by RH Tucker
“What the hell is going on?” Bret asks.
“I’m leaving,” I say, spinning around.
Before I can take a step, Bret grabs my wrist. “Jade, where are you going? We need to figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” I yell at him, turning to face them all. “I’m done. I’m so done. With all of this. I can’t believe you!” I shout at Austin. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” he counters. “I was going to tell you.”
“Hernandez! You told me your last name was Hernandez!”
His dad looks over at him. “Why would you use your mother’s name?”
A low growl of frustration floats out of Austin, eyeing his dad for a moment before looking back at me. “I promise I was gonna tell you.”
“When? When you were kissing me? When you were pretending to love music as much as me?”
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“I can’t believe this. I trusted you. What? Were you only getting close to me so I’d sign a solo deal with Rich Records?”
“No!” Austin shouts.
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Bret asks.
“Jade, please. I can explain all of this, but—”
“No!” I slam my hands on the table, shifting my glare toward Jimmy.
The glasses on the table rattle, and through the side of my vision I can see a few patrons turning to see what the commotion is. But I don’t care. I only want to get out of the place as fast as possible.
“I’m done,” I tell them again. “I’m done with liars, and shady corporate assholes, and no-good scumbags, caring only about their own personal gain. Do you hear me, Richards? Done.”
Lifting his brows, he interlocks his fingers over the table. “I was hoping we might agree on some sort of deal, but if that’s what you want, very well.”
“I want the masters to all of my demo records sent to my manager. You’ve got one week.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Jade.”
My jaw clenches. My eyes shoot over to Bret, who shrugs, then Austin, who isn’t even looking at me. He closes his eyes, shaking his head.
“Look, I’m not your run-of-the-mill singer. I know what’s possible, Jimmy. Send me my masters this week. Any later and I sue Rich Records.”
“No. You won’t.”
My jaw drops. The audacity of this guy. “Excuse me?”
He smiles that snake-like grin, and I don’t know what he’s going to say, but I’m sure it won’t be good. “You won’t because you can’t.”
My face burns with anger. “What, you think I can’t afford it? Did you suddenly forget who I am?”
“I know exactly who you are, Jade. Which is why if you want to calmly sit down and talk about this, I still think you could be the staple of Rich Records for the next twenty years. But if you don’t, that’s fine, too. I wish you and your band well. But your masters?” Another smile. “Those belong to Rich Records.”
“Like hell they do. Those are mine. That’s my music. My words!”
“And you’ll get all the credit for them that’s due if and when we decide to release them.”
“You can’t release them. I told you—”
“I know what you told me. And I respect that drive and determination from an artist such as yourself. But I also know what you signed. You should’ve read over your contract a little better.”
The anger and hate and embarrassment I was just feeling vanish. All that remains is an empty void. I stare down at Bret, who stays seated, never looking back up at me. Jimmy continues his predatory smile. Glancing at Austin, he finally looks at me, his face awash with guilt and sympathy.
“You bastard,” I whisper to him. “Was this your plan?”
“No!” He finally comes over, grabbing my arm.
I yank it away. “You lying piece of shit! You never said anything! Nothing this entire time! And now? Now I find out, and I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Jade, I promise you. I didn’t know about this.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ll never believe you.” Gazing back at Bret, he finally looks up at me. “I know how bad you want this, Bret. I do. And I promise you, I’ll help you get it, but if you stay here right now … Please. Please don’t do this to me, too. If I ever meant anything to you … Please?”
I can see the emotion across his face. He’s putting the pieces together and must know there’s something between Austin and me. If Bret ever had any real feelings for me, I think this would be a line he can’t cross. But I’m completely wrong.
He averts his gaze, staring at the table. “I’m sorry … this is my shot. I have to take it.”
I swallow the ball of pain that’s lodged in my throat. Scowling across the table, then back at Austin, all I can do is shake my head. “Fine.”
Spinning around, I march through the restaurant, hearing Austin call out my name one more time. I ignore it. I can’t stand to even look at him right now. Pushing open the doors, I head down the sidewalk, feeling lost and betrayed.
26
Austin
“Well, I was hoping we might have at least a small conversation,” my father says, calmly. “But I guess that’s how these things go.”
“She was the artist you were courting?” I ask him, still standing. The few people who have been witness to the entire argument resume their lunch. “Jade Barkley was who you were trying to sign? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What for?” he asks. “I don’t tell you each and every artist we are trying to pry from their record companies.”
“Mr. Richards, I apologize for that,” Bret interjects. “But I’m still here. I just want to make sure my deal is still in place.”
“What the hell?” My jaw drops. “You just let her leave? What kind of dirtbag are you?”
“And who the hell are you?” he spits back. “Are you the guy she left me for? Let me give you a tip, she’s all business. That’s all she ever has time for.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“Austin, sit down,” my dad says. When I continue to stand, his eyes jump up to me, and then back at my seat. I’m flabbergasted about this entire thing and how it’s all blown up in my face. “Sit,” he orders again.
Unsure what else to do, I take a seat. “I can’t believe this,” I mutter to myself.
“Bret, I know what I promised you, but—”
“Mr. Richards, please,” Bret cuts my father off. “Look, you don’t have to put up any money. Please, just give our band a chance.”
“You have to look at this from my end, son. We’d have to bring in producers, artwork for the EP, not to mention touring costs.”
“We’ll do it,” Bret pleads. “We’ll do everything. I’ll book our own gigs, we’ll hire freelancers to make our artwork, everything. Sir, please. All we need is a chance. We need a place to make the record.”
I shake my head, listening to everything. This guy really is a piece of work. Not only for staying but now he’s basically about to sell his soul to my father for just the shot of making an album. Then again, who am I to talk? I never told Jade the truth.
“You have the masters to her demos,” Bret continues. “That’s gotta be worth something.”
I audibly scoff, earning an eye raise from him.
“We do,” my father agrees. “But I don’t even know what we have there. I don’t know if they’re manageable or if we can do anything with them.”
“But you have them. I helped you do that, sir. She would’ve never even signed that contract if it wasn’t for me. Please, sir. Please. We just need a chance.”
“You’re a piece of trash, you know that?” I tell Bret.
“Austin,” my dad chides me.
Folding my arms over my chest, I lean back in the chair. My father pulls out his phone from his suit pocket, checking the time. He gets up from the table, and Bret follows suit. I can’t bring myself to get up. My eyes stay on the two of them, as I watch my dad th
ink over the deal and Bret waits anxiously, hoping for the best.
“Fine,” my dad says. “You did get that, so perhaps that does deserve something.”
“Thank you, sir! Thank you! You won’t regret this.”
My father chuckles an uninterested laugh. “That’s to be determined.” Reaching into his coat, he hands Bret a card. “That’s my assistant. Call his number, and he’ll set you and your band up with studio time. It won’t be much. And you’ll have to provide everything.” Sticking his hand out, Bret quickly takes it. “I wish you the best, son.”
“Thank you,” Bret repeats, following my father out of the restaurant.
All I can do is shake my head at the two of them. But my mind quickly floats to myself and how I royally screwed up everything.
27
Jade
I don’t get more than a block from the building when I have to stop and gather myself. I’m so furious at everyone. Jimmy for the contract I signed, Bret for cutting the final string that linked us together, and Austin. I can’t believe I never picked up on any of the clues. Coming and going at Rich Records whenever he wanted. Never talking about his parents. How he knows so many people in the industry. But what hurts the most is that I trusted him. Maybe I’m the idiot for feeling that way, but I did. And that pisses me off the most. I resent myself most of all for never questioning anything and being so trusting with all of them.
Grabbing my phone, I call Lily.
“Hey, girl,” she answers.
“Can you please come pick me up?”
“Pick you up? Where are you?”
“I’m about a block away from Rich Records.” When she doesn’t respond quickly, I snap. “Lily, please!”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry.” I look around to make sure no one is paying attention to me. They’re not, but I don’t want to wait around for anyone to find out. “Not really. And I really need a ride. Please?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
Looking across the street, I see a small coffee shop. “Just Java is where I’ll be. Call me when you’re close.”
“Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Heading across the street, I glance around but try to keep my head low. I seriously don’t want anyone to recognize me right now. When I see a restroom in the corner, I hurry over to it. Thankfully it’s unoccupied, and getting inside, I lock the door. Throwing my hands over my face, I feel the sting of tears threatening my eyes. I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m not sad, I’m angry. Frustrated. Feeling betrayed and conned all at the same time. The same questions keep spinning around in my mind. How could I have been so stupid?
Then the thoughts turn to the boys. My brother. How am I gonna be able to tell them about this? My idiotic decision to sign a contract I never read, and now Jimmy Richards has control over my music. Granted, it’s all rough, and none of it was ever intended to be released, but it’s mine. It’s my heart and soul in those lyrics. My emotions in those chords I played. It almost feels like I gave a piece of myself away without even knowing it, and I’ll never get it back. All of the heartache over those things continues to circle around into outrage again.
When my phone chimes, I read the message; it’s Lily telling me she’s in the café looking for me. I hurry out of the bathroom. She looks like she’s about to ask me what’s wrong again, but I shake off her words. She nods and motions me to the door, and I see her car parked on the street. I almost run to it, wishing I could be somewhere alone, and let all of this emotion I’m feeling pour out. If I was to do that out in public, it’d no doubt cause a scene. I just want to bury myself away from everything and everyone.
After we’re driving for five minutes, she reaches over, taking my hand. “What happened?”
I let out a disgusted and defeated scoff. “What didn’t happen. I’m so stupid.”
“Hey, don’t say that. What’s wrong?”
Pulling my knees up to my chest, I turn and stare out of the passenger window. Cars fly by, the bright sun is high, without a cloud in the sky. But I feel like it’s pouring, and I’ll never see the sun again.
“Jade?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper. “Please, just take me home.”
There’s a knock at my bedroom door. Other than trotting to my uncle’s kitchen and eating whatever he has as leftovers, or going to the bathroom, my blankets have been a cocoon blocking out the rest of the world.
I hear the knock again, but instead of answering, I pull the covers over my head, shielding myself from the sun I feel on the blankets.
“Jade, what the hell are you doing? Are you dead?” Maddox says through the door.
“Yes,” I call back. “Leave me alone.”
“You don’t sound dead,” he replies. “I’m coming in. You better not be naked because I just had tacos and don’t want to throw up on you.”
“No!” I yell out. “Leave me alone!”
Hearing the door open, I pull the blankets around me tighter. I’ve only told Lily what happened. When she dropped me off, she wouldn’t leave unless I explained to her why I was freaking out, so I did. But I made her promise me not to tell anyone. It’s been over forty-eight hours, and I still can’t shake the feeling of being swindled.
The bed slumps. “What are you doing?”
“I told you, I’m dead. Go away.”
He pushes my legs, laughing. “You’re not dead. If you are, then you’re a ghost, and we have much bigger problems right now.” It’s funny, but I can’t bring myself to laugh. “Jade, you haven’t replied to anyone. I went down to Rich Records—”
I pop my head out from under the covers. “You went there?”
“Yeah, I didn’t know what else to do. The security guard said they haven’t seen you?”
The security guard. I hold back a scoff. That’s Austin’s friend. My immediate thought is wondering if he knew about the con all along. I shake off the idea and pull the covers back over my head. “Nothing. I just want to be alone. You can leave now.”
“Jade, what the hell is this? You didn’t come back to the studio that day, and you’ve been MIA since then. I called Lily before I went down there, and she won’t tell what’s happening either.”
“Nothing is happening,” I tell him through the comforter. “Leave, please.”
He’s quiet for a moment. I don’t feel the bed shift, so I know he hasn’t left, but maybe he’s thinking it over. My hopes rise, but then they’re dashed when I feel him lie down next to me. “I don’t think we’ve slept in the same bed since we were five.”
“Maddy, get out!” I yell, pushing him with my legs.
“I could call the guys,” he responds, not paying any attention to my feet hitting him through the blankets. On the contrary, he gets up and lies over the top of me. “We could make it a band thing. Sleepovers once a week. We could order pizza and get Rocky Road ice cream.”
“Rocky Road sucks.”
He stays on top of me as I squirm under the covers, trying to push him off. “You take that back!”
“Mint chip forever!”
“Okay, that’s it!”
I feel the weight lift off of me, and he crawls off the side of the bed. The next thing I know, the comforter is being yanked away. My head pops out, and I struggle to pull it back. “No, Maddox! Stop!”
“I’m getting you out of this bed. I’m your brother, so I think I might be the only one who can say this, but … you stink.”
“I do not! Leave me alone!”
“Let’s go, Jade!”
“Stop!”
“Now!”
The blankets are nearly off the bed as I struggle to hold one little piece. My oversized shirt hangs off of my shoulder, and my gray sweats ride up my legs.
“Fine!” I shout, letting go of the blanket. He’s not ready and falls down, still pulling at it. “Take the blanket and leave me alone.” Scrambling under the sheet that’s left off the bed, I yan
k it back over my head.
I feel the bed slump again. “Jade, come on. What is going on? And FYI, you don’t stink, but you damn sure look like a mess.”
“Thank you,” I sarcastically reply. “I don’t want to talk about it. Would you just leave?”
“No.”
Even with the childish and somewhat humorous exchange we just had, I feel the emotion start to bottle up as my shoulders slump under the covers. “Please,” I whisper.
“What’s wrong? You know you can tell me. Did something happen at the meeting with Richards?”
I shake my head, then finally peek over the covers. Staring at him, gone is the rock star and bad boy of the band that he loves to act like so much. All that’s in front of me is my brother. “I … I don’t want to talk about it.”
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. His forest green gaze meets my same colored eyes; the only things that are physically the same between us as twins. I feel the lump of emotion staying in place inside of me. “Jade,” he whispers.
I finally break our lengthy stare first. Sitting up, I keep the sheet over my legs and gaze at it. He’s going to find out eventually. The whole band will no doubt start asking about my music and when they can hear it. Plus, I was an even bigger idiot and introduced them to Austin. I have to tell him, but I wanted to hold on to my self-worth a little longer before confiding in him and feeling like a chump all over again.
“You know I’m not recording at Rich Records anymore, but …” I start off low, telling him what he already knows. He doesn’t move or reply. “I signed a contract with Jimmy Richards, and I thought it was all good. Bret seemed so sure.”
“That son of a—”
“No, no.” I grab his hand, finally making eye contact with him. “It’s my fault. I was the stupid one and didn’t read it over. But Jimmy Richards now owns all of that music I recorded there.”
“We can get it back,” he declares. “Let’s tell Peter and get it taken care of.”
I shake my head. “Maybe we could, maybe we couldn’t. Honestly, as painful as it is to think he owns anything that I created, I don’t want to fight over it. I just want it to be over.”