Center Stage - Chapter 21

By lunch the following day, I felt like a zombie and was very glad I’d called in sick to school. Besides having a very hard time getting to sleep because of how worried I was for Hanna, the house alarm had gone off around three in the morning, just as I finally fell asleep.

Mrs. Phillips, who was naturally even more upset than I was, had been pacing all night and she’d managed to somehow set off the alarm. Because of how they’d set it up, we’d immediately gotten a call from Citadel’s monitors, thinking our house was being broken into.

I was lying on the couch, a little out of it, while she continued to pace. We’d called everyone who knew her whose phone number we had and Kat a bunch of times, but no one could figure out what happened to her.

Mrs. Phillips went to get her maybe twentieth cup of coffee, I guess afraid to fall asleep and miss news, slamming the cabinet a little too hard.

“Sorry, Charlie,” she said as I winced, a little oversensitive in my sleep-deprived state.

“It’s okay. I’m worried too.”

She brought her coffee to the couch, pushing my feet off, which forced me to sit up.

“I can’t help but feel like this is all my fault. Maybe if I had been firmer, if I had stopped this relationship before it got so far...”

“That wouldn’t have stopped her. She would have gone right on seeing him. Hanna’s always been stubborn. Once she sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m her mother. I should have done more to protect her.”

“We’ll find her. She may have bad choices in men, but she’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

“I hope so. I really hope so.”

I was about to say something else when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. It took me a second of fumbling to get it, mostly because my coordination was shot. When I finally fished it out, I saw it was Isaiah.

“Tell me you found her,” I said as soon as I answered.

“Yes. We tracked her down.”

Relief washed over me, and I sagged back against the couch cushions.

“What? What did he say?” Mrs. Phillip said frantically.

Putting the phone on speaker, I said, “Yes. They found her.”

“Thank God,” she said, sagging a little too, the tension not going away completely from her shoulders, but definitely slacking. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“She’s been committed to the psychiatric department of the local hospital. They have her on a fourteen-day involuntary hold.”

Mrs. Phillips and I looked at each other in shock. I’m not sure exactly what I expected him to say, but this was definitely not that. Why would she be committed? How?

“What? Why? How?” her mother echoed next to me. “Why wouldn’t they call me before they did something like that? Why wouldn’t the school notify me?”

“I’m not an expert on the subject, as we are very far out of my area of expertise, but I believe there are significant limits on what a hospital can release in situations like this when the person on the hold is an adult, at least without her signing over some kind of power of attorney,” Isaiah said. “The same goes for the school giving out notifications to anyone, including her mother.”

“But who had her committed? The school can just do that?” I asked.

“For involuntary holds? No, I don’t think so. Usually it takes law enforcement to do something like that, usually in cases where the person is considered a potential source of harm to themselves or others.”

“So someone called the police and had her committed? Do we know who did it? Was it the school? This professor of hers?” Mrs. Phillips demanded.

“I don’t know. Again, there are significant limits on what a hospital or the school can release in situations like this when the person on the hold is an adult, which she is.”

“So how do we find out?”

“Maybe talk to the hospital. This is more of a thing done at the local law enforcement area, so I never dealt with it in my career. But, I think Hanna can give you permission to get updates and the hospital to release information, so someone would need to talk to her and get her to approve it or fill out whatever paperwork is needed.”

“I’m going to call the hospital, see if they’ll let me talk to her,” I said.

“You can’t, Charlie. You aren’t technically family. They won’t even pass on a no, I don’t think.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“So how do we find out? How do we help her?” Mrs. Phillips asked.

“Well, you can try calling. They’re likely to let you at least talk to her. Then it’s what you can get her to agree to and how agitated she is. Beyond that, I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises. Like I said, this is pretty far outside my wheelhouse.”

“Is there any way you can find out who filed the report that had her committed?” I asked. “I’m hoping it was someone close to her who had her best interests in mind.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do. Like I said, this is pretty far outside my wheelhouse.”

“I understand. Thanks for everything you’ve done so far, Isaiah. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”

The call ended and I slumped back against the couch. Mrs. Phillips was already dialing the hospital.

“I’ll handle this, Charlie. Why don’t you try to get some rest? You look exhausted.”

I wanted to argue, to insist on being involved, but the truth was I could barely keep my eyes open. The adrenaline that had been keeping me going had finally run out now that I knew she was at least safe and not in a ditch somewhere.

“Okay. But wake me up if you hear anything, alright?”

She nodded, already focusing on the phone as it rang. I dragged myself up the stairs, each step feeling like a monumental effort. By the time I reached my bed, I was ready to collapse.

I texted Kat, just to let her know what was happening, and that I was going to finally get some sleep. She didn’t answer, and was probably in class. I closed my eyes and... just lay there. I couldn’t help still thinking about Hanna, what she must be going through. How awful it must be.

It took me a long time to fall asleep.

Two days later, I was on a plane with Warren, flying to LA. It was strange heading to what might be the biggest moment of my career so far, with Hanna still stuck in the hospital, unable to come home. It had taken her hours, but Mrs. Philips had managed to get her on the phone and confirm she was at least safe and okay. Mrs. Phillips had said she was, naturally, very upset and had sworn up and down that she hadn’t done anything that would have made them think that she was a danger to herself or anyone else, and the whole thing had come as a shock to her. She said the police had told her the school had reported her as being suicidal and asked for the hold, but they couldn’t tell her exactly who’d made the call, although she didn’t know if they just couldn’t tell her or actually didn’t know.

She was afraid it was Cross, which seemed like the most likely answer to me. Aside from getting Hanna out of the picture for a little bit and calming things down, it would make it easier for him to point to her as some disturbed girl not worth listening to if she spent time in a restricted mental health ward. She also couldn’t come home for the next eight days, which seemed like forever, after which they had to figure out what to do about school, since she was missing a lot of classes.

Hanna was distraught, both because of her classes but more so because Cross publicly denied and lied about her. While I was glad she was finally convinced the relationship was over, she, of course, was not. Mrs. Phillips pushed her to, as long as she was there, talk to some of the counselors and avail herself of their help. Hanna wouldn’t commit, of course, but I hoped she’d listen to her mom. Mrs. Phillips was planning on going to Chapel Hill the day she got released and pick her up, try to go with her to talk to the college and try to figure out what to do about the remainder of the semester.

Part of me had wanted to stay, to participate, but there was nothing I could do. I’d be home before Hanna was even released, and Mrs. Phillips had made it clear this was a family thing. I mean, we were all a strange kind of family, but this was different. I think Hanna was embarrassed and just wanted her mother, which I could totally understand.

So half of me was thinking about the incredibly important meeting in front of me, while the rest was worrying about Hanna.

We landed and headed straight to ARC’s headquarters, which was located in a tower in downtown LA, not far from where GLR’s headquarters had been. The experience between the two, however, was completely different.

We went inside and before I even gave the guard my name, he reached out for a fist bump and said, “Charlie. Welcome to the team, man. We’re stoked to have you here.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” I said, bumping it.

He gave us directions to the elevator, one that was reserved for the executive floor.

“That was weird,” I said once the door closed, leaving me and Warren alone.

“I told you, these people are very happy to get you to join the label. They’ve been very aggressive in pushing the timetable, so it’s not that big of a surprise that word would have spread to even the guys on the bottom floor.

The doors slid open, revealing a sleek reception area. A young woman with a tablet in hand greeted us with a wide smile.

“Mr. Nelson, Mr. Rice, welcome. I’m Jenna, Mr. Steiner’s assistant. He’s very eager to get started. If you’ll follow me to the conference room.”

She led us down a hallway lined with framed album covers and music memorabilia. I recognized a few of the names - artists I’d grown up listening to, icons in the industry. Along the way, people we passed waved and said hi, all knowing who I was. It was such a strange feeling, especially with how impersonal the GLR meeting had been.

She led us to a glass-walled conference room, with a similar view of the one we’d had at GLR, with Hal and his people on one side of the table.

“Ah, the man of the hour!” Hal Steiner stood, smiling. “Charlie, my boy, welcome home.”

Benny was already at the table, which wasn’t surprising. I knew he was going to be there and Benny tended to show up early to these things, since he thought it gave him leverage. What was surprising was that he was smiling. I didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

“Okay. We’re all here, let’s get right to it, shall we?” Charlie’s already out of the public eye, except for his album sales and streaming, so the sooner we get this cleared, the sooner we can get him back out there,” Hal said. “We’ve prepared a contract that we believe is very favorable for both parties, understanding the trouble that Charlie has had with other labels he’s been involved with. We believe it offers a comprehensive support system for his career while allowing significant creative control. While making financial sense for our shareholders, of course.”

“Of course,” Benny said sarcastically. “The first thing I wanted to talk about is creative control. You’re people and I had some disagreements on it, on earlier drafts of this.”

“Yes,” one of the execs said. “We understand the importance of artistic freedom and have always provided wide latitudes to our artists. However, it is no secret that diverging too far from the baseline previously set by that artist can cause negative impacts in sales, which is why we have the clause you objected to. That is normally a non-starter for even an experienced artist, let alone someone just breaking into the mainstream. While…”

“I get that, but it’s too clever by half,” Benny said. “Yes, you can say you value artistic freedom and allow them the final say, but if you can then cancel any album at any point in the process, what is to keep you from using that as a cudgel against my client? If he doesn’t make the requested changes, you will cancel his release? That’s the same thing as requiring final approval, in my book.”

“We welcome you to speak to any of our artists. We think you’ll learn that we have never done that in the history of our label. But, as I was going to say, which is why, considering Charlie’s status and the value this label holds for him, we are offering an alteration to our normal terms. Charlie will have final say on all creative decisions for his albums, including song selection, production choices, and overall artistic direction as long as the previous album’s costs are covered by sales. Meaning the sales of the album covered the cost of its production and marketing. All that ARC asks in return is that Charlie allows us to provide input, but the ultimate decisions are yours. If the previous album doesn’t pay off, then he reverts to our standard deal, which really will allow him to retain creative control and simply give us an out should the product be a significant detour from his normal work.”

“I’ve seen the accounting before, with jacked-up marketing costs so that no album makes a ‘profit,’ making it damn easy to ensure no album pays out. We can agree to this, but on production cost only, not marketing.”

The exec looked to Hal, who nodded slightly.

“We can do that.”

“And if his next album pays out, we revert back to full creative control with no out clause.”

“That seems fair to us,” the exec said, not looking to Hal this time.

While I would have been inclined to trust Hal, that was one of my weak points, I knew, and I stayed silent, letting Benny do his thing.

“The compensation I’m fine with, but I wanted to look at the tour support.”

The compensation was actually really good, although Benny tried to blow it off as being ‘standard.’ The royalty was set at twenty percent of gross sales with an elevator at set parts taking me up a few points at each step until I topped out at thirty percent. That also meant all costs for marketing and production all got taken out of their seventy to eighty percent. I thought that sounded fine, but Benny just blew it off.

“We’re offering full tour support, covering all expenses including travel, accommodation, and promotional activities for only a twenty-five percent take of the net profits. That is fairly standard as well, and a fair considering the level of costs there.”

“It would be if this wasn’t a three-sixty deal. We both know net on merch alone will cover your expenses at a third of that. You’re looking to make a killing off of Charlie, and while we don’t begrudge you the profits, Charlie will also be the one up there putting down his sweat and tears every night, and deserves appropriate compensation. We think something closer to ten percent is fair.”

“Fifteen is about as far as we can go. Anything lower than that and touring doesn’t make financial sense,” Hal said.

‘Well that’s some bullshit. I know for a fact you guys have offered better deals than that to some of Charlie’s competitors.”

“Who are expected to play much smaller, and less expensive venues. The suggestions Warren has given us requires a large out, not even counting marketing.”

“Which means more ticket and merch sales.”

“Possibly,” the exec said. “But it is by no means guaranteed, and with that risk should come chance of reward.”

“What were you thinking?” Hal said.

“Ten percent.”

“Fifteen,” Hal said, giving Benny a hard look.

Benny returned it, and for a moment neither man spoke. Finally, Benny said, “Fifteen.”

“What else?” The exec asked. “Rights on his original album?”

“No. We’re happy with the licensing term on those but there is one last point. Escape clauses. As you probably know, this is a sensitive subject for us, as Charlie has had issues with this in the past. I still think these are too broad. Most of the material breach is fine, but I want a written notice of cancellation and all non-material cause for cancellation of the contract terminated.”

“We can get rid of the morality clauses, but we need clauses to cancel the contract based on creative or business differences. I will have it updated so that the decision can only go through me. Agreeable?” Hal asked.

Part of me thought Benny was going to say no, and try to get more.

Thankfully, he closed the folder and said, “Agreed.”

Hal grinned, his face splitting into a wide smile.

“Well then, gentlemen, I believe we have a deal,” he said, standing and buttoning his suit jacket. “Let’s get this signed and make it official, shall we?”

One of the execs, who had been marking up a copy of the agreement, had been scribbling madly before passing a stack of papers to Benny, who flipped through them quickly, nodding.

“Looks good,” he said, passing them to me.

I skimmed the pages, not really understanding all the legalese but trusting Benny had my back. I initialed each page, then signed the last one with a flourish.

“Welcome to ARC, Charlie,” Hal said, shaking my hand firmly. “We’re thrilled to have you on board.”

“Thank you, Hal. I’m excited to be here.”

One of the assistants ducked out of the room, returning a moment later with a large, flat box. She placed it on the table in front of me.

“A little welcome gift,” Hal said, gesturing for me to open it.

I lifted the lid, my eyes widening. Inside was a sleek black electric guitar, the ARC logo emblazoned on the body in silver.

“Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers over the strings. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

“We know you like the guitar you have, but we thought you might like to add this to your collection. It’s a custom model, one of a kind.”

“I love it,” I said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

“I hope so because we’re ready to put you to work. We understand you’ve already got a single ready?”

“More like a mini-album, or a string of singles. I’ve got four ready.”

“Two of which debuted on The Stage.”

“The one from your Mentor and the other one played in the finals?”

“Yes,” I said.

“That’s excellent because you’ve been off the tour a few weeks, but there’s still some energy left off it. We need a few months to get your tour ready, and keeping something tied in with the show will keep the energy alive and stop any dropoff before we have ticket sales.”

“I’ll get with whoever you set as our producer, and we’ll work out some time to come out and record.”

“Sounds excellent. Charlie, I can’t wait. For now, just enjoy the moment. We’ll have a big summer ahead of us.”

I shook his hand, and we all made our way out of the office.

As we got downstairs and said our final goodbyes, stepping out onto the street, Benny said, “Did you read the contract?”

“Mostly. I kind of scanned over it since it’s a lot of lingo and talking in circles.”

“Sure, but there was an important section on your pay.”

“I mean, we already talked about the percentages and everything.”

“We did, but... did you look at the advance?”

“Umm, I don’t think so,” I said, confused about where he was going with it. “Was it good?”

“Charlie, it’s one point four million.”

“Holy shit,” I said, freezing in place.

“Yeah.”

“That’s... why so much?”

“It’s not that much,” Warren said. “Yeah, it’s a lot more than what you saw with MAC, but you’re at a completely different level of your career. A million is the high end for a developing artist, and established artists regularly get a million, and the big names are five to ten million. One-point-four is a lot, and maybe higher than someone breaking out like you are should get, but it’s not that much higher.”

“Hal told me he wanted not just you to know, financially, that you were valued, but he wanted to send a message to the news media, so they understood it and talked about you. And they will because for how new you are into the game, that is a very big bet by the label.”

I tried to say something, but my mouth just moved and nothing came out. To say I was stunned was an understatement.