Players:
Special Guests: Courtney Heather Collier and Bill Cook.
Summary: Kisha tries to milk Mason's manager for money.
Date: Sunday, December 19, 2010.
Log Title: Cut a Deal
Rating: PG
Salem Center - The Grind Stone
The Grind Stone is a quaint little coffee shop with tables surrounded by various shape chares and even a few couches with coffee tables. Baristas in yellow aprons are ready to take anyone's order from a latte to a hot chocolate to one of their many specialty drinks.
Kisha gives an innocent look. "You make it sound like I've never blackmailed anyone before," she says cheerfully, having come out of the whole disaster with nothing to show in the way of injuries. "And if it really comes down to it I'm sort of friends with this very scary lady who killed a half dozen men with automatic weapons."
A finger is pointed at Kisha. "No threatening my manager. He's a tool, but I still have to work with him," Mason says before slowly opening the door. He pulls his red lens sunglasses off, his defense against fangirls in public, and drops his hoody down and checks his hair unconsciously, propping the door open with his foot for Kisha to enter first as he does. "Besides, so far I think my mom likes you, and if you behave yourself, she might step in and help you out." He gives a casual wink and graciously motions for the technoempath to enter first.
"She has terrible taste in people. Besides you can /always/ find new managers they're like weeds," Kisha informs blandly, her touchpad computer tucked under her arm (thanks to a very relaxing Saturday spent repairing all the Magneto inflicted damage). "As for behaving… I'll behave all right." She steps into the cafe like she's the one calling the shots, her gaze sweeping the room to check for anything suspicious, pausing on her way to the table to get a giant espresso.
Mason just shakes his head as Kisha walks past him into the cafe, and follows her in. He hooks his sunglasses over his shirt collar. "Hey Bill," he says in a moderate voice. It hurts to yell too much. "Hey mom." Mason puts one sore foot in front of the other as he makes his way to the counter. Bill stands up, a smile on his face. "Kisha! It's good to meet you," he offers warmly. "I hear you are quite the student at Mason's school. And you're in a study group with him as well? I'm sure he can use all the help he can get. We don't want him failing his classes. Isn't that right, Mason?"
"Kisha, you want anything to drink?" Mason asks without acknowledging the belittling comment. He steps up to the girl at the counter. Her eyes go wide, and she looks around, wondering if anybody else has noticed what she's noticed. Mason puts a finger to his lips, "I'm just here for a chai latte," he says. She nods, not knowing what to say, but a broad smile crosses her face.
Having mentioned her order to the guy behind the counter Kisha promptly says "He's paying." Then picking herself a chair with good views of the cafe and no-one behind her. "And I have heard various things about you Mr Cook. Enough to know your salary is probably going to get pushed up to the hundred and fifty thousand dollar mark with all the publicity of late."
Mason pays for the drinks, he was planning to anyway, and goes to wait at the counter. His mom stands up and joins him. "Sweetie, why don't you have a seat, I'll get these. You don't need to be walking around so much," she says tenderly. "I'm fine, Mom," he contests. "Have a seat, Mason," is the answer, not as tenderly. The blond teen rolls his eyes, and makes his way to the fourth seat between Bill and where his mother was sitting, placing him opposite from Kisha.
"I've heard some things about you, as well," Bill answers, taking another sip of his mocha. "I can't promise my salary will go up any. Especially if Mason keeps getting himself shot." After all, it's the second time inside of a month. "You ain't bulletproof, kid." Bill points a finger at Mason. His tone is jovial and teasing. He doesn't seem to be too much of a 'jerk' demeanor, but Mason's tone remains rather neutral. "But I do what I can to help him get his much deserved spotlight."
"Which brings us neatly onto my reason for being here. I have in my possession /complete/ footage from every camera from the stage set up and a few additional ones fitted last minute. Outside of the footage I expect Magneto to have I suspect this is probably the most comprehensive set of pictures of the attack on the concert," Kisha states matter of factly. "Now I've done a little research and you can bet that most major news channels would pay well for it. But as Mason is a classmate I thought I would offer his 'people' the first offer." She says people as if it's a dirty word. "My fee, which I'm sure your company can afford, is fifty thousand dollars. Oh and Mr Steele to receive complete creative control on his next album, no dumbing down for the market."
Bill lets out a laugh and pats Mason on the shoulder, causing him to wince a little from the impact. It seems that the star is more interested in the last thing that Kisha said, a little surprised himself. "I like her," Bill tells Mason. "She's a keeper." He leans back in his chair, and takes another sip of his mocha. "Well," he answers, taking a moment to look inspecifically up at the ceiling in thought. "First, I think it's great that you're standing behind Mason with his music. You're a great friend."
"However," Bill continues. "I think you're going to have trouble finding any news station going to pay fifty thousand dollars, or anyone else for that matter. The news is two days old, and it's already old news. Besides, if they bought it, that'd just mean I wouldn't have to buy it at all." Mason's mom returns with the drinks, and puts them down in front of Kisha and Mason before taking her seat again with a proper looking posture. "Second, the record company is the one who gets to make the call on whether they produce an album. Not me."
"Well. Here's the thing," Kisha says sweetly. "Firstly I don't really care for Mason either way. We go to the same school and that's it. And secondly the /real/ news story that hasn't come up is what you'd be paying the money for. It's also what you'll personally beg your record company for." She pauses to ensure she has Bills complete attention. "Changes to your stage arrangements indicate that your security staff and by extension your firm knew the attack would occur and still went ahead with the gig. Who do you think will lose his job when even a hint of this comes out Mr Cook?"
Mason arches his brow at Kisha, and gives her a look. One of those looks. Bill is listening, but he smirks. "Don't try to threaten me, kid," he answers. "I've been doing these dances a lot longer than you. "We didn't know any more about the attack than you did. We were just taking extra precautions since the last concert was attacked. Even if you tried to sell that to the news stations, they'd write you off."
Mason's mom takes the moment to chime in. "Kisha, we let you be here because we wanted to encourage you. You did a great job with the stage setup, and you kept a cool head when things got sticky. But don't go making ridiculous accusations like that." Mason, for the moment, seems unwilling to put his two cents in. Still, he looks rather uncomfortable with the turn in conversation.
"Perhaps if I didn't have copies of all the security precautions taken. Spy cameras and bugs on every rooftop with a line of sight? Is that a standard precaution you usually take for a concert?" Kisha notes, bringing up scanned copies of assorted invoices. "Seems highly suspicious to me. And a lot of children died. I think their parents would find it worrying too. Besides these days you don't even need a news company to make a press release. With the wonders of the internet the story can go viral worldwide with just a few clicks." One of the perks of having just about the only copies of all the data being that Kisha has ensured nothing relating to herself is officially logged.
Bill's eyes narrow, and just as he is about to respond, Mason gets to his feet. Though he hurts, he moves quickly around the table to Kisha, reaching down to grab her arm. He tries to pull her to the side, though in his current state, he could hardly force her. "Kisha, could I talk to you a sec?" he asks, his tone rather forceful.
"Why sure Mason," Kisha replies, shrugging off the grab for her arm with remarkable strength for a girl her size. "You think things over while we have a chat." Picking up her espresso she relocates to a further away table so Mason can have his impending panic attack with some privacy.
"What the hell are you doing?" Mason asks in a whisper that still manages to be a shout as he sits at the table across from her. "He isn't going to be blackmailed. Bill is a snake in the grass," he reinforces, "But he's got venom in those fangs. All that would happen is that a bunch of people who are below the line would lose their jobs, and be counted as 'unhirable' by the big dogs. And several of them are people who live in mutant town and are already scraping by." He raises his hands as if he wants to grab something, but just makes fists and continues, lowering his voice further. "Not to mention that my mom is a telepath. And she doesn't have the restraint that Ms. Frost and Mr. Falk have. She'll peel your mind like a grape if she thinks you're a threat. Is that what you're aiming for?"
"Interesting. But not especially risky," Kisha offers blandly. "If she mentally assaults me I have every confidence that the school staff can fix the damage." She frowns and sips at her espresso. "What I'm doing? I'm trying to sell the information I have. Why else did you think I wanted to meet him? And trust me he would be in the firing line. How many children died Mason? You think the parents would let something like that go? Not a chance. They'll sue the record company who'll throw him to the lions to placate them."
Mason shakes his head. "First, you won't even know she did it. Nobody ever does. Second, I'm all for helping you turn a buck here, but Bill didn't kill those kids, and it's not fair to implicate him. Besides, I've seen him weasel his way out of sticky situations like this before, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep him out of the crossfire. Staying the background is what he's been doing for a living for the last 40 years. He won't be thrown to the lions. He'll be one of the lions." He lets Kisha's imagination do what it will with that statement. "There are only two sins in entertainment. To be dull or desperate. Trust me, I've been at this a while. I would listen to you if I was doing something with computers, because you know more than me. But this is my field. Take my word on this. It isn't a fight you want to get into. Not with him."
Kisha waves Mason off, yawns and wanders back to the other table looking bored. "Mason just had a talk and it seems he would rather make decisions about his level of creative control jointly with the record company," she offers before anyone can say anything. "And after a discussion it's been decided that the money, which was meant to go to charity, could be raised in a better manner." She grins. "The three songs not meant to be released. Put them up for digital download, proceeds to a charity fund to help the victims. People /love/ celebrities doing charity work. I'll throw in the footage and clean up any records which implicate your company." She taps at her computer and then nods to herself. "About now you might be wondering what I want? Simple. I'll manage the website for the whole thing and take server running costs and a modest percentage of any advertising revenue the site makes."
Mason doesn't get up immediately, he just lets his forehead drop to the other table, and folds his hands behind his head.
"You'll find that money honestly earned is more rewarding, anyway," Bill suggests to Kisha. He hasn't let the threats fluster him, and his tone remains calm. "But you have to realize, I still don't make the final decision on what goes on the albums." He offers a half smile. "But I think I can convince them to do something. A charity to help the victims of the attack. Now you're talking my language, young lady." He takes another sip of his mocha. "I think we could manage something like that. If you can put together a website that doesn't catch fire like your stage productions. Pending my approval on the site, 3 percent?"
"Funny how only the ones next to people shooting at the crowd caught fire. Almost as if they were meant to do that," Kisha notes casually, turning her computer around to show off some of her web designs. "They wouldn't be going on an album now would they? Not for a digital download." She drains the last of her espresso like it was water. "And no. Ten plus server costs, because a site with a pro-mutant charity is going to attract a great deal of cybervandalism. Oh and for the record I'll take effective over honest any day of the week."
Bill smiles, "You'll make a great marketing director one day," Bill answers. "Mason?" Mason turns his head on the table to look at Bill, but doesn't answer. "Get over here, this is your music we're throwing around." Mason seems disinterested in the conversation at this point, but he gets back to his feet, and ambles back to the table.
Mason sits carefully, and Courtney, Mason's mom, answers. "Well, Bill, I think that if Kisha's the one who is running the site, she should get more than that," comes the interjection. "I'll help her with the advertising for the site for fifty percent of the advertising profit, and that way you won't have to have to lift a finger, and she can keep half of it for herself. How does that sound?" Implied that she's taking Bill out of the equation. The manager mulls it over for a moment. "I think I could go with that. I have another client I was thinking of taking on, so that will keep me from having to worry about her and the site advertising at the same time. Kisha, how does fifty sound to you?" he asks.
Kisha twitches. "Marketing director? I suddenly feel like I need to powersand my skin clean," she mutters. "I assume you have a legal team used to setting contracts in place with people my age?" Because she'd rather not go to Emma Frost over the matter when attempted blackmail is involved. "I see myself more along the career lines of Tony Stark. But for seed capital I'm willing to dabble in other fields when it suits me." Especially if the dabbling involves making stuff burst into flames, explode or blind people. Plus if people attempt cybervandalism on the site it gives her a chance to retaliate! "The deal seems acceptable to me. If Mason has no problems with starting a charity that is. Perhaps he could get even Magneto to endorse it."
"Honey, you realize that I'm Mason's mom, right?" Courtney asks. "Don't worry, I'll make sure that you are taken care of." Mason laughs, "That's a joke, right? Of course I'd be up for starting a charity — " Bill interrupts. "But not with that racist mutant psycho," he says with authority. "Associating with him will give you nothing but bad press. Deciding you wanted to stand up for the mutants is a disaster enough in itself without adding terrorists to your supporters." It seems clear that Bill doesn't realize that everyone else at his table is a mutant. Mason nods. "Right. I'm not going to look for his endorsement. He doesn't want mutant rights, he wants mutants to rule over the rest of the world."
"I'm fully aware," Kisha says, turning her computer back so she can poke at a few keys. Bringing up a search program. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting to consult an independent contract lawyer. I'd be happy to waive the web host fees for a duration matching the legal costs if you'd prefer?" She gives Masons mom an apologetic smile. "Nothing personal. I just recently found out that blood ties aren't trustworthy and it has impacted my desire to take matters on good faith." She blinks a few times, then rolls her eyes. "I was joking about Magneto. Please tell me no-one seriously considered him endorsing pop songs?"
Kisha gains a rather bemused smile from all three of her company at the table. "Kisha, you're a real piece of work," Mason comments, leaning his chin on one hand.
Courtney seems the most amused of all. "You can do that if you like," she comments with a placebo tone. Her eyes shift back to Mason, though. Not as friendly.
"Well, I think we're about done then," Bill says, getting back to his feet. He leaves the cup at the table for a barista to throw away. "Just let me know whenever that site is up, and we'll get this charity underway. Mason, you should be glad to have her around. She'll be good for your image." Mason gives a shifted glance back at Kisha, and then to Bill again. "Thanks," he answers.
"Oh. One condition which I must insist on. Under no circumstances are you to publish my image /anywhere/," Kisha adds as if something suddenly occurred to her. "There is a slight matter involving my brother, who narrowly avoided armed robbery charges, wanting to murder me and I would take great offense at anyone making it easy for him to locate me." She passes on the information with the same calm tone that you'd expect from someone stating drinks preferences rather than matters of life and death. "I'll likely have something ready before you've got the contracts written up. Anyway, I have to head back to school now. I've got to help another student learn about microelectronics."
Bill looks genuinely uncertain on how to respond to that, but he recovers. "Don't worry, miss. You aren't paying me to publish your image anywhere. I only do it for money." He puts on his fancy leather coat, and heads to the door. "But, you should be careful about making comments like that to people you try to blackmail." He gives her a wink, and without waiting for her to answer, he tucks out the door.
