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Matthew
Cleaning images,articles, and videos from the internet took us four long days. Pria worked her magic, clearing my name and spinning Thea’s image. We confirmed being a couple for the past months. Since the videos didn’t have a date or time, we spun the tale about the mysterious man—a former lover and an old video.
A guy who happened to look similar to Thea’s ex. The similarity in dark hair and athletic body was a coincidence. We’re thankful that Fey Cooperson’s video-taking skills suck.
Mason and I only had a few hours of sleep during those four days. Today I planned on taking a break, but I don’t because Papa texts that he needs me in his home office. The silver lining of said visit is Thea. She’s staying with them.
She’s away from the city and any leftover reporters trying to snap a picture of her. I’m thankful neither Papa nor Dad suggested taking her to the compound where I grew up. The border of Washington to Oregon is far.
That’d be too far away from me. To top the news, Tristan broke up with us. He’s done fighting. Translation: the fun is over, and he can’t handle the real shit.
When I enter Gabe’s office, both are staring at his computer monitor. It clues me in that this is work related. Shit, did something happen at the company? I knew I shouldn’t have placed all my attention on cleaning this mess.
“What’s going on? Something wrong with the company, Dad?”
“Is there, Mattie?” Dad asks with a horrified look.
I shake my head.
“Good. Then we only have one situation to deal with. Either we work to shut this down before it gets blown out of proportion, or you work on a proposal. Martin is working hard to land a tell-all book and a reality show. I think we can work out a mini-series about Dreadful Souls. How they became a band, their climb to success, the decline, and a simplewhere-are-they-now? Along with a one-time reunion concert—find a venue for that.”
“You okay with all that, Papa?” I scratch my head.
He shakes his head. “Of course I’m not, Mattie. That fucking piece of shit—Martin is trying to sell our lives to the highest bidder.” He straightens up his body. “I swear, I’m only seconds from asking for a drink or a gun. That’s how bad I’m taking this shit. I might end up killing the fucking asshole this time.”
Fuck, Thea’s father is hooking himself to our family again.
“He’s an idiot if he thinks I’ll let him use my songs or my family.” Papa trembles with anger.
“Family?” I squeeze the back of the chair, refraining from hitting something.
“Yes. You and Jacob are famous. He wants to pretend that he’s sending Thea, your girlfriend, to rehab.” He huffs. “Not that she needs it.”
“He’s the one who needs a good cleaning.” I toss my head back, watching the ceiling. When is this going to end? “Where is she?”
“In the guestroom, working with her crafts.” He shakes his head. “Mason had to shut down her online store earlier today. She began receiving fucked-up messages.”
Not her store, not that. Fuck. Fuck.
“For all the shit that happened to her, she’s a good kid.”
“Yes, and we adore her,” Dad interrupts, opening his arms for Papa who goes willingly toward him. “Drama aside, Matthew, I need you to come up with a concept. If we take charge, we can control the chaos he wants to create from this mess.”
Dad traces circles on Papa’s back while he speaks. “My second suggestion is that we convince Ray and Peter, the other members of the band, to sign exclusively with us for the rest of their lives. Not sure how. I’m just storming in my head, but you can come up with something better, Matthew. I trust you. Talk to the lawyer, the board, and let me know what you decide.”
“The board?” My Adam’s apple gets stuck as I swallow. “I don’t need them.”
Dad narrows his eyes as if waiting for me to say something, which I don’t.
“Everything okay there, Matt?” I nod, giving my best neutral posture. “Good. No, you don’t need the board. Your company, your decisions. I used them for ideas, to find new shows, scripts… That’s whywehave a board of executives. If you don’t want to use them that way, rethink their roles within the company—or fire them. Just talk to me before you make any big decisions or changes.”
Is it as simple as firing them? I don’t say anything, but maybe this is my opportunity to innovate and transform the studios and the production company. My friends from school are the ones bringing me new shows and different ways to produce. Stuff the board doesn’t approve that gets pushed back.
I don’t need to fight them, just give them the pink slip. A thought for another day though. Papa needs me to focus on Dreadful Souls.
“I’m heading upstairs, and then after, I’ll go to my place and work on this,” I say, hugging them both.
“Hey, Butterfly,” I greet her, stepping inside the open door. “How’s the break treating you?”
