Chapter 21 #2
The judge enters the chambers in a black robe with a white lace collar and a chunky green necklace underneath.
She’s an older woman with a greying bob and tortoiseshell glasses.
Her face is completely neutral, giving nothing away.
Once she’s seated, we’re given the go-ahead to retake our seats.
She riffles through some papers on her desk and folds her hands on the surface.
“Good morning. My name is Judge Henderson, and I will be presiding over the case today. This is the case of C&L Entertainment v. Ruby Lynn Hayes. We are here today for a bench trial, meaning that I, as the judge, will be the sole arbiter of fact and law.”
The judge lays out the rules and procedures for the trial, promising impartiality and explaining how the day will go.
Then she asks the plaintiff to start with their opening statements.
The lawyer for the label gets up, and Ruby fidgets with a pen between her fingers.
Abby notices and takes one of her hands, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
After a long rant about contractual obligations that I’m only half listening to, I tune back into the last minute of the opposition’s opening remarks.
“We intend to prove that Miss Hayes willfully breached her contract by playing an unreleased song at the close of her tour, thereby nullifying the NDA and exclusivity clauses. After you have heard all the evidence, we will ask you to return a verdict in favor of the plaintiff.”
The lawyer retakes his seat beside the record label executive, looking pleased with what they’ve presented.
“Defendant, you may begin your opening statement,” the judge says.
Adam squeezes Ruby’s shoulder and stands. He takes a measured step to the center of the floor, slowly buttoning his suit jacket.
“The plaintiff would have you believe that this case is about a simple breach of contract, but that is far from the truth. Your Honor, this case is about the willful abuse and neglect this record label has perpetuated over a span of five years. The label will convince you that Ruby got up on that stage, fueled by spite and indignation, to play a song that they had previously kept in their archive. We do not dispute that fact. We do, however, dispute that this act was a breach of contract. We contend that the label had already committed a prior material breach long before this incident. We ask that you return a verdict in favor of the defendant, for all of the women who are mistreated in this industry. For up-and-coming artists like a young Ruby Lynn Hayes, who was sucked into a predatory contract by an uncaring label, and mistreated and abused until she finally stood up and said enough.”
At the conclusion of Adam’s opening statement, Ruby swipes at her face. When she glances over her shoulder, I mouth the words, “You ok?” and she gives me a tear-filled smile and a nod.
I have to admit, I’m impressed with Adam’s choice to appeal to the judge not only as a person with empathy, but also as a woman who has likely experienced gender-bias in her career.
The label only calls a few witnesses to the stand, and they play a video clip from the concert with a time and date stamp.
Their final witness is Stacy, Ruby’s former tour manager from the record label. She’s dressed head to toe in a crisp white suit that screams money, and she takes the stand with a severe expression on her face.
The label’s lawyer approaches the witness stand, leaning his elbow on the surface so he’s facing the judge. “Miss Jones. You were at the concert in question, were you not?”
“I was.” Her abrasive voice is what you’d expect from someone arrogant and self-serving. From what little I’ve heard about this woman, she is both.
“And you witnessed the defendant play her unreleased song ‘Heaven-sent and Hellbound’, correct?”
That song.
It was the first time I’d heard it since that night on the tailgate all those years ago, and even then, it was incomplete. When she finished playing, all I wanted to do was rush the stage and pull her into my arms.
Stacy’s eyes cut over to Ruby, and her lips tip into a sly grin. “That’s correct.”
“After the concert, you approached Miss Hayes in her tour bus. What did she have to say for herself?”
“She said, and I quote, ‘God forbid their cash cow steps a toe out of line’. Then she told me to go fuck myself—pardon my language. She said she doesn’t care if the label sues because she doesn’t need them anymore, and she said she would accuse them of abuse if they tried to take her to court.”
Ruby slaps her palms on the desk and stands. “That’s a lie!” Her voice echoes through the room, and all eyes turn in her direction.
The bailiff watches the judge’s reaction with a hand on his belt, and my jaw clenches against the barely contained anger rising within me.
Judge Henderson bangs her gavel twice in quick succession. “Order in the court. I will not tolerate any outbursts, Miss Hayes. Your lawyer will have a chance to cross-examine the witness. Please continue, counselor.”
“The plaintiff rests, your honor.”
Ruby leans in close to Adam. “I said the cash cow thing, but everything else is bullshit,” she whispers.
He rubs his hand up and down her back. “We were ready for this. I’ll handle it.”
A fleeting moment of jealousy overtakes me. I want to be the one soothing her, but I’m stuck being a spectator, helpless to do anything but offer my silent support.
“Defendant, you may now question the witness.”
Adams stands and approaches the bench with a stack of papers in hand. “Miss Jones. Were you aware that Miss Hayes was running a fever of 104 degrees the day of the concert in question?”
“She was treated by an on-site doctor, and the fever was under control at the time of her concert,” she says defensively.
“But you were aware that my client was ill, correct? It’s a yes or no question.”
“Yes,” she mutters through gritted teeth.
“And were you aware that Miss Hayes had been ill for quite some time, and the doctor advised her to postpone the final three shows of the tour and go on vocal rest?”
“I was not informed, no.”
“I have a note here from Ruby’s personal doctor that proves otherwise, Miss Jones. You and the label were both emailed a copy, and we have the records to prove it. Exhibit B, your honor.”
The judge adjusts her glasses and reads through the paper. “You may proceed.”
“Thank you, your honor.” Adam turns back to the witness stand. “You were the tour manager on duty for the last three shows, which took place over three days in three states with tour bus travel in between, is that correct?”
She tugs at the neckline of her jacket and straightens her spine. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. It was my job.”
“It’s a yes or no question, Miss Jones. Were you the manager during those shows or not?”
“Yes.”
“And at any point when Miss Hayes was suffering, did you contact the higher-ups to advocate for my client?”
The opposing lawyer stands. “Objection. Relevance?”
Adam’s confidence doesn’t waver for a second, and I’m suddenly grateful he’s on our side. The man clearly knows his shit. “It speaks to the case for negligence, your honor. If the tour manager failed to protect my client, it is irrefutable proof of my client’s claims.”
Stacy eyes the judge expectantly.
“I’ll allow it,” Judge Henderson says. “Overruled. The witness will answer.”
“They advised us to have a doctor administer medication and proceed with the shows as planned.”
Adam walks back to the table and steeples his hands on the surface as he looks over his papers. “We have no further questions for Miss Jones.”
The label rests its case against Ruby, and Adam takes center stage in the countersuit. He calls witness after witness—doctors, roadies, backup dancers, and singers—all testifying that Ruby was heavily controlled, abused, and neglected throughout her contract.
They even submit affidavits from six other acts that were previously signed to C&L entertainment, alleging the same misconduct occurred throughout their contracts—all of them women.
Ruby never once has to take the stand in her own defense, and I’m grateful.
A pattern is quickly established, and by the end of the four-hour trial, the record label no longer has a leg to stand on.
“Based on the evidence presented in the original claim, the court finds that the defendant in this case is not liable for breach of contract as the plaintiff committed a prior material breach, thereby excusing the defendant from their obligations under the agreement. There is significant evidence to prove that Miss Hayes experienced severe emotional distress and negligence prior to the termination of the contract, and the counter-defendant will be liable for compensatory and punitive damages as assessed by this court.”
I tune out the rest of the verdict as I watch Ruby melt into Abby’s arms. Years of negligence and abuse, months of worry over the trial, it all ends now. My heart gives an involuntary squeeze as I fight the urge to climb over the barrier and hold her.
When all is said and done, Ruby is awarded three million dollars in damages. The courtroom starts to empty, and Abby takes Ruby’s face between her palms, murmuring something to her. Then, my girl looks over at me and gives me a watery smile.
She stands and steps through the swinging barricade. The moment she’s within arm’s reach, I pull her against me and kiss her. “I’m so goddamn proud of you, baby.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says, her voice slightly choked.
I brush a lock of hair away from her forehead and meet her gaze. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re strong as hell, and you would’ve won this case whether I had been here or not.”
“But having you with me made all the difference. You’re my safe place, Liam. Remember?”
I kiss her forehead and let my lips linger on her skin.
“Can we go home now?” she asks Adam.
“Yes. They could appeal, but I doubt they want that kind of fight on their hands. Abby has a press release ready to go, and if I had to guess, I’d say they’re already working on doing damage control.”
I release her so she can hug them both, then we walk out of the courtroom hand-in-hand. Nico is already at the door with two other bodyguards I’ve never met before, and they escort us to the waiting SUV near the back entrance.
I help her into the backseat and slide in next to her. Nico rides shotgun. The other guards stay behind, their job complete.
She rests her head on my shoulder and releases a heavy sigh. “It’s finally over.”
I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles. “And we’re just getting started, baby.”