A split sheet is a contract that determines who gets what percentage ownership of any given song—which becomes very important for the payout.
On the other end of the line, I hear Paul sink into a chair. “Well, then, tell me the story.”
I fill him in on what I’ve been up to over the past two months, explain why I felt comfortable cowriting with these people when I hadn’t been amenable to it in his office. He hums occasionally, listening otherwise.
“The point is,” I conclude, twirling my pen around my thumb. “Both of the bands want to record my songs after tour. So, I need to sign with a music publisher.”
“And you’ve spent the last day fielding offers, with me being your final call.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Course not. This is your career, after all.”
I nod to myself.
“How much money to stay competitive?” he asks.
I tell Paul the answer, my finger tracing over the advance offers I’ve received from a few of the bigger names in music publishing.
“I can probably match that,” he says. “I can’tbeatit, but I can match it.”
“The other publishers wanted to know my plans for ‘I prefer shadows,’” I say.
“You went from not even letting me hear it to playing it live for thousands of people,” he comments, amused.
I listen to the rustle of Liam getting ready at the bathroom sink. “You had good instincts, telling me to examine that song,” I say.
“Gut feeling,” Paul allows.
“Makes me feel like I can trust you. Not just with the business stuff, but with the creative side of it, too. I appreciate that you gave me months of freedom to figure out how to make the songs better. And I appreciate that you paid attention to me before I was offereda helping hand.” I clear my throat. “What I’m saying is, I want to work with you. I’d like to sign a contract with Stillwater.”
A beat of silence on the other end of the line. “I’m happy to hear that, Paige. And I’ll do everything in my power to protect your interests. I can send you over some paperwork to sign electronically. And I needyou”—his voice drops ominously—“to send me proof of those split sheets as soon as possible.”
“I will.”
He grunts. “Whatisthe plan for ‘I prefer shadows’? Do you want to record it?”
“I think it could become a duet. I’m still mulling it over.”
“Any other songs you’ve written on tour?”
I hesitate a while before saying, “Three, that I’d want to record myself. An indie label would be great. And we wouldn’t need to promote them. They’re just—personal.”
Paul pauses, but eventually says, “Okay.”
We discuss a few more details, then hang up the phone. I close my notebook as a sense of calm envelops me.
I can’t believe I actually did it.
For the first time in my life, I have financial security. I can help Folly with her baby. Do something nice for Candice’s wedding. Visit my family more often, stop working doubles. I can focus on Liam, on being there for him as he finishes leading his first national tour.
I catch sight of him as he walks out of the bathroom. My spine stiffens at his crushingly wary expression.
“What is it?” I ask.
Liam waits a beat before asking, “Why didn’t you tell Paul about the other new songs?”
I blink slowly. “I did. I’m going to record them myself. The three songs you wanted.”
