“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This reallyisabout your ego …”
“You know what the most ironic thing about this is, though?” I ask.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me even if I say I could not care less.”
“You got what you wanted, but … it won’t be enough. I’ll be fine without the masters. Not only will I survive, I’ll thrive as I make more music, as I keep growing. Because I can stand on my own. I’ve proven that. I don’t need you, but you sure as hell need me—so badly that you had to blackmail me into letting you keep my work. That’s pretty damn pathetic if you ask me.” I shrug. “I don’t know. It kind of seems like I’m not the real loser here today.”
And I walk away.
You're a Gamble and I'm All In
RIFF
Harmony’sright;thisisn’tabout me or anyone else at Glambam, it’s about her. Which means that she’s the one FM Sound is going to be watching—not me.
If there is a mole at Glambam, they’re likely watching her to see if she tries to pull any tricks last minute. Thus, I don’t imagine it will raise any suspicions if I request a meeting with Charles to (allegedly) discuss final comments on my album before the release date.
Once I’m in his office, I hit him with the whole blackmail problem before he even says good morning.
“I’m sorry,” he says blinking. “This happened … when?”
“Two days ago. At the Blue Wave Media Summit.”
“This woman just … approached Harmony at the bar,” he recaps.
“Yeah. Who knows how long she was lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Harmony was hardly alone for a minute all day except for a break in the early afternoon, but Dana couldn’t exactly follow her to her room—and a staged elevator run-in wouldn’t have been long enough. The bar was anideal setting, at the end of a long string of events when Harmony was tired and more vulnerable. This is someone who does this kind of thing all the time.”
“Well, we can’t let FM Sound get away with this,” says Charles.
“That’s what I said too. Harmony is concerned though; Dana told her if there’s any hint of her seeking legal advice, everything goes public.”
“Our attorneys know how to handle matters like these. We can do it securely.”
“Good, because I’ve procured a few pieces of evidence that might be of use.”
We meet with a woman named Rhiannon at the law firm’s satellite office on Wilshire. It looks like any other generic office building, one of those blocky things with mirrored windows from the ground up, full of suites rented out by a lot of companies at once. Subtle as it already is on the outside, it doesn’t have anything telling on the office door either, no “Law Offices of Tom, Dick, and Harry” type signs, no “Justice Group” or “Corporate Advisors” or anything like that. Just “Suite 452,” and frosted glass on the door panels and windows.
Charles told all his assistants he’d be out with his wife for lunch, and I’m supposed to be going over my release party look with my stylist. He and I connected in the lobby and came up together.
The office is polished but unremarkable. Muted tones, industrial carpet, generic abstract art. Charles explained that some law offices have places like these specifically for this purpose—when clients fear retaliation for seeking legal advice. In case they’re followed, it won’t be obvious where they are, evenshould someone get a glimpse at the furniture or the people inside.
That said, Rhiannon could easily be a realtor in her slacks and fitted sweater, if I didn’t know better.
Without any ado at all, Charles gives her a concise explanation of what we’re dealing with. I fill in missing details and answer Rhiannon’s questions while she takes notes.
“You said you have some evidence?” Charles nudges me.
I slide over my phone with a video already keyed up on the screen.
The attorney raises an eyebrow. She presses play.
In the video, Dana Hatton takes Harmony behind a rack at Saks but the camera view follows them at a distance and shows Dana patting Harmony down. It’s zoomed in and a little blurry, but there’s no doubt who it is. Audio is muffled, but the words aren’t hard to make out.
“You think I’d be wearing a wire?” Harmony asks.
“You were so insistent about meeting in person. I have to make sure you’re not trying to do something stupid.”
There’s a little back and forth, and then Harmony gives a speech that I must have listened to a dozen times by now. She’s willing to give up her iconic first two albums for me, and she’s doing it with her head held high.
