Hunter took the beer and laughed. “What will they do? Fine me the studio time?”
“No,” Brody said with a seriousness that had Hunter swallowing hard. “They’ll drop the band.”
“What?” Hunter choked on his beer. “They said that?”
“Right before they explained that you’d have to pay back the advance or they’d sue for breach of contract.”
Which meant his band would have to return the multimillion-dollar advance they’d received, most of which his bandmates had already spent. Hunter could come up with his part of the money, easy. The rest of the band had dependents, mortgages to pay, and kids to send to college someday.
“Can they do that?” Hunter asked.
“Yes, and before you go all gladiator on me, you’ll lose,” Brody said. “Which is why I expect the name of the writer you choose in my inbox tomorrow morning. Use the list, don’t use the list, I don’t care. But, Hunter, if you don’t pick someone, the label will.”
