Chapter Sixteen
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
David Turner had been ecstatic, worried, thrilled and concerned, when he learned Becky’s ‘young man’ was none other than Cash Colt. With so many conflicting thoughts about his cherished daughter being courted by a world famous rocker, he didn’t quite know how to process the information, finally concluding the most important thing was Becky’s happiness. It was obvious she was elated, so he would give Cash Colt, or rather, Cody Cox, every opportunity to convince him that his precious girl was in good hands.
When Cash knocked on the back door, and Becky excitedly ushered him in, he was carrying a bottle of expensive liquor, Louis Royer Cognac Extra Grand Champagne Brandy. Guessing a former New York City chef probably had impeccable taste in spirits, he had searched through the stock in the bus seeking the best bottle he could find.
After the introductions had been made, and the awkward small talk was over, David insisted on whipping up one of his outstanding dinners, and sent the couple off to spend some time together. Becky had taken Cody out to the front porch, and holding hands they talked about Becky’s life in the small town, and Cash’s early struggles. The time passed quickly, and when the porch light came on, Cody had just finished relaying the story about the death of his first manager from a drug overdose.
“Those were tough days,” he remarked seriously, “but Sam Reed stepped in. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been such a strong support system for us.”
“I guess finding a manager like that isn’t easy,” Becky remarked.
“No, it’s not,” he replied, then paused, realizing he had inadvertently opened the door to talk about the video Jerry had taped. “Let me ask you, Becky, if a new, unsigned singer was fortunate enough to have someone like Sam Reed interested, what do you think that singer should do?”
“I think he should do cartwheels, say lots of thank yous, and do whatever that manager suggests.”
“And if that he were a she, then what?”
“The same, of course.”
“What if that she was you?” he asked, lowering his voice and staring at her intently. “Becky, I hope you don’t mind, but I had someone video your performance at The Cowbell last night.”
“You did?” she replied, her blue eyes staring back at him in disbelief.
“Only because I really wanted to see if your voice was as beautiful as you are.”
“What charm school did you say you graduated from?”
“Seriously, you are fantastic,” Cody continued, “and when I showed the video to Sam he was blown away just like I was. He wants to meet you, and he’ll probably offer to sign you to a management contract. This has absolutely nothing to do with me, by the way. This is you, all you. You sing like an angel.”
“I, uh, I, you think so?” she stammered. “I, uh, I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
“Believe it,” he said firmly. “Sam will be flying to Dallas for the last show of the tour, and I want you and your dad to join me. The two of you can meet with him and hear what he has to offer.”
“I don’t know what to say,” she muttered, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. “Are you, uh, are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious, you’re brilliant,” he assured her, squeezing her hand, “but I want you to join me in Dallas regardless. You’ll have a fabulous time. I’ve already arranged a two-bedroom suite at the hotel in the hope that you and your dad will say yes.”
“My gosh, Cody, of course we’ll come, I’ll make him,“ she replied, trying to process the stunning news. “I feel like I’m in The Twilight Zone, or this is some crazy dream and I’m going to wake up.”
“Sitting here on the porch with you, I kind of feel the same,” he murmured, squeezing her hand.
“If this is a dream, it’s the best one I’ve ever had,” she declared, then unexpectedly she broke into laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is, un-you-know-what-believable! Things like this don’t happen. They just don’t.”
“I agree,” Cody chuckled. “Last night I was singing to thousands and thousands of people, and now I’m on a porch swing with an angel in the middle of nowhere. This whole thing is completely bizarre.”
“It’s not real,” she squealed, “we’re in The Twilight Zone.”
“That’s it, we’ve been transported to, wait, the movie or the TV Series?”
“No,” she exclaimed, “you’ve got it all wrong. We’re in the real Twilight Zone.”
“Yes, that explains everything, and Charlie, my driver, is about to leap from that tree and announce it,” Cody laughed.
A moment later, Dave Turner opened the front door to announce dinner was ready, only to find them doubled over in peals of laughter.
“I don’t know what’s so amusing, but maybe you can explain it to me over dinner,” he said, grinning, as he watched them, and for reasons neither of them could fathom, his statement fueled their hysteria. “I’ve set up in our formal dining room,” he continued, his smile turning into a chuckle. “It’s saved for special occasions and apparently this is one, but can you pull yourselves together long enough to make it there.”
“We can try,” Becky said, trying to catch her breath. “You will not believe what I am about to tell you. No, Cody can tell you.”
“We’ll both tell you,” Cody declared as he stood up. “Come on, Becks.”
“Becks? What am I? A beer?”
The sassy comment gave way to additional mirth, and David threw his hands up in the air.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I’m going inside to serve dinner, and I’d really like some company.”
“Then company you shall have, my good man,” Becky said with a curtsy.
“I think this is going to be one hell of a dinner,” David proclaimed as he gestured them inside ahead of him.
“You have no idea, dad,” Becky said, still giggling, “absolutely none.”
* * *
While Cody and Becky were sitting down to dinner, Sam Reed was perusing the menu at Gino’s. Marilyn, quietly seated across the table, was staring at him.
“Is my tie askew?” he asked, without lifting his gaze.
“No, I’m just curious why you chose this place,” she replied, trying to sound casual.
When they had arrived at the restaurant, she wondered if he knew about the night she’d arranged for a photographer to ambush his star client.
“I have my reasons, not the least of which is the fabulous food.”
Before she could respond, the waiter arrived to take their order.
“Mr. Reed, always so nice to see you,” he said. “Your Meritage is on its way.”
“Hello, Jonny. Perfect, thanks. Are things good?”
“Yes, very, thank you for asking.”
“I’ll have my usual,” Sam said with a sigh. “I always promise myself to try something different, but then I see the veal shank and I can’t go past it. Marilyn, have you decided?”
“No, I can’t make up my mind. Everything sounds so good.”
“Is there anything you’re allergic to or don’t eat?”
“Red meat.”
“Bring the lady whatever Gino feels inspired to make for her, as long as it doesn’t have red meat. I would suggest something on the light side.”
“Yes, Mr. Reed,” the server replied, scribbling on his pad.
“I’ll signal you when we’re ready to be served.”
“Of course, Mr. Reed,” the server nodded, adding, ”and here comes your wine.”
Sam Reed was an important client, and the sommelier stepped forward holding the expensive bottle, and two large, Reidel glasses.
But Marilyn barely noticed. She knew she was about to get scolded, or if she was lucky, Sam might beg her to keep her promise not to move forward with the The Spanking Rockstar. But looking across the table at the impeccably dressed, take-charge manager, Sam didn’t seem like the begging type.
The sommelier decanted the wine, then poured a small amount in Sam’s glass. Sam picked it up, expertly swirled the deep red, liquid, inhaled the aroma, and took a sip.
“Excellent.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed,” the sommelier said, then briskly walked away.
“What is it you want to talk to me about?” Marilyn asked, hoping she didn’t appear as anxious as she felt.
“I have an interesting situation to share with you,” he began, his voice slow and deliberate. “I have heard a rumor someone may be writing an unauthorized book about one of my clients.”
Marilyn felt a cold chill shiver down her spine, but steeled herself, convinced she could handle whatever he threw at her.
“Wow, I guess—”
“I haven’t finished,” he said brusquely, cutting her off. “Don’t interrupt me again.”
His sharp retort did nothing to calm her nerves, and reaching for her wine, she downed a long gulp.
“I have taken several steps to ensure this book, which apparently has an inappropriate and inflammatory title, never sees the light of day. There is an excellent entertainment lawyer in Los Angeles I’ve had the pleasure of working with in the past. This type of thing is something in which he specializes. I believe you know him. It’s your father, Elliott Sanders.”
The shocking news caught her off guard. If she went ahead with the book, would she end up battling her father? That was a war she didn’t have a prayer of winning, or would even want to wage.
“He found the idea repugnant, and is more than happy to work with Cash and me if we need him,” Sam continued. “If anyone attempts to move forward with such a foolish plan, Elliott will blast some serious cannon balls in their direction.”
Reaching for his wine, he raised the glass, swirled, sniffed, and sipped.
“In addition,” he continued, placing his glass back on the table, “I have contacted the heads of the major publishing houses, and they have assured me they will have nothing to do with such a despicable publication. If this person attempts to secure a deal with a smaller, less reputable company, that company would soon discover they would not have the sizable pockets necessary to defend themselves against the onslaught of legal maneuvers wrought by your father. Additionally, copyrights have already been filed for the projected name of this book, along with every possible variation.”
She’d heard enough.
A sick feeling oozed through her body, and she wished he’d stop the frightening barrage of consequences she’d face if she pursued the project. She was beaten, and though he wasn’t scolding her, it felt as if he was, and she was feeling very foolish under his verbal torrent.
“There’s more,” he declared, much to her dismay. “This person, who happens to be a young woman, attended a party following my client’s last concert. She became drunk and very rude. The entire incident was caught on video, and the young woman in question does not come across well at all. Last, and perhaps most importantly,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning across the table, “this particular client is not just a client, he is one of my dearest friends. I love him like a brother. He is one of the most good-hearted, down-to-earth people I know. If anyone, and I do mean anyone, attempts to harm or exploit him in any way, that person will end up being very sorry indeed.”
* * *
Holding her gaze, and shooting sharp-edged razors across the small space, he saw her fear before she dropped her eyes. He had triumphed. Raising his hand, he signaled Jonny to move ahead with their orders.
“Any thoughts or comments,” he asked lightly, returning his eyes to her.
“I would say,” she began quietly, “your client is extremely fortunate to have you on his side, and I can’t imagine this person would be foolish enough to go ahead with their project, given your offensive-defensive strategies. Once they hear about your judicious maneuverings, I have no doubt they’ll back off, however, I seriously doubt you’ve had time to put all those pieces into place, but you will, and the knowledge that the copyrights will be filed, and my father’s retainer will be negotiated and accepted, should be taken as a given. Mr. Reed, you are an excellent salesman, and I am buying what you’re selling.”
It wasn’t easy to impress Sam. He dealt with record company executives, egotistical artists, power brokers and lawyers. Brilliance and brains surrounded him, but the sexy siren opposite him was revealing an unexpected depth of intelligence and perception.
“I understand this person has already given their word not to proceed,” he continued, ignoring the attraction he was beginning to feel. “I trust they won’t change their mind.”
“They won’t,” she replied, her gaze holding steady.
“Good to hear. So, on to other matters. Tell me about yourself. You’re a very interesting woman. I’d like to get to know you better.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely, you’re very attractive, obviously resourceful, extremely bright, and quite determined.”
“You think so?”
“I do. I also think you’re spoiled, indulged, difficult and temperamental, but that doesn’t bother me one bit, in fact it adds to your appeal.”
“Mr. Reed,” she murmured, leaning across the table, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I like a good game of cat and mouse. Bring it on.”
Sam felt his cock spring to life. She was throwing down the gauntlet, and the rush was exhilarating.
“Are you sure?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I’ve not felt this sure about anything in some time.”
“When we’ve finished dinner, I’ll show you my penthouse office,” he said with a devilish grin and not giving her a choice. “It has a beautiful view across Central Park, and at night it’s quite stunning.”
She paused, frowned, then smiled.
“Sam, I’d like nothing better.”