Jace
I’m supposed to be somewhere right now.
I try to move, but my whole body aches. When I crack my eyes open, I see why. Because I slept twisted like a pretzel on a piece-of-shit couch in the rehearsal room.
“Why didn’t anyone wake me up like I asked?” I rub the sleep outta my eyes.
Frank looks over at me from another couch. “Sorry. We were working on that arrangement for ‘Firefly’ and lost track of time.”
Shit. “What time is it?” I search for my phone only to remember I don’t have it. I glance around the room, at the empty coffee containers and pizza boxes.
“Ten.”
“At night?” That’s still early. If I hustle, I bet I could catch Rory before she passes out. She slept so soundly last night that when I crept in the hotel room and spooned her, she didn’t even budge.
Cooper laughs. “In the morning, asshole. You slept straight through us playing this song five thousand times to get it the way you wanted it.”
I stare at my bandmates. “You’re saying it’s Tuesday?” They all chuckle like I’m hilarious. It pisses me off. “You realize I have a child, right?” I grab my spiral notebook and head for the door. “I need to check on my girls. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Frank heads me off at the door. “Hold up, tiger. We’ll get you some time to freshen up at the hotel and check on Layla.
FYI, I spoke to Rory this morning, and the baby’s fine.
So stop worrying about that.” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I just got a call from Niles. We have to talk.”
I clench my jaw. “What does he want now?”
“Have a seat.”
Jesus, this can’t be good. I cross my arms. “I’m fine. Spit it out.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Frank.” I’m a patient man, but I have zero fucking chill right now.
He holds up his hands. “Overall, this is great news.” I glance at my bandmates, and they’re busy looking everywhere except at me.
“Niles is fucking ecstatic about the press we’re getting for your performance with Marlowe.
Everything’s blowing up. So Niles wants you two to record ‘Red Light’ together. ”
“We’ve already recorded it.” That’s our bestselling song. It’s how we can afford to book rehearsal and studio time when the rest of my income goes to paying Rory and affording shit for my daughter.
“Right, well, Niles would like that done as a duet.”
I hear what he’s not spelling out. “You mean he wants me to sign it over so he can own part of that song.” I take a deep breath to try to calm down. “How much?”
“How much what?”
“What percentage does he want?”
He winces. “Fifty.”
“What the fuck, Frank? You can’t be serious.”
My manager rests his hand on my shoulder.
“I know you’re concerned, but hear me out.
The music industry isn’t what it was ten or twenty years ago.
You know this. Resources are slim. You have to be a sure thing before labels invest. You can’t blame Niles for wanting to test this out.
The good news is he thinks it’ll skyrocket Wayward Sons and Marlowe on social media.
This will give him the leverage to go to his investors so they can feel confident you’re a sound bet.
And frankly, fifty percent seems like a good deal. ”
“Does it all come out of my share?”
He shakes his head. “Forty percent out of yours, and ten percent from the band.”
I look at the guys. “Y’all are okay with this?” Because even though I wrote the song, I gave them twenty percent because that seemed fair. This deal will leave them with ten.
Cooper scratches his bushy beard. “It’s a gamble, sure, but maybe we make a lot more money ’cause we have more visibility.”
Shane shrugs. “We could keep our share, but if this tour ends with no record deal, a hundred percent of zero is zero.”
I already know what Derek’s gonna say, but I give him a chance to say his piece. With a smirk, he plays “Money” by Pink Floyd on his keyboard. “I’m down with whatever helps me pay the bills.”
God, I feel sick. “So Niles wants to book time for Marlowe to record her parts?”
“Actually,” Frank says slowly, “he wants you both to record it and maybe make a music video with the footage. And before you lose your shit, he said the label will pay for all of that.”
I snort. “That would sound great if I didn’t know the label will recoup those expenses before I get paid again.”
“It is what it is, Jace. Take it or leave it.”
I need to talk this out with Rhett. He’s always been the one I turn to for advice about business stuff.
“I have to make a call.” I head for the hallway, but pause at the door when I remember one key bit of info.
“I don’t have my fucking phone.” I look at my bandmates. “Do any of y’all have Rhett’s number?”
My dumbass friends all shake their heads. Sighing, I press my palms into my eye sockets. I’m an idiot for not knowing the number to my family’s ranch off the top of my head. I’ll look it up online. “Can I borrow someone’s phone?”
Frank frowns. “I don’t mean to rush you, but Marlowe’s joining us soon to run through this. Do you really want her to see you debating whether you want to record with her? You may not be her biggest fan, but if you play this right, she could help your career.”
The one thing no one tells you about this industry is it slowly sucks out your soul, one murky decision at a time.
“Fine, but I need to go back to the hotel. I’ll be back in an hour.
” At the very least, I need to tell Rory what’s going on with Marlowe so she doesn’t hear it through the grapevine.
We just made some great headway, and I’m gonna blow it if I make major life decisions without at least discussing this with her.
“Jace, I need you to look at the contract before you go.” He pulls out a stack of paper from his laptop bag.
“No, I—”
The rehearsal door opens and in waltzes Marlowe and a few of her friends. “Hey, y’all.” She holds up her arm like she’s on a victory tour. “Let’s get this party started!”
Son of a bitch.