Slay Me (Rock Gods #1)

by Joanna Blake

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 t
o 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.

  If only she could tell her.

  That's something she used to do when she was younger. Pretend she could just call her mother. Dial a random number and just talk. Finally her father had caught her. He'd been furious. Confused and hurt. But it hadn't stopped her compulsively calling people, hoping to hear the voice of a kind woman, secretly believing that if she called enough times, her mother would answer.

  This time, she knew her mother would be proud of her. The hard working immigrant's compliments were always hard earned, but all the sweeter because of it. Yes, her mother would be proud of how she'd bested Nick Falcon.

  Then again, his chess comment told her two things. Firstly, that Nick was smarter than he looked. He obviously understood strategy and was familiar with the complex game. Secondly, he was telling her that he wasn't done yet.

  He wasn't going to just roll over.

  She smiled grimly. She'd expect nothing less.

  After all, played well chess was a long game.

  Three

  Nick was pacing back and forth on the deck with a bottle of water. According to Marley he had to hydrate to make up for all the brutal drinking he'd been doing lately. Hell, it felt like he'd been doing it forever. He was going to be on bloody TV in two days. He had to look his best.

  Not a lot of people knew it, but Nick hated TV. Concert film was fine. Fuck, standing in front of 50,000 people with only a pair of skin tight leather pants on was fine too. Give him a screaming crowd of thousands, give him a drink, he could hold forth all night. But just sitting there and talking with all those invisible eyes on him? Now that made him fucking terrified.

  Even worse, he had to do it sober.

  At first his rock star persona had demanded that he party like, well, a rock star. Now getting smashed was just a habit to dull the loneliness and boredom. Sometimes Nick thought that having things come too easily had made him permanently discontent. He'd always wanted more more more. More success, more money, more women, more booze.

  But sometimes, he wanted less.

  Most of it was crap after all wasn't it?

  Still he couldn't complain. He might be trapped in his opulent over the top lifestyle, but the average bloke would trade a body part to have his problems. Which model to sleep with, what fabulous destination to fly to, which house to spend the weekend in. Really, he should be so happy his feet hardly scraped the ground.

  But lately it just wasn't the case. He felt… empty. Sparring with that hot little label exec had been the most excitement he'd had in years. The woman was a bloody brilliant adversary.

  And now she'd tricked him into doing something he hated. Worse, it was something he feared. What if he looked foolish? Uncool? That would be it. His career would be over. Then he really would be touring second rate houses.

  Even worse, he'd be performing on weekdays. Only. It was fine to do a Thursday now and then, but the big names only did Fridays and Saturdays.

  He shuddered.

  Without all the glittery facade, he really didn't have anything. If he lost his glimmer, he wouldn't be anyone…

  Marley walked in with Sandy, his personal trainer. She smiled a brilliant smile at him. Sandy was a gorgeous, incredibly fit and tan California girl. He sighed in relief. Something to get his mind off of all of this… thank god.

  As with everything, Nick pushed himself to excess. He knew that his physical condition was remarkable, especially considering what he put his body through partying all these years.

  Still, he knew how to baby himself. Smoothies, the occasional detox and working out with Sandy. Usually after a session, they worked out a little more.

  In the bedroom.

  They were finishing up when Sandy raised her eyebrows at him. He shook his head at the unspoken invitation.

  "Sorry love. I'm a bit distracted."

  "I noticed that. Everything alright?"

  He forced a smile.

  "Absolutely. Just working out the details of a new tour and… lots of other tedious things that I won't bother you with."

  She smiled.

  "Okay Nick. I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you hydrate."

  He toasted her with his bottle of mineral water.

  She pecked his cheek and was off. The woman charged an arm and a leg but she was the best. She'd also turned into a friend, on top of the mind boggling sex you could have with a woman who used to be a gymnast. Besides, he could afford her rates so why not?

  Nick sighed and guzzled his water. At least working out had cleare
d his head a bit. He would be fine on the TV show. Far greater idiots than he did this every day.

  He could do this.

  Marley chose to interrupt that moment of bliss.

  Why on earth he allowed his cousin/assistant/manager to live with him was beyond him. At the very least he should have tucked the bugger away in a guest house.

  Marley was his best friend, that's why. Christ, who was he kidding? Marley was his only friend.

  Everyone else was just hired help or hangers on. All he had was family. Thank god for that.

  Marley was holding a piece of paper.

  "This came for you."

  "What is it?"

  "It's from her."

  He didn't have to specify who he was talking about. Damn if he didn't know instantly.

  Little Miss Sabrina Newton.

  Damn but the woman was becoming a thorn in his side. He couldn't help but smile when he thought of her though. She was like a sexy school teacher. A strict one. He felt his body respond to the thought of her instructing him.

  In bed of course.

  First she could boss him around, and then he'd teach her a whole new bag of tricks.

  "Oh bloody hell, what does she want now?"

  "Uh… it says 'talking points.' It looks like it's for the interview."

  "Great just what I need. As if I needed help coming up with things to fucking chat about. Anything else?"

  "Yeah- the last page has a note."

  "Well what does it say?"

  "It says… 'Don't show up drunk'."

  He snorted a laugh. The woman had a lot of gall telling him what to do. She worked for the him, didn't she? Or at least for the label that he'd single handedly kept afloat for the past decade. But she needn't have worried on that point regardless.

  Nick was far too nervous to drink.

  **********

  Sabrina smoothed her black Herve Leger dress down over her hips. She turned to the side to make sure she looked professional in it. It fit like a glove but the classic bandage style was classy enough for a work event.