Chapter 21

Monday, things started to get back to normal. I was still sad about Willie’s passing, but I had things to do. The competition was coming up soon, and I needed to make sure I got all of my ducks in a row, specifically at school, before I left. Plus, there was Kat, who I’d barely gotten to see when she’d been home over the weekend, and Hanna, who seemed determined to destroy her life. There was a lot going on.

My teachers had worked with me, probably because of Dr. Wallace’s involvement, but it meant I had a mountain of homework to take care of. I’d cancelled practice with Chef over the last few weeks and parked myself at the kitchen table the moment I got home to start making a dent in it.

I’d just gotten to work when the first distraction occurred. My phone, which I kind of wanted to just turn off but couldn’t since there were too many things I might be needed to deal with. Band stuff, show stuff, whatever.

Glancing over at the screen, I saw it was one of those calls I couldn’t ignore. I hadn’t spoken to Mr. Eaves since we learned that MAC was behind all of our cancelled gigs and the cancelled distribution meeting. The only thing we had going on now that he might be involved with was still trying to find a way to get MAC to back off, and basically, we’d put that on the back burner.

“Hey, Mr. Eaves, what’s up?” I said, answering his call.

“Hi Charlie, first, I wanted to tell you I’m very sorry for your loss. I only met Mr. Johnson the one time, but he seemed like a good man.”

“Yeah, he was,” I said, clearing my throat as the feelings from the weekend bubbled back up. “I appreciate it. What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling about ‘The Stage’,” Mr. Eaves said. “I know this is all happening fast, but I need to talk to you about the legal side of things.”

“There’s a legal side of things?” I asked, not quite sure what he was getting at.

He’d already looked over the performance contract the production company sent over after I got through the audition, and as far as I knew, it was all taken care of. From how he’d described it, everything was completely boilerplate and there weren’t any problems.

“Yes. Now that you’re going to be appearing on a major network TV competition, I believe it would be prudent to get you proper representation. My expertise is mainly in criminal law, as you know. But with this next step, you’ll need someone well-versed in contracts, endorsements, licensing, and so on. While this contract was fairly simple, there is a chance you will win and there will be a record contract at the end. The only reason I was able to handle your MAC contract was because, with where your contract was at the time, there was little choice but to agree to whatever provisions they offered. This show will bring you national attention, which means you suddenly have options, which is when contracts become complex.”

“Oh,” I said, not having considered any of that.

“Don’t worry, I have some excellent colleagues who specialize in entertainment law,” Mr. Eaves continued reassuringly. “I’d like to arrange introductions and have you meet with a few of them to find someone you click with. These folks know the business inside and out.”

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Eaves, but I think I’d rather stick with you as my lawyer,” I said. “No offense to your colleagues, but I’m not comfortable with anyone else representing me.”

“Charlie, I understand your hesitancy here,” he said, sounding a little frustrated with me. “We’ve been through a lot together in the past year. But entertainment law has very specialized components to it that are outside my areas of expertise. You need someone who knows how to handle it.”

“But I trust you. I don’t know these other lawyers, and I don’t exactly have the best track record with trusting other adults, as you well know.”

“Trust is important, Charlie, but so is specialized knowledge. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t tell you this. It’s not just about trust; it’s about expertise. Part of the requirements for legal representation is being able to effectively negotiate on the client’s behalf. In an area such as entertainment law, at least at the level you’re potentially going to be at, I would not be able to do that, which would be a breach of my obligations as an officer of the court.”

“Come on. I’ve seen enough TV to know lawyers represent clients outside of their field all the time. Are you worried that I’m going to sue you for malpractice?”

“It’s not just about that, Charlie. I have to answer to the state bar, which can take action against me if I break my ethical responsibilities.”

“What about your responsibilities to me,” I said, getting frustrated. “You know as well as anyone the number of people who’ve supposed to have been on my side and then walked away from me ... or purposefully screwed me over. I’m not about to let you do that to me, too. With all due respect, I’m not changing my mind on this.”

“Charlie, you’re putting me in a very difficult position,” he said. “I’m trying to do my duty here, and you’re making it very difficult.”

I could hear him getting really frustrated. For a moment, I was going to meet that energy with frustration of my own, but I second-guessed myself. Mr. Eaves had been in my corner every step of the way, and I’d done well every time I’d followed his advice. I didn’t want another lawyer, but I also didn’t want to burn my bridges with him either. I needed a middle ground.

“How about this,” I proposed. “You find someone you really trust, someone ethical who won’t take advantage of me, and someone who will be significantly better at the job than you. Not just better, significantly better. You vet them thoroughly. And then you both represent me. You’ll handle everything non-entertainment, and this new person will handle the entertainment side. But ... you’re still the point man. You’ll be my primary lawyer and responsible for keeping them on track and making sure I don’t get manipulated or screwed over. I know we’re talking retainers and discussions about how that works with your other clients, since that will be a big-time commitment, and I’m fine with that. The only way I’m going to need an entertainment lawyer who specializes in high-level performance contracts, rights negotiations, or whatever else entertainment lawyers do is if I win this thing and start making big moves. If that happens, I’ll be able to afford it. If not, then we can just stick with things being the way they are. Either way, I want you there to watch my back.”

“You’re right; the kind of thing you’re proposing would be a big change. I’m not sure I’m ready to become someone’s personal in-house counsel, which is essentially what you’re describing.”

“Which is a conversation we can have when the time comes, but it’s the conditions I want if I’m going to let another lawyer handle my affairs. I have first-hand experience letting people who don’t have my best interest manage my affairs. I’m not about to let that happen to me again. It’s why I agreed to keep Warren as my manager, and it’s why I want you to stay as my lawyer.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said after a long moment of silence.

“Good. Then, for now, things stay the way they are, and we’ll both think on it.”

I was feeling particularly smug at how I turned that around on him. Maybe he was right and I did need to find the right guy, but I only wanted to do it on my terms.

“Fine. You win for now. We’ll table this for the time being.”

“Good. Thanks for the call; it’s always good to talk to you,” I said, with a grin on my face I think he could hear over the phone. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to work with a teenager,” he muttered as he hung up.

He didn’t mean it. I was positive I was his favorite client.

Wednesday, I was at my locker after the last period, shoving books into my backpack and getting ready to head home, when I caught a glimpse of Sydney slowly walking toward me. She was looking right at me, so I knew she wasn’t going to just pass by me on her way wherever she went after school these days.

Part of me just wanted to pretend I didn’t see her, ignore everything else, shut my locker, and walk away. Besides the brutal dumping in the spring, her little visit at the beginning of the year didn’t put me in a charitable mindset with her. She hadn’t gone full Rhonda, but she’d still done her damnedest to burn every bridge on the way out.

Unfortunately, I took one last glance and saw the expression on her face. She was nervous. Hesitant. I silently cursed myself. All of my friends liked to remind me of how much of a softy I was. I seemed to be willing to give people who wronged me not just second chances, but fifth and sixth chances, giving them enough chances to burn me until they felt satisfied. My friends weren’t wrong. I was terrible at cutting ties, and I really did want to believe the best in people. I’d like to argue that was a good thing, but considering people like Rhonda, who’d used them as extra chances to kick me in the nuts, I was probably just being naive.

Still, seeing her face, I couldn’t just turn my back on her. Instead, I turned to face her, leaning on my locker. At least I had the sense to wait; let her make the first move. See if she was going to accuse me of cheating on her again.