A Man of Service A John Wick Fanfic

Chapter 3

T/W – Swearing, adult situations.

"Look, I'll make this quick and painless," James told Kate. "I need someone like you. Therefore, as there is no one like you, I need YOU."

Gary appeared around the corner. "Sit on your hands," he told James crisply and he complied with a grin.

"Need me for what, dare I ask?" Kate tipped her head at him.

"Well, I need your voice. My singer, who wasn't that great anyway, up and left with the bass player from another group. I should have known....," James began. "And we've got a huge gig in 2 weeks. The Continental lounge...."

Kate shrugged her shoulders with a blank stare.

"It's a famous hotel in downtown Manhattan. It's a chain actually. We've been dying to get in there and we finally got an audition and got the job. It's a big deal. A lot of exposure. Then Celeste up and left and we're fucked if we don't get a good, strong singer."

"Well, you're fucked anyway," Kate said evenly. "I have a piano player and he and I are a duo. End of story."

James ran his hand over his face slowly. "Is he on a contract?"

"Yes," Kate told him briskly. "We shook hands and promised."

James smirked. "This is 2020. You must be out of your minds. Did you spit in your palms first? That'll make a difference," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"Fuck you," Kate snapped back. "Get out. I sure as shit don't need your Continental gig."

James acquiesced and held up his hands in a stop position. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"Sit back down on those fucking hands," Gary warned.

"Fine. Fine. Fine. One singer and one piano player. Can you be ready in 2 weeks? That's rehearsals 16 hours a day, 7 days a week. You're gonna eat, shit and sleep the Richter Band the next 14 days. Can you commit to that?"

"Perhaps," Gary joined them as Kate passed the baton. "Let's talk money first. And let me tell you, we're doing just fine on our own, so don't low-ball me or I'll take my skinny ass and throw your fat ass out in the hallway."

"Jesus," James backed up. "Does the Mafia know of your negotiation skills?"

Kate leaned forward and spoke softly. "He's from Brooklyn."

James eyes widened. "Fine. Let's talk money."

The James Richter Band was rich enough to book studio time for their rehearsals with Kate and Gary. The amazing thing is that they fit in like they had been working together for years. James, on lead guitar, knew their professionalism and talent would blend in perfectly. He worked a well oiled machine and nothing or no one was going to fuck that up. Gary even began to grow on him, but he knew Gary trusted him about as much as a 3 dollar bill. James really didn't care much about it as long as everyone got along and worked hard.

Gary was a great orchestrator and reworked several songs to make them a perfect showcase for Kate's amazing voice. James was completely happy. They would give the Continental a run for their money.

After 2 weeks of hard work, Kate tried to sleep the night before they were scheduled to rehearse at the Continental. She needed to be at the hotel by 7:45 a.m. sharp so they could have the stage for a full 3 hours before it opened for business and then the next evening was opening night.

James insisted she wear her kelly green, shimmering gown, so Kate got it safety tucked away in a garment bag. Her plan was to show up 30 minutes early to get dressed and hopefully calm her shattered nerves.

"Remember, you're just singing to me," Gary would say to relax her. "One piano player and you. That's it. And you'll be fine, baby. You'll be just fine."

She arrived at the Continental at 7:00 a.m., woozy from lack of sleep and walked up to the concierge who was helping a tall man in a black suit, with a dog at his side. The dog looked at her and its tail began to wag. As she generally speaking liked animals better than people, she bent down to pet the dog and talk to him sweetly.

The man in front of her turned around quickly and Kate's eyes grew into the size of half dollars. He was magnificently handsome, with lovely brown eyes and sumptuous silky black hair. "Sorry," she told him, standing up.

"No problem. He's friendly," he said evenly, staring into a pair of exotic green eyes and swallowed, glancing briefly at her long, golden amber hair.

As the dog licked her hand she answered, "I noticed."

The man turned around to face the concierge, finished his business and walked past her with his dog, headed toward the exit. Kate smelled his soapy aftershave with an internal sigh and stepped forward.

"Hello," she greeted the concierge. "I'm with The James Richter Band and I'm here to rehearse. Could you tell me where to go?"

After receiving directions, she looked at her surroundings and headed towards the elevator. It was a classy place, but a bit medieval for her taste; dark with mahogany furniture and thick Oriental rugs on top of the carpeted floors. Lots of deep reds and large windows with thick matte glass that didn't allow for much light. At 7 am, it could have been midnight. The lamps were on, throwing shadows on the ground, making Kate shiver. She picked up her pace and entered the elevator, pushing B for the bar.

When James and the rest of the band appeared, Kate was dressed and ready, sipping hot tea with honey for her throat. Gary reassured her briefly before they got to work.

"You look stunning and you're absolutely prepared and ready," he told her. "Just sing to me and all will be fine."

Kate gripped his arm tightly, but smiled and nodded. When James gave the word, they began their first song. Listening closely was Winston, the manager of the Continental, sitting in a back booth out of sight, a New York Times paper on the table in front of him. The new singer had a much better voice, smoother stage presence and when he peered around a corner to catch a glimpse of her, a body like a Greek goddess.

Winston couldn't take his eyes off her. Soft amber blonde hair tumbled down her back in thick waves and only allowed a teasing amount of reflected light off her diamond earrings. A beautiful bracelet encircled her wrist and brightly shined in the overhead lights as her hand eased gracefully through the air.

He thought himself rather immune to women and their beauty. They simply didn't mix with his lifestyle and whenever in the past he introduced a woman into his life, it turned out an unmitigated disaster and he had become, in his mind, "too old for that shit."

But there he stood, watching Kate on the stage, already daydreaming about having his hands running through her hair, the feel of her body pressed against him, the sensation of her lips on his. The ringing of his phone brought him back from his delirium.

"Yes?"

"It's Mr. Wick, sir," the concierge told him. "He's coming down to see you."

"Fine."