She grimaced but really, it wasn’t that bad.
“It’s the rivalry that these three have,” Jacy said. “It sparks fan interest, but we can’t have them hurting themselves or others.”
“I’m more worried about their insurance companies dropping them for liability damages.”
Jacy pinched the bridge of her nose. “We’re their PR guys, not management, but for the interest of keeping everything from blowing to smithereens, I’ll get them into a meeting and inspire them to slow their roll.”
“You think you can do that? With three high energy guys who haven’t heard the word ‘no’ in the past ten years?”
“I can do it,” said Jacy with steel in her voice. Her sapphire blue eyes glittered prettily at me and my big head got lost in little head thoughts.
CHAPTER THREE
Jacine
My email came straight from my father’s account. I wanted no pussyfooting on this issue. The media circled like hungry sharks for any new tidbit of the “feud” between the three key members of the three hottest rock bands on the planet. So I summoned Cole Kane of Arcane, Jersey Dys of Obsidian and Rory Holmes of Clash, and sent limos to their houses to bring them in.
Tobias offered the previous night to sit in on the meeting, and I thought it was a good idea. He arrived a few minutes before noon and fixed a drink with the familiarity of family. Tobias settled onto one of the black leather sofas that graced my father’s enormous office high above LA’s skyline.
My father’s best friend fits here, on that black leather sofa and among the dark brown wood paneling streaked with tan. He leaned his head back a minute and took a deep breath. It was an old realization habit of his though I had no idea why he would be nervous. It was me who had the reputation of Alexander and Wells on my shoulders.
I spent the morning with my dad’s best teams, all of whom needed no prompting on staying up all night to come up with a damage control plan. Their assistants were on the phone or the internet working on the scheme. I should bring Tobias up to speed before the Terrible Three showed their overhung faces. With rock stars sense of time, we were in no danger of them interrupting us.
“I met with the creative team this morning. They had some great ideas. One of them was that the scuffle was a publicity stunt that got out of hand.”
Tobias stared into his whiskey.
“You guys know best,” he said. “I don’t know how you do it anyway. This is a freaking mess with court cases hanging over their heads and the public—”
“The thing is, Uncle Tobias—”
He frowned and then tossed back the finger left of his whiskey. “Please, Jacy. We’re both adults. Stop calling me Uncle Tobias. You make me feel like an old man.”
“Wow,” I said in surprise. I had no idea Tobias felt that way. “If that’s what you want.”
“I do,” he affirmed with a nod of his head.
“Then that’s what you get. Us Alexanders aim to please.”
He closed his eyes then for a second and took another breath. What was wrong with him?
“You okay?”
“Yes. It was a late night for me.”
He dropped me off at eleven, so it wasn’t that late. Well, it was for me because my body was still on New York time. It felt like two in the morning to my jet-lagged self, but with my schedule, that’s almost normal.
“Up late?” I asked and a blush came to his cheeks. Now I was getting worried. I marched over to the couch and laid my hand on his forehead.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Checking to see if you have a fever.”
He waved me off. “I’m fine.”
When did Tobias get so touchy?
“Have it your way,” I said. Tobias’s refusal annoyed me. It’s not like I’ve never touched the man. But then again I never wanted to lay my hands on him as I do right now.
But maybe he’s picking up on your feelings for him.
I brush the ridiculous stray thought out of mind. I’ve only ever shown Tobias familial affection.
“Anyway, members of the team think and I agree that we should spin this incident as a publicity stunt gone wrong for an upcoming Battle of the Bands concert between Arcane, Obsidian, and Clash.”
Tobias raised an eyebrow.
“And just who is going to back this concert?”
“The team is on it.”
“You want to put three bands with animus toward each other on the same stage?” His voice carried disbelief, and I don’t blame him. When I first heard the idea, I wasn’t keen on it either. This proposition carried a high risk. All it took was one more scene like the other day, and whatever venue we hired would cancel out. And the insurance too. No one wants to back an event that carried a risk for violence.
“Yes, and do promotional spots with each other.”
Tobias’s face showed me just what he thought of the idea, which was not encouraging.
“Ms. Alexander,” said my father’s secretary, Nadine, “Mr. Kane is here.”
“How about Mr. Dys, and Mr. Holmes?” I asked
“Not—sorry. They just got off the elevator.”
“Show them in.”
“Okay, Unc- I mean Tobias. Game face on. We’ve got a concert to sell.”
I gave Tobias my best “this is business, no-nonsense” glance and he sat taller in his seat and put on his lawyer’s face. It was the expression that said, “I’m not going to tell you how serious it is so as not to scare you, but I think we are all fucked, so straighten up.” I smirked because Tobias and my father would try the same shit on me when I was a teen and acting up.
There may have been a totaled car involved.
Nadine opened the door, and the rockers swaggered in, and when I say strutted it was just that. They strolled in like rock gods, which they were, and their attitude showed it. Oh, they may dress in de rigueur designer jeans and tee shirts looking like ordinary schlubs, but they pranced as if they wore Armani instead of JCrew. Blond haired Cole walked in first and slid his sunglasses down his nose and stared at me.
“Who are you? Where is Frank?” he grated with a voice filled with last night’s drinking binge.
“That,” said Jersey Dys, “is the big man’s daughter.” He didn’t add the word “dick” at the end of his sentence, but it sounds like he could have. “Jacine,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
He moved forward and gave me a very un-LA kiss on the cheek. It was a little too friendly and lingered too long. But the way his cologne slipped up my nose, and how he angled his hips toward me with the slightest touch of his hands on my hips made me want him to slide those lips toward mine.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Jersey,” I said in my best ‘this is business’ voice.
“Shot down!” said Cole too enthusiastically.
“What are you, twelve?” said Rory as he found a place on the sofa.
“Jack-ass,” snapped Cole.
Rory scoffed.
“Gentlemen,” I said. “This meeting is just about this kind of shit.”
The cuss word shouldn’t have shocked them, but it did. In an instant, all three rock gods gave me their rapt attention.
“And,” I continued, “the nonsense that happened the other night. Do you not realize how this affects your sales? How your fans reacted?”
“Don’t you worry about our fans, Jacine,” said Cole dismissively. “They like to see a little dust-up.”
“Do I have to remind you that if not for your lawyers, you’d be in jail right now?”
“Jacine,” said Jersey, “last I looked you aren’t my mother.”
“No, Jersey, I’m in charge of your PR.”
“What about Mr. Alexander?” said Rory.
“He’s in the hospital—from a heart attack—due to stress.”
I gave these rockers my legendary death stare, and all shifted in their seats like the adult toddlers they were. Tobias watched the scene with amusement in his eyes.<
br />
“You can’t—” started Cole.
“Don’t go there,” said Rory. “She’s right. You know it. Shit got too deep.”
“You’re right, Rory,” I said. “Take a look at this.”
I picked up the remote sitting on the edge of my father’s desk and clicked on the collection of YouTubes and the twitter feed with the hashtag #rockerruckus. The team put together the worst of them to drive home a point. I had the video cued, and the sound pushed up high to grab their attention.
“You fucking asshole,” screamed Cole. “Get the fuck out of this restaurant. I don’t want to see your ugly face while I’m trying to eat, you sick fuck.”
“Fuck you!” yelled Jersey. “It’s a fucking public restaurant.”
“Guys,” said Rory.
“Shut up!” retorted Cole and Jersey in unison.
“Leave him alone,” snorted Cole.
“I don’t need your protection, Cole,” said Rory. He raised his hands and backed away.
“Enough,” said Jersey. “I get the point.”
“Do you?” I said. I wasn’t willing to stop my tutorial. I fast forward past the part where Cole chased Jersey through the restaurant with a raised chair, and when Rory convinced Cole to put it down, Jersey smashed him in the face. The twitter feed came up and some of the worst popped up in animation all under the hashtag #rockstarruckus
Grow the fuck up!
I can’t let my teen listen to you now.
Do you kiss your mama with your potty mouth?
On it went, displaying the overwhelming number of fans disgusted with the three grown men’s action.
“We’ve got to get control of this,” I said.
“Yeah, you can control it,” snapped Cole. “Get rid of these other two fuckers.”
“You’re nuts,” said Jersey. “You’re the one that needs to go.”
“Fuck that,” said Rory. “You two were the biggest asses.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You don’t seem to understand. This problem now belongs to the three of you. You need to handle it together, or you’ll all be box office poison.”
They all stared at me as if I asked them to climb the Matterhorn naked. But then Jersey nodded.
“And what do you want us to do?” he said.
“I have an idea, and my team is working on it right now. But I want to spin last night as a publicity stunt gone wrong for a battle of the bands concert and your bands are the featured players.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Cole
Boss lady is hot.
Her blonde hair betray dark roots, but I like that look. So much better than the groupies with wild colors like neon pink or goth purple. And her body is kicking, with shapely legs that go on forever and crowned with generous hips that make me drool. I’m a hip man, though I appreciate her slim waist and round breasts. She packaged all of this in a gray skintight sheath with elbow length sleeves and a short stand-up collar that cut in a “v” that barely reached her ample cleavage. The dress clings to every screaming curve like a race car navigating the Grand Prix that showcased her to be all woman beneath her business veneer. But call me kinky. Put that hair up into a bun and settle some thick black glasses on her nose and I could do the librarian all night long. There is something about uptight that coils my springs, and I can tell this lady needs to unwind—big time.
I keep my jacket on my lap because big guy likes Ms.Uptight faster than my hungover brain registers. He’s ready to go, while my brain, in my half-hungover state, held my head upright out of spite. I still wore my sunglasses, because the light in the room was too bright, and the peppermint schnapps I used as a mouthwash didn’t do the job of cleansing the whiskey from my breath. My head pounded enough to make me cranky as fuck, and I was ready to throw a punch at Jersey Dys just on general principles. The only thing that held back my natural inclination to pound his smug pretty boy smile was my first observation.
Boss lady was hot.
Concentrating on her was job one.
And I was not too hungover to recognize the depthless and utter shit we were all in from the fiasco at Angelo’s.
My business manager called me this morning and quit. Something about not wanting to get sued because he had a fiduciary responsibility for the actions of any member of the band. I made a mental note to call the accountants to make sure that the asshole didn’t steal my money because that would be the first job of a business manager, as happens so often in this industry. But I realize I don’t have a clue about the state of the band finances and I had to get a handle on that. Maybe boss lady had a line on one or two reputable dudes that could take the business manager position. I made a mental note to hang back to ask her.
Rory made a rude noise at boss lady’s suggestion that we hold a battle of the bands concert.
“I don’t do anything without discussing it with band management.”
Her red lips parted in a half-evil smile that went straight to my cock, and her eyes glittered.
“Proof one of the total mess you made of this, Mr. Holmes. Your manager quit.”
Oh ho, so I’m not the only one. And then I wondered how the lovely Jacine knew this. And if she knew about my manager.
“In fact,” she said. “The management of all three bands quit.”
That answered that question. This chick is good.
But, yeah. Franklin Alexander’s daughter. She would be, pumped full of Ivy League education and schooled in the business since before she could walk.
“And Attorney Marshall,” she nodded toward lawyer man, “will have to send letters to all of them reminding them of their contractual obligations to keep their mouths shut. Which will be difficult considering the publishers who probably called them this morning looking for tell-all book deals.”
“Already done, Jacine,” said the attorney. Shit, he did look like a lawyer too. How did I miss that?
“I should have known,” she said with a slight upturn of her lips. Wait. Did she gaze at the attorney with affection? Was Miss Uptight unwinding with Mr. Lawyer Man?
Oh, no. Not on my watch. Because it does not escape my attention that I follow every movement of Ms. Jacine Alexander with attention I reserved for my guitar. If my mouth weren’t so dry from my morning ablution of peppermint schnapps, I would drool with every graceful gesture of that oh-so-fuckable body.
Nope. There was one thing I was sure of is that I would have Ms. Jacine Alexander under me, and the sooner, the better.
“I like the idea,” I said.
“What?” snapped dickhead Dys. “When did you get agreeable?”
“Along about the time when you threatened me with a chair.”
“That was you, asshole, threatening me,” snorted Dys.
“Enough,” said Jacine. I even like the stern way she speaks. It sends a kinky shiver through me. I wonder if she was into whips.
Oh, the possibilities.
“On second thought, I agree,” said Rory. But then Rory would agree to a ham sandwich when he wanted caviar. He could pound out the drums like he was the god of thunder, but what the man truly wanted was peace and harmony.
Dickhead.
But now I like that Rory was agreeing with me, which would surely piss off Dys.
Good.
“What about it, Mr. Dys?” said Jacine laser focusing her eyes on him. Oh, yes. Like that old Queen lyric, "Dynamite with a laser beam." Yeah. That was Ms. Jacine Alexander.
For a microsecond, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Then he caught me shooting a lustful glance at boss lady, and his lips curled. What evil thought did that fuck gestate now?
“Okay,” he said. It was too easy. Dys never gave up anything easily, not even his precious body while touring. He looked around the room appraising everyone’s reaction and stood.
“Apparently I have a lot of band business to straighten out. Send me details through email, or call if you wish, Miss Alexander.”
“I’ll get going too,” said Rory.
&n
bsp; The lawyer looked at his watch.
“I need to get back to my office. I’ll call you later, Jacy?”
She nodded. “Sure thing.”
I’m wondering if boss lady and lawyer man is a sure thing, but I don’t think so. She keeps avoiding his eyes. Nope. If anything is going on there, it is unrequited. Though lawyer man isn’t as smart as he appears if he passes up on the lovely woman commanding all of us like a five-star general.
“Coming, Kane?” said Rory.
“Nope.” And that’s all I said. I don’t have to give those butt plugs any answers.
The lawyer man shot laser beams with his eyes at me and then flicked his gaze to Jacine, but she appeared unconcerned.
“If you wish to stay, Mr. Kane. I have five minutes.”
Oh, I wish. And want. Most definitely want.
With as hot as she made me, it wouldn’t take five minutes. But as the other men filed out of the room and lawyer man shut the door, I fix my attention on the goddess and attempted business talk. It was a losing battle.
“Do you have any names of business managers? Apparently, I need one.”
Her eyes raked my dissolute body, and I saw a spark there, the adoring look you see in a fan’s eyes when she’s holding out something for you to autograph. But she concealed her fangirl delight under a patina of professionalism that I wanted to crack and crumble under my touch.
“I’ll look through my contacts,” she said with a distance that concealed her inner groupie.
“Great. I’ll look forward to it.” I stood because there is one way to get shy fangirl to chase you is to leave. But her eyes didn’t show panic, which I’m betting on is just an act. Beneath her all-business gray sheath dress beats the heart of a teen, who cried her eyes out to Ever, the signature hit of the band Banshee I formed with those dipsticks Dys and Holmes.
I take a few steps and listen for intake of her breathing which was calm and regular. But I know if I walk out this door now, lawyer man will have his hands all over her, and who knows? She might be into daddy play.
Nope. I’m her daddy now. She doesn’t know it.
Yet.
Daddy's RockStar Friends Page 2
