“Boring?” Indignation wrenched the word from Colton’s mouth like a pair of pliers.
“Colton,” Buck said, setting his hand on Colton’s arm. “Let me do the talking.”
“No,” Colton said. “I want to know what boring means.”
“Colton, you’ve always stood out as a distinctive talent in a sea of long-haired wannabes. But this—” Saul shook his head. “What you gave us sounds like you plugged some angsty keywords into songwriting software and added a few riffs for fun.”
The air whooshed from his lungs as if Saul had literally punched him in the stomach. He must have made a noise because Buck gave him a look that said, Shut up before you blow up your entire career.
Colton wheeled his cushy leather chair away from the table and stood. “I’ve given you everything. For twelve years, I’ve produced hit record after hit record. I’ve brought in untold millions of dollars to this label, sacrificed everything—”
“But what have you done for us today?” Saul interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“Your success is our success,” Saul continued. “But that means your failure is also our failure. And we cannot afford for you to put out something that is going to lose money. And to put it bluntly, there is not a single hit on this demo.”
Colton pinned Archie with a glare. “Did you know about this?”
“I did.”
Betrayal stole what was left of his oxygen.
“Saul is right,” Archie said. “I’m sorry, Colton. It pains me more than you know to say this to you. But what you’ve given us isn’t going to work. And I think you know that.”
“Airtime matters,” Saul said, as if Colton didn’t already know that. “There’s nothing on this demo that is going to get the airtime necessary to break into the top five.”
“Okay, let’s dial this down a notch,” Buck said. “Colton, sit down and let’s talk this out.”
He crossed his arms. “What’s there to talk about?”
“We’re not saying that these are not salvageable,” Archie said in a placating tone.
Colton rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
“What are you suggesting?” Buck asked. “Because Colton is very passionate about his songs, and if you’re going to start dictating what an artist can and can’t say in his music, then we’ve got a bigger problem.”
“It’s not what you’re saying,” Archie said. “It’s how you’re saying it.”
“How do you want me to say it?” Colton’s voice rasped against his dry throat. Because he already knew the answer. They wanted easy. Meaningless. They wanted the barefoot, beer-guzzling beach bum. They wanted the country bro, the one thing Colton couldn’t be anymore.
“Let’s talk about solutions,” Archie offered.
The only solution Colton could think of was to take these songs and go indie. But, of course, he couldn’t do that. Because going indie meant breaking his contract, which meant returning millions in advances. Indie meant financing his own tours, his own recordings, his own distribution. It meant negotiating his own terms with streaming services. It meant money. Colton was rich, but there were a lot of people who depended on him now. Too many to risk it.
“Colton, what do you think about that?”
He blinked out of his thoughts. “About what?”
“We have some new songwriters we want you to work with.”
Colton ran his hands over his hair and bowed his head. It had finally come to this, then.
“We think you’re going to like them,” Archie was saying. “You know I wouldn’t suggest anyone to you that I hadn’t personally vetted. They’re excellent at taking raw material and crafting it into something better without losing the originality of the demos.”
“I thought you didn’t like the originality of the demos.”
Archie ignored the petty remark. “We’re going to give them the songs today, with your permission, and we can set up studio time after the New Year to start recording.”
“What if I say no?”
Saul answered, “Then you’ll be in violation of the terms of your contract.”
“Just like that? Write the same old shit, or I’m out of the family?”
“This isn’t a family,” Saul said. “This is a business.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Buck snapped. “Was that necessary?”
“Just making it clear that this is a business. A business that has invested millions of dollars into a product, and we expect that product to be delivered.” Saul stood up, signaling an end to the meeting.
It felt like the end of something else to Colton. His career.
“Take some time to think about it,” Saul said.
“How long?” Buck asked.
“We need an answer by January first.”
“What?” Colton shouted. “You’re giving me less than a month to figure out the future of my entire career?”
“You’ve had two years.”
Colton stormed out. Behind him, he heard Buck trying to settle nerves and reassure Archie. Colton didn’t wait for him. He bypassed the elevators and took the stairs. Buck caught up with him anyway in the parking garage.
“Colton, wait.”
Colton set his hands on his hips. “Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That they didn’t like the new songs?”
“No.” Buck sighed. “But I had an inkling. When Archie didn’t respond, I wondered if maybe there were some conversations happening behind the scenes.”
“And you never thought to warn me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily.”
“Instead, you let me be ambushed.”
“I’m sorry. I was hoping I was wrong.”
Colton turned away and stared at nothing.
“Do you remember what I told you after that first meeting when we signed your first contract?” Buck asked. “I said there would come a time when the realities of this industry would start to steal the shine from the promises of it. So I need you to be honest with me. Do you still want to do this?”
Colton whipped his gaze so quickly to his manager that he swore a bone cracked in his neck. “Still do what?”