Part 15 (1/2)
”Tell me,” he demanded gently, wanting desperately for her to confide in him. ”What's going on in that gorgeous mind of yours? Is it last night?”
She shook her head. ”The press didn't show today. I confirmed everything, and n.o.body showed up. When Sindra called to find out what had happened, the only explanation was a man had called to cancel, and the reporters were rea.s.signed or rescheduled.”
A man had called and cancelled. The thin tendrils of suspicion began to unravel and reshape in his mind. Who had called? Kevan's body shook as she took a stilted breath. Still, he waited, sensing she needed to share at her own pace, not be forced by him.
”I was confused. Upset. I couldn't get ahold of her at first. Then I got really p.i.s.sed,” she said. Mason used one hand to unclench a fist from his s.h.i.+rt. He spread her palm flat against his chest and patted it. Her voice was laced with anger and frustration. Wis.h.i.+ng he could swallow her pain, at the same time he admired her openness and honesty. She always gave so much more than he ever did. Yet another reason she could never be his permanently.
”I let it eat at me all day until it took on a life of its own.” She paused and looked up into his face with sad eyes and lines furrowing her forehead. ”I do that, you know.” She rolled her eyes and tucked back into his arms, her soft body melting into his. ”Give my feelings and thoughts their own lives. Active imagination.”
”You think it was me?” Mason squeezed her tighter and couldn't hide the shock in his voice. He hoped he was wrong, but he knew he wasn't. She still didn't trust him. Would she ever?
She sighed again and stared up at his face, worrying her bottom lip, as if evaluating her options for a bigger decision. Like trusting him. If she trusted him a little, maybe they could move forward.
”Yes,” she said simply. ”I thought it might have been you. And I was p.i.s.sed. Mostly at myself for trusting someone like you... I mean, trusting a man again.” Kevan scowled and pushed both palms on his chest, but he wasn't ever letting her go that easily. Ever? No. Now. Just for now. That's all I can offer her.
”I'm not wired like that. I promised a fair fight. Won't go back on my word, Bettie. You're going to have to trust me.”
”I realized it couldn't have been you. Tina and Sindra are the only ones with the press list. Someone had to get the list from them, or maybe my email was hacked.” She untangled herself from his arms and gently laid a palm to his cheek. ”And it's not your style. You'd use the press coverage for your next power play. So, no, I don't think you'd sabotage that kind of opportunity,” she said begrudgingly, her eyes watery and distant. ”But I can't trust you. I'm sorry. I just can't.”
The wistful smile she gave him before pulling away was equal to ripping his heart from his chest and throwing it to the ground. She couldn't trust him, and he couldn't share himself with her. Before giving in to the melancholy threatening to pour down on him, she tugged him toward the door. ”Come on, big, bad, handsome man. Let's go have some fun and pretend we're two normal people out for a good time.”
Normal. There was that word again. Funny, he didn't think he would ever be normal again.
Chapter 15.
Mason woke to an annoying and persistent vibration. Fuzzy from sleep, he lifted his head and looked around the cluttered cabin. The RV wasn't moving, which meant they must be in San Francisco. The buzzing halted, so he closed his eyes again, needing a few more minutes of blissful rest. The buzzing started again. Dammit.
He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked down at the source of his irritation. His phone was lying next to his pillow. He grabbed it and pushed ”answer” before looking at the screen.
”Dillon,” he barked into the speaker.
”Mason, it's Simone,” a familiar hushed voice said. ”Are you there?” she asked when he didn't answer.
”What do you want?” Although Mason saw no good reason for pretending she was still his loyal administrative a.s.sistant and he was the powerful boss, regret immediately clouded his mood. The s.h.i.+ft in power hadn't been her fault or doing. ”I'm sorry, but it's early, and I'm busy. What do you need?”
He heard a long, drawn breath on the other end of the line. Was she nervous about something? ”I only have a second, but you need to trust me. Do you have something you can write on?” He glanced around and jumped to grab his notepad and pen from the vanity. Simone may have been forced to work for Revell, but until then she had always been a dedicated and loyal a.s.sistant.
”Go ahead.”
He wrote the name, number, and email she dictated to him.
”Here's the deal. I received a media alert email this morning from a producer at Fuse TV. They're doing a new twist on their popular web show Metal Heat Meltdown. They want to feature a rock icon interviewing an up-and-coming band. Manix Curse would be perfect.”
”I take it Revell told you about the band?” Of course, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d probably went back to the office, complaining about Mason's threats, and then took credit for ”discovering” Manix.
”Yes. Well, sort of. I did a little due diligence on my own. Anyway, sir, to get the interview, you'll need to deliver a performance video to them within two days. They'll send a crew out to tape, but they'll require a bigger venue than the clubs you've been playing.”
”Like how much bigger?”
”At least twenty-five hundred people,” she said, the words floating in the air like smoke before evaporating like his f.u.c.king future. ”Before you say 'no,' I've already confirmed Manix Curse for tomorrow night at an outdoor theater at one of the community colleges in San Francisco.” Oh, great. Not only would he fail, but he'd do so spectacularly.
”Mason. Are you still there?” Her tone was full of concern.
”Yes. There's no way this band can draw that kind of audience outside their local market with so little time.” He set the notepad and pen down on the side table and sank back on the bed.
He heard tapping in the background. ”I sent you the contact info for the event person at the college. You can do this. You've packed coliseums all over the world with a wave of your magic marketing wand. Twenty-five hundred metal kids is nothing, small potatoes, for you. You can do this.”
”Simone-”
He could hear low voices on the end of the line. ”I have to go. The film crew will be at the venue at six p.m. to set up. You need to make this happen. What do you have to lose?” The line went dead.
Good question. What did he have to lose? At this rate, he wondered if signing the band would even save his job. Jolted by that thought, Mason let it sink in. Would it save his job if he brought the band under the GEM umbrella? And, if it didn't, what would that mean? What did life look like for Mason Dillon without the letters GEM CEO after his name?
Maybe I'll get the girl. Whoa. Two mind-bending concepts in the span of a minute was too much. Probably better to focus on the short-term right now. The very short-term. How to get ten times the number of audience members in to see Manix Curse at a new venue. At the last minute. Sure, no problem.
He certainly couldn't do it alone. Another new thought. Ask for help. More specifically, ask the one person who specialized in social media and fan interaction. Kevan. Between the two of them, maybe they could pull this show together.
When he walked from the bedroom into the living area, she was already making coffee. She leaned against the counter with her back to him, an old-fas.h.i.+oned scarf wrapped in her hair and a cotton, floral s.h.i.+ft that reached midthigh, revealing part of the lacy tattoo that wrapped around her leg. Her luscious a.s.s was outlined perfectly through the thin material.
G.o.ddammit. He wanted her. Right now, over the counter, the vision in his head playing clearly. Like an X-rated movie starring Kevan. For a moment, he imagined her wetness s.h.i.+ny on his c.o.c.k as he pounded into her from behind. He felt his d.i.c.k stiffen. s.h.i.+t. Just standing there thinking about f.u.c.king her-not even touching her-and his c.o.c.k was at full mast.
”I heard you on the phone. Made you some coffee. No cream, a little sugar, right?” She glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze blanketed him, and her eyes went from placid to confused to coy. He hadn't seen that look since they'd last been in her bedroom. ”Someone's sporting a little morning wood.”
Her jibe snapped him out of his trance and into action. He stepped forward, brus.h.i.+ng his arm against hers, and heard a quiet intake of air. Good. ”Little?” He raised a brow. ”We both know that's not true, don't we?”
Her instant blush was perfect. ”Oh, good, you put your a.s.s hat on already. Guess I don't have to pretend to be nice.”
”Actually, I don't want to bicker with you this morning.” He sat at the kitchenette and patted the seat next to him. She deliberately sat across from him. ”I have a proposition for you.”
She gaped at him. ”You've got to be kidding.”
He held up his hands in protest. ”No, no. A business proposition. I received some information about an opportunity for Manix that could be huge.”
Her face dropped. Mason took a bizarre kind of pleasure in watching how different emotions played out on her expressive face. Would he one day recognize all of her various feelings?
Ignoring the thought, he said, ”But I need your help.”
He explained the call he'd received and gave her the details about the Fuse TV web show. Mason watched as her wariness faded and her knee began to tap against the table. Her eyes grew bright, and her fingers twirled an unrestrained lock of hair, a habit signaling she was deep in thought or in planning mode.
His eagerness and impatience battled while she sorted out what he'd told her. Was she interested? Did she trust him enough to work on a project together? Just as he was about to interrupt her internal dialogue, she spoke.
”We need to call the Fuse guy and confirm. We need to create, print, and distribute posters early. Like this morning. We need to acquire some airtime on the local college and rock stations. We need to pummel the Internet with incentives and tidbits about the show. Really hook the local scene and get people excited.”