Page 89 of Embracing the Beat
“Sorry for just showing up,” Jax says, smiling lightly. “We both asked to come along.”
“Charlie’s okay with you being here?”
She had not been okay with him being around me before.
“Actually, she encouraged me to come,” he admits.
“Oh.”
“And since I used to work at Reverb, I have a unique perspective that might be helpful,” Nick says.
I met Jax the first weekend after signing with Reverb. They flew me to Chicago to meet him and a few other artists who were all in the city at the same time. A few months later, there was an uproar at Reverb when Jax left the label that discovered him.
“You started your own label,” I say.
“I did. Well, we did.” Nick motions between himself and Jax. “Arrhythmic Records.”
“You just signed Dylan Graves.”
Nick nods. “A few months ago—”
“Like seven months ago,” Jax interrupts.
“Boys,” Michael jumps back in. “We’re not here to talk about Dylan. We’re here to talk about Michaela and Reverb.”
“Reverb is saying you’re in breach, right?” Nick asks.
I nod, pulling out the letter I received yesterday. I let the three of them read through it while I look over the menu, even though stress has doused any hunger pangs. It will look odd if I don’t order something.
“Assholes,” Nick mutters, handing back the paper. “It’s standard practice for them to try this. They want to scare you.”
“They succeeded,” I confess. “I don’t want to—I can’t—Brad is—”
Nick holds up a hand. “You don’t have to explain. I know that asshat’s reputation. I just can’t prove it.”
The server comes over and takes our orders before disappearing again, and Nick continues.
“But I don’t have to prove it. Reverb is a little too cocky. They haven’t updated their contract language in years. Which means at least one loophole, if not more.”
“If Jax’s contract is any indication, more than a few,” Michael says.
“Really?” Hope builds, replacing the near-constant anxiety I’ve dealt with since Brad’s first text message.
“Do you have a copy of your contract?” he asks.
I pull the manila folder from my bag and hand it to him.
“Here.”
He skims the pages immediately, ignoring the server when she brings our orders as he highlights and notates the contract.
“If Mike can get you out of your contract, do you have any interest in coming to Arrhythmic?” Nick asks, taking a bite of his sandwich and studying me.
Jax watches me too as they wait for my answer.
I think back to the dream I had yesterday morning—singing on a stage, West smiling at me.
I shrug. “I thought about trying the YouTube route. It worked for Ed Sheeran.”
