Slay Me (Rock Gods #1) (2 page)

             
"You sent an arrangement. To the funeral."

             
"I did?"

             
"Yes. It was lovely. His wife was thrilled."

             
"Oh good. That was good of me."

             
He grinned at her cheekily but she just stared back, cool as a cucumber. He sighed and gestured to the low slung chairs near the open sliding glass doors. Maybe the ocean breeze would blow her skirt up a bit. He'd like that.

             
He'd like it a lot.

             
"Shall we?"

             
She nodded.

             
He settled into a chair facing her and threw his arms back. He was going to enjoy working with this Sabrina girl. He could tell already. He watched her sit and let his eyes wander all over her body.

             
Christ, look at those tits!

             
She cleared her throat and he lifted his eyes to her face with a sheepish smile. She was not amused. That was odd. Women usually swooned after being visually ogled by him.

             
Well, they didn't always lose consciousness, but they were usually  bloody thrilled at the attention!

             
This girl was different sort of fish altogether.

**********

             
Sabrina held her thighs together tightly as she pulled the papers out of her briefcase. Her cheeks were getting hot. The man was impossible! He was staring at her like she was a stripper!

             
She felt naked in front of him. He was lazily inspecting her body, pausing at space where her legs met. As if he could see
everything
. She adjusted her skirt, tucking it firmly to her knees.

             
He just smiled as if he knew what she was doing. Damn him. He wasn't going to make this easy for her, she could tell. If only he wasn't so handsome, with those high cheekbones and chiseled features. His dark hair was deliberately tousled, curling over his bright green eyes.  His body was insanely fit looking too, especially considering he must be almost 40. Broad shoulders, long legs and a flat stomach. Never mind the talent and bazillion dollars, the man was movie star gorgeous on top of it.

             
"You seem young to be taking on an A list client."

             
"I am. I was also young when I finished Business School."              He smirked at her. She tilted her head and stared at him coolly.

             
"At Harvard."

             
He raised his eyebrow, conceding her the point. She pulled out a stack of papers.

             
"We should review your schedule. You have some promotional events to do before you leave, as well as several appearances at each stop on your tour."

             
He leaned back, and waved his hand dismissively.

             
"I don't do publicity. I don't have to."

             
She rested her hands on her lap. Clearly nobody had this talk with him yet. Thanks a lot, Wendell.

             
"Mr. Falcon-"

             
"Nick."

             
He was smiling again, his gaze warm and inviting. Jesus, did the man ever stop oozing sex appeal?

             
"Mr. Falcon, I am not sure you are aware but your advance ticket sales for this tour are-"

             
She paused, unsure how to put this.

             
"Not up to expectations."

             
"So?"

             
He was staring at her legs again, stroking his chin with one hand. He actually licked his lips a little bit. He looked completely unconcerned with anything other than what she looked like under her clothes.

             
"Are you prepared to play empty arenas?"

             
He stared at her, surprise written all over his face. Surprise and a little bit of anger. Not a little. A lot.

             
"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

             
"It means, Mr. Falcon, that unless you do some publicity, more than half your tour will be cancelled."

             
"You're joking."

             
"No, I'm not. It's not your popularity that's waned, it's the economy. Particularly in Europe. They are simply not spending money on entertainment."

             
He leaned forward, a markedly unpleasant look on his face.

             
"Now you listen to me, miss. Music is not entertainment. It's life's fucking blood! Without music, there's nothing to stir the soul of the common man."

             
She stared at him without reacting.

             
"That was quite a speech Mr. Falcon but I'm afraid the numbers don't lie. If we don't do something, this tour will lose money instead of making it."

             
"Call me Nick for Christ's sake! Jesus."

             
At that moment the scruffy blond man came back with a bucket of champagne and two glasses.

             
"I brought champers!"

             
Nick sat back in his seat and stared at her while the other man popped the cork. He filled two glasses and handed her one.

             
"No, thank you, I don't drink."

             
The man stared at her, agog.

             
"What, never?"

             
"Exactly."

             
His jaw dropped.

             
"Marley."

             
Hastily he handed Mr. Falcon the second glass and stood there confused for a moment before skulking away to sit on the other side of the room.

             
She snuck a glance at Mr. Falcon again. He was watching her again as he lifted his champagne flute to his lips. He drank deeply, never taking his eyes from hers.

             
"Give me the damn schedule then."

             
She sighed in relief. They were too far apart to just hand it to him so she stood and walked it over to him. He smiled at her coldly as his eyes slid over her body. Again.

             
Jesus!

             
Sabrina found herself tottering on her heels for a second. The man had her that off balance. Literally.

             
She handed him the paper and went back to her seat.

             
He was still staring when she sat down again. He shook his head and finally focused on the piece of paper in his hand. He raised his eyebrows.

             
"Marley, come and take a look at this."

             
Marley trotted over and leaned down to see. Nick looked annoyed and waved it in the air.

             
"Just take the bloody thing!"

             
Marley grabbed the paper and stared at it, reading. Nick was back to staring at her.

             
"I thought you didn't do this sort of stuff?"

             
"I don't."

             
"Sooo… what do you want me to do with it?"

             
"Burn it."

             
He was smiling at her.

             
"Or wipe your ass with it. Up to you mate."

             
"Thank you?"

             
Sabrina would have laughed if he wasn't being such a pain in the ass. She knew he might take offense at his lackluster concert sales but this was ridiculous. He was being a prima donna.

             
"That's very entertaining Mr. Falcon but I have plenty of other copies."

             
She smiled at him and waved a few other papers in the air. He narrowed his eyes at her. They were playing some sort of verbal tennis match. And she was winning.

             
"It doesn't matter. I won't do them."

             
"Mr. Falcon, I am willing to go to bat for you with the label if you do even just a few of these promotional events. Can we compromise that way?"

             
He leaned forward suddenly, his hands on his knees.

             
"I'll tell you what
sweetheart
. I'll do one promotional event per city, of my choosing."

             
She let out a big sigh of relief.

             
"If you'll let me rub my wang all over your tits."

             
Her jaw dropped. The pig!

             
"What? I promise not to get any jizz in your eyes."

             
She took a deep breath and stuffed her papers into her briefcase. Then she stood stiffly.

             
"Good day Mr. Falcon. Mr. - Marley."

             
Marley followed her to the door, looking contrite. She was fighting back tears as she practically ran out of the house. She fumbled with her keys, finally opening her car door. Inside she could not fight back the tears any more. Great heaving sobs erupted from her chest.

             
He'd humiliated her! How was she to explain this to her boss!

             
She turned on the car just as a Nick Falcon song came on the radio. One of his older, better tunes. She stared at it for half a heartbeat and then smashed her entire hand down onto the button, making it fall to the floor.

**********

              "She's crying."

             
Nick turned to see his cousin standing mopishly behind him.

             
"How do you know that?"

             
"I looked at the security monitor. You're a cold bastard, you know that?"

             
Nick scowled and swilled champagne. Marley didn’t leave as he’d been hoping he would.

             
"Pretty girl."

             
"She's bloody beautiful! And a right pain in the ass."

             
Marley was chuckling now. That was an improvement at least.

             
"Most of the good ones are."

             
Nick cursed under his breath.

             
"How hard?"

             
"Eh?"

             
He turned to stare at his addled brained cousin.

             
"How hard was she crying?"

             
Marley had the grace to look away.

             
"Pretty damn hard mate."

             
"Christ. I'll have to send her flowers then. Do the same as last time, eh?"

             
"Are you sure?"

             
"Yes, I'm bloody sure! Just take care of it! Make sure it's roses this time. Red. And send someone with more champagne."

Two

             
Sabrina had gone straight home instead of back to the office as she'd originally intended. She always worked late, always came in early. How else had she become the youngest VP in the entire A&R department at 27? Tonight though, she need to be alone and away from the cut throat mood at the label.

             
Nick Falcon had really thrown her for a loop.

             
She thought of those roller coaster rides she'd watched other people going on during a class trip her senior year of High School. Sabrina had stood on the sidelines as her more reckless classmates had spun through the air, screaming. Loop de loop de loop. Her stomach had clenched nervously just thinking about strapping herself into the seats. So she'd wisely stayed on the side lines with the teachers, feeling sick as she watched the ride reverse itself and go barreling backwards through the same enormous circles.

             
Nick Falcon had thrown her for a triple
reverse
loop.

             
Now what the hell was she supposed to do? If he wouldn't do the PR appearances she'd be forced to trim the fat off his concert tour. Maybe even book him into smaller venues. And he wasn't going to like that.

             
She sighed. She better put together a proposed alternate plan. She could show it to her boss in the morning. No- she'd send a copy over to Mr. Falcon's estate and call Marley. She'd let him be the one to convince Mr. Falcon that it was in his best interest to let her do her job.

             
She wouldn't tell anyone about his other offer. She cringed at the thought of anyone finding out about that. No one would take her seriously again if they knew she'd just been treated like a stripper.

             
Or worse yet, a groupie.

             
She made a list of second tier concert venues, and a list of contacts at those venues. She would call in the morning. She was sure she'd be able to get him into most of them, even with the late notice. After all, sliding sales or not, Nick
was
one of the biggest music names in the business. Never mind that she secretly thought he would be better off doing one night concerts in big cities several times a year. Touring was a big moneymaker for the label and the artist, but the crowds just weren't there anymore. Better to make the fans wait and pile them into a sport stadium to worship.

             
And pay through the nose of course.

             
It wasn't the sort of strategy one proposed so early in your tenure though. Eventually she would bring it up. That's if she still had a job after this fiasco.

             
It was almost 9 pm when she stepped away from her laptop. She pulled on her running shoes and did a preliminary stretch. Then she opened the door to find a delivery boy blocking her path. He held an enormous bouquet of red roses in one arm. It looked like about fifty long stemmed roses. No- a hundred. At least.

             
"Sabrina Newton?"

             
"Yes?"

             
"These are for you. Sign here please."

             
He held out a slip of paper and a pen. She scratched her name on it.

             
"Hold on, let me get you a tip."

             
"It's been taken care of. Good night."

             
She accepted the heavy roses and carried them back into the house, using her foot to shut the door behind her. She set the heavy crystal vase down on the dining room table. She stared at them for a moment before plucking the card from the wrapper.

             
She read the card and a laugh burst out of her belly. It was part shock, part horror and part grudging admiration.

             
The roses were from Nick Falcon.

             
But the card was for her predecessor.

             
'Condolences Wendell. You will be missed.'

             
Whether it was a mistake or not, it certainly got the point across. If she didn't keep the rock star happy, she'd be dead in the water. She turned up the volume on her iPod and ran into the hot LA night.

**********

             
Nick rolled over and shielded his eyes from the bright light that suddenly filled his room. He squinted and saw Marley standing by the windows. The cold hearted bastard had raised the shades. He glanced at the clock.

             
He'd raised the shades before noon.

             
"What the hell Marley?"

             
"I just got off the phone with Sabrina."

             
"Who?"             

             
"The girl from the label?"

             
"Oh right, the ice goddess. What did she want?"

             
Marley just shook his head.

             
"It's not good Nick."

             
He sat up abruptly.

             
"Come on, I need coffee before I get any bad news."

             
Nick padded barefoot through the mansion toward the kitchen. The skinny maid was in there cooking something. Eggs. And coffee. God that smelled good.

             
"Good morning Mr. Nick."

             
"Good morning love. Can I get a spot of that delicious coffee there."

             
"You want sugar Mr. Nick?"

             
He gave her his best wicked smile.

             
"Always."

             
She giggled and made him a cup of coffee, setting it down in front of him.

             
"Mr. Marley?"

             
"I'll just make it myself, thanks Margarite."

             
Huh. Marley knew the gel's name. That was impressive.

             
He sipped his coffee as Marley made himself a cup and then leaned against the white granite island. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

             
"Not yet. I need at least a full cup mate."

             
Marley nodded and drank his coffee in a few gulps. He looked like he needed the strength. Nick had a bad feeling. He was very intuitive sometimes. He'd learned a long time ago to trust his gut. He finished his cup as string bean- or rather, Marguerite- took it from him and refilled it, stirring in a spoonful of raw sugar. She set it down in front of him.

             
"Thank you love. Alright, what's the hullabaloo?"

             
Marley pursed his lips and gathered his thoughts. Oh god, that was a bad sign. Marley wasn't much of a deep thinker.

             
"The label has come up with an alternate touring schedule."

             
"So?"

             
"It's- fuck man, it's a B list tour. Half the dates and the venues are even smaller- tiny places mate. It's-"

             
"Show me."

             
Nick sipped his coffee calmly. Inside he was seething. He didn't care about much in this world, but don't mess with him music. If this girl had done that, there would be hell to pay.

             
"Alright, hold on."

             
Marley walked into the hallway to the office. He was back in just a few minutes with a stack of papers. At the last second he pulled the top sheet off.

             
"What's that?"

             
"It's nothing. Just the cover letter."

             
"Give it here."

             
Marley sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

             
"Fine."

             
Nick grabbed it from his hands and stared down at it. The cheeky little bitch had signed the note. But not as herself.

              Mr. Falcon,

              Please approve the updated concert schedule within. These dates are approximate and will depend on venue               availability.

              Best,

             
Wendel Cass

              Bloody hell.

             
He raked his hand through his hair. She had gumption he'd give her that.

             
"What the hell is that supposed to be- a joke?"

             
"I think we made a mistake when we sent the flowers."

             
"
We
made a mistake?"

             
"You said to send her the same as last time- well, last time was Wendel's wake."

             
"Christ Marley, we need this girl to toe the bloody line! Not go all militant on us."

             
He sat down again and started reading.

             
His face cracked into a huge smile as he flipped through the proposed schedule. It wasn't a bad plan actually. The smaller venues would be great for a limited tour- he kind of missed playing that sort of intimate venue. Some of these places were his old stomping ground. But if he played them exclusively, he knew what would happen.

             
People would say he was a has been.

             
"What do you want to do Nick?"

             
"Call her and set up one of those promotional events. Pick the best one. Late night TV."

             
Marley let out a huge sigh of relief.

             
"Okay Nick."

             
"Get that skinny redhead. Conan. I like him."

             
"Right. Will do."             

             
"And Marley. Tell her I said, knight to queen's bishop."

             
"What?"

             
"She'll understand."

**********

             
Sabrina was in the car when the phone rang. It wasn't likely to be anyone from the office. Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced down at the flashing screen expecting to see her Aunt's phone number.

             
Aunt Petra never called with good news.

             
A horn sounded behind her and she jerked her eyes back to the road. The light had turned green while she was staring at the name that appeared on her phone.

             
Nick Falcon.

             
A beep sounded a minute later, indicating she'd gotten a voice mail.

             
She forced herself to concentrate on the road. She always left work early on Thursdays. It was her shift at the  Gilda's Club headquarters. She did a lot of fundraising for the cancer resource center. She never looked forward to the shift, but she never missed it either.

             
It didn't feel like charity though.

             
It felt like penance.             

             
Finally she pulled into the parking lot and pressed the voicemail button on her phone. Marley's voice filled the car via the bluetooth system. It always startled her when it did that.

             
"Hello Sabrina! It's Marley. Nick has agreed to do one promotional appearance. He wants it to be that red headed fellow- Conan something. Oh and he says to tell you 'knight to queen's bishop.'"

             
She leaned her forehead against her hands where they rested on the steering wheel. He'd given in. Her tactics had worked.

             
She'd won.

             
She'd actually wrangled with one of the most notoriously difficult personalities in the music industry and come out of top. Her mother would be so proud.