Only the best (closed-PM if interested)

[zydrate]

Sasha Hart was the next big thing. Since the age of 12, she had been an overnight sensation. Her first public appearance was a local talent show where she had won first place. And from there, it just seemed to skyrocket her fame.

Now, at the age of 18, she was going to be heading out on her first big tour where she would be head-lining it. The thing was, her tour would take her through Germany, the UK, China and then finally down to Australia with an over night detour in Cairo before heading back to Mexico, United States and Canada.

The tour was no trouble at all. The opening acts were booked as was the road crew. The only thing the record company had trouble with was the security. Sure, there was the rent-a-cops along the way but they could only do so much and really, they were not willing to risk their lives for anything.

And that was probably fine for some other act. But not for Sasha Hart. Her talent was true. She didn't sync any of her music, she didn't fake it, her music was real. It was different than anything out there. Her voice was suited for just about anything, from Jazz to Blues to matching even some of the best 'pop' stars are there today.

That was why only the best was to be hired to take care of her, make sure she was well protected.

Of course rumor super ceded anything that wasn't remotely true. Some said that Sasha was a diva. Well, she wasn't. If anything, she was down to Earth, simple but because of those managing her career, they made sure the best was hired so she could sell....sell music and sell the label.

She was their star. She needed protection. Only the best would do.

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Sasha Hart? Never heard of her. Mason Cormier recalled his thoughts the first time he had been contacted by the record label about providing tour security for the world's next big superstar. When told she was some cross between a Disney child star and a bona fide rock star, he couldn't possibly imagine whether the money to be paid would be worth the headache of thousands of screaming kids and everything that came with a diva's world tour.

Mason had been groomed for security in far more intense tour settings. A dozen years in the military, seven of those as a SEAL handling special operations against terrorists in far flung places around the world, he wasn't afraid of anyone. That was never the issue. Since leaving the military he had opened a private consulting organization that provided security across the globe. Heads of state, businessmen, dignitaries, ambassadors, all used his services, or those of his subcontractors. And while rock and roll roadshows were not necessarily his target clientele, it was a straightforward job that would pay every bit as much as anything else he had going on. Most jobs were a weekend here or there. Escort a cabinet secretary overseas once. Accompany the head coach of a rival program into and out of the Rose Bowl for a week. A world tour would be extensive, lasting the better part of a year, and pay for every minute of that time, with far lower risk than guarding a plane taking off in Darfur or Kabul. Of course he wanted the job. But who was Sasha Hart?

The label exec laughed when he asked, before explaining how big she was supposed to be, or how big she was going to soon be. Whatever, he thought. He promptly emailed the proposal on the date the bid was due and the documents came back signed and a check for the first $200k came with it. The label provided a large dossier of information on the girl as well. Mason pulled the folder from its packaging and laid it out on his workstation. Turning the cover, he found a full color tour promo shot of the girl he would be charged with protecting for the next year. His eyebrows raised in mild surprise. She was cute. No doubt the tour would be full of issues dealing with keeping college boys at bay, as well as the dads of the little girls that were allowed to go to Sasha's shows.

Thirty days later, he had been flown by the label to Los Angeles, to meet with the star herself, and her handlers, and he would then have a week's advance time to pull together the remaining details of the tour's security, beginning with the tour's first shows in Munich and Berlin. He sat in a holding room in the label's offices, with an executive and one of the girl's personal assistants. He sipped a glass of water as he sat, swiveling in his chair. After forty-five minutes, he turned to the assistant. He thought her name was Jaimee.

"Where's she at?" He asked. The assistant rolled her eyes at his impatience.

"She'll be here any time."


http://www.wrestling-online.com/News/wp-content/uploads/cmpunk2.jpg

 

[zydrate]

Sasha had been cooped up in the small office she had been assigned most of the morning dealing with shit from the execs from the label and the planning committee regarding the last stages of the concert. In her mind, it should have been simple. In the execs minds, they hadn't planned on Ms. Hart being involved this much with everything. But,she did and now they had to deal with her wanting to be involved in EVERYTHING.

That included the meetings about the tour. The meetings about the costumes, the meetings about the music.

She refused to be one of those that let everyone do everything for her.

"No Blake! I just don't understand why it's so hard to understand that that's not how I had planned it! I talked to everyone and even the sound engineers said it wouldn't be a problem!"

Listening to Blake tell her that they knew what they were doing and things were different when in the final planning stages, especially when it was so close for the tour to kick off. Again, the talk. She couldn't have everything her way.

"Fine. But you know what? This is bullshit Blake. Absolute bullshit. Just be lucky if I sign again with you people once my contract is up!" With that, she slammed the desk phone down and buried her head in her hands on top of the desk. This couldn't be worth the headache she felt coming on, could it?

The phone rang and Sasha picked it up, answering in a still pissed off voice, “What?!”

"Sasha?" came a timid voice from the other end of the phone.

God, it was that brown nosing little shit, Alec. Alec with a C. Looking up from the desk, Sasha smiled. She refused to let anyone see her when she was down. "Hey Alec, what is it?"

"Your new security guy is here." He said, sounding as nervous as ever, "And he's waiting in the conference room 3."

"OK, thanks..." Sasha said as she hung up. She grabbed the folder with her new head of security's information on it but before leaving for the conference room.

Opening the door to the conference room, Sasha entered and saw the man, “Sorry to keep you waiting...I'm Sasha." She waved to the chairs, "Let's have a seat and we can talk some more, sound good?"

After they had a seat, she set his folder down next to her on the couch, "So, again, sorry to keep you waiting... Mr.." she looked at the folder again, “Cormier, Mason Cormier.”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Mason tapped his thumbs on the conference room table for a few moments, then got up and wandered around the room, checking out the various accoutrements and accessories that had been purchased at some high end craft store for the sole purpose of authentic looking decor. He noticed an African walking stick on one wall of the label's conference room, and a purportedly matching didgeridoo along the large wall. He smirked to himself, knowing they weren't real. He had seen authentic artifacts such as these in the depths of Africa when he had been covert, hunting down terrorists by blending into the country side among tribal peoples. He prided himself on being able to identify real versus facsimile. Fakes weren't his thing, though he could find them amusing personally. But such things were of no matter, and he stood and wandered around the table to the large window overlooking the largest city on the West Coast.

Where is this little bitch at? He thought to himself. He didn't concern himself with his growing, unnerved attitude. His company was the best and he would not be in jeopardy of losing the job. If he did, he had suffered greater indignities. He wondered how close he would have to be to the diva. He wondered how close he could get, allowing his mind to flash over a memory of her athletic form which he had seen in the material he had studied to prepare for this meeting. Time passed and Mason would glance at the assistant as if to ask what exactly the delay was, his eyes meeting hers every few moments, though refusing to say anything in a silent I-told-you-so. Finally, after he had turned back to look over the city and the distant ocean once more, he heard the door open, then spun around.

“Sorry to keep you waiting," the girl said. Mason gave her a quick once over, sizing her up, noticing she was more enticing in person and less like a little girl, though her youth was apparent and, no doubt, appealing. "I'm Sasha." He nodded and shook her hand, saying nothing, just before she suggested they sit down. He allowed her to sit first, then soon followed, sitting across from her. "So, again," she said, her voice direct and calm, all business. "Sorry to keep you waiting, mister...." she glanced at the folder before her. “Cormier, Mason Cormier.”

"That's right," he said, his hands folded patiently one atop the other on the table before him, a zen pose he had mastered in order to be unassuming, the center of power, and the epitome of calm. He took in the girl's face. He was careful to make eye contact. Thoughts ran through his mind. He wondered if she could really sing. He knew Britney Spears couldn't from the concert he had worked for her at Madison Square Garden. He wondered if she wrote her own songs. He knew Taylor Swift did from the time he guarded her estate during creation of her last album. He wondered if she swallowed. He knew Jennifer Lawrence did from......well, that was for another day. He pushed aside his questions and focused on the task at hand, his eyes roaming over her outfit when a furtive glance allowed him to do so without being caught, while she had been glancing at his information. "And it's no problem," he finally said about her tardiness. "I know from experience the recording stars are about only themselves most times." His eyes held to hers, not backing down from her intense demeanor. He wondered what it might take to help her relax, though he knew already that she was all business and would be tough to crack. "But I suspect things will go smoothly on this tour," he continued, clipping his brief opening introduction. "I already like what I know about your act," he semi-lied, having only known what her own tour manager had produced to him. "And I like what I see," he said, elusively, raising the information packet up a split beat after his words, leaving them vague. "We should be just fine together," he said, leaving her to interpret his words.

 

[zydrate]

"I know from experience the recording stars are about only themselves most times."

With that statement, Sasha looked up from Mason's resume and quirked an eyebrow. Placing her pen on the table, she sat back and looked at him as he spoke. Her eyes never leaving his. She hid a smirk about what he said about liking her act.

“Well, I'm glad you think so.” She said as she stood up and walked over to the large window, crossing her arms as she looked out at the city. The room was silent for a few more minutes before she turned around to face him again. So this was the guy that was supposed to be watching her.

As it was, it seemed like he didn't think much of her other than a paycheck. Sure, according to his resume, it was damn good but would he take this all seriously? He didn't even know that she had changed some of the act around. And besides, being in this business for what seemed like forever, Sasha saw her share of bullshit and her gut told her this had disaster written all over it.

With a deep breath, she regarded her new head of security, “Listen, Mr. Cormier, I see a lot bullshit every day and I have to put up with it because it's part of the job. Now, if it were up to me, I would prefer to pass on the high priced security and just go with the rent-a-cops. But my agent is taking a few common threats a little too seriously, in my opinion. All this is, it's a tour, plain and simple. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Now...all I need to know is that you can do your job and everything will be fine.”

 

[CarnivalBarker]

Mason's eyes never left hers as she leaned back, as if quizzing him silently. He never backed down, nor felt the need to here. She was as cute in person as she was in the material he had reviewed, but in person she smoldered a bit more. He allowed himself the indulgence of checking out her lithe form, athletic from all the movement her show required, as she sauntered across the room, past the end of the table, and stood to look over the city near where he had been only a short while before. He thought she had a great ass. And he was certain he wasn't the only one who did. The difference was, it would soon be his job to keep them off of it, though he made no guarantee of his own restraint.

“Listen, Mr. Cormier, I see a lot bullshit every day," the girl said, breaking the brief silence. He smirked because his company was the best in the world at what it did. "and I have to put up with it because it's part of the job." She continued. "Now, if it were up to me, I would prefer to pass on the high priced security and just go with the rent-a-cops. But my agent is taking a few common threats a little too seriously, in my opinion. All this is, it's a tour, plain and simple. Nothing more, nothing less.” Mason ran through the details of the dossier he had reviewed as she continued her spiel. “Now...all I need to know is that you can do your job and everything will be fine.” Mason swiveled in his chair, facing her once more, able to take in the full length of her body, head to toe, as she remained at the window, half looking over her shoulder at him. His smile remained a split second before addressing her statement.

"Three months ago, I had a crew defending the Deputy Ambassador to Israel on a trip to the Netherlands," he let the statement hang in the air. "The reason was because the United States had received information that he was a target for a new group of terrorists out of Western Europe because of comments he had made two weeks before against Russia and their involvement in Syria. Threat was imminent. Something was going to happen. All we did not know was when, or where. We made it to the Netherlands and once there, we were shown to a holding room in the airport. This stop had not been on our itinerary for the trip, so it was odd." He paused at length, saying nothing more.

"What happened?" the singer's assistant said, breaking the tension in the room.

"Ten minutes after we sat down, three of my men opened the door and escorted us to our location." He smiled again then waited until it was clear nobody in the room understood. "My men had identified the attackers and killed them before they could try anything. One was acting as a ticketing agent, another as a traveler in the airport, and a third as the information director for the airlines. We got 'em all." He turned back and put his hands on the table, proud of himself. He looked back at Sasha Hart, wondering now what her body felt like, how experienced she might be, though he realized such thoughts were fleeting moments to simply amuse himself. He returned to the subject at hand.

"Vype Security has been 99% effective in its assignments. The one we missed was the time a huge A/C unit fell on our client's wife in a warehouse where she had gathered with some others to inspect something their company was producing. Neither I nor anyone else can account for freak events or acts of God." His eyes met with Sasha's once more. "Your record provided tells me that you have a stalker in Miami, three death threats originating out of Sao Paulo, and some kid who has offered to marry you seven times in the past two years, who lives in Houston, Texas and is now of age to obtain a passport, a gun, and a rental car. Now we are in a different city from all of those, and your tour only hits Miami this year. But last week the stalker was arrested on violation of a VPO and sentenced to one year house arrest, the men in Sao Paolo are now in custody of Interpol on other charges, and the kid in Houston got his passport denied." He paused once again. He stood up and walked to a nearby setup and poured a glass of water. "Miss Hart, I am already doing my job." He looked her up and down, not too concerned whether or not she noticed or took great offense. Certainly she was not only a talent but a shrewd business person who knew that part of her appeal was the body she revealed in significant part on stage and the suggestion that she was the type of girl who could be had if you worked for it. The same dynamic had made stars big stars, and had made big stars into legends. "And if I do my job well, then I know that you can do what you're good at too."

He imagined she would be good at a lot of things.