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Meow. Retract those claws, kitten!
“Of course not,” Jayme rushes in. “But we’ve done our homework. We’ve already talked to Marquis, Alien Babies, DJ Swizzle, Saint Sabotino, and best of all . . . DJ Amalfo.”
Jazmyn leans forward, her hands slapping on the table. “Amalfie is going to be there? Why didn’t you say so?”
“The festival is only one day,” I continue. “If you wanted to visit Americana Land as a VIP guest the day after, I could arrange a tour. Walk onto rides, all the food treats you want, front row seats for the parade.”
I’m selling the Americana Land experience as best I can, but what I’m really thinking about is squeezing as much good PR as I can get out of this particular stone. Unfortunately, it seems that Jazmyn is still not quite on board as she twists her lips and rolls her eyes.
“And a personal tackle by yours truly? The full Abby Burks experience?”
I thought we were solid on a concert, but she’s pulling no punches, and I’m concerned that she might be backing out of the whole thing. Even with the promise of DJ Amalfo.
“You don’t like Abby Burks, do you?” Jayme says, moving into the line of fire of the bullets Jazmyn is shooting at me with her eyes. I’m not sure what she’s getting that. Everything I’m getting is saying that Jazmyn is trying to stand in solidarity with her influencer sister. But I trust Jayme’s assessment. She’s either seeing something I don’t or her background research revealed something I missed.
Jazmyn crosses her arms, glaring at Jayme. “She’s whatever.”
“You’ve brought her up twice and our food isn’t even here yet. She got a lot of publicity at the cost of Americana Land and Carson Steen. But this festival is going to be big—every blog, Instagram, Twitch, Discord, even mainstream media—all with your name as the headliner. Potentially . . .” Jayme’s voice trails off as though she’s the one considering whether Jazmyn is worthy of leading this festival.
Damn, that’s good. She’s a pro at turning the tables, especially when people think they’re running them.
“Wait.” Jazmyn says sharply.
Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table, putting himself between Jayme and Jazmyn. It’s like we’re all hungry hippos going after the same marble in the middle of the table—in and out, back and forth. “We want to do the concert. I’ll put that out there.”
Narrowing my eyes, I ask Steve, “So, what do you want?”
It’s just the right amount of take no shit Alpha to push Steve and Jazmyn into talking. For the rest of our meal, we talk through our visions for the festival, and though she denies it, I can see the excitement growing in Jazmyn’s eyes. She even makes a couple of suggestions that Jayme writes down in her leather notebook.
By the time we finish our brunch, which is surprisingly good, the thread of an idea has grown, knitting into something greater. “We’ll share this with our project leads and make sure it’s all in place for the festival.”
“Even the dancers?” Jazmyn says, her hands pressed together in a pleading move that doesn’t seem like her, but rather a much younger, sweeter, and more innocent version of her. In a surprise move I’m still reeling over, Jazmyn’s main request is that we fly in a group of kids who did the TikTok famous dance to her biggest song. They’re a dance troupe from an inner-city studio who’ve never had a chance to perform on a stage like this. And she wants them to get a VIP treatment park visit too.
“I can’t make promises that they’ll be there yet, but I will contact them and see what I can do.”
“I think that’s everything,” Steve says, a broad smile on his face. He knows as well as I do that this meeting will lead to big things for all of us. This festival is truly a win-win situation for Americana Land, me, Jazmyn, the other performers, and even the dancing kids. Though I’d bet Steve is happiest about the financial gains Jazmyn, and therefore he, will get from their percentage of profits.
“I misjudged you,” Jazmyn says suddenly, garnering our attention. “My bad.”
She’s looking me boldly in the eye, offering her ring-covered hand for a shake. “Uhm, thank you?” I stutter, confused at the semi-apology. But I shake her hand. “I hope to keep that up.”
“Fuck knows, people judge the hell out of me. I get a kick out of it most of the time, you know? Even fuck around with them for shits and giggles. But you seem like an okay person, Carson. And not the type to enjoy being center stage. I bet this whole thing has had you clenching your tighty whities so hard that they’re nearly a butt plug at this point.” There’s a small delay of shock and then Jazmyn laughs heartily.
