The man scribbled over the number my lawyer had written and wrote his own. Then, he slid it over to me. I glanced at the paper and nodded.
“Done.”
“Done?”
“Yeah. He’ll get you the paperwork to sign and a cashier’s check for the full amount, no payment plan necessary.”
“One payment?”
“One payment.” I nodded. “Is there a way we can meet in an hour or two? We can exchange money and paperwork then.”
“I’ll actually be in meetings for the rest of the day, but if it’s necessary to get this done today, I’d be willing to meet with you after hours.”
“Cool. Does six-thirty work?” I looked at my lawyer who nodded then back at the chairmen of Myome’s record label.
They nodded. “Six-thirty it is.”
“Cool.” I pushed away from the table and my lawyer hopped up quickly. “Be on time,” I warned.
“Of course.”
I hit him on the back and cast one last look around the room before letting myself out.
Myome would never know about the cut her old label would get because she wouldn’t feel that shit. I’d eat it on my end, and with the money I was sure my new business venture would bring in, hopefully I wouldn’t feel it either.
Would I tell them that? Fuck no.
The more money they thought I had, the more they would have asked for and I wasn’t willing to give it all up front, no matter how good I made it sound. They were getting a good payout but I was coming out on top and so was my wife.
I fought traffic to the bank, got a cashier’s check for the desired amount, then made my way across town again to meet up with the people I was closest to.
Rome and Dashawn were already sitting at a table in the far back corner and I dapped them before I collapsed into a free seat.
“We just waiting on Chandler?” Dashawn asked.
“Yeah.”
“And she is right here.” Chandler huffed as she set her purse on the table and leaned down to give me a half hug. “Sorry, y’all. India was putting me through it.”
“You’re good.”
We waited for her to get settled and put her drink order in. Then all eyes trailed to me.
I clasped my hands on the table and cleared my throat.
“I’m ready to make the jump,” I announced.
“And put out an album?” Rome asked.
“Start a record label,” I said.
“Fuck.” A huge smile took over Dashawn’s face. “Congratulations!” He clapped loudly and several of the people in the restaurant looked back at us.
I let my head fall back and I chuckled.
“So, what’s the move?”
“Wait”—Chandler cut him off and turned toward me—“Is this the right move right now?”