36. Othelia
Chapter thirty-six
Othelia
“Sorry guys, my plane was delayed,” I say as I enter the boardroom, giving the guys hugs before taking the empty seat they left me in between Trace and Lennon.
Looking over at the three suits representing our label, and Rick, our manager, as they sit across the expansive wooden table. I nod, clasping my hands in front of me.
“Right, as I was saying,” the suit sitting in the center says, looking more at Rick than at us, “as you won’t be continuing the tour for the foreseeable future, then we will require you to begin work on the next album. The fans need something… we need something to see that you are all fulfilling the demands of your contract.” All eyes turn to me, the label and our manager, their impatience with me clear.
I’m only just beginning to find myself again after losing Sloane. Rook has been helping me rediscover who I am, but I still feel like my soul has been shattered, right along with my heart, and I’m still not sure how or if it can be fixed.
How do I tell this room of people all needing something from me that my mind has been blank since the phone call that shattered my world? That I’ve gone from writing a new song every few days to only managing to write half a bridge in weeks of trying. How I still held my breath every time the phone rings.
I try to focus on the conversation in front of me and not the pounding of my heart in my throat.
“We aren’t in a hurry to head back out on the road. It’s been years since we’ve had any real time at home and right now I think that’s what we all need,” Lennon sternly says, not backing down when the suits look down their noses at him.
“It’s a tour or a new album, Lennon. Those are your choices,” suit number two responds.
Lennon opens his mouth to argue, but I place a hand on his arm and he pauses, jaw clenching.
“When are you wanting us to return to Europe?” I ask.
“March, at the latest. Any more than that and we will have to refund the remaining shows. That would leave the label out-of-pocket hundreds of thousands of dollars, and we just aren’t willing to part with that amount of money because you all simply ‘ don’t feel up to it.’ ” He uses his fingers for quotation marks. I feel Lennon tensing under my hand, ready to go to bat for us.
Three months. They are giving me three more months to sort my shit out and do another four weeks of touring.
“If we agree and finish the tour, when it’s done, we need a break from touring. We’ve spent so much time on the road over the last few years. I’ve slept more nights in hotel beds or on the bus than in my actual home. Lennon and Charlie need time together. We won’t be doing any scheduled appearances for at least six months after their child is born. Lennon deserves that time to be a dad,” I say. Lennon’s face softens at the mention of his pregnant wife. I know they’re both concerned the label will force us to be on tour while she’s expecting.
Over the last week, the boys and I have had many video calls to discuss this upcoming meeting, working out what we want to do and when we are ready to do it.
Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on the desk in front of me. “I think after seven albums and earning you guys millions, you could be agreeable to these terms. This is the first actual break we have asked for in ten years. I think we have earned the right to spend some time with our families.” I look towards the band for their agreement.
They all nod and I lean back as we look over at Rick. I probably should have given him the heads up we would be coming forward with this request, and I gather by the way he’s tapping his pen against his pile of paperwork that he isn’t impressed with being kept out of the loop.
Rick has been with us since the beginning. He found us playing gig after gig in shitty LA clubs, trying to make a name for ourselves. We owe him, but with the repeated emails and voicemails we’ve all been receiving for the last two months, insisting we need to get back out on the road, we decided, this time, we would take the negotiations into our own hands.
“You give me the whole of March and it’s a deal.” I nod, putting my hand out to shake. Suit number one raises his hand but halts midway. “We have one more request.”
The boys drop to their seats again, like teenagers in trouble with the principal. “Always By My Side is sponsoring a charity concert in Chicago for Thanksgiving. They have invited Hopeless Mercy to headline the show, since you are Chicago natives, and given your recent loss, Othelia, they feel you are the perfect representative for their cause.”
“What’s their cause?” I ask.
“Providing grief and loss support to the community, they provide free counseling and run a twenty-four-hour support hotline for people needing someone to talk to after losing someone.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and Sloane’s smiling face flashes across my mind.
Memories of Rian’s phone call. Panic fills me at the thought of performing again, making my breath feel choked.
“It’s some meet and greets and one televised performance on Thanksgiving. They have paired with the City of Chicago to make it a full day event.”
Jericho’s hand finds mine, giving me a reassuring squeeze. I know these boys have my back and if I decide I can’t do this, they would walk away without a second thought. But the cause would mean so much to so many, and if Hopeless Mercy can help to deliver that message…
I have to try. For Sloane.
“We’ll do it. Email Rick the details.” I look at the boys and the look on their faces fills me with pride. We all stand, shaking hands with the executives as they file out of the room.
Rick lets out a long hard exhale and we all turn to watch him as he gathers his paperwork and heads towards the exit, not saying a word. He stops at the door with his hand on the doorknob, looking back at us.
“I’ll get my assistant to organize all the details for the show and let you know when I hear from the label.”
I nod, half expecting to be yelled at. “Oh and Othelia, if you keep ignoring my emails and pull shit like this again,” he points back to the meeting table, “you can find yourself another manager.”
“Got it.” I wink with a smile and he shakes his head as he leaves, cursing us under his breath.