Read Online Under the Same Sun (Stone Trilogy) by Mariam Kobras - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mariam Kobras
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surrounded her.
Parker stopped on the step leading down to where Naomi was sitting like a queen holding court. The table had been set with a shining, heavy silver tea set. There were trays with little cakes and sandwiches, linen napkins and fine porcelain, a bowl of cream and a vase with flowers. It was all so elegant and civilized that he wanted to puke right then and there. She was wearing a dress that seemed made for her, the pale rose giving her skin a soft glow, the thin silk layers of the wide skirt flowing around her legs like water in the dawn. Her hair was not unbound, but she was wearing it in a loose ponytail that at last allowed him to see the glossy curls.
Behind her stood Jon.
The Master, up close, and with the smirk of a pleased cat on his face. His hand rested on her shoulder in a negligently possessive gesture, his posture one of easy pride. He seemed cut from a gentleman’s magazine cover: well groomed, well dressed, and so good-looking Parker wanted to slap his face. Grudgingly he had to admit that they were indeed a stunning couple, both with black hair and those dark eyes, setting off each other’s attractiveness very well.
There were two other men, the same he had seen with Jon just before the sound check, and they were duly introduced, but he chose to ignore them. She was offering him the seat across the table with a flick of her wrist, rings flashing, making Parker wonder if it was intentional, to remind him of who she was.
His wife, and now Jon was sitting down beside her, as was Sal, closing the ranks around her in protection.
H e had prepared his questions so carefully, so well thought out to wheedle all the information he wanted without seeming to pry; and here were these savvy publicity sharks, monitoring every word that came out of his mouth.
He hadn’t even taken out his notepad before Sal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and Jon’s fingers drummed impatiently on the immaculate tablecloth. Only Naomi, her hands folded patiently in her lap, waited for him to get sorted, a tiny smile on her lips.
“So,” Parker asked, “I’ve always thought if I got a chance to do an interview with you, this would be my most important question.” He laid the pen down next to his teacup. “Do you like champagne?”
Her eyelids fluttered. The men surrounding her shifted, but no one interfered.
“I do.” A flash of amusement from the corners of her eyes, unnoticed by Jon.
A waiter came to pour their tea and offer cream and lemon. She declined and asked for coffee instead, which was procured instantly.
“You worked with your husband on the movie soundtrack, correct? You wrote the lyrics? I recall there was an album about twenty years back that had your lyrics on it too. How did that come about?”
She took a breath to answer, but before she could say anything Sal replied, “It was a collaboration of young artists. Jon wanted to try something new, and this worked well.”
He watched how she took one of the cupcakes and placed it on the dainty plate in front of her, where she pushed it around with the fork.
“How interesting. So how did you meet? You were living in Geneva back then, if I’m informed correctly, and Mr. Stone in LA?”
This time she was faster. “I sent some lyrics I’d written to his office. Sal…”—a small wave of her hand—“Sal contacted me after that. We got together, decided we could work on this, and did.”
It was fun to watch the faces around her, and the tension in them. He decided to push a little.
“I’d like to learn a little more about you, and have you confirm my facts. You have a grown son, is that correct?”
Wrong direction, he saw that right away by the shuttering of her expression.
“Mrs. Stone’s private life is not the subject of this interview,” Sal said.
But this was what he wanted to know. So, carefully, realizing these men were even sharper than he had supposed, Parker formulated his next question. “We were going to talk about the
Parker stopped on the step leading down to where Naomi was sitting like a queen holding court. The table had been set with a shining, heavy silver tea set. There were trays with little cakes and sandwiches, linen napkins and fine porcelain, a bowl of cream and a vase with flowers. It was all so elegant and civilized that he wanted to puke right then and there. She was wearing a dress that seemed made for her, the pale rose giving her skin a soft glow, the thin silk layers of the wide skirt flowing around her legs like water in the dawn. Her hair was not unbound, but she was wearing it in a loose ponytail that at last allowed him to see the glossy curls.
Behind her stood Jon.
The Master, up close, and with the smirk of a pleased cat on his face. His hand rested on her shoulder in a negligently possessive gesture, his posture one of easy pride. He seemed cut from a gentleman’s magazine cover: well groomed, well dressed, and so good-looking Parker wanted to slap his face. Grudgingly he had to admit that they were indeed a stunning couple, both with black hair and those dark eyes, setting off each other’s attractiveness very well.
There were two other men, the same he had seen with Jon just before the sound check, and they were duly introduced, but he chose to ignore them. She was offering him the seat across the table with a flick of her wrist, rings flashing, making Parker wonder if it was intentional, to remind him of who she was.
His wife, and now Jon was sitting down beside her, as was Sal, closing the ranks around her in protection.
H e had prepared his questions so carefully, so well thought out to wheedle all the information he wanted without seeming to pry; and here were these savvy publicity sharks, monitoring every word that came out of his mouth.
He hadn’t even taken out his notepad before Sal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion and Jon’s fingers drummed impatiently on the immaculate tablecloth. Only Naomi, her hands folded patiently in her lap, waited for him to get sorted, a tiny smile on her lips.
“So,” Parker asked, “I’ve always thought if I got a chance to do an interview with you, this would be my most important question.” He laid the pen down next to his teacup. “Do you like champagne?”
Her eyelids fluttered. The men surrounding her shifted, but no one interfered.
“I do.” A flash of amusement from the corners of her eyes, unnoticed by Jon.
A waiter came to pour their tea and offer cream and lemon. She declined and asked for coffee instead, which was procured instantly.
“You worked with your husband on the movie soundtrack, correct? You wrote the lyrics? I recall there was an album about twenty years back that had your lyrics on it too. How did that come about?”
She took a breath to answer, but before she could say anything Sal replied, “It was a collaboration of young artists. Jon wanted to try something new, and this worked well.”
He watched how she took one of the cupcakes and placed it on the dainty plate in front of her, where she pushed it around with the fork.
“How interesting. So how did you meet? You were living in Geneva back then, if I’m informed correctly, and Mr. Stone in LA?”
This time she was faster. “I sent some lyrics I’d written to his office. Sal…”—a small wave of her hand—“Sal contacted me after that. We got together, decided we could work on this, and did.”
It was fun to watch the faces around her, and the tension in them. He decided to push a little.
“I’d like to learn a little more about you, and have you confirm my facts. You have a grown son, is that correct?”
Wrong direction, he saw that right away by the shuttering of her expression.
“Mrs. Stone’s private life is not the subject of this interview,” Sal said.
But this was what he wanted to know. So, carefully, realizing these men were even sharper than he had supposed, Parker formulated his next question. “We were going to talk about the
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