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Evan sits regally next to me, carefully studying every face that passes through this room. Although his posture is completely relaxed, I can tell he’s nervous by how he keeps tucking his thousand-dollar watch under the cuff of his shirt with an almost imperceptible movement.
“Will they leave us here for long?” I ask him quietly with a smile printed on my lips so no one sees how angry I am.
“They won’t make us wait as long as two hours because that would make it clear they want to humiliate us, but they’ll come close enough for us to lose our patience. I bet another fifteen minutes.”
I nod and look back toward the hallway where the same people walk by us, no doubt sent to check if we are frying in these chairs. I see how they try to observe us without attracting our attention. They’ll be very disappointed by our stoic composure.
As Evan predicted, fifteen minutes later we find ourselves crossing the threshold of a massive conference room with six record company bigwigs beckoning us to sit down. Evan shows off his trademark smile, the one that arches his lips gently but hardens his gaze to intimidate his opponent. There is nothing friendly about that grin, and I admire how he manages, in a single expression, to convey all his determination.
“Who are we going to have to sue for violation of the non-disclosure agreement?” Anthony Flores questions, the only one I recognize in this room because he is the big boss and best known in the music industry for his total lack of ethics when getting artists signed. Like when he paid a prostitute to seduce an artist, photographing them together then threatening to send the photos to his wife if he didn’t sign the contract, only to release the shots to the press himself, in order to trigger the scandal and boost sales of the album just released.
I’m not surprised he’s the one who takes matters in hand. The stalemate we are dealing with is undoubtedly the work of the bigwig of this record company. No producer in his right mind would decide to clip the wings of a band like the Red Velvet Curtains, potentially losing millions of dollars. They are good, well-loved, and have everything it takes to become the new Jailbirds.
“It’s my job to know everything in this industry, even if things are kept hidden. There’s no need to drag anyone to court. You’ve just done a terrible job of covering your tracks.”
He never wanted to tell me who tipped him off, and maybe it’s better this way. I would not be able to keep my face so cool. Of the six individuals in suits and ties in front of me, only Anthony has a slight smile on his lips. Everyone else seems embalmed. I don’t know if they are lawyers or other bosses for this label, but Evan wanted me here with him to begin to understand what it means to attend these meetings, and the first thing I’m learning is that I have to start swimming faster than the others if I want to survive in this shark tank. Just breathing the tense air in this room makes me feel at a disadvantage, which doesn’t help when you have to be the strongest and tear others apart.
“Our lawyers are already getting to the bottom of the matter, and it won’t take long to find out who is responsible.” Anthony flashes a smile that makes me wonder if, perhaps, he already knows who it is, but he wants to hear it from Evan or at least wants to make him feel guilty for betraying someone who is likely his friend.
I look at my boss; his cool expression and shark smile don’t leave him even for a moment. The cold determination almost makes me shudder. Even though it’s the record company’s big boss himself, Evan is the biggest fish here. I want to know how to achieve this degree of control and determination.
“Let’s get to the point, Anthony. I can’t waste more time. I have a busy day.” He is relaxed, leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed, his hands resting on one knee. The watch he tortured until a few minutes ago is in plain sight, elegant and expensive, underlining his status as a person of power. It’s not a tacky one covered in gold and diamonds. It’s elegant. It is the kind of watch with a six-figure price tag that sets apart people who have money and flaunt it from those who have a massive amount of money and don’t need to show off.
“Really? It doesn’t seem like you have many clients from the rumors we hear. Even the Red Velvet Curtains, as far as I know, are thinking of taking a different direction.”
Blood boils in my veins, and though I still wear a smile, I’m sure the disgust painted on my face is evident. Luckily for me, no one in this room is watching me. For them, I’m just an appendix of Evan. Pleasant to look at, sitting here in a skirt that hugs my curves and a blouse that lets you glimpse just enough cleavage to tease without being vulgar. And it’s Evan, for the first time since we came in the room, who shows a reaction. He laughs, throwing his head back as if hearing the funniest joke ever. I would have torn Anthony’s eyes out if he’d insulted my work this way.
“I’m amazed at how far you got listening to gossip. You make my job all too easy.”
If I didn’t know how worried Evan is about this story, I could swear that Lilly and the others never questioned his position as a manager. Anthony, too, has a hint of doubt in his eyes, and my respect for my boss reaches new heights. I smile, lean back in the chair, and cross my arms over my chest, enjoying their reaction. Three of the five guys who sat like statues now look first at Evan, then at me, and finally at their boss. They no longer seem so calm and collected, given the concern on their faces.
“So it’s not a problem for your clients that the contract remains valid, right?” Anthony asks him, knowing we have been trying to free the Red Velvet Curtains from their record company for two years.
“The band’s contract doesn’t change, we know that. Do you think we’d ask for a meeting and come here unprepared? No, but what we can negotiate are the masters of the Red Velvet Curtains’ first album, and all the old Jailbirds’ albums. While an album that has not yet been released has very little value, we can surely talk about a price for the Jailbirds’ royalties,” Evan proposes.
The Red Velvet Curtains are bound with an ironclad contract, but Evan wants to make the most of what the Jailbirds can earn from this deal. An advance in the millions, plus substantial royalties to continue to sell their music is not so uncommon for a famous band.
It’s Anthony’s turn to laugh, and next to him, the other mannequins arch their lips, amused.
“Your naivety in certain areas always makes me smile. Do you really thinkyoucan dictate the rules?”
“Considering that the biggest band in the world delivers millions of dollars to your pocket without even making an effort to promote it, I would say yes. I can dictate the rules.”
Anthony smiles, and while I appreciate Evan’s bravado, I know we have nothing in our hands but poker faces to bluff with. “We have hundreds of artists under contract, you only have one, and if you don’t give us the rights to those albums, you’ll lose the only royalties that keep you afloat. How much longer can you resist?”
He’s right. It’s as if this man had been sitting next to us in the conference room when we were doing the math. The documentary gave us a nice boost, which we tucked away, but we can’t stop. We need more income from music. Not to mention the damage to their image if the band had to withdraw four entire albums from the market, the only ones they have ever released. The only album that remains in our possession is the one they just launched, but it’s not enough to sustain an entire record company.
“Don’t worry about us. We have our resources. What should worry you is whether or not the band that makes a large percentage of your proceeds will sign with you.” The firm voice, the composure, and the threat in his voice all make me want to jump for joy in this chair.
Anthony laughs. “Really? And what would these mysterious resources be? Did Daddy sign a check?”
His joke is so disrespectful that I feel my stomach freeze, then boil with anger. I glance at Evan, and I don’t see him smiling for the first time since we entered.
“Is this really the only way you can handle the meeting?” His voice is calm, but his expression promises revenge.
Anthony leans back in his chair and smiles smugly. “No, I’m here because I have a real proposal. Pissing you off is a bonus I couldn’t resist.” He grabs a paper with numbers and hands it to Evan. I can’t see what’s written on it, but my boss’ frown lets me know it’s not good. “The Red Velvet Curtains remain with us, and the Jailbirds will sign to have their albums released, collecting only the royalties. If they don’t give up the advance, we won’t release their old hits, effectively erasing ninety percent of the music they’ve ever released, and you won’t take a dime.”
Every worst nightmare materializes in front of our eyes. We knew we didn’t have much to go to bat with, but we hoped to take them by surprise with the merger news.
