Graham sighed and slowly put his glass down on the table. “Rick.” The way he said his name made Rick’s stomach tighten. “Look—”
Rick forced a laugh. “Come on. Don’t start with that tone.”
Graham held his gaze. “What tone?”
“The tone you use when you’re about to tell me why it’s not possible,” Rick snapped before he could stop himself. He drew a breath and softened his voice, smiling to take the sting out of what he’d said. “Look. The fans still care. I see the comments. I see the old videos people post. That song still hits. It still does numbers.”
Graham’s face didn’t change. “That song,” Graham said, “was lightning.”
Rick’s jaw tightened. “It was talent.”
“It was timing,” Graham corrected. “And luck. And you being in the right place with the right writer in the room. That doesn’t mean you aren’t talented. It means you caught the wave, and you rode it successfully.”
Rick stared. “So what? That’s it?”
Graham leaned forward slightly, sighing softly. “Rick, listen to me.”
“I am listening.” Rick clenched his jaw, then made an effort to relax.
“No, you want to argue.” Rick opened his mouth, but Graham kept going. “You had one hit. One. It went to number one, and it stayed there for eleven weeks. It sold like nothing I’ve seen in a decade. And I’m not taking that away from you. But everything after that… every single—”
“They weren’t flops,” Rick muttered sharply.
Graham’s gaze held Rick’s. “None of them entered the top forty.”
Rick’s chest tightened, his heart rate spiking. “Graham—”
“The album after that sold less than ten thousand copies,” Graham continued. “Less than. And you know what the label said? That you were a moment. That they were never going to get that again. I fought for you, I really did. I got you chances. Features. Remixes. Radio pushes. And every time, it fizzled out and went nowhere.”
Rick’s hands were trembling now. He tucked them under the table and pressed his fingers into his thighs. He knew where this was going. “You didn’t fight,” Rick said, his voice low. “You gave up.”
Graham’s expression didn’t flicker. “I didn’t give up. I adjusted. That’s what good management does. We look at what it actually is, not what we wish it to be.”
Rick laughed, a hard sound that echoed in the room. “So you’re saying I should just… disappear.”
“I’m saying you should pivot,” Graham said. “Behind the scenes. Production. Writing. Talent scouting. You’ve got a good ear when you’re not focused on yourself. You could build something from that.”
Rick stared at him. “I’m not a behind-the-scenes guy.”
Graham’s face softened slightly. “You might have to be.”
Rick pushed his chair back an inch. “No.”
Graham lifted a hand. “Rick—”
“No,” Rick said again, louder this time. His heart hammered in his chest so loudly he thought Graham could hear it. “Do you hear yourself? You’re telling me to quit. You’re telling me it’s over.”
Graham’s mouth tightened. “I’m telling you the truth. The public isn’t interested.”
Rick shook his head, anger mixing with something else. Fear. Not of Graham, but what Graham was telling him. “That’s not true,” Rick said. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” Graham replied. “I see the numbers. I see the trends. I see the industry. It’s moved on, Rick, and you need to move on too.”
Rick leaned forward, his voice sharp. “Then make them look again.”
Graham’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t force people to care.”
Rick’s lips flattened. “You can force a lot of things.”
