I glanced over at my son and saw the crack in his armor. But only for a split second.
“Don’t release the music, then.” Jake shrugged. “Problem solved.”
“That is not the issue.”
“It is to me.”
I latched onto Jake’s reasoning. “Just release him from the contract,” I said. “He’s a stupid kid. He made a mistake, but it’s not like he hurt anyone.”
The studio guy finally spoke. “With respect, Mr. McKallister, your son has already hurt us. The label signed a band under the assumption that all members were of legal age and acting in good faith. That assumption was incorrect.”
“My kid joined a band,” I snapped. “That’s it. Kids do that.”
The lawyer’s smile thinned. “Your son is not just any kid. He’s Jake McKallister.”
The name hit the room like a mic drop. They always said it like that. NotJake; notyour son. Always the newsworthy version.
“And now?” Michelle asked, her hand finding mine under the table. Bracing.
“Now,” the studio rep said smoothly, “the label wishes to restructure.”
Jake let out a short, humorless laugh. “It’s nice to wish.”
“Jake,” Michelle warned.
The lawyer slid a thick folder across the table. It stopped just short of my elbow. “The label is prepared to move forward under your son’s legal name. Solo contract. Immediate dissolution of the band.”
“You’re dropping us?” Jake said.
“Them,” the studio rep said. “Not you. The band is… dispensable.”
Jake sat forward so fast his chair legs screeched against the floor. “Why? Why just me?”
But he knew why. When he signed the contract, Jake used his middle name as his last. Jake Ryan didn’t carry the weight of Jake McKallister.
“Because your name recognition has more value than six of those bands combined.”
“If that’s true,” Jake said, “I can go anywhere. I don’t need you.”
“Sure,” the lawyer said, cutting in before the studio rep could respond. “You could try. But walking away doesn’t make this disappear.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have signed a contract with a kid you didn’t bother to verify first,” Jake shot back.
“We did verify. Your fingerprint background check is precisely why this meeting is happening. If you force the issue, Jake,” he continued, “the label will protect itself.”
“You’re gonna sue me? I’m fifteen.”
“No, Jake. We’d pursue your parents.”
“You’re not going to do shit,” Jake said, all full of bluster. “I’m not signing under my name. Not happening.”
“What you want doesn’t matter,” the man said in a patronizing tone. “As you pointed out—you’re fifteen.”
Michelle straightened. “Do not speak to my son that way.”
The room went silent. A tick broke the lawyer’s neutral expression, but only for a moment. He cleared his throat. “My apologies. Let me rephrase that. Jake, you don’t have the authority to make that call. You’re underage. Your parents will decide what’s best going forward.”
He turned to Michelle and me. “And I suggest you consider the ramifications carefully. If this agreement is challenged, the label will pursue damages. This could stretch on for years, with legal fees reaching six figures, conservatively.”
