CRASH & BURN (Rule Breaker) (6 page)

“I don’t know. If I’d had my head on straight, I would have been there for her.”

“Get off the cross, Jon. That’s unfair to everyone. She could have waited at the coffee shop. You weren’t fucking around, Christ, you were laying down tracks. You’ve got to let go of the guilt.”

Jon struggled with the image of Natalie. Her beautiful smile, and what had become of her after hitching a ride to get home. His insides twisted with the deeply-embedded bitterness that flowed freely each and every time he allowed the image of Nattie’s beaten body to infiltrate his mind. A burst of air escaped his mouth as his diaphragm contracted violently. “Easier to refuse to deal with the past. I still can’t find a way to let go of the pain.”

“Then figure out what you’re going to do with the present. What’s the game plan with Orion if the contract can be broken in its entirety?”

“That will happen in about an hour.” Jon raked his fingers through his hair. “Screen test commenced minutes ago. Stylist, and then a press release. Same drill. Basically. I’ve called for a meeting at the Hyatt. Only I’m hearing rock isn’t the sharpest bite we’ve gotten. Some hard hitters from the pop side of the chart are trying to snag Orion. I don’t think they’re seeing the big picture.”

“I was meaning to address that issue. They are seeing the bigger picture. It just doesn’t include all the members of Orion.”

“Oh hell. They want her as a solo act. Is that it?”

“Sharp as a tack. You know she’d be an easy sell. Hell, with that voice and stage presence, the money in videos alone would be frightening.”

“Alana won’t go for it.”

“Lovely and loyal. A new combination, but I doubt it will last. Besides, it won’t matter. There’s a provision in our contract that overrides her decision if it means professionally she dismisses offers in excess of three times her current contract.”

“Oh, and which one of us is going to enforce that loophole?”

“You’ve shareholders to contend with, Jon. This isn’t your call. This isn’t my call. It goes before the board and the amounts being mentioned are staggering, more than anything she could earn with Orion.”

“I doubt she’d consider leaving, regardless of the stockpiles offered.”

“Have you thought about working it from the other band members? Offer them more to walk away on their own than if they all walked. It’s worked in the past. The board will approve it. Damn, they might suggest it.”

“The board would approve kidnapping their collective mothers and selling them on eBay if they thought it would turn a profit.”

Baxter nodded ruefully and leaned back in his chair. “No argument there. Just remember, if the board sees it as the shortest distance to a profit, they’ll take it. Without hesitation. We should revisit having Chuck act on our behalf and rework how the board is set up.” Baxter got up and stretched his legs. He picked up a Grammy from the corner of Jon’s desk. One of their first clients.

Jon didn’t know if Baxter was going to mention the window of time between the court setting aside one contract and Alana having to execute a clean one for them. It was the only window where she held all the cards and could decide her destiny. Free and clear.

“Are you suggesting the board would act alone?”

“Without question,” Baxter said.

“No worries. Just confirming they would kick both you and me to the curb without looking back. How on earth did we let them acquire enough power to oust us?” Jon asked.

“When a hard-headed wanker wanted nothing to do with his family’s wealth, something had to give.” Baxter smirked.

“Ah, well.” Jon nodded, morbidly acknowledging the dirty detail that to keep clear of his family, he’d needed investors.

“That’s the name of the game in business.”

His phone rang and, seeing it was Clarissa, Jon held up his hand. “Got to grab this one.”

“Take it easy,” Baxter smiled, and closed the door in back of him.

“How’d it go?” Jon answered his phone.

“So far Ms. St. James was tested on vocals, and the tech ran dialogue speech for commercial functions. They used cold lines. Movement, dancing, and I had them run makeup and costume tests,” Clarissa said.

“The full gamut. Nothing less, I expect,” he said, wondering if the board had uploaded the results. “Do me a favor.”

“Shoot,” Clarissa said.

“Tell Keith I want all results in hard-copy and encrypted to me in a security-coded email. Nothing to be drop-boxed on the server or uploaded to the cloud. That goes for anything dealing with Alana…Ms. St. James.”

“Why so hush-hush?”

“Under wraps until further notice.” He wasn’t going to answer that one. Not yet. Jon glanced at his watch, cradling the phone against his cheek as he typed at his computer. The GPS on the car he assigned to Alana appeared on his screen. He saw the driver had not collected them, but it was early. “Ms. St. James is about to be picked up for her next appointment? Remind Stella, the diaphragm is the issue, and possibly some unlearning of previous exercises. I want a soft approach.”

“You want me to tell Stella Brevard to take a soft approach?”

“Understood.” He smiled for the first time since he sat down. “I’ll call. And before anything goes on with the stylist, and I do mean anything, I want to be informed. No showing up here with a rainbow mullet on Ms. St. James’s head.”

“Jon, I don’t think Ms. St. James will do anything drastic. She appears to be…able to take care of herself.”

“Andy could convince a tiger to change its stripes. I think he’d go ape over the potential of Ms. St. James. Just to get his name on the ledger, he’d suck you all into his salon, and the whole day would be blown to smithereens. If he’s pushing too hard, call me. Remember, I don’t want to hear after-the-fact.”

“Fine. Better you than me. It’s obvious this triangle can do nicely without another talking head. I’m happy to bow out.”

* * *

After calling Stella and asking about her grandkids, Jon explained that Alana suffered from intense and emotionally-draining training as a child and managed to get Stella to suggest that a kinder approach than whips and chains would work best. From what he’d heard and witnessed on stage, Alana tightened at inopportune times during her solos.

He owed Stella on this one if she could free up Alana‘s excessive clenching. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he thought about the glorious ways that Alana clenched around his cock. He wanted her beneath him. Once he’d made up his mind, there was no backing down.

By the end of the week, either he and Alana would settle on a different contract, or he’d let Baxter take over on this one. That window of time allowed him more than the opportunity to determine which route to officially place Orion on within the music industry. He’d have the chance to sit down with Alana, no time pressure, and get her honest answer. Yes. Or no.

She sure as hell passed the screen tests, based on the details in faxed copies he’d received while on the phone. He scanned the pages of recommendations for minor changes in hair color and there was a recommendation for her to gain some weight.

With rapid-fire strokes he typed a series of to-do items for Clarissa and some for his eyes only.

Definitely, he’d make time to order scads of lingerie and adult toys if she acquiesced to his suggestions. He’d enjoy taking her to La Perla and Agent Provocateur when they visited New York. In a pinch, he could visit the local lingerie shops. No way did he want her dressed in anything that another man had potentially witnessed.

He intended on starting fresh with Alana. What Baxter had suggested sounded well-and-good. So far, he’d done a lousy job of dealing with the past. He’d allowed a career to take hold of his life, preferring to focus on what he could control. Perhaps with Alana, he’d found the motivation to stop and smell the flowers. Wild and sexy flowers. And if it meant outfitting Alana from the top of her incredible head to the soles of her feet, he would: in clothing, jewelry, salon treatments…anything she wanted would be hers, and he could not care less whether she sang with Orion, went solo, or strummed a ukulele in the park. Together, they could begin anew.

They needed a dietician and, from what he could tell, she ate next to nothing. While on tour, she definitely needed a set routine. He smiled tightly.
Oh yeah, just like him
. Maybe he could teach her to put her past into a box and seal the edges, rarely revisiting what proved disturbing—only he’d not fared so well.

So far, after meeting this bewitching woman, he’d delved back into his past more than he had in the last ten years.

Alana
, he murmured, reviewing the bids coming in for rights on her future.

The trill of his phone snapped him out of the zone where he’d sent out email responses for the last hour on behalf of Orion. A text. One word from Clarissa.
Emergency.

Chapter Five

Alana sat in the back of the privately-driven car. Her pulse raced from the morning’s exertions. From a round of smoking sex with Jon to them nearly throttling one another and then a heart-to-heart about her life back home… Jon had the ability to unhinge her. Christ, she’d almost divulged that she’d been the reason her parents had married. Her only saving grace this morning was the screen test and the tech who had her laughing for most of the time. But now, as she sat on the expensive leather car seat, all too familiar from last night and Jon fucking her like a madman, the thought of telling him about her parents bothered her irrationally.

No matter how many times she reminded herself that her parents’ issues were just that, it didn’t diminish the hurt she experienced. For all she was told about success by her mother and father, she could still do simple math. She was born only months after her parents’ marriage…less than nine. More counting. Her parents were ten years apart and had come here when her mother was barely eighteen. Her father had been thirty, divorced, and he never discussed his life back in
Oridos
, the town where her parents had grown up. Alana understood there had been a scandal and the family severed ties.

Her mom,
Verônica
Jaime,
and her father, Nicodemo Santos, decided upon St. James simply by combining their two surnames. They married and legally became Mr. and Mrs. St. James. They’d given up a life in their home town and had become other people in a new country.

Sometimes, Alana found herself wishing she too could become someone else. The person they desired now that her father was ill. They needed her. Or needed something from her. Something she didn’t have the capacity to do or give— or so it seemed. Her chest constricted and she dialed Christy’s number again.

As the buildings flashed by outside the car, Alana held the phone to her cheek and tried to keep her voice even. “Hey, what’s up? I’ve tried to call you a couple of times.”

“Hey yourself, sleepyhead. Where are you?” Christy said.

“Wrong, buster. I’ve been up since six and I’ve already had a screen test. I want to fetch you. How about a hair and nail appointment?”

“You sound rather…upbeat.”

Alana snorted. “Yeah. And you should, too.”

“Didn’t you hear? I’d have thought, with your direct link to our new manager, you’d be screaming like a banshee.”

The car stopped. “Hold on a sec, Christy.” The driver gave her instructions to go inside the salon where Clarissa was waiting.

“Speak English, Christy.
Manager
?” Alana held her breath, expecting to hear that Christy knew she’d gotten the breath fucked out of her by Jonathan. She pressed the skin along her temples as she entered the salon. No one was in the reception area but she heard a blow-dryer somewhere in the back, beyond an arched doorway and hall.

“Tyler. That snake,” Christy hissed. “He pulled a fast one with a contract giving him, like, a three-year own-our-asses-and-everything-else contract. Fuck, I didn’t know what to say. I was messed up. That idiot poured Tequila shots and then conveniently pulled an “Oh-I-forgot-here-sign-this.”

“And did you?” Alana asked, her tone becoming steady and strong as she imagined Jon’s reaction to this type of tactic. “It won’t matter. That jackass will get what’s coming to him.” She was concerned at hearing Tyler had boozed up Christy, but certain that if Jon was involved all hell would break loose.

“I wouldn’t be stressing if I had told him to kiss off. Apparently, I didn’t. Your
friend
’
s
attorney sent a copy via email to all band members. Sure-as-fuck, my sig is on the last page. I swear, Lanie, I wouldn’t have done it, but Tyler said everyone had and we were going to lose out on a super-cool venue if I didn’t sign.”

Alana’s hands suddenly went numb and she put down a bottle of nail polish she’d been admiring. “He’s not my
friend,
okay? And he’s not with me. He pawned me off on his assistant. I take it she’s my handler.”

“You, of all of us, don’t need a handler. Jesus. Hank’s been on the phone with some dude named Baxter and an attorney. They’re hauling Tyler’s ass into court right this second.”

“So then it won’t be a problem. Why do you sound so down?”

“It’s on my head, and Billy is pissed off. He said it’s another testimony to my inability to follow through. He also hinted loudly that maybe I had something going on with Tyler.”

Alana could hear the tears in her friend’s voice. It was true that Christy was an abominable flirt. But so was Billy. It’s what made them perfect for each other. A regular show to watch them one-up each other, pouring on the charm. No so funny when it came to Tyler’s legal thievery.

“It’s butter, baby. From what I know of Lansing, he’ll have Tyler neutered and cast out on his ass. No one will touch him in this town. I wouldn’t give that another thought. Now, Billy just needs time to simmer down. You know how this gets played out. Come down here and chill out.. We can play dress up for the afternoon. Besides, I need back-up. I have a voice lesson that I wasn’t expecting. Apparently, I’m in need of fixing.”

“Shut up. Says who?”

“J.P. Dickhead.”