Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) (31 page)

“Then we’re sure about it.” I wiggle the handle after knocking a couple of times and open the door. “You have to sign a contract with us and then I’ll walk with you to Jacob’s office.”

“Hey, Pops.” Pria smiles at me as I enter, her dark eyes remaining cautious as Porter comes inside. “Jacob mentioned PR representation, but I don’t think it’s necessary. It’s only one concert. What do you think?”

“Pria, let me introduce you to Porter. Porter, this is Pria Colthurst-Decker. The boss of the entire recording studio.” I laugh. Because Jacob might be in charge, but Pria is the one that ends up calling the shots when it comes to the fine print. “She also owns a PR company that represents most of the artists that work for us.”

“Porter Kendrick,” he introduces himself extending his hand. “I’m here to play one gig; I don’t think it’s necessary to sign any paperwork. I play, you transfer the money you decide to pay me to an account number I give you, and I head back to my simple life.” He pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to Pria.

“Mackenzie Brooke?” Pria’s eyebrow shoots up and looks at him. “My adorable sisters like to say that I have orderly issues. This company has procedures and we follow them. Unless she’s your agent and she’s here to sign your contract, I won’t send her the money.” She pushes her contract and the piece of paper that he handed her. “You sign on the dotted line, I pay you when you fulfill it and what you do next is up to you.” She taps on the bottom line. “Our facility is drug, alcohol, and tobacco free. No exceptions.”

He signs and we leave the room after saying goodbye to her.

“How many artists did you lose with these rules?” Porter is reading the copy of the contract that she gave him.

“Lose? None, they changed the concept of the studio—Jacob and Pria. We’re a hybrid label now,” I explain to him. “With the bands that used to get high here, they simply refused to renew their contracts. We lease the studio to bands, other labels, and do the same with the studio down in the compound. When they sign the lease, they are aware of our policies; if they party, we kick them out and keep their money. Everyone stays clean during their sessions. Same goes during concerts.” I laugh because when Pria began this movement I thought it wouldn’t stick, but like everything she does, she made it happen.

“I wish you had that when I started.” He shrugs. “Or that I would’ve let you babysit me, as you did with MJ and JC when they began.”

“Me too,” I address my regret. “Who hooked you?”

“Archer, from Paranoia.” He lets out a loud breath. “A joint laced with cocaine. I wasn’t mature enough to be by myself in an adult world.”

Fuck, my chest constricts because he toured with them so early in the game. Porter started the shit way before I thought. We failed him in some ways.

W
e arrived at Chris’ office, but the one sitting behind the desk is Jacob. His eyes narrow as I enter, looking at his father and then back at me.

“Play nice,” Chris warns him. “I’m heading home to help Matt and Gabe with the rugrats. AJ said that we’re having dinner at Matt’s tonight.”

“Tell my boys I’ll be there as soon as I’m done,” Jacob says, then his attention goes back to me. “Take a seat.”

“Thank you for letting me play,” I start the conversation because I know that he’d rather have me in jail, or at the bottom of the sea.

After I read the contract, I’m reminded of how sweet it is to be at the top tier of show biz. For my services as a guitarist and vocalist, I’m being paid three-hundred dollars an hour with a limit of fifty hours. That’s about fifteen thousand in less than a week. There is so much Mac can do with that money, which is the only reason I agreed to do this.

“I’m doing this for my parents, not for you,” he says, clearing his throat. His closed fists are ready to strike. “Camelot will get a lot of exposure by having you as a special guest. A plus for us. Personally, I’d rather send you back to where you’ve been for the past few years. You read the contract, you break it, and I kick you out without a penny. This is a one-time deal; don’t expect another call from me.”

I lift my hands shaking my head. “Since my last stint in rehab I’ve been clean and I assure you I work hard to stay that way every day. A part of myself doesn’t want to go back on a stage. But the other . . . Music is my life, playing; composing is ingrained in my heart. A call might be appreciated because I need the money.” I pull my phone out and show Jacob a picture of my boy. “His name is Finn, and he needs a lot of medical testing. I’m helping his mom with the expenses. This check is going to help, and any other gig you can throw my way would be welcome. If you can’t, that’s cool too.”

“You have a kid?” He frowns.

I shake my head, explaining who Finn is, as well as Mac and Harper. At the end, I realized that I unloaded my love life to him. Jacob turns to look at his monitor after I’m done and then at a frame on his left and smiles.

“AJ could—” He shakes his head, but I know what he was about to suggest. AJ could help Finn. I’m aware of that, from the moment I met him. I’ve known that she could give me a hand, but I don’t know if that’s something I can ask her for. “We can always use talented fill-ins; I’ll have Pria put your name on top of the guitarist and vocalist list. Email Pria your availability.”

I nod, thankful that he’s willing to find more gigs for me so I can help Mac.

“Porter, don’t fuck up again. My parents . . . they love you like a son. Please, don’t break their hearts.” He rises from his seat and walks to the door. “Let’s go, I want this to be ready for editing by Friday.”

Mac,

Tomorrow I play live with Camelot. They’re a new band who releases their first album next Tuesday. I’m their featured singer while they replace the old one who is recovering from jaw surgery and won’t be able to sing for the next six months. Kids, the stupid shit you get into when you don’t know better.

Harper emailed me yesterday morning telling me about Molly. I texted you about it, but I haven’t heard from you. Do you need me there? I understand that it’s just the flu, but you having to do everything alone worries me. Please text me or I’ll be driving down tonight. How is Finn, any news?

Love,

Porter

Mac:
Molly is fine, you don’t have to drive and miss your concert.

Porter:
Thank you for texting me.

Mac:
How are things with your family?

Porter:
Better than I thought they would be. It’ll be a slow process to regain their trust. It’s hard to see past everything I did to them and forgive me. They might not fully trust me now, but one day I hope to be a part of their family in some way.

Mac:
I’m happy for you.

Porter:
How are you?

Mac:
Doing well, thanks. Working, taking Finn to therapy. Thank you for helping.

Porter:
Is he talking yet?

Mac:
No. He misses you though, every afternoon he sits on the couch and pretends to play his guitar.

Porter:
I miss him too. No, I miss all three of you. Thank you for responding. It was great talking to you.

Mac:
Take care.

“L
ook, I don’t want to fire you,” Tristan lets out a loud breath. “But I have to.”