Salvation: a Saula story

The Decision is Made

An AU Saula fic where American Idol never happened and Simon has his own successful record label.

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Simon looked at the pile of papers on his desk, rubbing his face with a tired groan. He'd been working for seven hours straight without a break, and he was about to go crazy. Not from the work; no, Simon liked the work as much as he liked going out and having a couple drinks. But it was more that he was thirsty, and his back hurt from sitting for so long, and his feet had gone through cycles of pins and needles, and overall he was just done with the whole work thing.

He stood up, wincing as his legs let out a couple unhappy cracks. A reminder of his thirty-fifth birthday that was approaching in two weeks. Simon didn't want to think about that. The boring ceremonies, the boring conversations with boring people, the meeting up with acquaintances that he didn't bloody care about at all. Birthdays. Yes. Fun.

Not to mention the situation he was in now. His record label, although still hugely successful, was on a fast decline and he didn't know what to do about it. Well, that wasn't true, exactly. Simon did know what to do about it. He needed to find someone talented, quick. Someone beautiful and young with a star factor that could breathe life back into his label.

As Simon opened the door, he was faced with the sight of Nigel Lythgoe, the co-owner of Syco Entertainment. His hand was raised to knock but he looked relieved at the sight of Simon.

"Simon! I need to speak to you," he started.

Simon waved him off with a hand, disinterested. "I don't have time for this. I'm taking a break." As he moved to step around him, Nigel mirrored his movements.

"No, this is important. Please."

"Nigel, I'm buggered. I've been working for almost seven hours without so much as drinking a sip of water and I'm taking a break now."

"Simon. Just a minute."

Simon took a moment to glare at Nigel and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorpost. It must be pretty important if Nigel was willing to argue with him.

"What."

"We've found someone. Someone that's really good. Her name is Sandra, she's American and was on vacation here when we discovered her at a club. She has to leave soon, I thought you could come check her out and see if we want to keep her here."

"How long is soon?"

"Early tomorrow morning."

"God, you couldn't have found someone that wasn't about to leave the damned country?"

"Simon, just come, please, it'll be quick. The A&R department loves her."

Simon turned to close the office door and followed as Nigel set a clipped pace down the hall. He really, really, wanted a cold beer. Or even better, some tea.

They headed in the direction of the recording studio and sure enough, Nigel opened the bland wooden door to reveal a girl fidgeting in the center of the room. She had straight blond hair and pale green eyes that brightened when they walked in. Simon noted with a pinch to his lips that she was taller than him. Model-tall, really.

"Hi! You must be Simon Cowell. I'm Sandra Carpenter," she said, her shaking voice betraying her anxiety. He didn't hold that against her. He'd be nervous, too, if he was meeting the owner of the third largest record label in the UK.

"Nice to meet you," he forced out, shaking her clammy hand. "You can start."

The girl opened her mouth as if to clarify, but thought better of it as she noticed Simon's stormy face.

"Start singing," Nigel helped out.

She gulped and cleared her throat once. Twice.

"Isn't she lovely,

Isn't she wonderful,

Isn't she precious,

Less than one minute old.

I never thought-"

"Stop," Simon interrupted. "That's enough." She had a lovely voice, really. Pretty, too, and awfully young - 16, if he had to guess. She was, technically, better than ninety-five percent of the people that he'd been forced to see in the past couple months. But there was something he couldn't put his finger on. Something missing. In his heart, he knew with startling clarity that she wasn't going to work out.

Sandra flicked her eyes nervously from Nigel to Simon, twisting a ring on her finger.

"No. Sorry," he added as an afterthought, insincerely. Ignoring the crestfallen look on the girl's face, Simon made to exit when Nigel grabbed his arm.

"Are you crazy? She's perfect! Do you see-"

"Nigel, my decisions go. Feel free to leave if you don't like them." Simon shot him a cold stare. It was true that Nigel was co-owner, but he had only a small share while Simon had most of it. In reality, he was the owner.

Nigel's eyes burned. "You'll regret this."

"I won't." Simon walked out, slamming the door behind him, unwilling to argue any further.

Going back up the stairs, down the hallway, and into his office, he collapsed into the chair. He needed something to bring his label back up - they were slipping. Soon they'd be fourth and Simon could not, would not, accept that.

Sandra was good. Very good. What did Nigel say about her? Oh, yes, she was American and was about to leave the UK.

Simon sat there, pondering, turning over options in his mind. Pros and cons. Best case scenario. Worst case scenario. The odds. The talent.

Simon had only been to America a couple of times, but he knew enough about it to solidify his next decision.

He dialed a number on the phone on his desk and raised it to his ear.

"What is it?" Nigel answered, anger still echoing from his voice.

"I'm going to the United States," Simon said, his voice sure.

"You're what?" Nigel barked.

"I'm leaving to America to find better talent."

"Simon, you can't just decide to up and leave, with all the work that needs to be done, and Olivia Turner-"

Simon waved a hand in the air impatiently although Nigel couldn't see. "That's nothing. Tell Olivia we're dropping her. I'll finish most of the paperwork within a week and then I'm going."

Nigel sighed, a long annoyed sound. "Why?"

"You know why. We've been searching here for months and nothing. We need someone fresh and America is absolutely perfect for it."

He heard the wheels in the other man's head turning. "What about your birthday?"

Bloody hell. "Right." Simon was silent for a moment before continuing. "It's not like I was doing anything except meeting some stuffy old men anyway. I'll skip out on it this year."

"Simon!" Nigel admonished. "It's important. You know you can send somebody else, anybody else. Anyone from the A&R team would be happy to go. Why you?"

"They haven't been successful. It needs to be me," he insisted. He didn't know why he was being so impatient about this. It wasn't like he was usually patient, not at all, but for some reason he felt the need to leave as soon as possible or he'd miss something incredibly important. "You can send a couple with me if you're that worried but I need to do this. You know I have an incredible ear for music." It wasn't bragging, really, it was the truth.

"Fine. I'll gather a group. But, I swear Simon, one more stupid request and I'm out of here."

"Thank you," Simon said, trying to soften Nigel up a bit now that he'd agreed to his whims. "You'll hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

"What else am I going to do?"

Simon smiled, hung up, and turned to his computer to book his flight.

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