Chapter 76

I had just finished my call with the police detective when Liz came back in grinning ear to ear. She grabbed another beer and sat down beside me at the table.

“Those two are funny,” she announced before she saw me frowning from my seat at the table. “Well, they are!”

“It isn’t that,” I said. “I just finished a rather lengthy conversation with a curious police detective from Nashville.”

“Oh?” Liz said, sitting at the table.

“I think I have it handled,” I said. “But I had to give her a little background information on your contract situation so she could put things into context. I have a recording of her promising to keep the information confidential but ... if she doesn’t there is fuck-all we can do about it.”

“That’s not a big problem,” Liz said.

“The breaking of a confidentiality agreement could land you in a courtroom until you’re old and gray,” I said. “In the meantime, no music, no tours, no nothing. It is a big problem if Granger wants to make it a problem. I don’t think the detective will release it – or if she does, I don’t think she’ll tell anybody how she knows it. But I don’t want anything unsaid between us.”

“I’m good with that,” Liz replied.

“I’m going to call Granger in the morning to see if he will speak to her about it,” I added. “If anyone breaks the clause officially I want it to be someone from the label. It’s there to protect them, after all.”

“So, you’re hoping Mr. Granger breaks the confidentiality seal,” Liz said.

“I think it would help us greatly,” I said. “Is their clause as strict as yours?”

“What do you mean?” Liz asked.

“Uh, my attorney said that the confidentiality agreement you had me sign was pretty much bulletproof as far as he could see,” I told her. “If I’m talking to my mom and she asks if you like your eggs poached or scrambled, I am committing a technical violation if I tell her.”

“That’s silly,” Liz said.

“It was the example my attorney offered,” I said. “Now, please know that sports agents are pretty familiar with confidentiality clauses. They exist in almost every personal and professional contract to some extent. Your clause extends to the ‘revelation of any personal or private details obtained through employment or association with Liz Larimer or Liz Larimer Entertainment to public or business entities.’ It’s overly broad but it would be enough to bankrupt somebody trying to defend themselves. The lawyer said it would likely stand up, particularly since they signed it willingly. I’m probably OK since my job title permits me to disclose certain things but if Ryan were to tell his wife that you were thinking about dyeing your hair, he could be liable.”

“I’m not...” Liz started but trailed off. “I’ve never actually enforced it. My dad got pretty lucky with the lawyer he found for me.”

“I think your dad did some pretty extensive research on the matter,” I said. “Sure, some luck was involved but I think he really tried to do his best to protect you on things. He just ... he just didn’t know how most of the time.”

“Probably,” Liz said. “But that doesn’t make shit any easier to swallow. My point is that the label’s clause is less specific. It pertains solely to contract details and riders. Uh, I don’t know if I told you but the attorney my dad hired doesn’t work for me anymore. She’s on the federal bench in Knoxville now. My second attorney didn’t work out so this is my third. My first attorney negotiated both my recording deals. Those are separate from the 90-day negotiating window. I signed that as part of a secondary deal I have with the label ... the one that lets me hire my personal staff without their input. I agreed to that stipulation about six years ago. My current attorney is certain it is not covered by the confidentiality clause of the original contract. This is a separate contract altogether. Unofficially ... my first attorney agrees. She can’t actually give me her opinion on the record but she says that it is separate and exclusive from what she put together for me.”

“That’s good,” I said. “That will let us put the onus on RFN when the time comes. Getting him to break the confidentiality agreement would just be icing on the cake. By the way, you have something else to thank me for.”

“Oh?” Liz asked with a tilted head.

“I guess there were close to 10,000 people still online when the tickets sold out,” I said. “Granger said some people were pushing for you to add a second show. He called to see if you would agree and then called back to tell you that the parking lot of the stadium was already booked through Monday so a second show was out. Guess who you have to thank for that?”

“I could have done a second show,” Liz said.

“I think, despite your obvious drawing power, it would have been extremely difficult to sell another 100,000 tickets,” I said. “Incidentally, Jill agrees with me.”

“Why did you talk to Jill even though the label backed off?” Liz asked.

“She left a voicemail for you encouraging you to think hard before making a decision on the matter,” I said. “If the venue were smaller, I’d say go for it. Maybe you can make Dallas a permanent tour spot but I think this time you should just let it go even if they can make arrangements for the parking lot. It’s my opinion but I’ll do whatever I can to help whatever you want to do.”

“No, you’re right,” Liz said. “We’ll talk about permanent tour spots later. Anything else interesting on the phones?”

“The usual,” I said. “You have a couple of calls on your phone that are waiting for you. One is from Stephanie; the other is from a number outside of your contacts.”

Liz glanced at her phone for a moment with a disturbed look.

“What did Stephanie want?” she asked me.

I shrugged.

“I doubt she has anything to say I’m ready to listen to just yet,” I said.

Liz looked back to her phone.

“And the other?” she wondered.

“It was not from someone in your contact list so I didn’t think they were looking for me,” I answered.

Liz smiled at me and shook her head.

“That’s why I mean about you being better at this than I am,” she said. “You have mastered the art of the non-answer answer. OK, I’ll play along.”

She picked up her phone and looked at her call list. The voicemails were marked unheard – thanks to a handy-dandy feature I’d found on my phone (which was identical to hers) by accident.

“Hmm,” she said. I didn’t know if she was impressed with my ingenuity or by the fact it appeared that I had not listened to them. She punched a button and put the phone to her ear.

I saw her face darken and her lips tighten.

“Looking out for me,” she repeated in a soft voice as she shook her head. “She better look out for herself.”

She pulled the phone away and hit the second message.

I was fooling with my phone but watching her reaction out of the corner of her eye. She got a look of confusion and then of disgust. Then she glanced at me and away quickly when she saw I appeared to be occupied.

I looked up when she put the phone on the table and her fingers started to fly across the screen.

“Trouble?” I asked.

“What?” she asked, slightly startled.

“Trouble?” I repeated.

She ignored me until she found whatever she was looking for. I was a bit surprised when she grabbed the beer bottle and jumped to her feet. I caught her wrist just before she flung it across the room. Beer splashed on the floor but it was hardwood and could be cleaned.

“Hey!” I said in an angry voice. “Do not ever throw shit in my house! Now find something to clean up the fucking mess you just made.”

Liz’s face was set in a look of pure rage but I still extracted the bottle from her hand and put it on the table. She pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before she picked up the beach towel and mopped up the spilled beer.

“Sorry,” she said with a heavy sigh when she took her seat again. “That was just the last fucking straw.”

“What?” I asked innocently.

“Don’t what me,” Liz said. “I know how thoroughly you do your job. You would have listened to both messages since I asked you to.”

I held my hands apart, unwilling to confirm or deny the allegation.

“Fine,” she said. “Then you can hear it now or hear it again.”

She flipped back to her messages and I listened to the male’s voice coming through the speaker. I gave her a questioning look when it finished.

“Stephanie sent a text message to ... Hiram Davis ... while you and I were arguing this morning,” Liz told me.

“You had your phone with you at the hotel,” I said. “It was sitting next to your hand. You used it to call one of the radio stations. Remember?”

“No!” Liz said quickly. “I had her phone. I always use the one you carry but it was charging this morning so I used hers. I never use my personal phone for anything like that. Only a very few people have this number. I do not give it out and I change it every three or four months. I get a new sim card and destroy the old one. I can’t have somebody hacking me. So I use a different phone to call places I don’t want to have my private number.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“I didn’t realize I had Stephanie’s phone until I tried to call you,” she continued. “I hit the number for you and her husband answered instead. It freaked me out a little until I recognized his voice. I thought you might have just handed the phone to somebody at random because you were pissed off at me. Then I thought you might have been mugged or something. I had taken her business phone away from her before she left. Well, it was my phone that I took. I’m glad I did. Here ... read the text she sent. Does this sound like me?”

I glanced down at the phone and the first thing I looked at was the time stamp. It had been sent at 8:27 a.m. That was about 10 minutes before I left the hotel and during the time Liz and I were quarrelling. I knew because I had looked at my phone to document the exact time our relationship had ended. It was 8:36 a.m.

I pushed the phone back to her after barely a second.

“If you say you didn’t send it then I believe you,” I said. “I don’t need to read it.”

Liz looked at me for a moment and then back to her phone.

“Hi Hot Stuff,” she read. “Long time I know. Trouble in paradise. Up for some dirty fun this weekend? I’ll be in L.A. if you’re game. I’ll give you a workout. Miss ya, Liz.”

She read off her phone number and looked back at me again.

“Does that sound like me?” she asked.

I pondered the question, perhaps too long. I know the answer I gave was probably the wrong one.

“Yeah,” I said.

“What?” Liz asked in a loud voice.

“I have a bunch of texts from you like that,” I said with a shrug.

“I sent it to you!” Liz said. “I can send texts to you that sound that way. I don’t fucking send them to other people!”

“OK,” I said. “It’s not like I check your phone to see who you’re texting and how. I got one worded almost exactly from you last weekend.”

Liz blinked at me.

“You did!” she announced. She flipped back through her texts until she found the one she wanted. “‘Hey Sexy. Wanna see paradise? My workout is over. Yours is just starting. Meet me in the shower for some clean dirty fun. Better bring your A game. Love ya lots.’”

She shook her head.

“She just fucking copied a text I’d already sent,” she said. “No wonder you thought it sounded like I’d written it. But I don’t send things like that to anybody else – and damned sure not to him. The label might think he’s something special but I know he’s a piece of shit.”

“At least you have solid grounds for dismissal,” I said. “I would think sending your private phone number to anyone without your permission would violate about 30 different clauses in the contract.”

“I’m going to snap her neck when I see her again,” Liz told me.

“She lost one of the best jobs in the world,” I said. “No need for physical harm. Are you going to promote Jill again?”

“No,” Liz answered instantly. “She’s not ready for that step. Honestly, Stephanie wasn’t ready but I liked her and I trusted her so I gave her the job when she asked for it. I think she could have grown into it but I wanted everybody answering to me because I knew she would be in over her head for a year or so.”

“What are you going to do for a manager?” I wondered.

“I have time and I have options,” Liz said. “Really, for the first month or so, there isn’t going to be a lot of managing. My lawyer and my business adviser will handle things with RFN. You and I will be gathering information and contacting people about a series of concerts I want to do. It will take every bit of the 90 days before I really require a manager to start his or her part. I’d already put together a short list before Stephanie approached me. Once word gets out, I’ll have some people approaching me that are pretty solid.”

“What are the odds of getting Granger to drop the 90-day period completely?” I wondered.

“If it were just him, I’d say they were pretty good,” Liz said with a sigh. “But I’m not sure he has the power to just waive it.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“He’s the majority shareholder and the president of RFN but he is not the only one with a stake in the company,” Liz said. “He has investors and they expect returns. Those returns come almost exclusively from me. RFN has two other artists on their roster that routinely spend time on the charts and routinely sell discs in large quantities. Like a lot of places, it’s bloated at the top with some hefty salaries and some fancy titles. A lot of the VPs have stock in the company and they won’t be easy to convince. I don’t see it going away.”