Chapter 22 Present
“It’ll be alright,” Sania said, her voice hushed.
Ry swallowed and nodded.
At their floor, Ry gestured down the hallway, the muted thud of his shoes echoing slightly on the plush blue carpet, its familiar texture unchanged from his first visit.
The air stirred as they walked. His ally followed.
The walls, lined with a dazzling array of gleaming platinum records and award statuettes, caught the light.
Autographed photos of legendary musicians, their smiling faces and bold signatures a testament to years of artistry, watched them pass.
Arend’s door was open, his manager standing at the window looking down at the city below, his hands folded behind his back.
He wore a modest dark green suit with a more vibrant emerald vest. His hat lay on the desk.
His long auburn hair, streaked with white, curled around his ears and his neck.
Light stubble covered his sagging cheeks.
Arend’s sharp eyes pinned them as they entered.
“Ah, Orion,” he said, then glanced at Sania. “And this must be the lawyer.”
“Sania Patel,” she said, striding into the room. “Pleasure.” She held out a hand, but Arend didn’t take it.
Instead, he strolled to his gargantuan desk and lounged in his enormous chair. He waved for them both to sit. The instant Ry sat down, the brutal design dug into his legs and back. Sania settled into the firm chair, looking completely comfortable.
As Sania opened her mouth to say something, Arend spoke over her. “I will discuss nothing until counsel is present,” Arend said, his voice steel. His tone changed, and he smiled. “But where are my manners? Though I don’t have a full suite of refreshments, I can provide chilled beverages.”
Ry shook his head, and Sania waved away the offer.
“Shame. If you change your mind, let me know.”
Ry shifted in the unforgiving seat. After a few miserable minutes, a young woman knocked on the door.
“The conference room is ready,” she said. Arend stood and followed her, not looking back. His lawyer raised her eyebrows at him and then walked behind them.
The meeting room, thankfully, had more comfortable chairs. Bottled water sat at each of the six places on the oval table. The young woman disappeared, and two men in suits came in, sitting next to Arend on one side. He and Sania took the other.
After brief introductions, the older one, Mr. Soto, spoke. “Ms. Patel, thank you for clearly communicating your client’s specific requests. However, we disagree with the ‘contradictions’ you mention, as it’s entirely feasible to fulfill all the requirements.”
“So you’re saying that though Efreet retains final approval, but supports the artist’s creative vision, isn’t one? Or the option to extend the contract based on Efreet’s evaluations alone? I’m sure a court would disagree.”
“Perfectly possible to follow,” the other lawyer, Mr. Harcourt, said. He slid over some documents.
“However, we aren’t heartless, even with your campaign to intimidate Efreet,” Mr. Soto said.
A sour grimace spread across his face, his mouth pulling into a tight knot.
“Please be aware that this will only secure Mr. Clair's release; other Ghostfire members will remain under contract. Mr. Clair shall sign a non-disclosure agreement, cease this mobilization, and pay a recoupment fee of seven million. Then he is free to leave.”
Sania took the documents. She pushed her glasses up her nose and stared at the man opposite her. She smiled, her teeth white against her dark skin.
Arend grinned at Ry, a subtle narrowing of his eyes as he stared down his nose.
The same smile he had when Ry had scribbled his name all those years ago at this exact location.
The slick surface of the table remained the same.
Back then, they had all signed together.
Ry had scrutinized the contract beforehand, the lessons his father had given him had played out in real time.
He had double-checked that nothing had changed from the preview version.
He had dreamed of selling out small venues, then arenas, taking his music to the world with his best friends and his boyfriend.
Those dreams crumbled under the weight that bound them.
Now, his blood rushed at the possibilities before him.
“Mr. Soto, Mr. Harcourt,” she drawled. “As much as that would please you, we will not be taking that offer.”
Sania, animated in a way he’d only seen when she talked about the case and law, seemed in her element.
The back and forth with the other lawyers took him by surprise.
Though a recommendation from Rosewood and not famous in her own right, at least not with the media, she’d proven a valuable ally in his fight to free himself and his friends from the chains Efreet had bound them in.
The PR campaign Sania had begun on his behalf had already been successful.
Fans from all over the world had sent him messages of encouragement in his legal challenge.
Every time he checked the online music forums, or Ghostfire-specific fan pages, so many encouraging notes popped up: “Keep fighting for what’s right for you,” and “You beat addiction, you’ll trounce these guys.
” Of course, there were some who didn’t want any changes, who feared losing their favorite artists.
“—Mr. Clair, that there have been suspicious changes and alterations in the contract language.” Sania rested her hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to speak.
He cleared his throat. The opposition all stared at him, and his palms sweated like they had back in high school the first time he’d been on stage.
“Look, the contract I signed and the one that was recorded are not the same. Someone altered the wording, specifically in the clauses regarding my relationships. I deserve the truth and my freedom.”
“Could you imagine the terrible PR Efreet will have to endure, especially in discovery? I would love to review the internal emails and records. I wonder what waits to be unearthed?”
“What substantiation do you have for that claim?” Mr. Harcourt asked. “None.”
A heaviness settled in his chest. The agreement had been altered, and he’d been forced into this hell by Arend, by Efreet.
His mind drifted to the artists and their awards in the hall.
How many had been trapped in contracts like his?
However, his freedom had become his top priority.
Alex meant more than that, and Ry had already done so much damage.
He couldn’t survive a public fight, not now.
Sania shrugged. “I have enough evidence with the documents Mr. Clair has provided to believe him. Dr. Miriam Rees and I would love nothing more than to dig through every email and file in this facility.”
At the mention of that famous legal forensic investigator’s name, Arend’s eyes snapped to his lawyers, a flicker of unease crossing his face.
Ry’s lips twitched. For the first time since entering this imposing building, a lightness bloomed in his chest, the oppressive weight of the air seeming to lift.
His manager shifted, a visible discomfort settling over him.
Victory was far from assured, but the possibility of winning tasted electric on his tongue.
Sania shuffled a few papers around. “I would love nothing more than to represent my client in court. We want a contract termination, and as Mr. Clair is the key member, with mutual releases for Mr. Garvin, Mr. Campbell, and Mr. Williams. Royalties, rights, and the moratorium clauses shall remain the same or better. We will also accept a non-disparagement agreement and confidentiality clauses, within reason.”
“We cannot include the others,” Mr. Harcourt said.
“I’ve reviewed their contracts myself to find similar contradictions, and I’ve sent the documents to Dr. Rees as well.”
“Please give us fifteen minutes to discuss,” Mr. Soto said. The two lawyers hauled Arend out of the room and left.
Ry opened his mouth to say something to Sania, but she held up a hand.
“How are you doing, Ry?” she said, her voice soft.
He shook his head. “I’m okay, thank you.”
“We’ll talk later,” she said, glancing around.
Perhaps someone had placed a listening device in the room.
But there had been no need for them to talk.
Not right now, at least. He stood and stretched, drank some of the water from the bottle at his place.
Sania read through the documents and notes that the other lawyers had provided.
She made a few sounds of disgust as she reached certain parts.
He wanted to know what she was reading, but trusted her judgment to stay quiet.
Mr. Soto was the only person who returned.
“I appreciate your patience, Ms. Patel, and Mr. Clair,” he said.
“Our last offer: Mr. Clair must agree to a non-disparagement agreement, and Efreet will not admit liability. The total recoupment shall be three million for Mr. Clair, and one point five million each for the others. We agree to all the other terms. They all need to accept the same by Wednesday.”
Ry looked to his lawyer. She leaned over and whispered to him, “Likely to be the best we’ll get. And it’s a damn good one.”
He gave his consent. She had been right.
“We shall agree to those terms.”
“Very well. I’ll have the drafted documents sent to your office by the end of the day for review.” He nodded to them and left.
Sania's fingers brushed the crisp edges of her papers as she gathered them, the soft thump as they settled into her briefcase. Ry got up. They exited the conference room together and walked down the hall, the distant hum of air conditioning their accompaniment.
Arend stood silhouetted against the bright expanse of the open office space, a stark figure by the elevators.
His gaze locked onto Ry, a burning, palpable hatred radiating from his narrowed eyes.
The heaviness of his loathing rolled off Ry, impervious to the seething man in front of him.
The other attorney, Mr. Harcourt, his hand a restraining weight on Arend’s arm, leaned in, his hushed words meant for his colleague only.
As the heavy doors of the elevator thudded shut, closing on the red-faced former manager. Ry let out a soft exhale, a wide grin stretching across his face as he turned to Sania, the warmth of the moment a stark contrast to when they’d arrived.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You are welcome.” She sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Holy shit, that was intense.”
“Yeah, and you are a lifesaver.”
As they stepped out, the harsh glare of the mid-afternoon sun hit Ry's eyes, making him squint.
A faint, acrid whiff of exhaust fumes stung his nostrils.
He pulled out his phone, his buzzing excitement too much to contain.
Yet as his fingers hovered over the phone, it took him longer than expected to write out the message.
Ghostfire was no more. They were finally free from the contract.