“I think you should have hired a lawyer, Will.”
“Look, I’m not talking today. We’ll let them say their piece. I’ve seen nothing yet to make me think I need to hire a lawyer. No charges, no court papers. This is a scare tactic.”
“I hope you’re right.” As I unlocked the door, I noticed someone walking toward us in the reflection.
“Charlene Fretas,” Frank said loudly. “I’m Frank Abedo.” He was reaching out to shake her hand as I turned to introduce myself. I immediately froze, as did she.
I had met Charlene months before Mia and I had gotten together. She’d come into the bar I used to work in and basically propositioned me. I’d initially turned her down, but then after a long, depressing night of putting up with obnoxious bimbos at a club and feeling utter rejection from Mia, I’d given in and met Charlene—Charlie—in her hotel room.
She was quite a bit older and she had told me that she was a lawyer in town for business. When I’d gone to her room that night, I’d fully expected to find a sex- crazed cougar. In fact, I was kind of hoping for it after learning about Mia and her then-boyfriend. Instead, Charlie and I had done nothing but basically spill our guts about recent heartbreaks. Past the rock-hard exterior, she was kind and compassionate. We’d cuddled. It sounds stupid, but we just slept in the same bed and held each other. It was exactly what I’d needed at the time.
She was not the person I expected to see that day outside my studio. I could tell right away that she was wearing her lawyer hat because she barely broke a smile when she saw my face. “Mr. Ryan,” she said to me as she shook my hand.
“Charlie,” I replied.
“It’s Charlene. Let’s keep this professional.”
The memory of our night together vanished. Showing up at my studio and threatening to sue on behalf of Chad annihilated any respect I’d had for her.
“Okay, fine. Charlene it is. So, Charlene, you’re Chad’s lawyer?”
“Yes, and I’m also his aunt. I wanted to get that on the record.”
“Duly noted. Although, I heard you’re his great aunt?” I said, smirking.
“Yes, great aunt. My sister had his mother when she was fifteen, so that made me a very young aunt.”
“That’s neither here nor there,” Frank said, gesturing toward the door. “Shall we?”
We took seats in the meeting room, which had nothing but a coffee maker and a large oval conference table and chairs. Charlene immediately pulled out a digital recorder.
“No,” I said.
She shrugged and then took the battery out and set it next to the recorder on the table. It was a gesture to earn trust.
“I don’t even know what this is about, Charlene. Why don’t we start with a conversation? Why are you here?”
She leaned back in the chair, scanning me, looking for something, a tell or an angle, I wasn’t sure. I raised my eyebrows very slightly, just enough to look playful. She quickly sat upright and focused on the documents in front of her. “We’re here because Chad has a promising career in front of him.”
“That remains to be seen,” I countered quickly.
She pulled a paper from her binder. “He has an inner-ear infection and this is the doctor’s note.”
I took the note from across the table. There was a list of about twenty possible causes, including the most common at the top: bacteria or virus. Somewhere down the list, I found the word trauma. Someone had highlighted it as if to imply that was the cause.
Trying to remain as cool and collected as possible, I set the paper down and looked up, right into Charlene’s eyes. “I had nothing to do with Chad’s ear infection, and you know it. Why don’t we stop right here, because I know you don’t want to blackmail me. That’s not your style. Put your cards on the table, and tell me why you’re here.”
At first it seemed like my words had angered her. She began tapping a paper clip on the table fervently. After a few deep breaths through her nose and out her mouth, she asked calmly, “Will you help my nephew?”
In the same calm voice, I replied, “Not. In. This. Fucking. Lifetime. Or the next.”
“Will,” Frank said in a no-nonsense tone.
Charlene shook her head for emphasis as she tried to persuade me. “Listen to me, Will, he promised—no more shenanigans. He needs you guys. He’s a good kid, he really is, and he looks up to you so much.”
“He doesn’t need me, he has a record deal. Live Wire will find another producer and studio. It’s not a big deal.”
“He really wants you guys. He knows what a talent you and your girlfriend are.”
“Fiancée.”
“Fiancée, of course. Just sit with it for a while. You can decide in a few days.”
Frank nodded his head at me as if to say take her up on the offer.
I thought about Mia and how she seemed so concerned with stability. I wondered why I was fighting this kid. I wondered why it sometimes felt like a fight to give up our songs. The one thing I knew in that moment was that no matter what, we had control. I leaned back and crossed my arms. “I will not move forward until I have everything in writing. He has no creative input at all, and I want a higher percentage in royalties.”
There were several moments of silence.
Charlie stared at me, chewing on the side of her lip nervously. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Ryan, but I think Chad and the label will agree to your terms,” she said with a perfunctory smile.