I looked at the three of them.
"I want it locked down. On paper. Ink and signatures. Before we walk out on that stage."
Kit let out a breath that sounded like a prayer. Euan stopped typing. Alfie’s knees gave out and he sat on the bunks.
"You're claiming us?" Alfie whispered.
"I'm securing the asset," I said, my voice thick with emotion I refused to let spill over. "You're the asset. I'm not letting the industry touch what's mine."
"Copy that," Kit rumbled, his eyes shining.
"Right," I said, clapping my hands once. "Siege mode active. Let's go to work."
The Manchester venue green room was ugly. Mustard yellow walls, fluorescent lights that hummed in B-flat, a sickly pale green, and a smell of damp plaster.
Euan placed the massive bouquet of lilies on the coffee table. He adjusted the angle precisely.
"Field of view established," he murmured. "Mic is hot in three... two... one."
He pulled the Faraday bag away.
We were live.
Somewhere in a sleek office or a van, Miles Green was putting on headphones.
"I can't believe we have to redo the patch list," I said loudly, throwing a clipboard onto the sofa. "Alfie, you changed the vocal chain again."
"I need more reverb!" Alfie shouted back, pacing the room. He sounded like a diva. It was convincing. "I can't feel the room, Z! Fix it!"
"I fixed it three times!" I snapped. "Maybe if you didn't eat the mic you'd hear yourself!"
"Hey," Kit barked, stepping into the frame, looming over me. "Tone, Zia. He's the talent. You make it work."
"I've been working eighteen hour days, Kit! I haven't slept in a bed in a week, not even on the bus!"
"That's the job," Kit growled. "Read the contract. Clause 4. You serve the band."
I saw Euan twitch. This was hard for them. Pretending to be the monsters I used to fear.
"I want a break," I said, voice trembling (real exhaustion helping here). "I want five minutes without someone demanding something from me."
"You'll get a break when the album goes platinum," Alfie sneered. "Until then, get back on the board."
The door opened.
Tammy Rook stood there. She wasn't acting. She looked furious.
"Delivery," she grunted.
She stepped aside.
Rowan walked in. She wasn't holding flowers. She was holding a stack of legal documents and a tablet streaming network data.
She walked right up to the lilies. She looked directly into the hidden lens.
"Hello, Miles," Rowan said pleasantly.
We all stopped acting instantly. Alfie dropped the diva posture, moving to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. Kit crossed his arms, looking lethal. Euan stepped into the frame, holding up his laptop.
