Chapter Four
Tristan
We pulled out early the next morning to head for Houston. Elly was gone when I woke up and I felt the bus moving, so I just went back to sleep. I slept until I felt us stop again. At that point, we were in Houston. It was only nine in the morning. The show wasn’t supposed to start until six, so thinking about what stupid Jake said the day before, I took out the binder where I’d been keeping the songs I’d written and my guitar. I started looking through them; some of them were finished, but others still had a ways to go. Most of them still needed tweaking and I knew from experience that none of them were ready for fucking approval. I’d have better luck just getting up and beating my fucking head into the wall. If I chanced it and sent them in, it would take another fucking week to hear back from them before I could start fixing whatever they wanted fixed. Since that day was the first deadline, a week would be too late and they could still say I wouldn’t get my money and my deal. I was fighting a losing battle and the more I thought about it, the more pissed off I got.
I should have hired a lawyer and sued the fuckers for not telling me exactly what the deal was. They were doing everything in their power to keep me from getting that money and the record deal; in the meantime, every time I got onstage and did a concert for them, the fuckers were making money off me hand over fist.
I got up and started getting dressed. I came into this contest with nothing but my talent and proved it was enough for America to vote me number one out of thousands of contestants. I had been playing to tens of thousands of screaming fans every night; I could have walked out of here with the same thing I walked in with and started over easier than I could get those songs written and approved at that point. I finished pulling on my jeans, boots, and t-shirt and went looking for Jake.
When I passed Elly’s bus, I thought about calling her out and telling her what I planned to do. She would only try and talk me out of it though, and that would probably escalate into a fight. I wasn’t giving in on this one. I was tired of being used by these fuckers and Elly would just have to understand that. I walked on by and went into the conference hall. Every city we went into, they rented office space for the big wigs. I guess the prissy motherfuckers were too delicate for a bus to be good enough. I saw Tony in the hall.
“Hey, Tony, where’s Jake?”
“Hey, Tristan. Maybe I can help you. What do you need?”
I need to knock your ugly face off your fat little shoulders. “I need to talk to Jake. Where is he?”
“I’m just not sure if he’s available…”
“Never mind, I’ll find him myself.” I walked into the first office on my right. One of Jake’s little minions was in there. “Where’s Jake?” I asked him.
“He’s in the last office on the right,” the guy told me. When I turned around, Tony was still behind me. He was looking annoyed that the minion told me where to find the Great One.
“Tristan, maybe we should just talk first, to make sure you’re not going to fly off the handle.”
I turned around and got in the little bastard’s face. “Why should I fly off the handle, Tony? Because I just found out that there was work I was supposed to be doing in order to get my money at the end of this fucking tour? Because I know that I was told this too late just so the thieving bastards wouldn’t have to give me what I was owed after I made millions of fucking dollars for them? I can’t imagine what I could possibly have to fly off the handle about; can you?”
Tony looked like he was about to shit his pants, but I was not sure what he was more afraid of: me, or losing his job because he let me get past him. When I turned back towards the office, the minion told me Jake was in.
I found Jake sitting in a nice office in a big ass wing-backed chair, dressed like a GQ model as usual, and sipping on his latte with some other fool in a suit. Jake looked up at me, obviously annoyed that I’d interrupted.
“Tristan, did we have an appointment?” he said.
“No, but this won’t take long. I quit!”
Jake jumped up out of his chair and said, “Quit? You can’t quit!”
“Watch me.”
“You won’t get your money or your contract--”
I cut him off. “I wasn’t going to get it anyways. You were doing everything in your power to screw me out of it. Now you don’t have to stress about whether or not I give you any more shit about it. I’m walking out, now.”
“I could sue you for breach of contract.”
I shrugged, “You can try.” I turned and started to walk out.
The other guy stood up and said, “Tristan, wait!” I turned around and the guy said, “I’m Manny Diaz. I’m the CEO of Troubled Times Records.” He stuck out his hand. I wasn’t in the mood for any pleasantries at the moment so I didn’t take it. He seemed to get it. He smiled and said, “I’m a friend of Jake. I was in Houston, so I stopped by to say hello and ask about you. We hadn’t got as far as you yet, but since you’re here and you seem to be free, I’ll just ask you myself. How’d you like to work for me?”
Jake looked like an aneurysm was exploding in his head. I could actually see his pulse rising just by watching the vein in his neck. I swallowed the smile, but the knowledge that he was so pissed off about it made me determined to say yes to this guy no matter what. But I had to ask, “Work for you doing what?”
He laughed, “Making records, of course. I can get you a lucrative contract. I’ll be back in the L.A. offices in a week. Meet me there next Wednesday and we’ll get this ball rolling…”
“What the fuck?” Jake asked him.
“This is a guaranteed deal? You won’t weasel out of it like your friend Jake here?” I asked him.
“You give me a verbal okay right now and I guarantee you a record deal. You’ve been killing it up there all season. America loves you!”
“Then okay!”
“What the fuck is happening here?” Jake was glaring at his ‘friend’.
“All’s fair in love and the record business, Jake, you know that. You’d do the same.” Manny turned back towards me and said, “I’ll see you in L.A.” I reached my hand out and he took it. As I shook it, I looked into Jakes eyes. I saw murder there.
I didn’t give a rat’s ass.