by Nelson, Cara
“No, I can’t say that I did, thankfully. Why? Did you lose your brother?” I realized how harsh that sounded and quickly rambled. “I mean…uh…ugh…that didn’t sound right.” I kept fumbling for words and Simon watched me, a bit entertained I suspected, and finally he let me off the hook.
“It’s okay, Jessie. You didn’t lose my brother.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“When we were kids, I was eight and Daniel was six and we were out in the yard. We’d just gotten into trouble in the house for breaking a lamp, something like that, and mom shooed us outside, telling me to watch him. Well, I was only a kid and I got wrapped up in something and one of my friends came by, and I just didn’t pay attention. Suddenly my mom was yelling on the front stoop, ‘Simon, where’s Daniel?’ and he wasn’t anywhere.”
“Scary,” I said, furrowing her brow.
“Not really, I just assumed that he was hiding somewhere and trying to get me into more trouble. I was mad as hell, but then after ten minutes and then a half hour and a full hour, I was scared. My mom called my dad home from work and she called all around the neighborhood—called everyone we knew—to see if he was at anyone’s home. He wasn’t. They had me go down to the park and look for him. I went to our usual park and he wasn’t there. On a whim, I decided to go to the playground at our school and there he was, just swinging away like he didn’t have a care in the world. I was so pissed, but I was so happy too, you know? It was crazy.”
I stared at Simon, drawn in by the number of intense feelings that flashed across his face as he shared his story. There was anger, fear, determination, each emotion blurring into the next. Still, it seemed like pretty normal kid-stuff to me. I wondered why it meant so much to him.
“I’m glad he was all right,” I said finally.
“He was and when I got him back home, Dad was home already, too, and we all went in the house. They started questioning Daniel first and when he said, ‘I told Simon but he wasn’t paying attention. He was talking to Jason,’ all eyes turned on me. I think you can fill in the blanks from there.”
“What a tough lesson to learn,” I said. I leaned forward and squeezed his hand gently, not sure how else I could show him that I felt bad he’d had an experience like that.
“Yeah, but I learned a lot from it,” he said.
“Like what?”
“You’ve got to stay focused and not let anyone or anything distract you. If you do, it’s your own fault when things go bad.”
“That’s a pretty harsh assessment and conclusion for an eight year old to come to,” I said.
Simon shrugged. “I don’t know, but that’s the reason that I rarely drink and I strive to maintain control and focus.”
“Business and people are different, though, don’t you think, Simon?”
“They are integrated, but I don’t just take risks and hope for the best. It just isn’t me.”
“That’s okay. You’re lucky to know who you are,” I said. I meant it but internally I was a bit thrown off on how cut and dry he could make things. It was about as opposite as you could get from me. I couldn’t even remember who had given me nickname Justification Jessie, I’d been called that so long, my whole life really, because I’d always tried to connect with the reasons somebody might do something that others considered bad, even horrendous.
“I don’t believe in luck. I’m fortunate because I made sure I understood,” Simon said. He was so matter-of-fact.
An involuntary laugh erupted from me. I was horrified. I glanced at Simon and mumbled, “Sorry.” I saw that he had an amused smile on his face, which made me start laughing even harder. It was a nervous, I-can’t-figure-this-guy-out-but-I want-to kind of laugh, almost like how you’d giggle around a crush when you were a young teenager.
Now Simon was laughing, too, commenting, “I don’t even know what the hell I’m laughing at, but you have one of those infectious laughs. It’s nice.”
“Thanks,” I said. “In all seriousness, though, I’m glad things turned out good with your brother. And for the record, eight year olds aren’t perfect, you know.”
“Neither are twenty-seven year olds, although I strive for it,” Simon replied.
“I have you beat. I strive for perfection for myself, and apparently all of the world’s well being with Ebola. It’s not easy to keep all those things in order and not lose track of some of the nicer things, such as a sunny day or some fun time with my friends.”
“You are so genuine when you say that,” Simon said, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head back and forth slightly.
“You sound surprised.” Did the guy think I was a phony or something?
“No, not with you. You can tell when someone isn’t genuine fairly easily, or at least I can, and I can see that you really mean what you say. You love to help people and that makes you happy. It’s pretty awesome, actually.”
I blushed slightly, feeling the joy of the sincere compliment. “I just figure that I have to do something while I can. You never know what might change tomorrow so if I want to do it, better do it today.”
“You’re pretty driven, Jessie.”
“Of course,” I said. “Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have made it to grad school and kept the desire to run nonstop all the time.”
“Ah, that’s your advantage.”
“Not following, Simon. What do you mean?”
“That’s the reason you beat me this morning. You tricked me.”
“You tricked yourself. Admit it, you were too arrogant to even think that I could beat you—seriously.”
“You’ve gotten me to confess enough for one night,” he said to me. Then he glanced around, like he was impatient.
“You okay? Do you have to get going or something?” I asked.
“No, not right now. I believe we still have some unfinished business.”
That hit me like a glass of cold water over the head. I tried to imagine what he was going to say. This was it…the moment that I’d been waiting for. I just sensed it. I was as excited as I might be if I thought someone was proposing marriage to me; someone other than Lenny Finkel in eighth grade, that is.
“Yeah,” I finally said softly.
“You look like you’re going to have an aneurism, relax.”
Great! My face was all contorted, red, and bloated. Real nice. “Okay, sorry, just nervous.”
“Well, let me alleviate your concern, Jessie. I’m in. I love the idea and have no doubts that you can do what you set out to do from your end to make this work.”
“Yay!” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together like a child at a parade and jumping up from the table, almost knocking over my glass. “This is so wonderful. Thank you so much, Simon. This is really going to benefit these people, I just know it.”
“And us, too,” he said.
“And us,” I mimicked. I kept forgetting that Simon did have other reasons for doing this than just worrying about Ebola. Maybe once he saw it all in motion he’d realize that he had so much more to gain than just exposure for Blaze Line.
I wanted to hug Simon Jefferson and squeeze him so tight, but I feared that I might never let go because I was so thankful and excited, and let’s face it, he was so incredibly good looking.
Chapter Ten:
My Plan
“Hey, how was your trip to The Cities?” Hunter asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “It was a great business trip. Very productive.”
“And Jessie, how was she?” he asked.
I wasn’t about to disclose the truth, which was that I was taken aback by how badly I wanted to kiss her. That pink lip gloss she wore shimmered under the street light just enough to draw me in like her lips were subliminal neon lights. Hunter was pretending to tune his bass, but I knew what he was up to. I wasn’t going to fall into that trap. “She was great, smart girl.”
“So you went to visit her for her brain, huh?” Hunter continued, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.<
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“Absolutely. It was all about business, not humping like wild animals who can’t control themselves.”
“That’s too bad, Simon, if she’s even half as fun as Trinity, you’re missing out.” I couldn’t believe he’d said that. I’d never talk that way about my intimate moment with someone. It wasn’t anyone else’s business.
“Hey,” Gauge said. He walked up and glanced back and forth at Hunter and Simon. “You guys ready?”
“Ready,” I said. I walked behind the drums and started to pound on them lightly, twirling the sticks in my fingers to get them loosened up. Playing drums was an excellent stress reliever and it appealed to me to be the guy who was half hidden and behind the scenes. I’d discovered long ago that positioning gave me advantages. I didn’t understand it at first, but now I saw that it was better suited to my personality, which was more of the brains behind the scenes than the flash up front. No, I wasn’t meant to be the guy in hot pants jumping around and gyrating his bulge.
We spent two hours, going over a few of our older tracks and working on the new ones. It was sounding good and when we were done, we all gathered around to coordinate our schedules for the next rehearsal. After that, I asked, “What are your openings in a few weeks?”
“Why?” Gauge asked.
“Well, I was hoping that we could do a few songs at the festival Jessie’s putting together and Blaze Line is co-sponsoring in the Twin Cities. What do you think?”
“That could be fun,” Hunter said. “So long as I can avoid having to meet Trin’s parents.”
“Relax, I’m sure that’s the last thing she wants,” I replied. I meant it, too.
“I think that would work for me,” Gauge said. “Maybe we could premier the new song there, if it’s okay with everyone. Might be kind of cool.”
“That’s a good idea, maybe,” I said. Inside I was wondering if that would overshadow Blaze Line, which would not be acceptable. That’s who needed the publicity, not ProVokaTiv.
“Whatever,” Gauge said. “Well, I’ve got to get going.”
“See you later,” I mumbled.
Then it was Hunter and I left standing there. He looked at me expectantly and I couldn’t figure out why. Out of anyone, if he had something to say he usually just said it. I actually admired that about him, the rambunctious and constantly horny band mate that he was. “Yeah?” I asked.
“Ah, nothing. I gotta fly, see you later,” he said.
“Later,” I replied. That was fine by me. I had to put together a new spreadsheet to coordinate everything for the venue and meet with Dominic. Then I could hopefully get Jessie on a Skype and tell her what was going on. Damn, I should have scheduled that in earlier so I could make sure she was available. Our two hour time difference might prove to be too much of a pain in the ass. Maybe she’d have to come out here while we coordinated everything.
I realized that I was thinking all scattered, not focused at all. Seriously, how could Jessie come out here? She had school. That was just for starters. Secondly, it was a bit ridiculous to come to LA to prepare for a concert in a different part of the world. I’d just have to find a way to swing the time to commute back and forth a few times, maximizing each visit.
“I’ve turned into my father,” I mumbled. My old man was notorious for having tight agendas that he loved having everyone adhere to, especially when we were on vacation. He was a great guy and all, but I sure didn’t want to turn into him.
*****
Dominic left my conference room with a long to-do list, one he expressed confidence in being able to do quickly and to the high standard I had set for him. I didn’t mean to be a prick, but how else was he going to know exactly what I expected if I didn’t state it in black and white? His record showed he could take it, though, because he’d worked with some of the toughest, most ruthless people in the business. If he had thick skin to handle them, he could handle me.
With a smile on my face and excited to share what I’d gotten done, I called Jessie to touch base with her and fill her in on everything. She was going to be as excited as me, I was sure of it.
“Hey Jessie, it’s Simon. I have great news for you,” I said.
“Great, just give me a second. I’m going to put you on hold, I’m finishing up with one thing, okay?”
She didn’t wait for me to answer and put me on hold. That habit annoyed me despite seeing its practicality. Why waste time explaining it…that would only delay things. Why not just put me to voicemail?
Then she was back. “Thanks for waiting. Now you have my full attention.”
“Great. I’ve gotten so much done today and this thing is coming together amazing.”
“Wow, you do move fast. What’s the scoop?” she asked.
I started sharing all the details with her. ProVokaTiv would be there, we’d feature our new song at the festival to draw in some more people. Yes, I’d found a way to make that work with my plans, and the press and cameras would also be there, making a video as well as taking a ton of pictures.
“Oh, that sounds great. I sent you over some possible exhibitors and ideas to look at, but didn’t get your feedback yet,” Jessie mentioned.
“I saw those but didn’t get to look at them yet.”
“When will you?” she asked, her voice tense.
“Soon, they’re secondary. Getting the heart of it set up first is what’s important. Trust me, I know what I’m doing here, Jessie.”
There was dead silence. I’d said the wrong thing. I braced myself.
“Secondary?” she said, sounding a bit screechy.
“Well yes, after all, they’re paying money to see the music, you know.”
“Funny, I don’t look at it that way,” she said. Her voice was strained, as if she were trying to control it, but a shaky tremor still came through. My mind flashed to her face, that beautiful smile instantly gone and her green eyes growing deeper because she was not pleased.
“I’m not following,” I said. Probably another bad choice of words, but the woman had me treading. This was not how I conducted business, but then again…to Jessie this was all humanitarian, not business.
“You’re not following? What’s there not to follow? This is for raising awareness and money for Ebola, Simon. It isn’t just about some rock concert with a bunch of people who were coerced into joining some cause because they had nothing better to do. This ‘secondary’ thing, as you call it, is about real people and their lives. So, it seems to me that you’re not following.”
“No, no, slow up. I didn’t mean it like that,” I said, trying to reboot the conversation and start it over. “I want this to be a success; that’s why I’ve spent all this time trying to coordinate it, get some great ideas together, and ensure that it’s successful.”
Jessie sighed and released a little “grr”’ into the speaker. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate your enthusiasm. If my graduate degree was in concert promotion I’d be all over it, but it’s not; it’s in botany and that means that this entire thing being all concert and no education will not work for me or for the school that’s giving me that degree to make all of this worth it. Basically, I am not working for you, Simon.”
“I didn’t say you were, Jessie, really. You’re smart and have great ideas, I’d never expect that. I just thought that you wanted me to take the music thing and run with it, that you wouldn’t care. You yourself said it wasn’t the main focus. Well, for me it is,” I confessed. She had to know that, though. At least that’s what I’d thought until five minutes ago.
“You make it sound like it’s foolish to care about people first,” she said to me softly. I hoped she wasn’t crying. That was something that I could not handle.
“It’s not foolish,” I said. Then I was onto the next thing. “Oh, and I was thinking of seeing if we could maybe get Ryan Seacrest to be the host. What do you think?”
“Simon Jefferson, do you really want to know what I think?”
I gulped and breathed in, putting
my one hand in my back pocket and bracing my hand to the phone, which was pressed tightly against my ear. In case she decided to yell, I pulled it back. “What do you think?”
“I think that I can host my own damn event because I know what I want to say and what I’m talking about. I think that most of this work has to be mine, not just delegated off to someone else. This is my mark on this world and I don’t need a lot of credit by any means, but I have to be the drive behind it. I didn’t hire you to be a PR firm and if that’s all you see yourself as in this deal, a PR firm out for your own glory or whatever, then it was a bad idea. I think I’ll just have to admit to my professor and advisor that I was wrong and revamp my thesis with my back-up ideas.” There was silence and then I heard Jessie breath in deeply.
“I wasn’t implying that, Jessie.”
“What were you implying, Simon?”
“You know the plan, I’m the concert and promotion, you’re the science and…and…” Damn, what a time to not have the right word on my tongue.
“Humanitarian, the one who is in charge of the feel good so long as it doesn’t impact the financial outcome.”
“I’d never say it that way, Jessie,” I said. I was irritated at her now, but one of us had to be the voice of reason. “Look, we have a lot to do and each of us has our part. We need our conversations to be constructive, our actions meaningful.”
“You’re right, Simon. I have to go. I have a lot of work to do.”
The phone line went dead, leaving me sitting there all alone in my conference room wondering what had just happened. Perhaps it was stupid of me, but her reaction had thrown me for a major loop. I felt bad, too, because this was her project to start with and maybe I’d gone wild with it. But that was a compliment. I thought so, anyway.
I got up and paced around my conference room for a bit, putting every chair in precise order so it looked more orderly. Yeah, a bit of OCD ran through me. Well, at least I had a full schedule so I wouldn’t have time to dwell on Jessie. I’d call her later and she’d be fine, and then we could move on. If not, I guessed that I’d be moving on to the next project, too. Only I didn’t want that to be the case.