Chapter 19 Present
Sunlight danced off the silverware and water glasses, casting tiny rainbows across the table.
A few people spoke in indistinct murmurs, the clinking of distant plates a soft counterpoint, even though the hotel restaurant felt quiet and spacious at this hour.
Ry waited for the lawyer, his hands clasped in his lap, the texture of his slacks a subtle sensation against his fingers.
Though they’d meet in her office for their first negotiation meeting, she had suggested the outing.
Today, he’d chosen a black button-down, the top buttons open, revealing a sliver of skin.
Sania Patel breezed in, her large, ebony-rimmed glasses obscuring her eyes.
A perfectly tailored verdant sari encased her petite frame.
Her long, thick hair, dark as polished obsidian, tumbled in waves from a slightly askew bun.
She strode to the table, the click of her heels sharp on the marble floor, setting her leather briefcase down with a soft thud.
“Hi.” He stood and shook his lawyer’s hand, then sat back down.
“Thanks for meeting me here.” She settled on her chair and drank some water. “I’m starving.”
“Of course,” he said, reviewing the choices. “It’s been a while since I ate here.”
She flipped through the pages and then set the menu down. They exchanged pleasantries until the server arrived and took their order.
“Well,” she said, her brown eyes bright. “I’ve been doing some research on the case and I’m brewing up a strategy.”
“I need some good news.”
She opened her briefcase and rummaged around for a few minutes. She then pulled out a stack of papers. “Interns.” She sighed. “But at least they got the notes in the correct spot this time. This is the nasty piece of work you signed for the label, right?”
Ry took the proffered document and scanned the first couple of pages. “Yeah, this looks like it. Did you find anything about what I mentioned?”
She shook her head. “No, and the signatures look authentic. Not saying I don’t believe you. It’s difficult to tamper with documents, but not impossible. Especially if someone knows what they are doing.”
“Fuck,” he said under his breath.
She held up a hand. “Though the team will continue searching for evidence of tampering. We’ve got a couple of experts looking into this, but I want to have a comprehensive approach.”
His heart caught up with his breath. There was another way. With that, his chest expanded; the vice-grip released.
“Damn, I know I’m not making it up.” He shook his head, trying to crack his neck, and played with his napkin on his lap. What could he have missed? “Okay, what’s the plan? I need to get out of this nightmare.”
She took a deep breath and examined the notes. “Check page eighteen under the footnotes and then flip over to page twenty-three.”
Ry flipped to those sheets, taking a sip of water. He scanned the document, his heart racing.
“Are these contradictions?” he muttered. “So, what happens now?” He hit the back of his chair, the cushion supportive beneath him. Relief swept through him, and he let out a shaky breath. His shoulders dropped, and a strange, effervescent feeling bubbled up in his stomach.
“Yes, and the entire document has a few. With these, we can show that the requirements are impossible to fulfill. I’ve reviewed the other contracts from Alexander, Lon, and Brand, and they have enough similarity. I can negotiate termination for the band.”
“How on earth did you find this?” Ry said after he’d finished reading it a second time. He floated. “I didn’t have my dad review it like I should have, but I’ve looked over more agreements than most people. Never saw this.”
Sania frowned. “I feared as much.”
“But,” he grinned, “basically I can get out? What numbers are we looking at, assuming we can’t get them on fraud for changing contracts around?”
“I’m not sure. Labels are loath to drop big talent, so we have put pressure on them.” Her grin was wicked. Ry was glad she was on his side. “And if we can prove tampering beyond a doubt with a judge or jury, well then. I’d love to do that.”
“Okay, let’s assume the contradiction route for now,” he said. His leg bounced up and down and his heart struggled against him sitting down.
“Alright,” she said. “If we target this, let’s make it uncomfortable for them without a breach of contract on your side. And yes, that means no making out with Alex in public.”
“Not happening anyway.”
She laughed. “We can start a massive social media campaign. I’ve got the interns combing through and testing strategies against the framework. The main and easiest course is to advertise the dispute.”
“That’s risky,” Ry said. He took a sip of his water.
“Unlikely.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear, her eyes intense. “These days, record labels aren’t in good graces with the public, and swaying your fans to your side will be much easier than Efreet is comfortable with.”
“What are we talking about here?”
“We ask no buying records, stop streaming music, and we send letters and petition stations to reduce air time. With enough pressure, they may cave.”
Ry squirmed in his seat. “That’s a lot. And the campaign is nasty, but if we need to do it, I’m in. What else is there?”
“We have other options. There are no medical clauses, but we may get reasonable adjustments based on your time in rehab. If you want, I’ll work with Rosewood to get them to testify. Expert opinions matter.”
“You’re right, it may be better to have fans on my side and control the narrative on this. Rosewood will be back pocket.”
“Will the rest of Ghostfire be on board? Without them, this will be much harder.”
“Okay, I’ll worry about them. I’m guessing we can’t turn around and form a new band and start making music or performing, correct?”
Sania laughed. “Yes, twenty-four months. They really want to punish anyone trying to get out. So, what’re your thoughts?” She stacked the papers again and pushed her glasses back up her nose.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the future play out before him.
Two years stretched like an eternity before him, yet also a fleeting breath.
Time for rest, recovery, and rebuilding his life.
Without his label on his neck approving or rejecting songs, he could craft melodies unburdened by executive approval and lyrics to drench the heart.
The crowd would scream for the real him.
“Let’s go with it then.”
“Good, we’ll want a meeting with Efreet to get the process started.”
Ry’s phone rang. It was his manager. “Speak of the devil,” Ry said to her, then answered and put him on speakerphone. “Arend, yes.”
“Orion, I’m so glad I caught you. I need to meet with you soon regarding the studio dates and additional tours.”
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word.
“Will you be able to come to my office next week?”
Sania had her face in her phone, searching her calendar, and held it up to Ry, her finger pointing to the time that worked for her.
“I can do three on Friday.”
“Very well,” his manager sighed on the other side of the line. “Though I am a busy man, I will make that work for my favorite.”
“See you then,” Ry said, and then hung up.
Sania looked at him.
“Let’s do this. I’ll meet with the rest of the band.”
“Excellent,” she said. “We may get some new information, and I may buy us time to investigate everything. Ah, lunch!”
?
The entire gang sat around his dining room table, bowls of steaming ramen: one meal they used to have together so long ago.
Lon blew on his noodles to cool them down.
Alex continued stirring a dizzying myriad of hot sauces into his bowl.
Light reflected from glasses hid Brand’s eyes.
Ry needed this to go well. His breath came quick and shallow, and he forced himself to expand his lungs as if for the first note in a song.
“I want to quit Ghostfire,” he said, leaning his elbows on the dining room table. He expelled the rest of the air and tried to regulate his breathing. He clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing, anticipating the blowback.
Lon shifted in his chair. “What?”
“I can’t continue with this, not after rehab,” Ry said, not looking up. “Not with Efreet, not with Arend.”
“We’ve talked about this before.” Lon sipped some of his broth.
“Sania mentioned that there is another way,” Ry said, glancing at his friend.
His simple black shirt hung off his frame.
“There are contradictions in the contract we can use to get out. I never saw that until she pointed it out. I suspect ‘someone’ tampered with at least my contract, if not all of them. She’s investigating that as well. ”
Alex whistled. “Shit.” He had turned red. “Manipulated? How?”
Ry shrugged. “I also don’t remember signing some clauses that wormed their way in.”
Brand looked over at him. “Why are you telling us?”
He stirred his food, waiting for it to cool down more. “Because if Sania can’t show a discrepancy between the copies I had and the official filing, I’ll need your help to reduce sales and radio play to put pressure on them to settle. If we all mobilized, that could be a lot less.”
“What about the band?” Lon asked. “What happens to us?”
Ry fidgeted with his chopsticks. “That’s up to you guys. If you want to continue on without me, I won’t fight. But if I leave and you all agree, we could dissolve. Right now, I’d rather have my friends and sanity. But—”
“You’re planning something else,” Alex said, interrupting.
“Yeah,” Ry said. He set his utensils down and looked at each of them.
“I hope to recreate what we had at the beginning. I’d love to start a new group.
Pick up our original name, perhaps add an up-and-coming audio engineer with vocal talent about to graduate college?
Since we can’t do much for two years, we’ll have space to write and could record another album.
Make our own label or go indie. We gotta work out the details, but I want to do this with you. But the right way this time.”