Cricket sets down her notepad and looks at me seriously. “Micah, what matters more to you? The money or being able to make music your way?”
“Making music my way.”
“Then I think we both know which label you should choose.”
I grin at her.
“Atlantic Coast Records!” we say in unison.
We both burst out laughing.
“Great minds think alike,” Cricket says, reaching over to high-five me.
“Or we’re both crazy for turning down all that extra money.”
“Money isn’t everything. You could make ten times that much if you’re allowed to build your career the way you want to.”
I grab her hands, an electricity running through me. “Cricket, thank you. For everything. For believing in me, for handling those meetings, for helping me see which choice was right. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
She blushes but doesn’t pull her hands away. “That’s what managers are for.”
“No, it’s what best friends are for. And you’re the best one I could ask for.”
An emotion I can’t quite read flickers across her face, but then she smiles. “So, should we call them back and ask to see their contract?”
“Let’s do. But first…” I hesitate. “Do you think I’m making the right choice? Really?”
Cricket squeezes my hands. A zing of something runs up my arms, and I startle. It feels like attraction, but that’s ridiculous. I’m not attracted to Cricket. She doesn’t seem to notice. “Micah, this is your dream. You’re about to become a professional musician with a record deal and creative freedom. How could that be anything but right?”
She makes sense. This is everything I’ve wanted. I try to focus back on what we’re doing. So why do I still feel terrified?
“What if I mess it up?” I ask quietly.
“Then we’ll figure it out together. That’s what we do.”
I nod, feeling some of my anxiety ease. With Cricket by my side, maybe I really can do this.
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “You can call Atlantic Coast Records. I’m ready to look at their terms.”
Cricket makes the call, and fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting on the couch, going over the contract.
“I have no idea what this says,” I admit, a bit overwhelmed by all the pages and legal jargon.
“I think we should have an IP attorney look it over before signing it.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Where are we going to get one of those?”
She blushes. “I’ve already contacted one, actually.”
When I gape at her, she shrugs. “I told you, I’ve been reading about being a manager. This is one thing managers do.”
“Okay, then. Send it to your attorney. How much will that cost?”
“Three or four hundred, depending on how long it takes her to look it over. But that’s the standard rate—I checked. And this will give you the peace of mind that they’re not trying to take advantage of you.”
I nod and lean back against the couch. “Okay.”
Cricket takes over her laptop, and her fingers fly over the keys. “Done.” She stands. “Now I have to get ready for my date.”
