“We signed him, didn’t we?” I ask, glancing at my phone.
“But why did we sign him?” Hiram asks.
“Because he does that weird thing kids are doing where they don’t enunciate? That shit sells.” Avery points out.
“Please tell me there is a better reason than that.” Hiram sits down, grunting as he does. The man is seventy-three. And while you’d take him for being mid-sixties, there are days I can’t believe he is still at the helm of it all.
“Didn’t we go over all of this in Vegas?” I cut in impatiently. “I mean shit, you met the kid. He’s a carbon copy of the artist topping the charts right now. Pretty sure that guy–”
“Dez Murano,” Avery names the artist for me before I go on.
“Yes. Dez Murano is supposedly in consideration for the fucking Super Bowl Half Time show. And if you ask me, our boy is way more talented.”
“Too bad the Super Bowl didn’t ask you,” our Dad jokes, making Avery snort and making me annoyed. “But if you two like him, I’ll run with it. After all, you’re going to be sitting in my chair soon. One of you anyways.”
Avery laughs again, giving me acan you believe this guylook before turning back to our dad who is lighting up a cigar now. “What do you mean ‘one of us’?”
“You can’t both run Hardin Records when I’m gone,” he scoffs as if the idea is insane.
“No offense, Pops,” Avery starts in. “But I don’t know if you’re aware…we’re the same age. You don’t have an elder to pass the chair down to.”
He takes a puff of his cigar and lets it out before casually going on. “Maybe not. But two owners sounds messy to me. No, no. One of you will take the reins and the other keep watch. Like a co-pilot if you will. Businesses like ours need a face. A powerful one at that, with a good jawline.”
“And you don’t think two faces are better than one?” Avery asks. While there is concern in his voice, he also has a tone that tells me he is intrigued by the challenge of only one ruler.
“Not when those faces are constantly at each other’s throats,” he laughs. “I mean hell. You two boys aren’t exactly known foryour comradery. You can hardly agree on the best way to grill a steak, let alone how to run a music empire. One man on the top rung, the other a step down. Half a rung if you can get along well enough to make it work.”
We both stare at our father who just might be insane. Twin rivalry or not, I think Avery would agree with me that we have always assumed we’d be running this together. Even if it meant duking things out from time to time.
With that, I can actually feel the question Avery is about to ask. As much as I hate to admit it, the twin thing is a real thing. I can practically predict his moves before he makes them. Knee-jerk comments and all.
“So, who’s on top?”
“That’s for you two to figure out.”
This time I’m the one snorting out an amused laugh. “What? You want us to rock, paper, scissors for it? No offence, Dad, but this is a multi-million-dollar business we are talking about. Not the last slice of pizza.”
“You know, I figured you’d say that,” he points at me with his cigar hanging from his lip at a forty-five-degree angle. “Which is why I came up with a legal way to handle it.”
“And that is…?” I draw the question out. I don’t have time for this.
He stares at us with only a hint of a grin in the corners of his mouth. “Whoever gets married first will inherit Hardin records?”
My eyes narrow and teeth grit in my mouth. “What?”
“You're joking right?” Avery asks and I’m wondering the same thing. But while Hiram Hardin is a lot of things, a jokester is not one of them.
“If there is anything I have learned over the years, boys, it’s that a good company, agreatcompany, needs two things: A strong man. And a woman driving that man. I know firsthandwhat it’s like to do this job alone. Your mother, if she were still around, would tell you that I am not an easy man to work with. It’s honestly probably why she bailed. But a successful man always has a good woman at his side. And for a family company like Hardin, an heir isn’t a second-tier necessity. Which is another reason for matrimony.”
Our father shoves up from the desk with more effort than it should take and exits the room, cigar in hand, leaving me alone with my angry thoughts and irritating brother.
“The old man is losing it,” Avery shakes his head, helping himself to the whiskey cabinet.
“He’s already lost it,” I state.
Avery seems amused. Unbothered. I, on the other hand, am fuming.
“He’s making a joke out of this whole thing,” I say. “That should concern you.”
