CHAPTER THREE
Jacine
My email came straight from my father’s account. I wanted no pussyfooting on this issue. The media circled like hungry sharks for any new tidbit of the “feud” between the three key members of the three hottest rock bands on the planet. So I summoned Cole Kane of Arcane, Jersey Dys of Obsidian and Rory Holmes of Clash, and sent limos to their houses to bring them in.
Tobias offered the previous night to sit in on the meeting, and I thought it was a good idea. He arrived a few minutes before noon and fixed a drink with the familiarity of family. Tobias settled onto one of the black leather sofas that graced my father’s enormous office high above LA’s skyline.
My father’s best friend fits here, on that black leather sofa and among the dark brown wood paneling streaked with tan. He leaned his head back a minute and took a deep breath. It was an old realization habit of his though I had no idea why he would be nervous. It was me who had the reputation of Alexander and Wells on my shoulders.
I spent the morning with my dad’s best teams, all of whom needed no prompting on staying up all night to come up with a damage control plan. Their assistants were on the phone or the internet working on the scheme. I should bring Tobias up to speed before the Terrible Three showed their overhung faces. With rock stars sense of time, we were in no danger of them interrupting us.
“I met with the creative team this morning. They had some great ideas. One of them was that the scuffle was a publicity stunt that got out of hand.”
Tobias stared into his whiskey.
“You guys know best,” he said. “I don’t know how you do it anyway. This is a freaking mess with court cases hanging over their heads and the public—”
“The thing is, Uncle Tobias—”
He frowned and then tossed back the finger left of his whiskey. “Please, Jacy. We’re both adults. Stop calling me Uncle Tobias. You make me feel like an old man.”
“Wow,” I said in surprise. I had no idea Tobias felt that way. “If that’s what you want.”
“I do,” he affirmed with a nod of his head.
“Then that’s what you get. Us Alexanders aim to please.”
He closed his eyes then for a second and took another breath. What was wrong with him?
“You okay?”
“Yes. It was a late night for me.”
He dropped me off at eleven, so it wasn’t that late. Well, it was for me because my body was still on New York time. It felt like two in the morning to my jet-lagged self, but with my schedule, that’s almost normal.
“Up late?” I asked and a blush came to his cheeks. Now I was getting worried. I marched over to the couch and laid my hand on his forehead.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Checking to see if you have a fever.”
He waved me off. “I’m fine.”
When did Tobias get so touchy?
“Have it your way,” I said. Tobias’s refusal annoyed me. It’s not like I’ve never touched the man. But then again I never wanted to lay my hands on him as I do right now.
But maybe he’s picking up on your feelings for him.
I brush the ridiculous stray thought out of mind. I’ve only ever shown Tobias familial affection.
“Anyway, members of the team think and I agree that we should spin this incident as a publicity stunt gone wrong for an upcoming Battle of the Bands concert between Arcane, Obsidian, and Clash.”
Tobias raised an eyebrow.
“And just who is going to back this concert?”
“The team is on it.”
“You want to put three bands with animus toward each other on the same stage?” His voice carried disbelief, and I don’t blame him. When I first heard the idea, I wasn’t keen on it either. This proposition carried a high risk. All it took was one more scene like the other day, and whatever venue we hired would cancel out. And the insurance too. No one wants to back an event that carried a risk for violence.
“Yes, and do promotional spots with each other.”
Tobias’s face showed me just what he thought of the idea, which was not encouraging.
“Ms. Alexander,” said my father’s secretary, Nadine, “Mr. Kane is here.”
“How about Mr. Dys, and Mr. Holmes?” I asked
“Not—sorry. They just got off the elevator.”
“Show them in.”
“Okay, Unc- I mean Tobias. Game face on. We’ve got a concert to sell.”
I gave Tobias my best “this is business, no-nonsense” glance and he sat taller in his seat and put on his lawyer’s face. It was the expression that said, “I’m not going to tell you how serious it is so as not to scare you, but I think we are all fucked, so straighten up.” I smirked because Tobias and my father would try the same shit on me when I was a teen and acting up.
There may have been a totaled car involved.
Nadine opened the door, and the rockers swaggered in, and when I say strutted it was just that. They strolled in like rock gods, which they were, and their attitude showed it. Oh, they may dress in de rigueur designer jeans and tee shirts looking like ordinary schlubs, but they pranced as if they wore Armani instead of JCrew. Blond haired Cole walked in first and slid his sunglasses down his nose and stared at me.
“Who are you? Where is Frank?” he grated with a voice filled with last night’s drinking binge.
“That,” said Jersey Dys, “is the big man’s daughter.” He didn’t add the word “dick” at the end of his sentence, but it sounds like he could have. “Jacine,” he said smoothly. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
He moved forward and gave me a very un-LA kiss on the cheek. It was a little too friendly and lingered too long. But the way his cologne slipped up my nose, and how he angled his hips toward me with the slightest touch of his hands on my hips made me want him to slide those lips toward mine.
“It’s lovely to see you too, Jersey,” I said in my best ‘this is business’ voice.
“Shot down!” said Cole too enthusiastically.
“What are you, twelve?” said Rory as he found a place on the sofa.
“Jack-ass,” snapped Cole.
Rory scoffed.
“Gentlemen,” I said. “This meeting is just about this kind of shit.”
The cuss word shouldn’t have shocked them, but it did. In an instant, all three rock gods gave me their rapt attention.
“And,” I continued, “the nonsense that happened the other night. Do you not realize how this affects your sales? How your fans reacted?”
“Don’t you worry about our fans, Jacine,” said Cole dismissively. “They like to see a little dust-up.”
“Do I have to remind you that if not for your lawyers, you’d be in jail right now?”
“Jacine,” said Jersey, “last I looked you aren’t my mother.”
“No, Jersey, I’m in charge of your PR.”
“What about Mr. Alexander?” said Rory.
“He’s in the hospital—from a heart attack—due to stress.”
I gave these rockers my legendary death stare, and all shifted in their seats like the adult toddlers they were. Tobias watched the scene with amusement in his eyes.
“You can’t—” started Cole.
“Don’t go there,” said Rory. “She’s right. You know it. Shit got too deep.”
“You’re right, Rory,” I said. “Take a look at this.”
I picked up the remote sitting on the edge of my father’s desk and clicked on the collection of YouTubes and the twitter feed with the hashtag #rockerruckus. The team put together the worst of them to drive home a point. I had the video cued, and the sound pushed up high to grab their attention.
“You fucking asshole,” screamed Cole. “Get the fuck out of this restaurant. I don’t want to see your ugly face while I’m trying to eat, you sick fuck.”
“Fuck you!” yelled Jersey. “It’s a fucking public restaurant.”
“Guys,” said Rory.
“Shut up!” retorted Cole and Jersey in unison.
“Leave him alone,” snorted Cole.
“I don’t need your protection, Cole,” said Rory. He raised his hands and backed away.
“Enough,” said Jersey. “I get the point.”
“Do you?” I said. I wasn’t willing to stop my tutorial. I fast forward past the part where Cole chased Jersey through the restaurant with a raised chair, and when Rory convinced Cole to put it down, Jersey smashed him in the face. The twitter feed came up and some of the worst popped up in animation all under the hashtag #rockstarruckus
Grow the fuck up!
I can’t let my teen listen to you now.
Do you kiss your mama with your potty mouth?
On it went, displaying the overwhelming number of fans disgusted with the three grown men’s action.
“We’ve got to get control of this,” I said.
“Yeah, you can control it,” snapped Cole. “Get rid of these other two fuckers.”
“You’re nuts,” said Jersey. “You’re the one that needs to go.”
“Fuck that,” said Rory. “You two were the biggest asses.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You don’t seem to understand. This problem now belongs to the three of you. You need to handle it together, or you’ll all be box office poison.”
They all stared at me as if I asked them to climb the Matterhorn naked. But then Jersey nodded.
“And what do you want us to do?” he said.
“I have an idea, and my team is working on it right now. But I want to spin last night as a publicity stunt gone wrong for a battle of the bands concert and your bands are the featured players.”