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Jade
Sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I never joined the Kings. Don’t get me wrong, I love being in a band with Derrik, EJ, and my brother. And I never take for granted everything that comes with being a King. Touring the world and playing in front of thousands of people; it’s amazing. But every once in a while, I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I stayed a typical teenager and graduated high school, instead of opting to get my GED and become a rock star.
Granted, I had no idea if any of us would become rock stars, but we hoped. Those hopes, as it turned out, were not unfounded. Our first album blew up, our second record did even better, and now after a world tour, the Kings of Karmichael are still sitting on top of the world. I can’t complain. But still … sometimes I wonder. Especially in times like right now.
“Jade?” Bret nudges me with his elbow. I stop twirling the glass of water around on the table and glance over at him. “What do you think?”
I pinch my lips together. Shifting in my seat, I look across the table at Jimmy Richards. His smile has been cemented in place. It’s not a friendly smile either. It’s mischievous. No, it’s more than mischievous. It’s predatory.
I’ve been zoning in and out of the luncheon with Jimmy and my boyfriend, Bret, because I don’t really want to be here. I’m doing this as a favor to Bret. Again.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” Jimmy asks, lifting his Jack and Coke, taking another sip. “I don’t care if you’re underage. I know all you stars like to let loose.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t drink, Jimmy. Everyone knows that.”
“Right, right.” He nods as if he’s actually interested in my likes or dislikes.
He couldn’t care less. His bushy eyebrows lift a bit as he laces his fingers together on the table. He’s dressed in what looks like a high-end designer black suit, with a white shirt and black tie. His black hair is slicked back and graying at the sides. If he had a prop, like a monocle or a cane, he could pull off the look of one of those movie villains.
All he’s interested in is getting me to sign with his record label. He’s been trying to get me to switch for a year. Normally, he—or anyone else for that matter—would never even try to broach the topic. Everyone knows I’d never leave the Kings. Not only is Maddox my brother, but Derrik and EJ might as well be. They’re my family. The only reason he’s been able to hound me for as long as he has is because of Bret.
Bret’s band has been trying to break in with a record company for over a year. They’re a punk band, and they’re … okay. I’m not the biggest punk fan around, but I do know good music. And Bret’s band, Skum Bucket, is … okay. It’s all I can say because I don’t want to call them bad. They’re efficient with their instruments. It’s a mixture of slightly good, kind of weird, and off-kilter melodies. But how do you tell your boyfriend that they aren’t very good? I keep hoping they’ll figure it out, but they don’t. I know something about chasing your dream, and I’m not saying each of them can’t find a career in music alone, but together, as a unit, I don’t know if they are going to get to the spot they want.
Why am I talking about Bret’s band? Because he’s the reason I’m even meeting with Jimmy. In one of Bret’s many, many meetings with record execs to try and get his band signed, he met Jimmy. The only reason he was able to get most of those meetings is that he dropped my name. I didn’t mind him doing that early on. We’d been going out for a couple of months, and I thought if all he had to do to get a meeting was say he was dating me, then why not? Anything I could do to give him a small opening couldn’t hurt. We all need breaks.
Most of the producers listened for a few minutes but declined. A couple asked for demos, but he never heard back from them. Then came Jimmy. I should’ve known something was fishy.
Last year, when the Kings and I started our world tour, Bret began asking me if I was sure being with the Kings would work out. It was out of the blue and led to a couple of arguments. Then he said he’d been talking to Jimmy Richards and was offering me a deal as a solo artist. After declining, multiple times, the deal started changing.
It’d be for a solo deal, featuring the Kings. Then it turned into a contract working with the Kings and it’d be a totally separate record. Then a mixture of both. After telling him I’d never leave my band, Bret finally told me why he’d been pressuring me so much. If I signed with Jimmy, Bret’s band would get a provisional record deal. As much as I like Bret, I still can’t bring myself to leave my family or even produce stuff on the side with another company.
However, I do have personal stuff I want to work on. I told the guys that, and they were totally on board with me working on my own music, but I’d never produce it for an official release without having the guys be part of it. I’m not a solo artist. The Kings of Karmichael is as much my identity as anything, and I like it that way. But since we have downtime before we start recording our next album, they know I’m going to record some stuff on my own. Mostly, to get it out of my system.
Which is why I’m here. When I told Bret I was going to record some solo stuff, he told Jimmy. It upset me, but then Bret said Jimmy wants to talk about recording the things I’m working on in his studio. That caught my attention because I wasn’t sure where I wanted to record the stuff I have rattling around in my head.
The Kings have all recorded our stuff in two different studios in Los Angeles. In those studios, it almost feels like home. But this new stuff I’m working on doesn’t fit with the Kings’ catalog, which is why I want to work on it by myself. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to record it because being at our regular studios might’ve kept me in the same frame of mind as I get when I’m recording with my band. I wanted somewhere different.
“It’s not a contract for a record,” Bret says. “But this would really help out Skum Bucket.”
I twist my glass of water again. “I know, but what am I supposed to do, Bret? You set this entire thing up, and I almost feel like a traitor to my band for even taking this meeting. You always do stuff like this.”
“I’m sorry, Jade,” Jimmy speaks up. His dark brown eyes shift between Bret and me, before he reaches across the table, picking up the contract. “In no way do I want to make this seem ill-advised or make you feel like you’re going behind your band’s back. This is simply a lunch meeting. I promise, this is not some shady contract to get you to break up with them.”
“No, this isn’t about my band. This is about your band,” I spit at Bret. “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is right.”
Bret flinches at my words. Taking the contract from Jimmy, he places it down in front of me. “Babe, I’m sorry. You know how hard me and the guys have been working, though. All we need is a break.” He reaches over, taking my hand. “Jade, I really didn’t mean to put you in this situation.”
“Jade, I won’t lie,” Jimmy speaks back up. “Have I wanted to sign you since the Kings of Karmichael came on the scene? Absolutely. Derrik Tyler could be the hottest solo artist in the world, but that’s not what he wants. I respect that. And you could be this generation’s Pat Benatar. If positioned right, you could be the next Madonna. You’ve already got the single name.”
“Jade is my middle name, Jimmy. I don’t want to be the next Madonna. My name isn’t some gimmick thought up by our record company. It’s what my family has called me since I was little.”
He raises his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, I know that. That’s not my point. What I’m trying to say is, if you don’t want to leave the Kings, I respect that. I don’t want you to. All of our artists are extended family to us at Rich Records. This contract is purely circumstantial. It doesn’t force you to leave the Kings or anything like that. But I’d be entering into a provisional deal with Bret and his band. That’s why I have the paperwork.”
Bret puts his arm over my shoulder. “Babe, this contract is totally on the up-and-up. Right, Jimmy?” He glances across the table, and Jimmy nods with a dangerous smile. “It’s really a contract for Skum Bucket more than it is for you. I’ve read it over and it’s all good.”
Taking a deep breath, I stare down at the paper. “And it doesn’t mess with anything with the Kings of Karmichael? I’ll still be able to record with them and tour with them and everything else?” I ask, my eyes returning to Jimmy.
