“I wish I had better news for you,” she says, waving a hand toward one of the black leather chairs.
“Do you have any updates?”
She nods, a grim look washing over her hard features. “Unfortunately, the employee who works for the label has decided not to testify.”
“What? Why not?” It bursts out of me before I can stop it. “He’s probably usingmymoney to pay for some high-powered attorney to intimidate his employees into not speaking out.”
She holds her hands up, trying to quiet me. “He’s worried about his job. You know how hard it can be to find a job in the music industry.”
This time, instead of picking at the ends of my hair, I twiddle my thumbs. “He was our best witness.”
“We’ll issue a subpoena to compel him to come to court and testify. We’re not out of options.”
“And if he decides not to testify and be held in contempt?” I lean back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other.
“I’ve got my paralegals working on other options here. We’re combing through Eric’s bank records now.”
I snort. “I’m surprised he gave those up.”
“Like I said, I think they’ll lead us to where the money is.”
“This is so damn frustrating.” I shove a hand through my hair.
“I know. I was hoping for better news, but at the very least, it looks like we have a court date set for the end of February.”
That snaps my spine straight. “February? Really?”
Rebecca nods as the paralegal in the corner takes notes of our meeting. “With depositions finished and no settlement offer being accepted?—”
“Heaven forbid I ask for what I earned,” I interrupt.
“I think,” Rebecca continues, “we have a fair judge, so I think it could work out in our favor.”
“Really?”
For the first time in months—hell, years—there’s a glimmer of hope.
“Yes. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but I think she’ll give us a fair and impartial trial.”
Even though I didn’t want to go to court, if it means putting this whole debacle behind me, I’ll do it.
“I’d stop singing today if it meant Eric didn’t get another dime from me.”
“He knew what he was doing,” Rebecca says, shifting a large file on her desk. I know it’s mine because it keeps growing every time I come. “I don’t think it’ll come to you not singing anymore.”
“Just starting over with a brand-new label and manager and no money to my name.”
“You really think you’d be starting from scratch?” Rebecca asks, a hint of annoyance in her tone.
“Recording a new album takes time and money?—”
“And a label that would be willing to invest in you,” she clarifies. “Even though Eric has been skimming off the top from you for years, you’re still one of the biggest names in pop music.”
“I hate that I was so taken,” I confess.
“He is twelve years older than you. He knew exactly what to say to get you to sign that contract without thinking twice.”
Back when I was eighteen and first met Eric, he said all the right things. I didn’t look twice at my contract. Hell, getting a contract was the most exciting thing to ever happen to me.
