Chapter 45

As we walked into the sleek, modern conference room, dominated by a massive oak table that could easily seat twenty people and a massive window overlooking LA, I was trying my best to keep my stomach in check.

The week following my victory had been a whirlwind, with numerous interviews, including two on national television, which had been amazing. All of my friends and family, including Kat, had gone home the day after the finale. Besides LA being crazy expensive and people having jobs to get to, they also knew there wasn’t going to be any time for sightseeing or socializing. Every moment not filled with promotion had been spent in locked rooms with Warren, Benny, and Mr. Eaves, planning for this meeting. This was a make-or-break situation where the future of my music career was going to be settled.

Only Lyla and Seth had stayed behind because I’d demanded they be involved in the decisions we were making. Unfortunately, just like MAC, they weren’t invited to the actual contract negotiations. Gold Label Records had made it clear they were offering me the deal that came with my victory as a solo artist, and not an entire band.

Everything about the room I was walking into had clearly been designed to put the people on my side of the table off balance. Phoenix West sat in the center of the table, right across from the glass doors, looking crisp and imposing in an expertly tailored gray suit. Flanking him on either side were lawyers and executives, with notebooks and folios in front of them. A massive monitor took up the left wall and the right had, what I can assume was a very expensive painting that looked mostly like paint splotches to me.

As soon as we walked in, Phoenix stood with a broad grin and said, “Charlie, congratulations again on your big win. We’re thrilled to have you joining us here at GLR.”

“Thanks,” I said as I pulled out a chair to sit down.

I couldn’t help but notice the glances both Phoenix and the others were giving Benny and Mr. Eaves, but mostly Benny. They were pretty good at covering up their expressions, but I got the distinct impression they were uncomfortable with both men’s presence.

“I’m excited to start working together,” Phoenix continued smoothly as he sat back down. “I expect very big things from you, Charlie. You have immense talent and some of the highest response rates of any contestant in the history of The Stage. I have a feeling once we start working together, we’re going to set some more records.”

“I hope so,” I said as noncommittally as possible.

He gestured to a woman on his right. “Sandra here is head of our talent relations. She’ll walk you through the specifics of what we’re offering.”

Sandra gave me a tight smile. “Charlie, what we’re offering is our standard 360 deal that we put all new talent under. Under this contract, you’ll receive fifty percent of all income streams - touring, merchandise, recordings, streaming royalties - for a period of five years or ten albums, whichever comes first. We project those earnings could be very high, especially the touring, so that fifty percent will be a significant number. At that point, we have the option to renew for additional albums.”

“As part of this deal, you’ll receive the standard two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar advance as part of your winnings for the show. Of course, this is an advance, so you’ll need to recoup that before you start seeing any royalties. And of course, there are standard terms with this advance about repayment time frame and possible recoup payments to GLR should the time frames not be hit,” she said dismissively, as if it were a minor detail. “But I’m not worried about that. Considering your numbers, I expect you to clear your advance and start earning well before the advance expires.”

I wasn’t a lawyer, but the year dealing with MAC had taught me enough to know when someone in a suit waved away a detail like that, it was because it was actually important, and something I should be very concerned about.

“The contract also comes with the standard non-compete, non-disparagement, restrictions on outside projects, and termination limitations,” she said quickly, as if she were reciting a memorized script.

She turned the contract around and slid it towards me.

“Now all you have to do is sign, and we can get to work,” Phoenix said, flashing his pearly white teeth in another giant smile.

I sat up a little in my chair, trying to steady my nerves. Benny had gotten a hold of a copy of the contract a previous winner had signed, and we’d made our decision before ever stepping into this room. But now that the moment was here, I felt a knot in my stomach.

“I really enjoyed being on the show,” I began, meeting Phoenix’s eyes. “And I’m incredibly grateful that you see such potential in me and everything you and the rest of the production company have given me. This contract is certainly impressive.”

Phoenix’s smile widened slightly in anticipation.

“But I’m afraid I can’t sign with Gold Label Records today,” I continued.

Phoenix’s smile vanished, replaced with a look of shock. The lawyers and executives exchanged glances.

“Charlie, I urge you to reconsider,” Phoenix said evenly. “This contract comes with a quarter of a million-dollar advance. Not to mention, you’d be walking away from the deal of a lifetime - a fifty percent split is exceedingly generous for a new artist.”

“Let’s cut the bullshit here, Phoenix,” Benny said bluntly. “This contract is downright usurious. Fifty percent isn’t excitingly generous, it’s damn near double the industry standard. Locking him in for five years isn’t terrible, but giving you the sole option to renew indefinitely with no escape clause? That would basically make Charlie your indentured servant. You could lock him in a dark room for ten years if you wanted to, and he’d have no way at all to walk away from it.”

Phoenix’s jaw tightened more and more with every word Benny said until I started to worry he might crush those perfectly white teeth.

“And the advance payment? I looked at your language there, too. A year to pay back a quarter of a mil based on fifty percent of his total earnings, and a requirement that he pay back the full two-fifty if he misses by even a dollar? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Charlie, don’t let these men lead you astray,” Phoenix said, ignoring Benny and talking directly to me. “If you walk away now, you’ll find it very difficult to get another record deal. You’re an unproven artist listening to shark lawyers looking for a quick payout.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I trust my team. My decision is final - I can’t sign with Gold Label Records.”

There was a long silence. Finally, Phoenix sat back in his chair.

“Then I suppose there isn’t much left to discuss,” he said evenly. “We presented you a very generous offer that would have made you a wealthy man. If you want to throw away your winnings and the contract, we can’t stop you.”

He stood, straightening his suit jacket. “I wish you luck, Mr. Nelson. You’re going to need it out there on your own.”

Instead of standing up in turn, Benny leaned forward and said, “Charlie isn’t giving up his winnings. This contract may call it an advance, but the contract he signed when he joined the show, along with all of the show’s public branding, clearly defines it as ‘winnings.’ The money being an advance, especially an advance that must be either earned out or repaid, is never mentioned. And as we all know, there’s a significant difference between the two.”