ryder
My pen hoversover the contract.
Sign, date, and initial.
Lacey’s girly signature is already there, on the line beside mine. She turned the dot above her “i” into a goddamned heart. I doubt she even read the contract in full before flourishing her name on the paper.
I can feel them all hovering a few feet away, on the other side of the conference room. Lacey, Becca, Chris, Clay. All waiting for me to hand over my artistic freedom with one scribble — in exchange for a hell of a lot of money. More than I’d ever anticipated, if I’m being honest.
As Clay predicted, The Red Machine executives loved the showcase yesterday. They watched Lacey strut across the room in her tiny cut-off shorts with greed shining brightly in their eyes, already tallying the revenue she’ll pull in with a pop-country crossover album blasting from the speakers of every radio from Los Angeles to Miami. I dutifully sang backup and played my chords as some drummer I’ve never met before butchered Linc’s solo behind me.
Welcome to the label.
There’s a loud pop as Clay opens a bottle of champagne with a shower of foam.
“A toast!” He starts filling glass flutes. “To Independence Day! And, of course, the newest artists at Red Machine Records.”
“Hear, hear!” Becca giggles.
“Lacey, we’d like to start building some buzz about you right off the bat, even before we start producing the album,” I hear Clay explaining. “Your social media presence is hugely important, as is interacting with the right people now that you’re here in LA. Who your friends are, where you hang out, what you wear… that’s just as important as the music. Maybe even more important, in this day and age.”
What the fuck could be more important than the music?I think, but my partner simply nods — an empty blonde bobble-head, agreeing to every word that passes through Clay’s lips like gospel.
“Don’t worry,” Becca jumps in. “I’ve already made sure you guys are on the list at a few of the best parties in town, tonight. You’ll be rubbing elbows with some of the brightest stars in Hollywood when the fireworks go off. Personally, I’d recommend going to Grayson Dunn’s barbecue over in Malibu.Everyonewho matters will be there.”
Everyone who matters.
Who the hell talks like that?
Lacey is squealing at such a high decibel, I’m surprised the windows don’t shatter. “Did you just say Grayson Dunn?TheGrayson Dunn?Peoplemagazine’s Sexiest Man alive? Star ofBreak EvenandBreak Down?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh. My. God.” Lacey sounds seconds away from a seizure. “We aresothere!”
“Great! It starts around dusk, rages all night. As soon as the contracts are signed, we’ll get you and Ryder into some new clothes that are more…” Becca pauses carefully. “In linewith the brand we’re going for.”
Lacey squeals again, only too happy to have her identity swapped out for a shiny new version bearing the Red Machine stamp of approval. I wonder what trendy getup they’ll try to get me to wear. Probably skinny jeans and a fucking fedora.
Good luck with that, assholes.
“Ryder, come on! What’s taking you so long?” Lacey sighs impatiently. “Hurry up, I want to go shopping.”
My pen hits the paper, ink pooling at the tip. I watch the black blob spread for a moment, thinking about all those zeros at the end of my advance, all the things I could buy with that money…
And the fact that the only thing I really want can’t be bought.
I set down the pen, straighten to full height, and set my shoulders as I look from Clay to Lacey.
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
Everyone goes still, champagne flutes frozen midway to their mouths. Chris actually stops typing into his phone and glances up.
Clay blinks slowly, not comprehending. “Can’t do what, exactly?”
“I can’t sign this contract.”
“Excuseme?” He looks dumbfounded.