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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


            Kat and I sat at my kitchen island on high bar chairs and ate, waiting for Kei Matsuya’s ten o’clock call.  Promptly at ten, the phone rang.  Score one for Matsuya, I thought.  I didn’t do CP time.


            Placing him on speaker I answered, “Good morning, AlterEva Designs, Eva Vincent speaking.”


            “Miss Vincent, good morning.  This is Kei Matsuya.”  Kat made a fangirl squeeing noise and I had to shush her.  She was practically bouncing in her chair.  I made a point to tell Dragon about that. 


            “I have a proposition for you, Miss Vincent.”  The way he said proposition sounded rather erotic, but I chalked that up to his voice, a deep and sexy whisky rumble.  “I am sure you are aware that Dominion’s End has almost completed their fifteenth album and we are making preparations to embark on a major world tour.”


            “Mr. Matsuya, let’s cut to the chase shall we?  I know all about Dominion’s End.  Your first EP and second album were released on a small label which folded a year later, but not before ‘Idyllic Veneer’ went to Number Five in Europe.”


            Silence, then I heard him laugh.  “Miss Vincent, forgive me.  In spite of our success, I sometimes feel that we are that garage band that we started in order to annoy our traditional families.  I am impressed though.”


            For some reason, that made me feel good.  Still, I needed to know what he wanted.


“With the new album, the band has decided on a new look, one more traditionally Gothic with an iconoclastic twist.  I saw a magazine layout featuring your designs for Shakespeare’s The Tempest, and I liked what I saw.”


            I warmed up then.  It didn’t take much.  I’m like the proverbial mother when it comes to my ‘babies’ and any praise to them was praise to me. 


            “Miss Vincent, I would like for you to design Dominion’s End’s new look, and I would like to, as they say, get the ball rolling as soon as possible.”


            “That’s fine, Mr. Matsuya, but I am in the middle of a commission right now, so the soonest I’m available will be sometime next week.”


            “That’s not acceptable, Miss Vincent.  I’ve got a limited amount of time and so will you and the sooner we can decide on the wardrobe, the sooner you can begin work.”


            I almost choked on my bite of croissant.  Talk about high-handed.  “Excuse me, Mr. Matsuya, but as a professional, I cannot and will not in good conscience toss aside a paid commission just because you say so.  That’s like me asking you to write a half-assed song.”


            “I need your talent Miss Vincent,” Kei insisted.  “I am willing to pay you whatever you wish and provide any materials you need.  I am even willing to have you stay in my home for the duration of your commission so that you won’t have to travel back and forth between L.A. and San Francisco.”


            Kat squeed again and I kicked her in the shin, but she just kept nodding her head and mouthing ‘go for it’.  “Mr. Matsuya…”


            “Kei please,” he said.  “Mr. Matsuya is my father. I’m old, but not ancient.”


            But I wasn’t buying his attempts at being nice.  “Mr. Matsuya.   Your offer is generous, but unless you are willing to understand that I am not available at your beck and call, I believe you and I have nothing else to discuss.”


            “Miss Vincent, how much do you want?”


            “Are you even listening?  I said unless you can wait until next week, the answer is no!”


            “Are you aware, Miss Vincent, that I am offering you a chance to gain more world-wide fame for your business?  Do you know how many other costumers would sell their souls to be offered what I am offering you?”


            That was it.  “Well, then, Mr. Matsuya, you might think about calling them and seeing if they’re willing to jump to your tune,” and I hung up on him again.


            Kat looked horrified, but I was pissed.  “He’s got major nerve!  I don’t care who he is, someone needs to kick his ass!”


            “But Eva, you’re almost finished with my dress, right?  You could have accepted his offer.”


            “That’s not the point, Kat.  The point is I’m not going to start allowing people like him to bully me just because they’ve got money and a name.”


            “But it’s Kei Matsuya,” Kat whined.  “The sex-god of guitar.”  She suddenly went into full-on fangirl mode.  “And he wanted you to stay with him…in his house!”  She squeed again and I looked at her, shaking my head and wondering just when my best friend reverted back to pre-teenaged-hood.


            I let her go on as I made myself a big cup of chocolate-mocha-vanilla-something with Italian roast and whipped cream.  Doing something with my hands kept me from getting on the phone and calling and cussing the bastard out, but I was, if anything, a professional.


            I’d dealt with people like Kei Matsuya before.  They were prevalent here in L.A. where people with too much money and not enough sense thought everything and everyone could be bought. I’d had my share of attitude, but I was good at saying no.  I knew that my scruples probably hampered my progress, but for every “go directly to hell”, I received two who were more than happy to work with me.  Besides that, every AlterEva creation was finely crafted with meticulous attention to detail.  They were heirloom pieces, from my elaborate wedding gowns and tuxes to the most wenchy of Renaissance Faire garb.  My kind of artistry was worth far more than some spoiled rock star’s fragile ego.


            It would have been nice, though.  I’d always wanted to work with a band to help them create a signature look, and perhaps someday I would. Until then, I wasn’t going to lose sleep over Kei Matsuya.


***


            After another ten minutes of Kat trying to talk me into taking Matsuya’s commission, I finally sent her packing, reminding her that she still had things to do before the trip to San Diego.


            “You really should go for it,” Kat shook her head as I practically threw her out the door.  “My costume’s close to done.  At least hear him out.  If anything, you could get a free trip to S.F. out of it.”


            “Then why don’t you make his damn costume and I’ll take your place at ComicCon?  That way, you can fangirl yourself silly and I can get some peace and quiet.”


            Kat laughed breaking the tension, and a few seconds later so did I.  “You’re mean.  And maybe I’ll do just that.  Who cares if the only thing I can sew is a button?  Just the chance to see Kei Matsuya decked out in nothing but those silver rings on his fingers would be so worth it!”


            “I am so going to tell Draggy-waggy-donut that his fiancé is dumping him for some rock star,” I mock-threatened.


            After Kat left, I went back to the kitchen to finish my coffee creation and the rest of my breakfast sandwich. 


            Yes, it would have been great to add another “wardrobe designed by” to my resume, but if that meant having to deal with Mr. Massive Ego Kei Matsuya, then it just wasn’t worth the headache.  It gave me a great deal of satisfaction to know this was probably the first time in years he’d been turned down by anyone.


            Granted, everything Kat said about him was true.  The man was smoking hot, and I’d always had a thing for guitarists anyway.  My first big girl-crush back in elementary school was Joe Perry of Aerosmith; then once I discovered heavy metal, I fell head over heels with Kirk Hammett of Metallica.  There was just something so primal, so sexual about that instrument slung down low around the hips with fingers moving with skill and speed and grace. It was like watching a guy masturbate onstage.  And Kei Matsuya added to the potent brew by the sheer eroticism of his beautiful face and body. 


            Between that luscious mane of jet black hair that cascaded like an obsidian waterfall down a perfectly sculpted back, and his come-hither and fuck bedroom eyes that were always finely lined in black eyeliner (or were they?), the man was sin incarnate and worst of all, he knew it. Matsuya was the epitome of why sex was such an integral part of rock and roll.  Add to the fact that he played with gender like a child plays with toys, the man was dead-fucking-sexy.  There were more pictures of him seriously lip-locking other men, besides his band mates than there were of him alone.   He was also usually in some state of semi-nudity.


            Thinking about all of that certainly wasn’t helping my libido any, nor was it doing anything to change my mind.  As sexy and powerful as he was, the man was also rude, overbearing and I just couldn’t deal with that.


            When the phone rang, I was headed to the workroom to add the final decorative flourishes to Kat’s dress.  “Good morning, AlterEva Designs, Eva Vincent speaking.”


            “Miss Vincent, are you busy?”


            “Yes, Mr. Matsuya, I am.  If you are calling to try and get me to change my mind, I am sorry.”


            “No, Miss Vincent, it is I who should apologize to you.  It has been a rather trying week and I simply was not at my best.”  He sounded weary now, not like the dictator he’d come off as.  “To be honest, it has been a very long time since someone has refused me anything.  I have to admit, that fact alone makes me even more curious about you.”


            The sexy chuckle at the other end made me feel all warm and tingly, which, having just spent the past few moments at my breakfast nook thinking about Kei Matsuya naked, put me in somewhat of a different frame of mind.


            “I am not giving up, Miss Vincent, as far as having you work with me.  However, I also see how dedicated you are to your clients, and that is something very rare.  So, I will make you another offer.”


            Curiosity killed the cat and satisfaction brought her back, I thought with a wry smile coloring my voice.  “And that is?”


            “Would you be available for consultation this coming weekend?  A consultation, which would include dinner and a place to stay while we discussed terms?”


            I nearly forgot to breathe.  I could hear Kat screaming ‘go for it’, but I wasn’t going to give in that easily.


            As coolly as I could, I replied, “Well, Mr. Matsuya, let me consider your rather generous offer and I will get back to you as soon as I possibly can.  I have a fitting later, and if it goes well, then you will have a definite answer by early tomorrow.”


            Silence, then a deep masculine sigh which made me wonder what that sigh sounded like during sex. All right, Vincent, rein it in girl.


            “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Vincent,” Matsuya said, amusement and something else apparent in his tone.  “So, not only are you beautiful, but a savvy businesswoman as well.”


            The compliment came from left field.  As if reading my mind, he answered, “I’ve done my homework on you, Miss Vincent.  I’m impressed by everything I’ve discovered.  You’re an artist, just as I am.”


            “And I never leave anything undone, Mr. Matsuya,” I added, smiling.


            “And you’re a perfectionist.”


            “True.  But it takes one to know one.  I remember you cancelling an entire block of shows because Tommy fractured his wrist and you weren’t satisfied that he could play.  Your management wasn’t happy about that, but the fans loved you.  Then, to make up for the cancellations, Dominion’s End played for two hours straight at each venue and then had a meet and greet for every single fan and you guys did that for ten whole days.”


            “That’s how we got where we are Miss Vincent.”


            “And that’s how I’ve gotten where I am now, Mr. Matsuya.  Now, I hate to be rude, but the sooner I finish here, the sooner I will give you an answer.”


            “Very well.  Until tomorrow then.”












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.