Chapter 35
“What the fuck did you do?” repeated Lou.
“I put my best foot forward, just like you told me,” laughed Corey. “Well, knee technically.”
“Jesus Christ, you did it. You actually did it and you think it’s funny.”
Of all the tones she’s heard over the years from Lou, this was a new one, and it made her uneasy.
“Yes, I did, because the little A-Hole,” she said, pausing for the jibe she was proud of sink in, “put his fucking hands on me. So I helped him hit his high notes.”
“And you couldn’t have picked a more delicate way to fend off your client’s advances?”
Corey was pissed.
“Hey, who am I talking to here? My friend? My manager? Are you even a woman? I did everything you said—to the letter—and the best career advice your wunderkind producer could offer was to put a fucking bag over my head.”
“Drop said that?”
“Stop calling him that! Some dipshit named Craig gets to reinvent himself, but when I want to, I have to wear a wrestling mask and show my tits?”
Corey heard a deep breath over the phone and Lou’s even voice reply, “So that’s why you kicked Deaver in the balls?”
“No, because after the whole mask exchange, the ‘shy one’ tried to calm me down by leading me into a soundproof booth to manhandle me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. So fuck Drop, fuck A-Game, and fuck you too if you have a problem with it. Fuck their shitty music and their shitty dance moves. If I handed the lot of them a real musical instrument they probably couldn’t even identify it. They’re worse than empty calories, they’re artificial sweetener. The kind that causes cancer. It was a terrible idea and I should’ve listened to my instincts.”
“Well, I’m glad you waited until the worst possible moment to listen to your instincts.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What I mean is now we have a bigger problem. A-Game is threatening legal action.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Deaver has a testicular torsion.”
“Bullshit…”
“They sent me the doctor’s note.”
“A doctor’s note? What are they, in grade school? It’s still bullshit.”
“Of course it’s bullshit, but it’s a real note signed by a real physician and that is evidence.”
Corey felt as if a trapdoor opened in her stomach, and all of the anger poured out, making room for the panic. “Legal action? I don’t even have anything.”
“You have your condo. And your back catalog.”
Oh my God, thought Corey. My songs.
“They wouldn’t.”
“They would.”
“Lou, they can’t take my songs. Lou…”
“They would…if I hadn’t taken care of it. We walk away and we keep our mouths shut and it all goes away.”
Corey breathed a sigh of relief. “Fine by me. You think I really wanted anyone to know I worked for those cretins?”
“And they keep Apex.”
“Wait, but—but that’s my song!”
“Not anymore it’s not.”
“But it’s going to be huge. They said so themselves. They called it a banger!”
“And now it’s their banger. You’ll write more.”
“It’s not that easy!”
“I didn’t say it was, just that you’d write more. Look, go to your Coast Guard Prom this weekend, get drunk, get laid, and we’ll regroup next week.”
“There has to be something else we can do…”
“It’s either let Apex go or license your entire back catalog to get the money to fight them. And lose. Publicly.”
She played it out in her head. Losing everything just to watch everyone see her beg for A-Game’s scraps. She’d be a joke. Her shoulders slumped and her insides felt heavy, as if gravity had suddenly doubled.
“So they take my song and erase me. They literally make me unsung.”
“I prefer to think of it as living to fight another day.”
“They maneuvered me into this.”
“No, Corey. They’re not smart enough to do that. But they are smart enough to play the ball where it lies. And we got outplayed.”
“He put his fucking hands on me, Lou…” she said, gritting her teeth to keep from crying or throwing her phone. “It’s not fair.”
“I know, but a fare is what you pay to get on a bus, babe.”
She shook her head, the fury returning. It wasn’t just the song, it was the betrayal. She had committed. She had convinced herself that she was actually a part of the team, and they turned on her. In the end, everyone either bailed or they stabbed her in the back and then bailed. First Anders, now A-Game. How much hurt would it save to be the first one to bail for once? She knew there would be plenty of time later to dwell on the hurt of it all—in the dead of night or in the shower—but right now, she had an epic rage buzz going.
“How could you let this happen?” she seethed.
“I’m sorry, was I the one who gave Deaver a testicular torsion?”
“Alleged testicular torsion. I never should have listened to you.”
“Yeah, well hindsight and all that. I was trying to keep you afloat.”
“Have any of your other clients sold their souls and gotten absolutely nothing for it? Or is it just me?”
“Look, I get it, you’re pissed and you want to take it out on someone, but you’re not the only one eating shit here, babe.”
“You can afford the mouthwash. You still have Courtney Swift and a bunch of giant acts. You’ll be fine. I’m the one who got fucked and it was all your bright idea.”
“It’s a lot of work coming up with bright ideas for you these days, Corey.”
“Yeah, well how about you save all of your bright ideas for your marquee clients. Maybe our thing has run its course. It’s not like I’m making you any money anyway. Your fifteen percent of zero is only—”
“Zero?”
“I was going to say zero! And besides, all of the favors you’re doing me aren’t doing me any favors.”
She hung up and flung her phone across the room, then ran over to make sure it didn’t break. A cracked screen, but the phone still worked. She sighed. She supposed it could be worse.
I just fired my best friend but I definitely can’t afford a new phone, she thought.