My eyes are suddenly stinging.
“For what it’s worth, Felicity, your grandmother was one of my dearest clients. A friend. And I know how much it pained her to leave you unprotected in that house. I think, maybe… this is her way of making it up to you, the only way she could.”
My teeth dig into my bottom lip and I focus on the pain, struggling to keep my emotions in check. Later, I’ll fall apart. In private. When there’s no one around to witness the acute agony raging inside me.
Jerry clears his throat. “I hope you know, I’m always here — whether it’s for legal matters or anything else you might need.”
His kindness is almost enough to shatter me. I turn my gaze away from his face, clinging desperately to my last shred of composure. My glossy eyes lock on my purse — and the white legal envelope protruding out the top.
“Actually…” My fingers shake as they close around the Route 66 papers. “Thereisone thing I might need help with…”
Jerry spends a long time looking over the thick dossier. As he scans through the pages, the concerned indentation between his brows grows more and more pronounced. I shift restlessly in my seat as I wait for the verdict, tenser with each passing moment.
When he finally reaches the last page, he lets out a sigh and sits back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he feels a migraine coming on.
“Well?” I ask softly, unable to contain myself another moment. “How bad is it?”
“Would you like the sugar-coated version or the cold hard facts?”
“No sugar necessary.”
“Just like your Gran.” His smile has a sad edge. “Route 66 is suing you for breach of contract.”
“How can they do that? I delivered the album, as promised.”
“The album, yes. However, according to this document, you promised them quite a bit more than that.” When I don’t answer, his voice goes soft. “Specifically, a six-month Wildwood world tour.”
“But that’s— I didn’t think—No.” I swallow. “No, that can’t be. They can’t possibly expect me to go on tour! Not after everything…”
“Look, Felicity… I don’t know what happened that made you leave this life behind. I don’t know why you’ve been hiding out these past two years or what you’ve been running from. All I know is what this contract says, and what the financial weight behind it implies.”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“It boils down to this: they have your signature, agreeing to a world tour with the band after completion of the record. You haven’t delivered on that part of the bargain, so they’re coming after you — with considerable force, it would seem.” He studies me carefully. “Labels like Route 66 have a lot of money and they don’t like to lose a penny of it, if they can help it. Which makes you walking out, destroying their plans for a highly lucrative string of shows all across the globe, a real thorn in their sides.”
“I don’t understand — how can they hold me accountable for a tour that never even happened? I didn’t lose them any money! They didn’t have to refund venues or fire roadies…”
“It doesn’t matter. All they see is thepotentialmoney you could’ve made — money they expected in their pockets that, instead, went up in thin air when you walked away. Between the ticket sales, merchandise, and revenue from additional album exposure… they’re out tens of millions of dollars. And, in their eyes, you’re the one to blame.”
The blood drains from my face. “What are my options?”
“You can either fight them in court, hope and pray a sympathetic judge sees things your way after hearing both sides of the story… or you can go back.”
“Back?” My voice cracks.
“To Los Angeles.”
“You mean… agree to do the tour.”
He nods. “Or, at the very least, gotalkto your people at the label. See if you can work something out before this goes sideways. I’m happy to represent you, to advocate for you in court, if it comes to that. But if I were in your position, I’d explore every other option first. In my experience, most lawsuits and legal disputes are entirely preventable with bit of compromise from both parties. You’d be amazed how much ground you can reclaim with some open communication.”
I’m silent. Still. Remarkably calm on the outside, considering my world is coming apart at the seams.
Again.
“The tour is only six months,” Jerry says gently. “Perhaps you could even negotiate them down to a shorter stint. Then, once you’ve fulfilled your contractual obligations, you can walk away — for good, this time. They’ll have no further grounds to come after you.”
This can’t be happening.