CHAPTER 43 #2
It took him a long time to read the document. “This is an addendum to their management contract,” he said finally.
“I know what it is.”
“How did this happen?” he asked, his lip snarled.
“I asked the band to sign it,” she said, her voice steady.
When she told Bob that Sebastien wanted to sign her band to SDM, he suggested adding a clause that would void their contract if she left for any reason—or none at all.
“Where’s Bob Shaw?” He pounded his fist on the desk.
She shrugged. “Bob Shaw knows about it.”
“What?” He picked up the phone on his desk and covered the receiver. “We’ll see about this.” A few seconds later he yelled into the handset, “Lara!” He mispronounced her name. “Get me Bob Shaw on the phone, pronto!”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, waiting for Bob to call back.
The past fourteen years flickered in her mind like a dying lighter, sparks failing to catch. Had she ever been happy there? She doubted it. A job shouldn’t be a death sentence, and she refused to let him be her executioner.
“Bob Shaw’s on line one,” Lara said through the speaker.
Sebastien hit the line and picked up the receiver, glaring at Tyler like she’d murdered his entire family.
“What the fuck is this key man clause?” he shouted into the phone.
There was a pause. “Yes, I fucking know it means the band can leave with Tyler. But how did it happen?” An even longer pause ensued.
“What do you mean you approved it? I swear to fucking god, Bob Shaw, I’m going to fire you!
” He slammed the phone, missing its cradle, and slammed it again while she held in her laughter.
“All good then?” she asked.
“This isn’t over.” He stabbed the air with his finger. “You may have them contractually”—he ripped the document in half—“but good fucking luck getting them shows. I’ll have Tommy ruin your little snot-nosed friend, Allie.” Snot-nosed? He went on, “And the rest of your bands, if you’ve got any.”
“If that’s the case, I’m sure Tommy’s boss will be interested in hearing what you guys have been saying about him.”
Sebastien balked, resting his hands on his belly. “You’ve got nothing on me.”
“Only every email from the past fourteen years,” she said. “Who do you think controls the passwords? Our IT person? Oh, right, that’s my job too.” She stood from the chair. “And another thing—”
“Sebastien!” a man’s voice belted and their heads jerked.
Thank god you’re okay! But you look like hell.
“Cary! Where have you been?” Sebastien asked. He said to Tyler, “We’re done here.”
“Forever,” she said. “You can take this job and shove it.” Johnny Paycheck’s song would have been the perfect music placement.
“I knew you had it in you,” Cary told Tyler, closing the door behind him. “Do you mind sitting in on this?”
Where’s the popcorn?
“I’d be happy to.” She sat across from Sebastien, squaring her shoulders as Cary sat in the seat next to her.
“Is something wrong?” Sebastien asked, perplexed.
“To put it mildly.” Cary’s eyes narrowed. “Where are my keys?”
“Keys?” Sebastien asked. “What keys?”
“The spare keys to my house,” he clarified, fingering his disheveled hair.
Sebastien pushed back his chair to make room for his belly before opening the top drawer of his desk. “They must be around here somewhere . . .” He rummaged through the drawer, office supplies flying everywhere. “I’m sure they’re here.”
“They’re not,” Cary said. “Tommy’s got them. She”—he pointed at Tyler—“saw Tommy and Lara coming out of my place the other day.” Sebastien raised an eyebrow and she nodded twice. He continued, “My building security pulled the footage.”
“What footage?” Sebastien interrupted.
“He’s been using my place as a common bawdy house,” Cary said. “There was a condom wrapper in my garbage, Sebastien.”
“Fucking Tommy,” Sebastien seethed slowly, fixing his baseball cap. “Sorry, did you say Lara was there?” He gestured to his door while they both nodded. “Lara!” he shouted, mispronouncing her name again.
Two seconds later Lara cracked open the door. “Can I help you?”
“Get in here!” he demanded, and the receptionist slinked into his office like a dog with a lowered tail. “What the fuck were you doing at Cary’s house?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She pursed her lips. “I mean, I wasn’t at Cary’s.”
“I saw you the other day coming out of the elevator,” Tyler said. “But it’s not your fault entirely.”
Lara lowered her head. “I was at Tommy’s.”
“That’s my place,” Cary said, and Lara’s eyes went dead.
“He said it was his house.”
“No, that’s Cary’s penthouse,” Tyler confirmed. “Tommy lives in West Vancouver with his family. His wife and kids.”
Lara’s eyes teared up. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t know! He said he’d help me with my singing career and—”
“You don’t have a singing career. Or any career,” Sebastien told her. “Just pack your shit and go.”
If only Tyler had a copy of the Employment Standards Act on her person to show him it was illegal.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Cary said. “Or anyone, for that matter.”
“C’mon, do you think she’s that stupid?” Sebastien asked, laughing.
“It’s not her fault,” Tyler chimed in. “It’s Tommy’s.”
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Sebastien said.
“No, you’re not.” Cary rubbed his chin. “I’ve been on the phone with Porter all week—”
“Fucking asshole,” Sebastien added.
“I’ve got you saying that in an email.” Tyler grinned at her former boss.
“Tommy’s being fired as we speak,” Cary said. “But we agreed to keep it quiet for the agency’s sake. Porter will manage me going forward.”
“He’s not a manager,” Sebastien said.
“The last time I checked, you didn’t need a certification.” Cary sounded serious, like when he gave her ex-boyfriend shit at the bar in Austin.
“Please. I’ll do anything,” Sebastien begged.
Cary shook his head. “It’s a done deal, but just so you won’t fuck with anyone, I’m letting you keep your commissions on everything from the past twenty years.” He raised a finger. “If I hear you’re fucking around, Porter gets my back catalog and you’ll be cut out of everything.”
“Be nicer to the interns,” Tyler added. “Or I’ll find them placements before I leave here.” She stood from her seat. “As I was saying . . .” She locked eyes with Sebastien, and he stared blankly at her. “Fuck you and fuck the Quebec Nordiques. I hope they never get another team.”
After Tyler stormed out of Sebastien’s office she packed up a few things. She couldn’t believe the amount of junk—promo items, lanyards, and laminates—she’d accumulated over the years. What was she going to do? Display her delegate passes like a collection of conquests?
A few minutes later there was a knock at her door.
“What?” she snapped.
The door opened and Cary asked, “Have you got a minute?”
“Rory’s at home,” she told him. “In case you were wondering.”
“I was.” He took a seat. “I—”
“Are you okay? I’ve been worried, and you didn’t call me back.”
He nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I had some business to take care of in Winnipeg, and you said you needed space. I should’ve texted, but you hurt my feelings.”
“I know.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry about that. I was upset about the baby and didn’t want to do the long-distance thing.” She drew her gaze up to his eyes. “What business did you have in Winnipeg?”
“That’s why I flew out here the other day. I mean, other than to see you, of course. Do you know that house we passed by on Wellington? The Lounts’ old house?”
“Yeah. I love that place.”
“Well, I put in a lowball offer, and they accepted it. I wanted to see if we should close the deal.”
“Why did you put in an offer?”
“So we could live there.” He leaned forward in his seat. “But if you don’t want to, or if you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay. I bought it anyway and I’ll use it as an investment property.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t buy me a house, Cary.”
“I didn’t.” He smirked. “I bought it for Rory.”
“Funny,” she said, shaking her head.
“You can’t be mad at me for giving you what you want.”
He’d made a good point, but what about what he wanted? He was used to living a spectacular life in LA.
“Do you want to live in Winnipeg?” she asked skeptically.
“I’d live in this office if it meant being with you.”
“As you can see, I’m packing my shit.” She pointed to the boxes. “Besides, Sebastien would charge us market rent or higher to live here.”
He laughed. “I’m proud of you for leaving.”
“Thanks. I’m proud of me, too.”
“Babe—”
“Can I say something first?” He nodded, so she continued, “I’m sorry I have trust issues, but I really do love you. And I thought you were cheating on me when I went to your penthouse.”
“I love you too.” He stood to hug her. “You know, I’m not perfect either, but I’d never cheat on you.”
“You may not be perfect, but you’re perfect for me.” She met his gaze. “Are you sure you’ll be happy in Winnipeg?”
“I know I’m not Mr. Manitoba, but if you’re happy, I’m happy. And assuming you still want kids—”
“I do!”
He went on to say, “I want him to grow up with his family around him, not on a tour bus.”
“Or her family,” she added.
“Right,” he agreed. “I want Allie to be my new agent, but Porter doesn’t want a conflict of interest with him being my manager.”
“Today’s your lucky day.” She gave him a toothy grin. “She wants to leave the agency and come work with me and Kim.”
“In Winnipeg?”
She nodded and resumed packing. “Did I mention my dad has season tickets to the Blue Bombers?”
“Football, right?” he asked, stacking boxes on her desk.
“Fifth row, center field,” she confirmed.
“Speaking of Bert, does he know you’re moving?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I wanted to quit first.”
“Maybe you should call him.”
“I’ll call Dylan. She’s always on that pregnancy app that tells you how big your baby is in terms of fruit.”
A few seconds later Dylan answered on FaceTime.
“What’s up?” she asked, dunking a tea bag into a mug like a Yo-Yo.
Tyler stared at her sister, trying not to smile. “Are you able to run over to Dad’s? I have some news.”
Dylan turned her phone around. “No need. He’s right here.”
“Hi, honey!” Bert waved with vigor.
“Cary’s here too.” She moved him into the frame. “We’re coming home.”
“Ugh,” Dylan grunted with an eye roll. “This weekend isn’t great, Tyler. Nadie has rehearsal, Dad has a gig, and—”
“I mean for good.”
Dylan’s eyes jumped forward like a cue ball on a hard break. “What? When? How?”
“You forgot where and why,” Tyler said.
“You can stay with me,” Bert offered. “I’ve got tons of room.”
Tyler tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “Thanks, Dad, but we’re moving into the Lounts’ old house on Wellington.”
“Yeah, that’s not a house,” her sister countered. “It’s a mansion.” She took a sip from her mug. “Why do you need a place that big?”
“It’s my fault,” Cary said. “I put in a lowball offer and they accepted it. I wanted somewhere she could have an office and my folks could visit.”
Bert chuckled. “Sounds like I might be staying with you, then.”
“Anytime, sir,” he said. “Joe’s family is more than welcome. I know your place gets crowded over Christmas.”
Dylan’s face lit up. “Welcome home, sis!”
After Tyler hung up the phone she asked Cary, “Are you sure about the office?”
“Sure I’m sure,” he said. “The property’s got a separate coach house. Two of them, actually.”
“I insist on leasing the office space.” She rested her hands on her hips. “I won’t take no for an answer.” But before he could argue Tyler’s phone vibrated. It was Allie on FaceTime.
“Are you ready for this?” Allie asked, and she nodded. “Fucking Tommy got fired, man. They just told us in the boardroom.”
“Really?” Tyler said, not letting on she knew. “I guess that means Cary needs a new agent.”
Cary waved at Allie on the screen. “You want the gig?”
“Fuck yeah, I do!”
“I’m excited about this,” Cary said. “Tommy’s been my agent since I was a kid.”
Tyler pointed her phone at the boxes on her desk. “I’m packing my shit.”
Allie wrinkled her nose. “Where are you going?”
“We have an office in Winnipeg, and we’re keeping our bands.” She held up her phone. “So, are you in?”
“I’m all the fuck in.”