Simon: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 3) (9 page)

I watched out the window of the taxi in complete awe as we made our way through the narrow streets of Freetown to the hotel. What a city! I’d never seen anything like it. There were over a million people, but very few tall buildings could be seen anywhere. Sadly, and as expected, most of what I saw looked like run-down, pieced-together homes as we made our way into the heart of the city. Bags of trash littered the street corners and dozens of school-age kids were running around.
Why weren’t they in school?

Simon was busy looking down at his telephone, already in business mode, checking messages, coordinating details, and who knew what else.

“You should do that later, you’re going to miss this. It’s amazing,” I said. He glanced at me and smiled, but put it away. “It seems so sprawling, like more people would live here than even do.”

“Sure.”

I knew he just agreed to be nice and couldn’t care less about it, but I wasn’t going to let it bother me. I could just feel this connection with this city and the thought of getting to work in the lab at their university for a few days to see what they’d done in the way of natural research and compare it to what I’d done…the possibilities were endless.

“Simon, do you think that’s a government building or something?” I asked, pointing to one in general. “It’s huge. And it looks really nice.”

He started laughing. “Jessie, that’s our hotel. The Radisson Blu.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No, I’m not. See.”  I followed where his finger was pointing and looked up to see Radisson in huge letters along one of the sides of the building.

“Are we all staying there?”

“Yeah,” he said.

I smiled. I hoped to get a chance to know some of the other people that were a part of this concert and idea better. The ones that came that day with us were in coach and others would be trickling in on various flights on different days. I just wanted each and every one of them to know how thankful I was to them.

As we pulled up to the hotel, I was a bit taken aback to see a bunch of photographers there, taking pictures of us getting out of the cabs. There was a line of about six cabs for everyone who’d come with us on the plane.

“Whoa, Simon, you’re that popular here?”

“They are here because I hired them. They’ll be documenting everything and capturing the images that we’ll be using for a long time to come when it comes to talking about this concert.”

“And relief effort,” I added. It was getting kind of old adding that in, but I felt like I had to. If I didn’t, Simon could easily lose sight of it and who knows, maybe I could get trapped in all this out of place glitz in Freetown, too.

As Simon opened the car door, a bell hop from the hotel, a young boy who looked like he should be in school, opened the door the rest of the way. “Welcome to Freetown,” he said, smiling widely, showing a large gap in his front teeth. He wore it well, though.

Behind him was a woman who wore a blue suit, her hair pulled back tightly, and was so tall, about six feet, or so it seemed to me.

All Simon said was, “Would you please go register us all, Marina?” he said in a voice I’d never heard before, clearly his I-am-your-boss, you-will-do-as-I-say voice. He didn’t even say ‘hi’ or ask her how she was doing. Kind of rude!

We followed her into the lobby and Simon introduced me as “our outreach director” to some of the people that I’d be working with. Outreach director, really? That was the first time that I’d heard that statement. I’d say that I was the heart of the operation, and there was no spinning that.

Still, I was happy to meet some of the people. There was a lighting expert, Doug, who was really nice and fun. He said he knew Brynn, too, and I found out that he’d been a part of her summer internship following ProVokaTiv around last year. I met the interpreters next and one, Abena, was to assist me whenever I needed it.  Wow! I felt way too important.

“Abena is a beautiful name. What does it mean?” I asked.

“It mean ‘born on Tuesday’.”

My face must have dropped. Did I hear her correctly?

She started laughing and said, “African names sound more beautiful than they mean. This true sometimes.”

“A family name?” I asked, raising an eye brow.

Abena laughed again. I loved her laugh! “No. My parents not know what to name me. They fought between family names and were stubborn. So, they picked Abena.”

“Please tell me you were actually born on a Tuesday, though,” I said.

“Yes. This true.”

I loved her choppy English and her infectious spirit. We were going to have a lot of fun, I could just tell.

“Okay, Jessie, your room is set. You’re in number 2168. The bellhop has your luggage.” Simon said this to me and put his hand on my elbow, like he was my father and afraid he’d lose me. I bit protective, which was kind of hot and kind of “what the hell?”

Abena started to walk away. “Wait—Abena, how will I be able to get in touch with you when I need your help?” I asked. It was a fair question.

Simon looked at Abena. “We’ll need you tomorrow morning first thing, okay?”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” she said.

I looked at her, dressed bright and festive in a yellow straight skirt that made her ebony skin look even darker, her curly hair that was tied back with a headband, and a simple white blouse and white shoes. She looked so lovely, so different from anyone I ever saw in Minneapolis. And I had to admit, I wondered how she stayed clean making her way about the city because it seemed a bit dirty and dusty.

“Bye Abena, I’m looking forward to it,” I said, waving at her.

My hotel room was amazing and I just stared at the rich colors of rust and orange and yellow in it, accented by stark white sheets and pillows, and even countertops. Walking over to the window, I glanced out. My room was facing the back side of the hotel, which meant I could see the pool, and beyond the large palm trees, the ocean in the distance. Really, the view outside my window was entirely different than the one I had when walking into the hotel. Funny how a window could make for such a different perspective.

I unpacked my things and took a shower. I couldn’t wait because I felt so grimy and that was a long flight. I thought about how I’d fallen asleep on Simon’s shoulder. Hopefully I hadn’t stunk.

Before long, there was a firm rhythmic 1-2-3 rap on the door of the hotel room. Didn’t need to look to see who that was. I walked over to it and opened it up. “Hi.”

“How’s your room?”

“I love it, it’s beautiful.”

“You look beautiful, too. That’s a great shirt.”

I looked down at the sleeveless peasant blouse I was wearing, which tied together in the front and had small bits of embroidery around its collar. I always liked it because the pale turquoise color reminded me of the water.

“Let me grab my bag and I’ll be set. I’m so curious!”

I leaned forward and as my body’s weight shifted, I felt a little breeze go down my shirt. I looked and saw my boob sliding out of my bra. OMG! Instant heat flooded my face and I stood up, instinctually slapping my hand over my chest and said. “Oh my God, I’ll be right back.”

Simon had just gotten a free show. It wasn’t that he’d never seen it before, of course, but I couldn’t believe that had just happened. It was the stuff that movies was made of, not my life. Ugh!

The room wasn’t that huge and I was over by the bathroom, looking for a better bra in my suitcase, feeling completely embarrassed. I didn’t say a word because I had no idea how I’d explain it. “Hey Simon, um, yeah, my bra is cheap.” Yeah, right!

I looked into the mirror and there were Simon’s blue eyes staring at me. Caught, he turned away, but in that instant, despite my embarrassment, I was completely horny. I’d busted him with a look of pure desire in his eyes.

My hands were shaking as I tried to figure out what to do. I should have run in the bathroom and shut the door, but I could not move. What the…

Oh
. Simon’s arms wrapped around me and his chest pressed against my back. His lips were on my neck and I was glad it was accessible. It brought me into this instant realm of animal urgency and I felt the need to experience him once again.

From behind me, his hands explored my body as his lips kept pressing against my neck, making me feel like I was standing on a teeter totter and about to lose balance. I lifted my eyes to the mirror again, and for that brief moment, our eyes met. Green clashed with blue and we both knew it was going to be all right. This is what we wanted and once again, we were going to travel to a destination that was meant for the two of us to share.

Without me ever turning around, somehow Simon had managed to slip off my shirt, my bra, and then slide his hands down into my capris and start playing with me in a way that launched me into outer space. He was taking what he wanted and it all benefited me. I indulged in its simplicity and urgency. I felt great, but what about him?

I twisted myself around and began to explore Simon’s body. We were still standing by the countertop in the little area by the bathroom and it felt like the perfect place for the exploratory mission. My hands were shaking from all the adrenaline as I lifted up his shirt and took it off him aggressively, tossing it to the side. His cargo pants hung on his waist loosely and I took control of them, sliding them off while making sure I got his boxers at the exact same time.

His beautiful, hard cock sprang out and pressed my palm against it, feeling it firmness. I put my foot on his shorts so he could step out of them and guided him back the two steps to the bed. With a gentle shove, I encouraged him to sit down and I dropped to my knees and began to lick and kiss his cock and inner thighs. His body convulsed slightly and I sensed his enjoyment of it, which made me even more aroused. The taste of soap was slightly on his skin, but it smelled so good, spicy and musky. So masculine, and that completely turned me on.

I got lost in his hard-on, touching it, kissing it, and taking him all in. It was my obsession at that moment and the way he responded made me more excited. I didn’t want to stop and wouldn’t have if he hadn’t slowly lifted me up and leaned back.

Again, our eyes locked and we stared at each other. I saw his desire and he had to feel mine because I couldn’t control it. All systems were go. I was so wet and the tip of his penis brushed against my Y so softly. I lifted my body up slightly and slid on top of him, settling onto his erection. My hips jutted backward to take him in as deeply as he could go and it hit my sweet spot, sending me on a sugary sex rush. From there, it was all a blur…an amazing, feel good, curl my toes blur.

Afterward, I was still on top of Simon and I looked at him. We both started to laugh. It was the wildest sounding laugh, but somehow necessary. I wasn’t laughing at him, but felt so relieved to be able to express myself the way I had—again. Something had been stirring inside of me and it was more urgent than I imagined, but it made me feel cautious. I was definitely falling for this guy, but I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea.

“You have a get-what-you-want side,” Simon said, reaching up and brushing his finger along my cleavage. “I’m so glad you’re in my life right here and now.”

“This is good, isn’t it?” I replied.

“Good on a whole lot of levels,” he said.

I slid off of him and sat there, looking at him and feeling really content. What was this relationship we had started? I couldn’t help but wonder, but the logical part of my mind cautioned me that it was not something I had the luxury of exploring until I was back home and this event was behind us. After all, maybe it was just the event that was drawing us closer and once it was done…what then?

As Jessie and I made our way to National Stadium where the Eradication Festival would be held, we were both so casual and I couldn’t stop smiling. Even Dominic looked at me suspiciously and asked, “You okay, man?” What? Did I always look serious and intense? Maybe, but whether it was the location, weather, business, or Jessie, I felt like smiling. Who was I kidding? It was Jessie and the way she was the perfect complement to everything else. She made me want to be more relaxed, which was quite unusual.

“So, this is where they play soccer?” Jessie asked, spinning around on the spot as she took in the stadium from the car.

“Football, that’s what they call it here,” I said. I had to admit, it was an impressive building. The metal supports glinted from the sun and the grass on the pitch looked so lush and green. It must be AstroTurf, no way could grass look so healthy in these smoldering conditions.

“It’s amazing,” she said, looking at the stadium. “And you think 45,000 people will attend the concert?”

“So it seems, all the upgrade seats with VIP passes and all that are sold out. The cheap seats usually sell out within a few days before an event.”

“How much are they?” she asked me.

“Fifty US dollars.”

“And the locals here can afford that?” Jessie asked.

I had to answer that question carefully. “Not many of the locals can or will take those seats. People from outlying areas who have money will.”

Jessie sighed.

“I know that seems a bit cold to you, but you have to look at it this way, how can you help people if you don’t earn money for research and everything else? Giving away seats sounds nice, but it’s counterproductive to your goal, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” she said. “Maybe you could set a few aside for locals after you reach a certain number of sales.”

“I don’t know, we’ll see.” What I really meant was I’m going to avoid answering that. Her suggestion wasn’t in my plan.

“I’m getting really nervous,” she confessed.

I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You’re going to shine.”

Then the car stopped and the two of us got out of it. Photographers were everywhere and I decided to keep holding onto Jessie’s hand. It would make a nice touch for the pictures, but that wasn’t the only reason I was doing it.

We got out and Jessie waved to some people with her left hand, not seeming to mind the hand holding, and I used my right hand. I local reporter came over to us. “Ade Keita with the local news. Welcome to Freetown, Simon Jefferson. Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Absolutely,” I said, going into an instant PR mode.

“This event, what’s it about? What do you hope to accomplish?”

“Well Ade,” I began, “it’s an effort to help up and coming musicians realize the power of giving back and helping those who need it. However, none of this would be possible without this amazing woman.” I turned to Jessie and smiled.

“And you are?” Ade asked.

“This is Jessie Martineau. She came to me with a proposal about finding some natural homeopathic solutions for Ebola and what can I say, I loved her idea, and she’s really been instrumental in making this happen.” I patted her hand and then smiled at Ade and his photographer behind him. Camera crews were also there.

Jessie had been a bit quiet, as if she were overwhelmed by it all. It made sense; she wasn’t use to this type of exposure and bombardment. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a lot of things to get done today. Thank you, Ade.”

“Thank you,” he said and turned to his camera guy to signal him to stop filming.

The stadium was coming along nicely and Doug was busting his chops, trying to set up all of the equipment we were using. It wasn’t as high tech as what we were used to, but shipping alone would have killed us to send it over as quickly as we needed it for this concert. It would have to do.

“When do you think I’ll be able to see the lab?” Jessie asked me.

“Tomorrow probably, today’s so busy.”

“Oh, what’s next on the agenda, chief?” she asked me.

I looked at her and saw that she was being sassy, but the way she smiled when she did it made it quite forgivable. She was a brilliant asset to this entire thing, giving a friendly face to the mammoth task and having great insight from her perspective on how things should be, and I was thankful that she was also enjoyable to be around. It felt good.

“Well, it’s time for the party with some of the local children.”

“How were they picked?” she asked.

“It was a ticketed event…”

She cut me off. “To raise more money, of course. When you mentioned it, I thought you’d be offering it free.”

“Should have asked for clarification, Jessie.” The look she shot me was not pleasant. Still, I couldn’t help but feel slightly entertained at watching her struggle between her humanitarian heart and her desire to make as much money for this cause as she could.

We walked into the party, which was in a fenced in area outside, and saw a bunch of kids running around, screaming and laughing, as if they did not have a care in the world.

Then in the corner, there were a few who were clearly sick, looking frail and excited, but without the energy to move. They’d been brought over from a local children’s hospital because they were not quarantine patients, but kids with cancer and other tough diseases like that.

Jessie gravitated right toward them. She knelt down and even though she couldn’t say a word in Swahili, she talked to them, smiling away. If someone would have done that to me, I can’t help but believe that I would have thought them insane. Why talk if they couldn’t understand it?

Drifting off into what Jessie may have found good about me, all I could come up with were business things, and maybe good in bed, but that was hardly a quality with great merit. I snapped back when I heard a bit of an off sound. I looked over and saw Jessie singing to the kids. She really did have a rather poor voice, but she didn’t care at all. She sang and they smiled, singing along. It was ‘Row Your Boat,’ which was apparently a universal song. They sang it in Swahili while she sang it in English.

I wasn’t the only one watching Jessie, either. A few of the photographers seemed to be caught up in what she was doing and equally mesmerized by it. I tapped the nearest one on the shoulder. “Go over there and get this, it’s really good footage,” I said. “Golden.”

“Okay,” he said and started taking pictures, which ended up backfiring for me. It snapped Jessie out of the moment and she looked up at them and smiled. I heard her say, “You should take these kids’ pictures, not mine.”

And the photographers listened to her. Hey, I was the boss, but I had to hand it to Jessie, she knew how to take the lead and do it craftily.

Before long, two hours had passed and it was time for us to move on. I walked over to Jessie and put my arm around her. It was kind of territorial and she looked at me. I saw her curiosity written all over her face, scrunched eyes that were assessing why I’d approached her that way. The answer? I wanted to. “We should really get moving on to the next stop. There’s a lot to do today and the photographers are done in about three hours.”

“Simon, is this really all about the PR?” she asked me.

“Well, we don’t have a lot of time. We have to make the most of it, right?”

“Yeah, which is why you should be talking to these kids and playing.”

Simon shuffled his feet. “I don’t think I have that same knack as you for that type of thing.”

“That’s because you like to tell people what to do,” she said. Then, before I could even think of a response to her accusation, she leaned in and tickled my side, which made me jump. “Ooh, tickly, good to know.”

“No, not good to know,” I said, but I started laughing.

I grabbed her hand again and we walked off toward the town car that was waiting for us to take us to the orphanage.

She looked at me and said, “Well, I bet the kids at the orphanage didn’t have to pay admission, huh? If it was possible, you would have found a way.” Then she started laughing. Perhaps her way to process things she didn’t care for.

“I think that this sun is a bit too much for you. Maybe I’d better take you back to the hotel so you can rest and do this on my own.”

“Never!” She smacked my arm, kind of hard actually, and then wrapped her arm around mine tightly. “Just try to get rid of me.”

Then someone called out to us. “Hey, look over here.”

We looked up and they took our picture. This person was not a professional photographer, just a younger looking teenage boy who was practically letting the drool roll off his lips as he looked at Jessie. I squeezed her tighter and this time she leaned into me, not seeming to mind my protectiveness at all.