Seductive Chaos (Bad Rep #3) (35 page)

I had finally manned up and made a decision.

And it had been fucking liberating.

After playing with the guys at Garrett’s, not much more was said about the upcoming meeting and what we planned to do. We left it open ended and up in the air. Not the best plan when you were sitting down with your record label to talk about the future of your music.

But we were all still little too volatile. And even though we had a moment where we came together in total synch the way we always had been able to, it didn’t erase the months of bad blood that had built between us.

So I had left that day and gone home and packed for New York.

Jose met me at the airport on Tuesday around lunchtime. I had just landed and sent a quick text to Vivian. She had responded immediately. And even though the text had been short, it still made me happy.

I wasn’t sure with how we left things whether she would have written back at all.

But she had. And that gave me a sliver of hope on this otherwise shitty day.

I had flown up by myself. Jose had insisted that I come in before the other guys. He had arranged for someone to collect Jordan, Mitch, and Garrett just before the meeting.

“You and I have some shit to discuss,” Jose declared, steering me towards a black sedan. I threw my overnight bag in the back. I hadn’t known exactly what would happen once I got to New York, so I had come prepared to stay over. If things went south, I wasn’t sure I could head back to Bakersville right away.

Who knows where I’d end up?

“You are one hard asshole to get ahold of. Is there a reason you haven’t returned any of my calls? I need to know what you’re planning to do today. I have people on the line waiting to know what you decide, Cole. This isn’t how shit is done!” Jose said tersely. He clenched his teeth as he wove through traffic.

“I get that. I just wasn’t sure what I was going to tell you,” I answered honestly. No sense in mentioning the fact that I had spent most of the past week drunk off my ass and feeling fucking sorry for myself.

“Then we talk it out. I need your head in the game. I want to get you to where you need to be, Cole. I thought we were getting on the same page. I thought you wanted this. I hope like hell I didn’t misread you. I thought you were someone who would fight tooth and nail for the fame and the recognition. You want it. I see it every time you get on that stage. And everyone else sees it too. Which is why Deep Hill fucking wants you. They don’t go after just anyone. But they’re going after you.”

I didn’t say anything. I watched as the Manhattan skyline got closer and closer. Jose’s lip service was kind of grating. This was a guy who only wanted me for what I could give him.

I could suck three ways to Sunday but if I could make him a buck or two, Jose would surgically implant his lips to my ass.

“Are you hearing me, Cole? This is your chance! You’d be a fucking idiot of you didn’t do it. Do you realize how many young artists would murder their own grandma to have the chance that is sitting in your lap? Open the glove compartment,” he barked, obviously irritated by my lack of response.

I thought about telling him to shove his demands straight up his nose, but didn’t want to end up in the Hudson River sleeping with the fishes.

I opened the glove compartment, not sure what I was looking for.

“Get those papers out,” he directed.

I pulled out a stapled stack of paperwork and saw my name and Jose’s at the top.

“That’s your new contract. The one that let’s me work with you. Just you. There’s a pen in there as well.” He thought I was just going to sign it. That I was going to do whatever the hell he told me to do.

“What’s the hold up? Just sign it. It’s a standard contract. Nothing crazy.” He was being awfully pushy.

Traffic into Manhattan was a bitch. And things inside the car were getting markedly tenser.

“I’m not signing these right now, Jose. There’s a lot going on. I need to get through the next few hours, if you don’t mind,” I said firmly. I was sick and tired of this dick bossing me around. He was supposed to be working for me, not the other way around.

Jose seemed shocked by my new set of balls.

“Yeah, sure. I get it. I wouldn’t worry about today. I’ve already spoken to Tate at the label and we’re going to be able to dissolve the contract without a whole lot of bullshit. The label will keep the album but you’ll be able to go elsewhere when all is said and done.”

“You did what?” I couldn’t believe Jose had taken it upon himself to do that shit! Who the hell did he think he was? I had never said that was the direction I wanted to go in! I didn’t appreciate anyone, let alone Jose fucking Suarez, handling my life for me.

“It’ll just be a matter of signing some papers and then it’s over. I’m sure you’ll get the bad little boy scolding. But who gives a fuck? You’re moving on to bigger and better things, my friend,” Jose was saying, but I barely heard him.

“So they want to dissolve the contract?” I clarified. Damn it! The guys were going into this blind. I had to tell them what was going on. This shit wasn’t cool.

“You didn’t think Pirate Records would want to keep an unknown band on after the drama you’ve had on the tour? Apparently Primal Terror has been pretty vocal about your infighting. And Pirate is a young company. They don’t want to be attached to such an unpredictable act. But it’s no skin off your nose. You’ll come up smelling like roses.”

“And what about Garrett, Jordan, and Mitch?” I asked, interrupting him.

“What about them?” Jose seemed confused.

“Where does that leave them?”

“I don’t know. But they’re not my concern. Making you bigger than Jesus is,” Jose grinned and it chilled me to the bone.

I didn’t say anything else. The wheels in my head were turning a million miles a minute. We finally pulled up almost an hour later, in front of the non-descript stone building that housed Pirate Records headquarters. It definitely wasn’t the fancy glass skyscraper one would expect to see when going to a record label. It was squished between a hairdresser and a dry cleaner.

I got out of the car and Jose made to follow me. I held my hand out, stopping him.

“You don’t need to come with me,” I told him, reaching into the backseat and grabbing my bag. I rolled the new contract up in my hand and smacked my knee with it.

“I’m your fucking manager, of course I’m coming with you. I’ve got to make sure things go the way they’re supposed to. Then afterwards we can go over that new contract.”

“No, we’re not,” I stated, handing him the rolled up paperwork.

“What the hell are you doing, Cole?” Jose narrowed his eyes at me.

“I’m giving you your shitty contract back and I’m telling you to go fuck yourself.” I grinned a little maniacally and started to open the door.

“You stupid little shit. Do you realize what you’re doing? You’re throwing away everything. You think you’ll get anywhere without me?” he sneered.

I shrugged. “I don’t really care. I just know I’d rather live in the fucking streets than sign those papers. You were supposed to be the manager for Generation Rejects. You’re a backstabbing, calculating, cunt and you’re definitely not the sort of person I want representing me. I’d say it was nice knowing you. But then I’d be talking out of my ass.”

I didn’t give Jose a chance to respond. I climbed out of his car and shut the door. I flipped him the bird and walked up the sidewalk.

Damn, that felt good.

The sound of Jose’s squealing tires as he pulled away was the best thing I had heard so far today.

One down, one to go.

I had to wait for a while once I found my way to the label’s reception room. The other guys weren’t there yet and the longer I sat by myself, the more I started to question the sanity of my decision.

I had just fired Jose. I had just flushed my great opportunity down the fucking toilet.

I was throwing everything into the ring for guys who may not want me in the band anymore.

Whatever the risk, I couldn’t have done it any other way.

Finally Jordan, Mitch, and Garrett showed up. They saw me in the corner and came over to join me.

“Where’s Jose?” Mitch asked.

“Gone,” I said shortly.

“Gone? What do you mean he’s gone? He’s supposed to be here!” Jordan demanded, sounding a little panicky.

“I fired him. We don’t need him here, guys. We’ve got this. And we definitely don’t need someone like Jose running the show. That guy’s a snake.”

“You made that kind of decision without talking to us about it first?” Jordan demanded and I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t start this shit now, Piper. Do you trust some guy who has spent the last few months trying to break up the band to look after our best interests?” I snarled.

“You can’t make decisions like that for the band, Cole. This is the fucking problem!” Jordan’s voice rose and Garrett shushed him.

“He handed me a new contract on the ride over here. A contract for exclusive representation by him. Excluding the three of you! He was planning on to drop you on your ass, man. So I dropped him on his first,” I shot back, glaring at him.

Jordan didn’t say anything. His shoulders slumped and he sat back in his chair.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” I challenged.

“He was cutting us loose?” Jordan asked, his voice surprisingly weak.

I sat down beside him. “Yeah, man. He was. He thought he had a better chance of making his big cut if I went off on my own. I told you he’d been after me to sign a contract with Deep Hill Records. I guess he went behind our back and started talking smack to the people here at Pirate. So I’m not sure exactly what they’re expecting when we walk in there. It sounded like Jose filled their heads with a bunch of bullshit.”

Jordan let out a heavy sigh and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Finally he looked at me with a pained expression.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Jordan said.

Mitch and Garrett stared at our drummer in surprise.

“An apology? Is the world ending?” I crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

“I’ve been a dick. And I haven’t given you the benefit of the doubt. You’re a pain in the ass. But I get that’s who you are. I should have trusted you to have our back.”

Despite the barbs thrown in, it was the one thing I had really needed to hear from him.

“Thanks, man,” I said.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen, but we need to go in that room as a team. We need to take this on together. Because at the end of the day, this is our band. Our music,” Garrett spoke up.

We all nodded.

It wasn’t much longer before we were called back into a small conference room. We sat down around a table that took up most of the space. There were a couple of guys that I recognized from when we had signed our initial contract.

Danvers, the CEO, and Tate, the Vice-President of Operations. There was also a man and a woman that I didn’t recognize who had a pile of papers in front of them.

“Hi guys. I wish I could say it was good to see you, but given the circumstances, I can’t really say that,” Danvers began, narrowing his eyes as he looked at each of us. We didn’t bow our heads like naughty little school children. We kept our chins up and our backs straight.

“This is Fiona and Chet with legal. They’re going to talk through the finer points of your contract. Because apparently we have pretty big problem here guys,” Tate said, leaning forward and folding his hands together.

“Where’s Jose?” Danvers asked.

“We fired him,” I reported.

Danvers and Tate raised their eyebrows.

“Really. Well, that changes things significantly,” Danvers stated.

“I know he’s been talking in your ear about shit that’s definitely not true,” I chimed in, seeing this as my chance to set things straight.

Danvers leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his protruding belly. “Go, on,” he prompted.

“I’m not planning to jump ship for another label. I’m not looking to leave these guys and go out on my own. I’m here until the bitter end. And Jose didn’t like that. So now he’s gone. And here we are. And we hope like hell you don’t drop us. Because we made some mistakes. We messed up big time. But we can also learn. We have a better handle now on how to navigate through some of this crazy shit. And I think, if you give us a chance, we can prove you were right to sign us in the first place,” I finished, taking a deep breath.

Danvers and Tate shared a look. I wish I knew what they were thinking.

Jordan leaned forward and clasped his hand on my shoulder. “Nicely said, man.”

“Thanks for that, Cole. It’s nice to hear you all are taking this seriously. Because it was beginning to look like it was a big joke to you,” Tate said sternly. We all shook our heads.

“We take this opportunity very seriously. And we’re thankful you’ve given it to us, “ Jordan interjected.

Tate nodded before continuing. “Look, let’s get to the guts of this meeting. You’ve been called here because of your behavior on the Primal Terror tour. We signed you guys because we saw potential there. You have talent. That’s no secret. But there’s more to making it in this industry than just talent. And your unprofessional attitudes is totally unacceptable.”

He turned to Jordan and the other guys. “I understand you haven’t been happy with the direction of the publicity. Well that’s tough tits, fellas. We plan to market this album how we think is best. What do you have to bring to the table as far as marketing experience?”

Garrett, who was normally impassive, clenched his jaw. “This is our band. We know what works and what doesn’t. We have a pretty good idea of what our fans want. We just want an opportunity to talk about marketing before it’s shoved down our throats. We get that Cole is a great singer. He’s awesome at what he does. But this isn’t a one-man show. And we want the chance to market the band as a band.”

Danvers and Tate seemed to consider what Garrett had to say.

“This is the way it works, guys. You don’t have any say in how things are put out in the press. It’s the name of the game,” Tate looked at me.

“Cole, Jose had told me that you wanted out of your contract. That’s why I’m more than a bit surprised to find out that he’s no longer managing you. He seemed pretty sure of the other opportunities out there for you.”