Everybody laughed at that.
“Noa is a professional artist herself.” I threw it out there because I knew she wouldn’t.
“Wait, seriously?” Kay’s mouth dropped open.
“I paint, mostly oils. Sometimes I do landscapes and portraits.”
“She’s being modest. She’s dope. She’s done several galleries back home,” I cut in. Noa was being too humble when she needed to be popping her shit. Noa glanced up at me, cheeks turning pink, like I was embarrassing her.
“You have to show us your work,” Marli said.
“I have a few pieces on my socials.”
“Bae, you should show her the sunroom. She’ll probably love it,” Blue suggested.
“The sunroom?” Noa’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, it’s where I hang most of my pieces.”
Noa’s face lit up, and I could see her hesitation for half a second, her eyes bouncing toward me, probably worried about whether I needed her right by my side for the meeting.
“Go,” I reassured her. I was a grown man. I didn’t need her next to me holding my hand through a decision. Her being in the vicinity was enough.
“Well,… sure. I’d love to see it.”
“Just don’t go too far,” I called after her as she rolled off with them. “In case your man gotta make a fast escape. These fools could be talking crazy.”
Everyone laughed as Kay tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I promise to return her in one piece.”
“Good luck, baby. Don’t forget why you’re doing this,” Noa said before kissing me on the lips. I nodded and smirked at her as she headed through the double doors with Kay and Marli on both sides of her. I watched them disappear down the hallway, laughing like they’d known each other for years. I appreciated how no one had mentioned her chair or made her feel uncomfortable. They treated her like she was regular, and that told me everything I needed to know about their morals.
“Let’s sit.” Dru motioned toward the setup near the edge of the patio.
“Bet.” I walked over to the patio furniture and took a seat in the chair that faced the ocean.
“Let’s talk business.” Dru slid into the seat beside me, and Blue pulled out a chair across from him.
“This is Ace,” Dru said, motioning casually toward the tall man with the briefcase. “He’s our attorney. He helped us clean up our business, puts out our fires, and protects our artists.”
“We figured you’d want someone from legal in the room,” Blue added.
I nodded. “Appreciate it. I’m sure you know my history.”
“We do. You signed a 360. You don’t own your masters or any rights to any of your songs. You don’t even own your mixtape joints.” Dru rambled off my history. If I weren’t aware of how stupid it sounded, I would have cringed. “When you got locked up, they took the money you had to recoup losses and ended your contract for not putting out new music.”
“Perfect, so you see why I’m not in a rush to dive back into the industry.”
“Yes, and that’s exactly why we want you,” Blue replied. “You, like a lot of young artists in this industry, were taken advantage of.”
“It’s the reason we even started our label, to help people who look like us win,” Dru said. “I’ll get straight to it.” Dru poured himself a glass of Cognac and set it on the table in front of us. “We want to offer you a deal that doesn’t strip you of everything you’ve built, and we want to restore everything you lost.”
“You talking a good talk.” My throat tightened because his words hit different, but I didn’t show it. “Don’t most deals all equate to 360, anyway?”
“I assure you this ain’t no damn 360. We don’t do that shit over here. No one is snatching your royalties. You get to own your masters. You get full writing credit, and you keep creative control. We even want to help you rerecord your old music, so you get royalties for your songs.”
For a minute, I didn’t say shit. I just sat in the offer. It sounded good. “What are the terms?” I leaned back in my seat, ready to hear some crazy shit, but it never came.
“Five years, five albums, $300K a project,” he said casually.Five albums?That was a stretch. I wasn’t trying to be in this shit forever. If I was going to do this, I wanted to do a few albums and then use that money to open some businesses.
