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“Martin!” Lilly scolds, but I can understand his anger.
“Why should I care? Eight albums means our career is over. We can’t even form another band because we’re tied to that damn record company. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be a waiter for the rest of my life because I trusted my future to him. They didn’t release the first album because we were tied to Evan. What guarantee do we have now that they’ll release the other seven? It’s pretty clear this is a war between the Jailbirds and the old record company, and we’re just sacrificial pawns.”
They remain silent because, in all honesty, he is right. This move effectively ends their career as musicians—unless the record company decides to release their album. But given what happened until now, the retaliation, and the deception, I wouldn’t be surprised if the next move was to push Lilly to the point of exasperation and make her leave the band. Then suing her for breach of contract and taking money indirectly from Damian. Because that’s what they’ve been doing for more than two years, and if they really cared about the potential of the Red Velvet Curtains, they would know they’re worth more than revenge against the Jailbirds. We wouldn’t be at this point. The problem is that the decision makers in these large companies hold those positions not because they have the skills but because they know how to climb up there. Anthony couldn’t tell a dog’s howl from the world’s most extraordinary voice.
“I’ll send you the email anyway. You can decide whether to use it or not.”
Luke and Lilly nod while Martin and Taylor storm out of the room without saying goodbye to me or Faith, who watches them wide-eyed.
Lilly looks up at me, and a sad smile appears on her face. “I’m sorry. This time I couldn’t stop them. Either we changed managers, or the band broke up.” Emotions break her voice, and the lump in my throat is difficult to swallow.
“Don’t feel guilty. I understand. You have to choose what’s best for you. No hard feelings. Really.”
I genuinely mean what I said to Lilly, but the sense of defeat that fills me is devastating. I have always been an extremely intentional person. I invest time, sweat, and sleepless nights to give the best to my clients, and this time I couldn’t do anything for my friends.
I can’t stay focused on work. I’m overwhelmed by the documents Emily was dealing with that now require my attention. I’m looking for new bands, and I don’t even have time to go to listen to them. I’m floundering in a sea of disorganization that’s completely foreign to me, and I don’t know how to get out of it.
Luke and Lilly wave at me and then walk away as if they can’t wait to escape this embarrassing situation. The worst is behind them: they have delivered the news, expressed their anger, and can now move on. But my descent into the abyss is just beginning, and I don’t even know where to start coming up.
I look up and find Faith staring at me with the shock and helplessness of witnessing the humiliation of a friend.
“Not one word to Michael until I can find a solution,” I threaten her with a stern look, and she nods, mortified. I immediately regret my tone, but I don’t stick around and feel guilty. I grab the contract and walk out the door.
***
Two hours went by before the record company’s big boss let me into his office. I can’t complain, considering I showed up without an appointment and demanded to meet with someone. I don’t know if it was my harsh tone or the fury on my face, but the secretary made me sit in one of the armchairs and personally entered Anthony Flores’ office to tell him I was there.
“Evan. I’m glad to see you.” His smile is smug. He’s gloating. “I see you’re wearing more casual clothing these days, and you’ve dropped the tie,” he adds after looking me over from head to toe.
It’s hard not to look down, but I try to remember if I have one on or not. This morning, frustrated after a call, I took off my tie and unfastened the first buttons of the shirt. I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out.
“I didn’t come here to talk about my style. It’s about the eight-album contract with the Red Velvet Curtains.”
Anthony laughs. “I’m pleased you agreed to it. I was a little worried you wouldn’t accept, so I was pleasantly surprised by your decision.”
There is so much conviction in his tone that, for a moment, he takes me off guard. Something eludes me, and I curse myself for running out of the office without first devising a plan to defend myself from these sharks. Another rookie mistake and another step toward an uncertainty I don’t know how to manage. How the hell did I get to this point? If Emily had been here with me, she would have stopped me, and I realize that her absence is heavy in this room.
“We haven’t signed anything. Any changes must be signed. It’s written in the contract.”
“No, actually, it says you have fifteen days to refuse the contract and propose an alternative. Paragraph ten of the document you have in your hand, if I’m not mistaken.”
I want to check to see if he’s right, but if I do it in front of him, I give away the fact that I haven’t read this contract. A sign of weakness and lack of professionalism that would put an end to this negotiation. I can’t let on that this situation is getting out of hand, that nothing is going right for us.
“If the Jailbirds agree to give you the rights to the masters you have, will you release the Red Velvet Curtains from this shitty contract?” The plea leaves my lips with a tone of defeat that echoes the chasm in my chest. When I walked in here, I hadn’t planned to crawl at his feet like the worm I feel like now, but I don’t see any other alternative.
“About that offer,” he states coldly. “We’ve done the math, and the amount the record company would make is not enough to justify our efforts. We have incredible artists who are eager and waiting to sign with us.”
As I register what he’s just said, I wince like I’ve been punched in the gut. I can’t breathe, my heart has stopped, and the burning in my stomach expands throughout my body. I feel like I’m living in a parallel reality where my whole world is crumbling and I’m free falling into an endless abyss. No safety net, no foothold can save me from this situation.
I get up from the chair on which I momentarily collapsed and walk toward the door. Not only did I fuck up Red Velvet Curtains’ career, but I also lost the royalties from the old Jailbird songs. If the record company no longer wants to release the songs they recorded with them, the Jailbirds must survive by selling one album, the one released with Jail Records, instead of five. We can’t afford the economic damage if we don’t want to shut down our record company.
“Don’t think this is over. We’ll drag you to court, and when we’re done with you, there will be nothing left of this record company,” I hiss as I grab the handle in a grip so tight it’s painful.
I watch him as he puts his hands behind his head and leans back in his chair, smiling. He has that expression of someone who just won hands down and is enjoying watching his opponent suffer and die before his eyes. I fell into his trap like a rookie. He wanted to see me crawl at his feet, so he sent the contract to the Red Velvet Curtains without first turning it over to me.
“I can’t wait.” His voice is full of mockery.
I walk out the door and down the corridor. I am so numb from this new twist I don’t even feel my legs tremble so much that I stagger and lean against the wall. People look at me worriedly and it takes a titanic effort to get my shit together and find the strength to walk out of this place. I blew up the contract with the Red Velvet Curtains and the one with the Jailbirds. I thought I couldn’t get any lower, but Anthony just kicked me into the deepest pit I’ve ever dug for myself.
