. I then started to slice it up, cutting through the layers quickly and professionally, my eyes beginning to water. 

   “Girl!” Ed gasped, “You sure know how to use a knife,” I had to contain my laughter, a small smile pulling at my lips. I didn’t want to tell him about Harry, but on the other hand, I felt like I should. I felt like we had reached a stage in our friendship where he deserved to know, for no other reason than it made up a huge part of myself. 

   “Well, I’ve had a little experience,” it slipped out my mouth before I could contemplate what I was really saying, but then it was out in the open, and I had no way of taking it back. 

   “What do you mean?” Edward queried, glancing at me modestly before going back to chopping up his vegetables. 

   “Well, I just,” I stopped myself and took a deep breath, grabbing all the onion and dropping it into the big saucepan resting on the hob. “There’s some stuff about my past which I haven’t told you yet,” was all I could manage to say.