Merksworth barely glances up from the letter he’s reading — Conor’s. “Revenue’s passable, album sales fell off a cliff within a month, and I got you that nomination.”
Leon glares at him coldly.
“Who benefits?” Tarek sits up straight, as though in epiphany. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
And with one turn of his head, we’re all thinking the same thing.
He’s looking at Adam.
Adam, who has been the quietest I’ve known him. Sitting at the very end of the row, he hasn’t said a word all meeting.
Adam. Adam benefits.
But that would mean...
No.
Carla’s bright pink smile stretches across her face. “From the ashes of Royal Element, a musical god will rise. May I present to you MCM’s newest exclusive signing: solo artist Adam Tyndall.”
18. KAT
“YOU’RE CRAZY,” LEON says, staring at the Merksworths in shock. He turns his head toward Adam, but Adam looks as though he’s checked himself out of this conversation altogether; his head is bowed and he’s staring down at his lap. “If you think he’ll be even half as successful as we were together, you’re deluding yourself.”
“Considering where you are at the moment, I don’t think your musical expertise is required, Mr. Roberts,” Merksworth says dryly. “It’s much easier to control one young man than five.”
A prickle of concern creeps across my body. What has Adam done?
“You sold your soul for this,” Leon snaps at Adam, who doesn’t respond.
“You sold us for this,” Tarek says softly, and at that, there is a glimmer of something in Adam’s manner, a slight tightening to his mouth.
But it makes sense, I realize. Promoting Adam was always the plan. When I first stepped into MCM’s headquarters, who was it I saw staring down at me from the walls? Adam. That solo portrait of Adam, with the guitar on his back and his long golden hair brushing his shoulders — I’d stared at it for ages before Merksworth came along. There hadn’t been any other portraits of the Royal Element members. It had just been Adam.
Carla chimes in with, “We have exciting things lined up for Mr. Tyndall — several high-profile fashion campaigns, an acting role in a major blockbuster, hopefully even an A-list girlfriend if we can get the contracts sorted in time.”
All of this sounds fucking pathetic. Forget standing up and pretending to be intimidating — I sit with a thunk on my empty chair. Seth puts a comforting hand on my knee.
I want to say something about all this, but it’s Seth who says it better than I can: “None of that is music.”
The Merksworths ignore him. But it’s a good point — for how long can a former boy-bander survive on hype alone?
I look at Adam, but his head is still lowered. For someone who’s MCM’s new darling, he doesn’t exactly seem overjoyed about the list of projects he’s got in the pipeline.
Tarek’s voice is quiet. “What will happen to Royal Element?”
Merksworth folds Conor’s letter into quarters and slips it back into the brown envelope. “Mr. McLelland has submitted a formal notice of resignation. However, as this was received after his inappropriate conduct in the boardroom today, I have no alternative but to dismiss him from the band.”
“What? No, that’s not right — he wanted out, he told you.”
“Using my office as a brothel isn’t right, either, Mr. Roberts, but we do as we must.”
My face flames tomato-red. “There’s more integrity in a brothel than in spiking someone’s drink, but hey, what do I know?”
In my head, this was a semi-winning clapback. But the Merksworths are looking at me as though they have no idea what I’m talking about.
I’m so confused.
Tarek quickly presses on: “So, the band? We’re done, then? That’s it?”
“I will review our options among our stakeholders, but as of now, I consider you all on two months’ notice.”
Two months. Two months takes them to the end of the tour with some additional time at the end. So the tour is still going ahead without Conor.
“And the documentary?” I venture, though I already know what the answer will be.
Merksworth’s gaze is steely as he looks me in the eye. “Canceled due to creative differences.”
Ouch. I exhale a long breath.
I also note that Carla looks saddened by this news. I genuinely believe she was looking forward to seeing her dream Royal Element documentary, her boys crystallized in time by perfectly curated video footage, and now she won’t get the chance.
I stand, planting my hands on the table and doing my best to loom across at them. “In which case, I’d like my equipment back, please.”
“Of course,” says Merksworth. “It will be couriered to your home address as soon as we wipe the footage.”
I stare at him. “You’ll be wiping nothing. It’s my footage and I own the rights to it.”
“It’s our band, you’re our employee, so therefore it’s our footage.”
“I give Kat permission to keep and use the footage for whatever purpose she wants,” Leon says. “She works on behalf of us, not you.”
My brows furrow. What does he mean?
“The footage will be wiped,” Merksworth says again.
I had made rigorous backups of the footage, but if MCM seized my laptop and camera, then I know they’ll have taken those, too.
It’s irritating that they think they can put their foot down and deny me my own equipment when it’s sitting right there in front of me.
But Leon stands up, joining me. He folds his arms and gazes down at Merksworth. “What do you want for it?”
I blink. The hell? He’s prepared to bargain for it?
“You don’t have to,” I say quietly.
Leon doesn’t respond. “What do you want?”
Carla turns to Merksworth, who looks thoughtful. She seems to be trying to catch his attention. Merksworth gazes at her, and Carla raises her hand to shield her mouth as she whispers into his ear.
Merksworth grimaces, as though he is not fond of whatever plan she has concocted.
“My daughter requests a meeting with you.”
Carla whispers into her father’s ear again.
“A private meeting,” he adds hastily.
It’s the word “private” that gives me cause for concern. Who knows what she’d do with the chance to sink her fuchsia talons into Leon?
Leon frowns, apparently not expecting something like this. His eyes narrow in suspicion. “For what purpose?”
“A catch-up,” Carla says with an innocent smile that makes me grit my teeth. “With some benefits, perhaps, for you.” She glances in Adam’s direction, as though implying some sort of similar career advancement.
At this, Adam finally looks up. He turns to Leon and, almost imperceptibly, shakes his head.
Leon stares at him for a few moments. “Deal,” he says, his eyes never leaving Adam’s.
Carla’s smile widens like she’s the damn Cheshire cat — a big fluffy Persian cat, with a glittery diamond collar. “Perfect,” she practically purrs. “I’ll pencil it in for the weekend you finish touring.”