Simon: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 3)
Read Simon: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Cara Nelson
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Table of Contents
Chapter One: Nothing’s Impossible
Chapter Five: The Business Trip
Chapter Seven: Grasping for Reality
Chapter Eight: Friendly Competition
Chapter Nine: Underneath it All
Chapter Eleven: Thief or Thoughtless
Chapter Thirteen: Whoa and Wow
Chapter Fourteen: A New Approach
Chapter Fifteen: Crossing the Borders
Chapter Sixteen: Business of the Heart
Chapter Seventeen: Recalculating the Equation
Chapter Eighteen: A Whole New World
Chapter Nineteen: No Itinerary Here
Chapter Twenty: Undeniable Chemistry
Chapter Twenty-One: More than Business
Chapter Twenty-Two: Pleasure Perks
Chapter Twenty-Three: Giving Back
Chapter Twenty-Four: A New Day
Chapter Twenty-Five: Adventuring Out
Chapter Twenty-Seven: When the Charm Wears Off
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Speechless
Chapter Thirty: Backtracking or Moving On
Chapter Thirty-One: Internalizing
Chapter Thirty-Two: Demanding Presence
Chapter Thirty-Three: One Way or Another
Chapter Thirty-Four: One of a Kind
Chapter Thirty-Five: Shock and Awe
Chapter Thirty-Six: Catapulted Into Orbit
Nothing’s Impossible
My eyes darted across the page of my computer screen, still unable to believe it could be real. All of my hard work on the thesis had boiled down to my lame professor’s two words:
Impossible. Redo.
“Jessie? Did you even hear me?” Brynn’s voice in my ear startled me back to reality.
“Ummm…That’s great about Gauge’s new song,” I said, hoping she’d still been going on and on about Gauge this and Gauge that.
“You’re obviously preoccupied,” Brynn sighed. “What is it?”
Clearly my attempt at easing into the conversation with friendly banter wasn’t working. I dove into the heart of my call to Brynn. “I need some help.” I loved giving help more than asking for it, but this was an emergency.
“Oh no, I’d better sit down,” Brynn said.
“Why?”
“Whenever you give that set-up to your request it means that you’re stressed out about something.”
“That journalist in you is astute once in awhile,” I conceded. “I got back my thesis draft from my advisor and she thought I was setting up an impossible premise. I want to prove her—and the committee—wrong.”
“The plant and Ebola thing, right?”
“Yup, Brynn.”
“You’re a natural in the lab, straight As and all those scientific accolades that I can’t spell, much less say, so what did they think was impossible?”
“That I could go over there, raise awareness, and work in that environment,” I confessed. Suddenly I was beginning to doubt myself, not cool.
“Not following,” Brynn began, “I can’t help you in the lab and I know damn well that you know that. What can I help you with?”
“Well, I was thinking that maybe your and Trinity’s connection to ProVokaTiv might help me out,” I finally confessed. “Do you think you could talk to Gauge about seeing if it’s a cause he’s interested in?”
“No,” Brynn said bluntly.
“Okay. Great. Thanks for the help,” I said, feeling a bit stung by the brutal honestly.
“Now hold on, Jessie. I’m not trying to be a bitch. It’s just—I’ve finally learned how that guy of mine works and knowing Gauge, he’ll automatically say no—that’s always his knee jerk reaction to anything new. And everyone hits him up for things all the time. It makes him pissy, but that’s an entirely different topic.”
“What about Hunter?” I asked.
“His main angle is drug abuse so I don’t think this would really be his thing… but Simon, I think Simon would hear you out.”
“Simon? But—who’s going to sweet talk him into it?”
Brynn laughed. “You are! When you get all Rambo on your humanitarian missions, it’s the best. I love it! And you always make the most convincing arguments when you get like that.”
“I don’t know. I mean, it would be amazing if he would, Brynn, but… do you really think he’ll listen to me? I thought maybe if I talked to Gauge, or Hunter, you or Trinity could—”
Brynn laughed again. “I’ll send you over Simon’s cell number, okay?”
“You don’t think he’ll mind?” I asked. “I’m so just desperate to do this and don’t want anything to stop me. I can just sense its potential and I’ve put a lot of thought into it, not to mention research.”
“No, I don’t think he’ll mind. He gave me his number, so…”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“Just trust me, he’s your best audience for this. The guy is so business driven and he’ll evaluate it, even if it’s just to see what’s in it for him.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I couldn’t guarantee much of anything in it for Simon, other than the thrill of supporting good deeds, but logically speaking, I knew that it took money to make humanitarian causes flourish. Money comes from successful people and hence, business minded people exist.
“Great, thanks, Brynn. Owe you one.”
“No way, Jessie the world’s savior, friend to man and butt kicker of Ebola,” Brynn said, half sarcastically and half seriously. “But I’ve got to roll, got a staff meeting to get to.”
This was good. I had a possibility. I wasn’t dead in the water. If I could get Simon on board, get financial backing, how could Ms. Richards say no? As inspired as I was, I was going to wait and call Simon in the morning. I had to go over everything and think about what I was going to say. It had to be presented perfectly. I could already feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.
The Right Kick Off
“And you don’t think that ProVokaTiv would want to sign under this label, Simon?” Dominic asked.
I huffed out a sigh and looked around the board room of the office space I’d just rented out for Blaze Line, my new record label. Three years I’d been working toward this, and now set to go. The leather chair I leaned back on squeaked slightly, but that couldn’t ruin my mood. Neither could Dominic’s stupid question. The faces of famous producers adorned the white walls; Roy Thomas Baker and Jimmy Miller. I was going to join them one day, if I had anything to do with it.
The banker had just left and it was just Dominic and me remaining, ready to start talking marketing strategy and how we were going to launch this beast better than anything had ever been launched before. I’d been counting on Dominic to help me figure the best publicity campaign, not point out the obvious.
I tried not to be visibly annoyed. I paid the guy for better than that. Did he seriously think that I wouldn’t have done that immediately if it was an option. It wasn’t. We still had five years left on our contract with Stampede X. My eyes must have shown what I was thinking. Dominic nervously fumbled around with a pen, tapping it on the table in a completely out of sync melody, one that only a drummer like me would really notice, I supposed. He began to rub his hands together, furrowing his face in some bizarre way that made the brown hairs on the sides of his head move up and down slightly to his thoughts.
“Look, you know as well as I do that if we want to break into this industry in a big way, we’ve got to have great talent. And if we want great talent, we’ve got to offer them something more. We’ve got to demand so much attention that we’ve got bands lining up to jump ship for us.”
“How about having a concert here in the US—some kind of charity benefit? Like to stop hunger—your new acts, ProVokaTiv, a few Hollywooders as spokespeople.”
“Too blasé, too ‘We Are The World’ and ‘Farm Aid’,” I said. “We need original. I thought you’d have some original ideas by now. I mentioned this to you last week.”
“I have a lot of ideas, but they’re not getting anywhere right now,” Dominic said, wiping his hand on his pant leg and sitting back, relaxing his two arms behind his head.
“Maybe I made the wrong choice of marketing guys. I checked you out and you’ve had really fresh stuff for others. Where’s my fresh? I’m feeling like I’m getting the leftover expired meat.”
“You’re more singular in your purpose, makes it more challenging,” Dominic said.
“Meaning?” I asked.
“Meaning that these other people weren’t looking at a spreadsheet and associating it with being in the black with their good cause, Simon.”
“Then they’re fools. You can do something good and make money, too, or at least not waste it.”
I stood up and put my hands on the back of the black leather chair and stared at Dominic, who was growing more nervous and rambling by the minute. He was losing me and I found the only word that I was saying was no.
No, I didn’t want to get a float for a huge parade in LA, New York, or wherever.
No, I didn’t want to have a documentary appear on MTV or VH1 for my breakout. Those things were cool, but they were not special.
And then I had one hell no; there was no way that we were going to go do a Survivor episode, label versus label for exposure. Not only did I not have the time for that, but I had no desire to bring out the inner savage in me and be disconnected from everything I had going on businesswise in my life, much less ProVokaTiv practices and rehearsals.
So, instead of celebrating my achievement of opening up Blaze Line, I was sitting there, half listening to Dominic, and plugging ideas into my tablet. Unfortunately, mine were just as lousy as Dominic’s were.
“Okay, I think I know when to call it quits for a day, Dominic. Let’s meet next week, okay. And please, bring me something new. Your retainer runs out in a few weeks, remember that.”
“Will do,” Dominic said.
Dominic got up quickly, probably eager to get away from me. I’m sure he thought I was a prick but if he was going to play with my investment and my success, he’d have to deal with that. I couldn’t just let something go because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Business was great when things were running smoothly, but to do that, you had to pay attention to the numbers. Unlike people, numbers couldn’t lie.
The Pitch
I had never been so nervous to press the call button as I was staring at the name
Simon Jefferson
in my contacts. It was every bit as agonizing as my grad school interview. That’s how important this call was to me. It was my entire grad school career on the line.
The first time I’d met Simon in Milan for Brynn’s birthday party, he was great to talk to, but I was a bit intimidated because he was so serious-like. Me? I was set to laugh and giggle, have some fun and kick back. But the handful of times we’d encountered each other, it was always friendly and pleasant enough. And the man was really good looking and intense. I usually bumbled over my words in situations like that. Thank goodness this was just a phone call!
Breathing in, trying to calm myself down a bit, I tried to give myself the type of pep talk I usually gave others when I was trying to help them through something. I couldn’t help but wonder how it was effective on Brynn and Trinity because it wasn’t working on me.
Time to take action and not be a wuss
, I thought. My finger pressed down on the button of my iPhone and I noticed that my French manicure had a little chip in it. I frowned and before I realized it, a deep authoritative voice was saying, “Hello.”
“Hi, um, Simon, hi,” I rambled.
Real smooth!
“Yeah, who is this?” he asked.
“It’s Jessie Martineau, Brynn and Trinity’s friend,” I said.
His voice softened. “Hey, what’s happening Jessie?”
“Brynn gave me your number, hope you don’t mind. I wanted to talk with you about something—a business proposal—if you have time, of course.”
“Time…yeah, not really right now. I’m on my way to the studio to rehearse some songs for the new album.”
“Oh, OK, I’m sorry to bother you.” I wanted to hang up that second, my cheeks burning with embarrassment that fortunately he couldn’t see.
“It’s no both—“
That’s when I figured I had nothing to lose. “When would a good time be? Later today?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Great! What’s best for you?” I said, a smile spreading across my face. “Do you want to call me or should I call you?”
“How about a Skype? I prefer face to face, easier to get the real message,” he replied.
“Sure, no problem,” I said. Face to face, OMG.
“Text me your Skype and I’ll call when we’ve got a break. My Skype is Blaze0404.”
“Great, Simon. Thanks for the time.”
“Right. I’ve got to go. Talk later.” Click. He was gone and I was staring at my phone, looking at the call ended. Then it hit me. Face to face. I had to get ready.
Not that I had to be polished up like I was going out, but I had to look presentable. Even though I didn’t plan on showing my bum, I didn’t think it would be good for me to know that PINK was written out across it, or my chest for that matter. I had my PINK shirt on, too.
I ran to my bedroom and started searching my wardrobe, realizing that it was completely ridiculous. He’d seen me before, for starters, and this was a serious project, not a social call. But dang, I was kind of excited to stare into those intense blue eyes and appreciate them for the works of natural art that they were. And his hair? I wondered if it was still so perfectly cut and in place. I loved that look, so hot.
Stop! What was I doing?
Business Jessie
, I reminded myself. Back to the wardrobe…in the end, I decided on a black t-shirt with a set of angel wings on it and put my hair up in a loose bun piled on top of my head. Not too much, not too little. Oh, and I put on a splash of my pink lip gloss and a fresh coat of mascara.
Glancing over at my watch, I realized that I might have up to two hours left to wait for Simon. I decided to dive into my proposal and review it, finessing the points I wanted to talk about with him and hoping that the words to ask him if he’d be interested would come naturally and at just the right time.
*****
The funky distinct ring of Skype sounded out over my laptop, making me jump in my skin. I’d managed to engross myself in my proposal and the time had flown by. I navigated my mouse to the accept call with video button and waited. Two seconds later, the gorgeous drummer’s face appeared on the screen and I felt like one of his drumsticks was pounding on my heart. He really was beautiful.
“Jessie, hi, can you hear me?” Simon said, leaning forward.
“Yes, you sound great. So, how was practice?”
“Good, but we need a lot more. It was pretty rough,” he said, shaking his head.
“Well, you guys have proven time and again that you can pull it together.”
“That’s really nice. Where are you sitting?” Simon asked.
I looked around like I really didn’t know for a second and then said, “In front of the window on my couch. Why?”
“There’s a glow behind you that makes you look like an angel,” he replied.
I froze. It was an innocent comment that seemed wildly romantic. I recovered by saying, “Must be the clean windows.”
“Must be,” he said. “So, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know if you recall, but I’m in grad school and I’m working on my thesis right now, it’s a combination of a paper and an active, hands on project.”
“You’re in biology, right?” Simon asked.
“Close but not quite—botany,” I was honestly impressed he remembered that much about it.
“Okay,” he said cautiously.
“Well, my advisor said my hands-on project was basically impossible and asked me to do something else, but I don’t want to. I think I can tackle my main topic, which is finding some plant based cures for Ebola, and bringing awareness about that. Where she sees ‘impossible and redo,’ her words, I see opportunity and potential.”
“Well, is there any evidence to link Ebola cures to natural plant based solutions?” Simon asked.
“Great question. There is some, but not enough. Everyone wants to shove their money at pharmaceutical companies, not holistic based research. I want to focus on the latter.”
“Interesting,” he said. I watched him as he leaned back in his chair and nodded his head thoughtfully. Was he going to talk or was he waiting for me? I had no idea. Finally he asked, “What’s the premise?”
“Raising funds with a local festival to eventually go over to West Africa and study ways to treat Ebola that use the natural resources they have around them, not just pharmaceutical.” I started to talk about the hopes of having a local music fest in the Twin Cities and getting just enough money to go over there as part of the Peace Corps, which I was considering joining, and maybe in cooperation with Doctors Without Borders, something like that.
Simon stood up and I suddenly didn’t see him in the screen. “Hello?” I called out.
“I’m here,” his voice said. All I saw was a rather large room with a table, a bunch of chairs, and no artwork.
“Where are you?”
“Over by the window,” he said.
Very matter-of-fact
, I thought. “I meant the physical location,” I said, laughing at it.
“Oh, the offices for my new recording label.”
“Wow! Congratulations, that’s awesome. I didn’t know about it,” I said.
“No one really does yet,” he said. “This is interesting, I’ll give you that, Jessie. What does it have to do with me, though?”
I froze. This was it. The moment I asked for what I wanted. I breathed in.
“Hello?” Simon shouted. I was about to respond when he showed back up in front of the camera.
“So, I was wondering if you had any connections that might want to perform in The Cities for a concert. I don’t have all the details finalized yet, but I have a lead on a venue, exhibitors for science and herbs, that kind of thing.”
“Wow, you’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”
I broke out my puppy eyes, willing to use any antic I could think of that was somewhat respectable. “This is really important to me.”
Simon looked at me and smiled. I could see a mini me framed in my computer screen in his eyes and it fascinated me for a second, reminding me of one of those trippy mosaics you see made up of loads of pictures. “It sounds like a really interesting project,” he said, in a voice that didn’t sound interested at all. “Do you have any specifics on paper?”
“I do, fifty pages worth so far,” I said. I didn’t know whether to jump up and down or to cry. Maybe he was just asking for specifics as a way to shoot me down. Or as a way to end the call. I took a deep breath. Had to keep the cool, you know. “I can email those over to you if you like. It’s in a PDF and breaks down a lot of details, mostly the research and the humanitarian angle, but the fundraising is the last section of it.”
“I see,” Simon said, his fingers tapping on the keyboard. Great. I was boring him.
“Good,” I replied, not sure how to take that. My computer pinged with the sound of an incoming Skype message. Simon’s email address.
“Oh! Is this where I should send the file?”
“That’s right,” Simon said, his voice clipped.
“Thank you so much, Simon. I really appreciate it. I’ll send you my email, too, just in case it goes to a junk filter.”
“No guarantees,” he added.
“No, of course not,” I said. In my heart I was screaming, “You have to do this!”
“Great, well, I’ll look for that and get back to you in a few days,” Simon said.
“I look forward to it. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions if you want. Call, email, or whatever…”
Shut up
, I thought.
You sound desperate
. There was good reason for desperation, I guess, because I actually was quite desperate.
“Will do, have a great one,” Simon said.
We stared at each other for a bit of time. I didn’t want to disconnect first and eventually, his face faded away from my screen but I remembered it clearly in my mind. Good looking, serious. Too serious, maybe, to be the answer to my prayers.
