by Cate Remy
Jackson’s face blurred in her vision. Her face felt so hot. She touched it with the back of her hand and realized she was crying.
“Is that true?” Jackson’s voice took on a steely edge as he directed it at Romero.
“George wanted an R&B singer for his label, not some church choir girl,” her ex defended his actions.
Brie wiped her tears so she could see. “Romero took my song lyrics I wrote in a notebook. Then he sampled my music in some of his. He threatened to sue me for slander if I said anything.”
Romero gave her a hateful glare. “I’m still going to sue you for opening your mouth.”
Jackson got between her and Romero. His action triggered Romero’s security guard to his feet. Jackson didn’t spare the other man a second glance. “You stole music from your wife.”
“Ex-wife.” Romero put his hands on his hips.
“The mother of your daughter. She’s working multiple shifts in a department store to support a child with muscular dystrophy while you fly off to Kuala Lampur looking for song inspiration.”
Romero huffed. “George picked the better artist.”
“You won’t be meeting with George at two today, will you?”
Brie watched her ex send her another glare before he turned around and seized the spilled bag of lingerie off the floor. He started walking away. His security grabbed the other pink bags and followed after him.
Jackson turned to her and touched her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“I don’t know.”
“He can’t do anything to you. He committed theft of intellectual property. You can mop the floor with him in court.”
“And drag this all out in front of the media? Why do you think I didn’t say anything before, Jackson? It wasn’t because of child support. He hasn’t made a payment since Kianna was in preschool.”
“Then why didn’t you come forward and say something?”
Brie shook her head. “Romero would make me look like one of his trashy groupies. We dated, then got married after I found out I was pregnant. He’ll try to spin it as proof that all I ever wanted was to trap him for money and use him to launch my own career.”
“He’ll lose, because that’s exactly what he did to you.”
She wiped her eyes again, hating how her emotions felt out of control. “I won’t go into a legal battle for the whole world to see. I’m not putting Kianna through that.”
He started to draw her in. “Let me help you.”
First, she wanted to go to him. Then she thought again and pulled back. “You never told me you were the CEO of Georgie Peach.”
“My uncle left me the company after he died. It was in such a mess that I didn’t want to say anything until I got things back on track.”
“They were never on track. Your uncle isn’t innocent. He knew exactly what he was doing when he signed Romero and let him sample my songs. Your uncle ignored me when I asked for money for the songs he brought me into the studio to record.”
When Jackson didn’t say anything, she backed away. “If I had known you were his nephew, I-this can’t work anymore.” She turned around to leave the food court.
If he called out for her to come back, the loud din of the holiday shoppers in the mall kept her from hearing. Not that she would listen, anyway. She made mistakes dealing with corrupt, greedy men like Romero and George Pierson. She wasn’t about to let Jackson make an even bigger fool out of her, too.
Chapter 10
Jackson marched so fast into his office suite that he made a paperweight rattle off Lamar’s desk. His assistant launched forward to catch a stack of contracts before they fell off the desk.
Jackson picked up the paperweight. “I need you to pull Romero’s contract for me to review. Bring me emails, receipts, documents of everything he’s ever signed or collaborated on.”
“You got it.”
Minutes later, Lamar sent him electronic files of the items he requested. He pored over them, looking for more errors and little discrepancies his uncle may have missed or deliberately overlooked. He pressed on, working through his anger at both his uncle and Romero. He worked through the surprise of learning about Brie’s connection to the arrogant singer. Lastly, Jackson tried to work through the pain of her rejection. He could still see her walking away from him, saying any chance of a relationship couldn’t work.
“Romero’s out here with his attorney,” Lamar announced on the phone speaker.
“Tell them to come right in.”
Jackson put his computer to sleep. The door opened and Romero’s attorney filed in first, followed by the singer. “Mr. Barnes,” the attorney began, his tone quieter and much more formal than the last time they spoke, “in light of today’s events at the mall, my client wishes to make a change to his contract. He’s willing to pay five percent of his royalties to his ex-wife in exchange for an out-of-court settlement.”
Jackson would’ve laughed at the pitifully small percentage number if he were in a better mood. “Nope.”
Romero’s attorney looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
He sat up and leaned forward. “I don’t know what your client shared with you, but he stole music from his ex-wife and passed it off as his own. I have her voice and arrangements on file, along with the lyrics she wrote for the songs, in her own handwriting.” He held up a box with the flash drive and the folded notebook paper. “All anyone has to do is listen to her music and his to know what he did.”
Romero uttered an expletive. His attorney held up a hand for quiet.
Jackson went on. “Your client is facing a lawsuit. He’s also looking at music licensing fines and prison time.”
Romero’s eyes got big. He flattened his mouth. “You’re not Brie’s lawyer. You just want something from my gold-digging ex. I saw how you looked at her in the mall, dirty old man.”
It took all of Jackson’s willpower to remain seated. He knew he was being egged on. “Save it for artists you feud with online, Mr. Munsen. I don’t have time for this. Any royalties you received from using Brie’s music will go to her.”
Romero’s attorney cleared his throat. “You mean the songs currently in rotation?”
“I mean all the songs your client released this year and in the past with Brie’s music. Am I clear?”
The attorney tried again. “Mr. Barnes, your recording company signed my client. Aren’t you also responsible for using his ex-wife’s music?”
“I’m aware my uncle took advantage of the situation. Now that I’m the CEO, Georgie Peach will do what’s right.” Jackson looked to Romero. “In case you haven’t figured it out, your contract won’t be renewed.”
The singer sputtered. “You’re going to leave me with nothing?”
“I’m being generous by leaving you with a clean slate. You’re free to go start over at another recording company.”
“What if Brie still tries to sue me?”
“She can if she wants to.” Jackson shrugged. “I can’t help you there. Goodbye, gentlemen.”
The attorney ushered his client out of the office.
Jackson was glad to see them go. It felt good to do the right thing. Maybe he could’ve done it with a little less snark. Oh, well. One lump of coal in his stocking this year wouldn’t be too terrible, he supposed.
His thoughts swung back to Brie. He said he was going to do right by her. It was good a time as any to begin.
Christmas Eve
Brie ran the vacuum cleaner in her house. Mrs. Abrams was going to come over to watch Kianna so she could work the late shift tonight. The woman was kind enough to do her this favor. The least she could do was clear a path for her to get from the door to the living room.
Kianna unplugged her ears after Brie turned off the vacuum. “Do you think Santa will come early or late tonight?”
“I don’t know, sweetie. He won’t visit at all if you’re not asleep.”
Her daughter rolled her eyes. “You say that every year, and Santa always leave
s presents.”
Brie bit her lip. She hoped Kianna would like Santa’s presents this year. She bought her a doll, clothes, and a new basketball.
The doorbell rang. Brie put on her slippers to go answer it. “That must be Mrs. Abrams.”
She opened the door to find no one standing on the other side. A courier service car drove away from the curb of the house. She looked down to find a sealed brown box.
“Ooh, did you get a present?” Kianna asked, looking at her from inside the house.
“I don’t know what this is.” She picked up the box. It was lightweight. She looked for a return address label. There wasn’t one. Odd. “Kianna, go into your room and find the card you want to give Mrs. Abrams.”
“I want to see what’s in the box when I come back.”
While her daughter was leaving, Brie went into the kitchen and got a pair of scissors to poke a hole through the packing tape. She got one side apart and then the other. She set the box on the kitchen counter and peeled open the flaps. Mounds of bubble wrap stood between her and the chance to satisfy her curiosity about what was inside.
She uncovered a flash drive that looked exactly like the one Jackson showed her that day at the mall food court. Then she came up with pages of old notebook paper. She recognized her handwriting. The lyrics to her gospel songs. Brie kept digging until she found a manila envelope at the bottom. Inside was a document with a handwritten note attached. These belong to you. -JB
A slip of paper fell on the tile. Brie picked it up and turned it over. Her heart raced so fast she thought it was going to take a running leap out of her chest.
The doorbell rang again. This time, Brie sprinted to answer it. Mrs. Abrams waved a gloved hand.
“I got here a little early so you could take your time getting to work.”
“Mrs. Abrams, you’re the best.”
The older woman was a little surprised by her exclamation. “You don’t have to butter me up to look after that cute little girl. Go on. We’ll see you when you get back.”
Brie took the slip of paper and put it in the manila envelope, which she put back in the box. She carried it with her into the living room. Kianna came in with the Christmas card she had for her babysitter.
“I’m leaving a few minutes early, Kianna.” She kissed her daughter on the cheek. “Love you.”
“See you when you get back, Mommy.”
“No, you’ll be asleep so Santa can come down the chimney, remember?”
“But he won’t come if you’re not asleep, too.”
Brie gave her logical daughter another kiss and hugged Mrs. Abrams on her way out. She got in her van outside and set the box on the passenger seat. She had to be at work soon, but first, she had to make one important stop.
Brie pulled up to the downtown building that housed Georgie Peach Records. Immediately, a valet came out from behind the tall glass doors.
“Ma’am, it’ll be twenty dollars.”
“I’m just going to be here for a few minutes.”
“Twenty dollars.”
Brie sighed as she reached into her wallet and handed him the money. She took the box off of the passenger seat and got out of the van so the valet could park it somewhere in a secret parking deck that would have only cost five bucks if she found it first.
She walked up to the doors of Georgie Peach and saw the company’s giant label on the wall inside. She collected air in her lungs. She didn’t think she would ever step foot inside this place again.
Brie opened the door and stepped through. Security checked her box and made her go through a metal detector before they let her towards the front desk.
A female receptionist in a cream silk blouse and gorgeous red lipstick greeted her with a smile. “Welcome to Georgie Peach Records. Are you here to make a delivery?”
Brie took a look at the box in her hand, and the khakis and black work shoes sticking out from beneath her coat. She saw how the receptionist could think she was here delivering last minute packages before Christmas. “I’m here to see someone. Jackson Barnes.”
“The CEO? Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but he sent this to me today.” She set the open box on the counter. Bubble wrap spilled out as she reached inside for the manila envelope. “I need to ask him about it.”
The receptionist cast an uncertain look at her and the box. “I think he left the office. You’re going to have to make an appointment. I’ll call his assistant.” She turned her back to Brie when she picked up the phone.
Brie waited, her hopes of seeing Jackson ticking away as fast as the minutes until the company closed for the day. He either really did leave or he didn’t want to see her after how she treated him.
“That’s what I thought.” The receptionist turned back around to face her. She had one finger on the mute button. “I’m sorry. It looks like he left for the day. He won’t be back until after New Year’s.”
Brie felt disappointment. “Thanks, anyway.” She took the box and returned to the front door. The valet got a nervous look when he saw her coming.
“It could take a minute to get your vehicle. The gate to the parking garage broke.”
She sighed. Missed her chance to talk to Jackson. Now she was about to be very late for work. It seemed like the only thing she could do right these days was mess things up.
Jackson put on his red Santa suit to do his annual volunteering. This year he was going to a food kitchen. He didn’t have time to do a complete change there so he put everything on except for the hat, beard, and extra padding. He had those put in the trunk of the car in advance so the driver could take him there.
He left his office and locked the door behind him. He started to like his new job but he didn’t mind leaving it at the office for the next week. His assistant still sat at his desk at the front of the suite. Lamar was on the phone.
“You’re still here?” he asked when he hung up the phone.
Lamar smirked at his Santa suit before answering the question. “I’m leaving soon. Front desk called up to say a woman with a box came here to see you. She didn’t have an appointment, so I said you left.”
Jackson gripped his laptop bag. “Did you say she had a box?”
“Yeah, but a lot of people come through those doors with packages. She probably brought you a bunch of her mixtapes. Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.”
“That wasn’t just any artist. I have to go.” Jackson ran for the elevator. He had to use one hand for his bag and the other to hold up the wide belt of his oversized Santa pants.
“Wait,” Lamar called after him. “I messed up, didn’t I? Am I going to have a job next year?”
Jackson hit the button for the elevator. He tapped his buckled boot with impatience. “Of course, you’ll have a job. The only thing better at keeping crowds away from my office is a moat, and it can’t answer the phones.”
“You know you tell real corny jokes, right?”
“I promise to come back next year with better material.” The elevator door opened and Jackson rushed inside. He waved to Lamar before the door closed. “Merry Christmas, Lamar.”
He rode the elevator down, watching the floors light up in descending order. Along the way, he alternated tapping feet. Please don’t be gone. He hoped he could make it downstairs to catch Brie in time.
The elevator doors parted and Jackson rushed out into the lobby. Janitors were already vacuuming the seating area. The receptionist at the front desk was preparing to leave. He panned around until he saw a figure in a coat and white beret standing at the front door.
“Brie.” He jogged to her. The Santa suit, even without padding, weighed him down by an extra thirty pounds of fabric and faux fur.
She turned around. He saw she held the box he sent her that afternoon. “They told me you left for the year.”
“Well, they’re good at covering for me.”
She took in his Santa suit, but didn’t say anything. “You left a note for me in this box
with my recordings and song lyrics. You also attached a check with a lot of zeros in it. I don’t want charity.”
“I’m not giving you charity. I gave you the rights back to your music and all the money you would’ve received if it had been produced with your name instead of Romero’s. He and my uncle should’ve never taken it from you.”
She looked into the box. Then she met his gaze. “You wanted me to sign with Georgie Peach.”
“That was before I learned your music was stolen. After what you told me, I understand why you wouldn’t want anything to do with this company.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Or me. I’m sorry for how my uncle mistreated you, but we’re not the same people. I’ve been trying to correct his mistakes.”
Brie rested the box on the valet’s podium by the door. “I see that now.”
“I should’ve told you I was the new record exec. I was afraid to look like I couldn’t get my act together.”
She rubbed her arm. “It works both ways. I could’ve been more honest about my history with Romero.”
“You wanted to protect your daughter from gossip. Believe me, I understand after talking to Romero a couple times.”
“How did that two o clock meeting go?”
“He’s gone from the company. Let’s just say he might be singing a different tune from now on.”
Brie wrinkled her nose. “You dressed in this red Santa suit is funny.” She put her hands on his fuzzy white lapels. “Your jokes today, not so much.”
“So I’ve been told.” He put his arms around her and gathered her in close. “Can we try this again? No secrets this time?”
“No secrets. But it would be nice if Santa kissed me first.”
With a sweet request like that, Jackson couldn’t refuse.
Epilogue
Two years later