Tudor Rose (The Tudor Dynasty Series) Page 7

  “Good Morning.” He looks down at me. “Did you enjoy what I showed you last night?”

  “Yes, very much. And just now too.” I lay there enjoying his kisses. “I love you so much.” I intensify my grip on him as I let my feelings expel.

  “And I love you Zara, more than I can ever tell you.” He withdraws from me and rolls on his side still holding on to me. He’s caressing me and I spread my legs letting him know what I want.

  “Better now?” he asks, his mission accomplished. I respond with some unintelligible response. We fall back asleep for a while. When we do wake up, it’s still early enough that we decide to drive into Monaco for the day. It’s our last day in France and the beginning of a new phase in our lives.

  We arrive in Seattle early in the morning, having taken a direct, red-eye out of New York after landing from Paris. Amadeus sleeps almost the entire flight. I’m envious he can do that, but I conclude that all of the intimate physical activity we’ve been engaged in the past week may have something to do with it.

  Returning to the condo and getting all our luggage and other stuff settled inside, I find my way to the dining room table.

  “Do you want to make a to-do list, people we need to call today?” he asks me, sitting down in one of the upholstered chairs.

  I sit next to him at the side closest to him. I set the legal pad I’ve been carrying on the table in front of me.

  “Yes, we should call Robert. At some point in time, you want to try and call the guys again?” Before we left Amadeus had tried to contact the members of Tudor Rose, but had been unsuccessful. The only answer he got out of them was their voice mail.

  “Let’s talk to Robert, then we’ll decide, okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  We find Robert back in Manhattan, and he’s been waiting to hear from us. After a couple minutes of light banter, we get down to business.

  “I guess I’ll start with Artie and his shadow Brad first.” Robert begins. “Seattle PD arrested them on quite a few charges.”

  “So they’re in jail?” Amadeus asks.

  “No, they both made bail, I’m afraid, A. Zara, you and A need to contact Detective Nix for the details.”

  “Okay.” I reply, watching how A’s going to react, but he’s just sitting quietly, doodling on the paper, listening.

  “What about my former band mates, Robert? And where am I in all of this?”

  “They are still without a recording contract and renamed themselves “Cranky Babies” or something like that. Artie’s been getting them gigs, and he’s been trying to pump the split with you the same way he was, but nothing seems to be working for him.”

  “Cranky Babies”, interesting choice. Suits them. At least they had the sense not to continue using Tudor Rose.” I add.

  “Well, I’d like to talk with them, but I guess Artie’s not having that. So onward, what’s next Robert?”

  “Everything on your end is cool, A. I’ve about got all the kinks worked out with the tour. You’ll need to hold auditions before long for a house band. Everything’s pretty much open until after the first of the year for you.”

  “Not acceptable Robert,” I find my former management skills kicking in. “Amadeus’ name has to be kept out there until then, some interviews, guest spots late night.”

  “I agree Zara. Um, we were thinking of putting a CD together and getting it out before Christmas. A, you’ve got a lot of stuff recorded without Tudor Rose.”

  I’m looking over at him. He looks up at me, nodding his head. He thinks it’s a terrific idea.

  “Is there a chance I could convince the two of you to travel to New York? We could all meet, and A, you could go through some of the music while you are here.”

  “Sit down and what, devise a strategy for next year?” A asks as he’s doodling.

  “Exactly. And one other thing, Amadeus, you need to hook up with a management and publicity firm. There’s a lot of stuff I just can’t handle that’s out of the scope of the label. Be thinking about it. So, when do you think you can come?”

  “I’ll get back to you Robert. Would next week work for you? And as far as A’s management slash publicity team? You’re talking to her.” I can’t believe what’s just rolled off my tongue. What am I crazy? The room is silent for a minute.

  Amadeus hasn’t moved. He’s still focused on the pad in front of him as he’s drawing, but he’s smiling as he continues.

  “Zara?” I hear Robert’s voice finally.

  “What? Amadeus had two management teams, one you and I hand-picked, which I might add, turned out to be a nightmare. I’m not going to sit and watch that happen again. So, unless A has a problem, I’m his manager and publicist and you can start referring people to me.”

  “A, what do you think? The two of you being, uh, so close isn’t going to be a problem?”

  “Robert,” Amadeus starts, “No. As far as our personal relationship, well, Zara and I got married while we were in France.”

  “Well, congrats you two, although I must say it doesn‘t come as a huge surprise. Zara, you call me once things are set up.”

  We sit looking at one another. Amadeus takes my hand and squeezes, those haunting blue eyes watching me. He’s trying to keep his excitement in check.

  “Oops, that slipped out!” He’s laughing like a naughty boy. “Who else do we need to rattle?”

  “You know who. I think we need to make the first move and phone his people.” I was talking about Amadeus’ new biggest fan, the famed artist, Peter McNicol, who is interested in working with A. I place a call to his Manhattan apartment and talk with his contact person John. I let him know Amadeus is off the road and home and leave my number. Now we wait.

  With the cupboards looking pitiful and neither of the two of us wanting to venture out to a restaurant, I order a pizza. We sit on the floor in the living room feasting on what we’re sure is the best pizza ever made. Having had our fill, we lean back against the sofa, like two satisfied ticks.

  Knowing his parents are due a call affirming our return, he leaves a message.

  The following morning I’m up at the crack of dawn, leaving Amadeus peacefully sleeping. I shut the bedroom door, and after making a pot of coffee, I start sorting clothes for washing. A couple of hours and several loads later, I’m taking a break, sipping yet another cup of coffee when he wanders into the living room.

  “Any coffee left?” he inquires, rubbing his hands across his face, attempting to wake himself up after probably one of the longest night’s sleep he’s had.

  “It’s been sitting a while. Let me go make a fresh pot.” He nods, taking hold of my mug and finishing the remainder as I head to the kitchen.

  Returning bearing a carafe and mug, I sit next to him, pouring a fresh cup and handing it to him and repeating the process for myself.

  “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long.”

  “I couldn’t sleep so I started doing laundry.”

  We turn our attention to New York. Preparing to leave the next morning, my phone goes off and at the other end is Peter McNichol himself. Learning we’re on our way to Manhattan for a short number of days, he invites Amadeus and I to his apartment for lunch and conversation. I frantically jot down his information. The wheels are in motion.

  ******

  Hours later and at the other side of the country, my Manhattan apartment is a delightful diversion to the “city that never sleeps.” Months have passed since I stepped foot inside. Thank goodness I had sense enough to enlist my dear friend and neighbor, Kim to schedule her housekeeper to give my place a good scrubbing. I’m sure twelve inches of dust have accumulated. And she didn’t disappoint.

  Entering, I was relieved the apartment didn’t tattle that no one has been there recently. Quite the opposite, it smelled fresh and looked neat as a pin. A one bedroom flat with a large, airy living room with a not so bad view of the city. Kim, bless her heart had the foresight to make sure we’d have dinner tonight, having left a huge
meal from a local Italian restaurant Kim and I frequent when I’m in town. A bottle of red wine sits on the counter, completing the meal.

  Staying in for the night, Amadeus and I share dinner on the coffee table. Lacking room for both a dining room table and a desk, I chose to use that area as my home office since, if I do eat in when I’m home, I’m not fancy. Having cleaned up after our meal I take the time to ready myself and Amadeus for what lies ahead.

  Lunch with Peter McNichol is scheduled for tomorrow, followed by our meeting with Robert and others at Amadeus’ label. Now that I’ve taken him on as my client organization and planning for both events is crucial.

  “A, once we know exactly what Peter is considering for the two of you, our meeting with Robert and Joe will flow better. I don’t want to bring Peter into the mix if we don’t have a plan with him. If there is a plan, we’ll include part of it.”

  “Advise them you’re scheduling around Peter.”

  “Exactly. If we leave Peter tomorrow and everything is kind of up in the air, I’ll merely mention there are some other ideas we’re considering. Should we have something firm, I’ll bring them in on what they need to know.” I reply, typing notes as fast as I can.

  “Well, Mrs. Tudor, as my manager, I’ll leave the details to you. As my wife, why don’t you wind things up for tonight?” He stands from the chrome and leather Italian chair strategically placed at the side of my desk, stretching his long frame.

  “I am, just let me finish these notes and print them, and I’m done.”

  Chapter Seven

  Peter McNichol’s Manhattan apartment is nothing as I imagined. Modestly furnished for a man who can afford anything, the space doubles as his New York office, which is what you walk into when you first enter his home. The living area is independent and private. He greets us in the living room, which is inviting with family photos throughout and drawings from his grandchildren. The three of us chat for a while until lunch is ready. We take our discussion into the dining room to enjoy a delicious vegetarian meal, a first for both Amadeus and me.

  Our conversation turns to business as we relax enjoying our tea. Peter has obviously thought this out in considerable detail.

  “Amadeus, I want to get together and see what we can come up with. I don’t know your schedule, but I’m pretty open through the end of January. How would you and Zara like to come over to England? You’ll stay at my farm, and we will use my studio and see what we can bang out. Sound all right with you?” He’s looking at both of us for an answer, sipping his tea.

  “Yes, sounds good to me.” Amadeus replies, glancing in my direction for guidance. “Zara, can we do it?”

  “Yes of course. Your schedule is wide open as well until after the New Year.”

  “Fantastic!” Peter exclaims. I love his accent and the cadence of his voice. I could listen to him speak all day. “I’ll get the wheels in motion. One other thing to ask, I’d like to invite Amadeus to perform at my upcoming charity event.”

  I am speechless, as is A. Peter holds a large concert late every year, an annual event. Artists are not paid, they give their time. The media exposure alone makes participating priceless. He holds the event in New York City and the whole production is taped for later broadcast on television.

  Amadeus does not wait to give his response to such a prestigious occasion. “Yes, I’d be honored to perform.”

  The two of us leave floating we’re so thrilled. Peter tells us he’ll have someone get with us on the details for both his benefit and our trip to England.

  This is exactly what Amadeus needs as he embarks on this new phase of his career. Not only is he going to be writing with Peter McNichol, he’s been invited to perform at what is claimed to be the most sought after invite of the year.

  At the home office of Magnum Entertainment, Amadeus’ record label, we are greeted by Robert who walks us to a conference room. Joe Anthony is the only person I remember other than Magnum’s resident attorney, Max Wilson.

  Robert chairs the meeting and does not waste time doing so, after congratulating the two of us he gets down to the business at hand.

  “Okay, we’ve got tons to cover, so let’s get started. We’ve been able to rework the tour, moving all the missed dates to after the first of the year. We allowed refunds on tickets because we’re sure these folks will repurchase.”

  “Is there a definite start date?” I inquire, knowing full well they do.

  “January 28th in Dallas,” Robert replies.

  “We’d like to put out a CD before the tour. Amadeus finished lots of tracks without Tudor Rose we can use.” Joe Martin announces.

  “Amadeus, your thoughts?” Robert asks, knowing his client is a perfectionist and won’t settle with mediocre work, not up to his high standards.

  “Well, I need to listen before I commit. I don’t want to put stuff out if it looks like we’re rushing to get new material out and the songs are crap.”

  “Can you do that while you’re in Manhattan?” Joe pushes, the executive in him unveiling itself.

  A looks at me for an answer. “Yeah, I’ll find time. We’re not scheduled to leave for two days.”

  “Good,” Robert replies, now the next part of course will be exposure. We’ll need to get a photo shoot set up for the cover shot and all.”

  “Perhaps I can set something up with a photographer in Seattle unless the process has started here?” I ask, adding, “I’ve also got some photos I want to use in the CD and his PR packet.”

  “Do you have someone in mind or a concept?” Joe asks as he’s scribbling notes on his legal pad.

  “I’ve got a couple of people in mind, along with a concept. I’ll get back to you once I cement everything.”

  Robert takes us off course on to an altogether different matter.

  “Max will address this next issue.”

  Max sits up, his position changing to that of a lawyer. He’s got my attention piqued.

  “I don’t know any other way to deal with this than to dive right in. Amadeus, Zara, remember the threats sent to you? Well, they’ve resumed. This time the authorities are involved.” He pushes a photo copy of two notes across the table. We read them, and A turns them over. He’s visibly shaken by the news. His features are hard, jaw clamped, a muscle twitching along the jaw line.

  “What now?” he asks of no one in particular.

  Max continues, “Be aware of your surroundings. Zara, since you took on security last time, just be in tune to those around you. It may be nothing, but that’s why I brought in the authorities. The media are not being told a thing.”

  I nod, glancing over at A, whose position hasn’t changed.

  “Zara, you got anything lined up for Amadeus other than what we’ve been talking about here?” Robert asks, trying to get Amadeus’ mind off all that Max has just delivered.

  “Yes, I do, and it’s pretty damn exciting. I think ya’ll remember Peter McNichol met with us after one of Tudor Rose’s concerts. Well, he and Amadeus are going to get together and write. And,” I tease with the next item, “Peter invited Amadeus to perform at his annual charity concert this year.”

  “Wow,that is incredible Zara. I know you said yes! When…” Robert starts, but I shut things down not wanting to give away everything.

  “Details are being worked out as we speak. We’re both stoked about all of this.”

  “I see,” Joe beams, “that’s wonderful news. Peter McNichol. Wow is all I can say! One last thing Amadeus, a band. Are you going to put together another one like Tudor Rose or just a group to back you up?”

  “I think a backup band is all I need for now. Zara and I are considering Los Angeles or Seattle for holding auditions, depending on what we can come up with as far as a studio or warehouse to conduct them in.”

  “Great, just call if you need anything from us.”

  We leave the office a short while later pleased with the progress being made, except for one, the “stalker” or whoever put Amadeus on their rad
ar. I am however, determined not to let this one hiccup ruin the good things going on.

  The next two days go by fast. Amadeus spends a couple of afternoons in Magnum’s studio listening to what could be added to a new CD. Fortunately, Amadeus is meticulous in his craft and with some tweaking from the engineers it will sound even better.

  While he’s working, I put a schedule together for the remainder of the year. Auditions we decide will be held in Seattle rather than setting up in yet another location. If musicians are truly interested, they’ll come. I discreetly put notices out in various trade publications and by word of mouth.

  The only large omissions from my schedule are our trip to meet up with Peter McNichol and the where we’ll be over the upcoming holidays. I’ll speak with Amadeus on what his family does as far as getting together and I need to talk to Grace about details.

  Upon returning to Seattle, our pace of life is not as laid back as before, but perfection is in charge, all comes together, and everything is accomplished.

  I’m waiting at home for Amadeus to return from a dental appointment when I get a call from Grace.