Charles nods. “That’s true, to an extent. Except it falls under the ‘promotion and publicity’ clause. You must ‘participate in promotional activities reasonably requested by the label.’”
“The key word being ‘reasonable,’” says Harmony.
“We’ve been more than reasonable,” Charles argues, “letting you run wild for the better part of a year. Thankfully it’s been to our advantage, but now we’d like to take things in another direction. In the end, feuds always become tiresome to fans, not to mention divisive. If the two of you were working under separate labels, it might make sense to keep it going—and to make sure our own artist always had the upper hand. However, since we’re all on the same team here, there’s no reason to force fans to take sides. More importantly, we don’t want them looking at you with an either-or mentality when it comes towhose music or merch they’re going to buy. Both of you have upcoming albums, so now is the time to strategize.”
Objectively, he’s right. It’s late March right now. Harmony’s album releases in July (Braden mentioned that to me a week ago), and mine is set for August. From a business perspective, it makes sense. From a personal perspective, however, this feels like a vise grip around my neck. I loosen my tie some more and unbutton the collar of my shirt.
“Let’s call it a ‘stylized collaborative branding event,’” the PR rep suggests. “Or a sort of ‘romantic press tour.’”
After another sip of whiskey, Charles says, “Excellent descriptions. Either way, we believe it will be much more beneficial to say to our audience, ‘Why not both?’ and sell you as a package deal. The best way to do that is to pose you as a couple; better yet, a couple who overcame their very bitter, very public rivalry.”
“What if we decide to talk to our lawyers?” Harmony says.
Charles chuckles. “Surely it doesn’t have to come to that. I’ve spoken to representatives for each of you, and I’m aware that you have certain … wishes … to be fulfilled. Maybe we can consider those and come to an agreement. Hmm?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You, Griffin, have an interest in rebranding yourself—evolving musically, if I recall. Some of the other executives and I have considered allowing you more control over your work.”
Yes, Charles is well aware of my desire to shed my country persona. I requested it when I signed, and begged anyone with authority who would listen. “Not at this time,” I’ve been told repeatedly. “Perhaps down the line it might be possible, but for now, no.”
“And you, Harmony,” Charles continues, “I understand you’ve been eager to retrieve your early masters from FM Sound. We have the means to acquire them and put them in an artist-controlled trust—with a reversion clause, which means they could be legally yours after a set period that we both agree on.”
She perks up at that.
Grinning smugly, Charles tells us, “Depending on the success of this ‘marketing campaign,’ how it affects upcoming record sales and so forth … I think we might be able to grantbothyour wishes. Does that inspire your cooperation?”
Damn.
If I said I felt like a dog doing tricks before, I feel it now more than ever. Charles flashes a treat and I think I might be ready to roll over.
Harmony looks like she’s biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. The image of me once sucking that lip into my mouth cuts across my mind.
How am I supposed to handle this? It’s only distance that’s made it bearable, singing at her from behind the protective walls of the internet. If I agree to appear with her in public, harmonize with her, touch her …
I’m sure physical displays aren’t strictly required, but the media will pick us apart if we don’t really sell the dating angle.
“It’s just for a couple of months,” Stefanie reassures us. “Then you can stage a breakup, which will give you an opportunity to write some new breakup songs—which will be all the more meaningful after fans have witnessed your whole relationship. Or, at least they’llfeellike they’ve witnessed it. They like to feel they’re a part of things.”
“Yes,” Charles agrees. “They like to be ‘in the club.’ So try to think of this as a way to please the people who have believed in you from the beginning. That’s noble, don’t you think?”
I grit my teeth.
Noble?
I haven’t felt noble since the day before I signed with SiNKroNyze. From that day on, all I’ve wanted was to beauthentic, and I kept promising myself that I would be—eventually. Yet here I am, not only deeper into country music than ever, but heaping more lies onto the pile. Nothing noble about it.
Then again, maybe this could be my way to finally break out of that, the last few lies I’ll have to tell.
Risking a glance at Harmony, we lock eyes.
We say nothing.
If I can have creative control, I’m not going to argue. And Harmony must want those masters very badly, because she doesn’t argue either.
Besides, we got ourselves into this mess, didn’t we? She started it, I kept it going—and even barely knowing her, I sensed she wasn’t the kind of person to let anyone have the last word. Hell, that’s one of the things I liked about her.
It’s also one of the things I loathe about her.
