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I’ve been working for months to put a plan together, and the smile on my friend’s face tells me I’m heading in the right direction.
“I like how you want to handle the launch. I have friends who can help us with word of mouth from Emma’s social profile. They’ll be happy to spread the word. As for the budget, let’s try to make it work within your limits,” she winks.
And with the same simplicity with which our friendship was born, we fall into our routine, exchanging ideas, and formulating a plan that can bring us results. Because if there’s one thing Iris and I have learned in life, it’s that thinking outside the box can lead to unexpected results. If we hadn’t learned to take risks, we wouldn’t be sitting in this conference room now, making a living at our dream jobs.
Emma and the Jailbirds have been locked up in the studio for days. I knew she was a hard-working girl, but I didn’t think she’d be so professional at this age. She wants to know how things work, the production processes behind an album, and participate in it, not just add her voice and guitar at the end of it all. Basically, a dream artist for Damian and Michael, who love mentoring other musicians.
Letting the four of them invest their talents in this record company is the step forward they’ve been waiting for all these years. And it’s what’s made them so restless lately. As soon as they all settled down with their partners, their “rock star” lifestyle took a back seat, leaving room for other dreams to take shape for the future. They won’t be able to tour forever, and having something to do besides grinding miles on a tour bus is giving them something to work for. They’re rejuvenated by it, as though daring to project this new reality onto their future goals.
I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t notice the imposing figure of my brother coming through the conference room door and sitting across from me.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I’m surprised to see his smug smile.
“You and your girlfriend have the same way of welcoming me. And that’s not a compliment.” His tone is serious, but the grin never leaves his face.
I raise an eyebrow and lean back on the sofa. “Has it never occurred to you that maybe it’s you who brings out the worst in people?”
“No.” His cocky reply doesn’t surprise me. I’m sure he’s never imagined he could be part of the problem. He’s way too self-confident to contemplate such a thing.
“Getting back to my original question: What are you doing here? You’ve never been to New York as much as you have lately. Are you tired of sunny, warm California?”
“I have business in the city.”
He’s always so cryptic it makes me nervous. Is it so hard to give a straight answer just once? I’m sure all this mystery is part of his charm, but I’m not buying it.
“Do you want to be more specific, or are you waiting for me to beg? Because that’s not gonna happen. I’m not interested in digging into other people’s business.”
“Maybe you should. You might discover the keys to open doors you thought were locked.”
I study him for a few moments. He has that angelic calm he gets when he’s closing a huge deal. Maybe he genuinely is in New York just for business, but it doesn’t explain why he’s here in our conference room.
“Remember when we were teenagers and you had acne, and you covered it with Mom’s foundation?” I joke, knowing it’s one of the few things he’s ashamed of because his girlfriend at the time found out and teased him for months.
“Never happened.” He persists in denying it, even though I remember it very well.
It’s the only time in my life I’ve felt superior to my brother. Certain things are seared into your memory forever, even if they are stupid.
I stare at him without giving him the satisfaction of asking for details, even if I am dying to know. Our head-to-head lasts for several minutes until he finally caves. I do a little leap of joy inside—it’s not often I win against him.
My victory, however, doesn’t last long because my heart skips a beat when he puts the document on the table between us. I grab the folder with the contract, and when I read it, I almost collapse on the couch. Mixed emotions overwhelm me, first excitement then anger.
“Did you blackmail Anthony Flores to free the Red Velvet Curtains?” I ask incredulously.
Aaron smiles and shakes his head. “I blackmailed him until he agreed to free them. Then I paid the fine to make this agreement legal and non-appealable in court. I don’t want there to be any fallout,” he says, and for the first time, there’s no arrogance in his words but almost hesitation.
“You paid millions of dollars in penalty fees to free the Red Velvet Curtains? Why? The penalty Anthony negotiated was ridiculous—way above market price by millions of dollars.” I’m genuinely interested. I tried finding investors for weeks, but I never thought of my brother as a potential one. I thought he wanted nothing to do with a record company.
“I was looking for a company to invest in to diversify my investments. Jail Records is healthy. I trust the people involved. I know I can make money from it.”
I watch him carefully, and I know he’s lying. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the years I’ve known him, it’s that if he does give you a straight answer, it’s usually to hide the truth.
“You invested more than the value of this company. Even if we sign the Red Velvet Curtains, Jail Records is not worth that much money—not yet, at least. That’s why I couldn’t find any investors. I don’t think you spent that money as an investment, that would make you a bad businessman. And we both know that’s not the case.”
Aaron shrugs and looks down. For the first time ever, he’s at a loss for words. “I wanted to invest in the family business. A family business that doesn’t include our father.”
His words hit me like a tornado, the kind that rips you off the ground with no warning and turns your life upside down. I feel my heart pumping against my chest out of pride for my brother. For as long as I can remember, he’s gone along with what our old man wants without a second thought. This gesture makes up for all the years he’s spent trying to give me advice and acting as a buffer between our family and me.
I lower my eyes, struggling to control my emotions. The one thing we have in common is that neither of us knows how to show our affection.
