Geoff abruptly stops pacing, and his face takes on the expression it often gets when he’s playing hardball. Neutral and cold. Like he’s going to get what he wants, whether you like it or not.
“Let’s stop playing around here,” he answers. “You and I both know that position belongs to me. I’m the one who took over at Big Hill Records when Dad stepped down to form AudioNation. I’m the one who put in over a decade of hard work to grow the Latham legacy....”
He trails off and glares at me when I lean my head to the side and pantomime a yapping sock puppet with the same hand I use to wipe my ass.
“Let me guess, you want to mock my solution, but you don’t have a better idea for getting around this insane provision Dad’s trying to give us,” he says, his tone set on withering. “Because you’re a child who’s only pretending to be a grown-up.”
“A child who signed Roxxy Roxx, C-Mello, and sasha x kasha to AudioNation touring deals,” I remind him. “Colin Fairgood too. Hey, didn’t he turn you down when you tried to bring him into the fold?”
“That’s why you should stay in your position as president of A&R. You’re doing just fine here. And how was I supposed to know he was holding out for a co-deal with his wife? That was just a lucky guess on your part.”
Only Geoff would call snagging agreements worth millions in touring revenue “just fine.”
“You would have figured it out if you’d bothered to spend any real time with them. You’re too much like Dad,” I tell him. “That old-school withholding-as-fuck attitude doesn’t fly with acts anymore.”
Geoff regards me neutrally, refusing to take my bait. “I’m the one who brought Colin Fairgood over to Big Hill in the first place. I’m the reason we were even in a position to negotiate. Let’s not forget that.”
“And let’s not forget, you’re also the reason we had to drop serious bank on Stone River to get my early song rights back when I finally came into the fold. If you had just signed me in the first place, you wouldn’t have missed the early boat on the country trap explosion. When it comes to future vision, you’re just not the guy for CEO.”
Geoff smirks, like he’s caught me in the act.
“So, this sudden interest in sitting at the head of the table is because you’re still pissed off at me for not giving you a record deal?” he asks—like him not believing in me or my talent is some trivial footnote in our history. Something I should just get over.
I put a whole lot of extra needle in my voice. “If you’re so worried about Dad’s mental health all of a sudden, how about backing me for the CEO seat? Somebody who actually knows how to seal deals with other music acts. And you can stay in your COO lane. You’re doing just fine heading up operations.”
That does it. The cold mask drops.
“You think you’re more qualified to run AudioNation than me?” He starts to explode but then breaks off and narrows his eyes at me. “Wait, why are you just sitting there, cool as a cucumber, after Dad’s ultimatum? Why aren’t you just as pissed as me?”
Good questions.
Luckily, a tap sounds on my closed office door just a moment after he asks about my non-bothered state.
“Yes?” I call out instead of answering my brother’s question.
My mohawked assistant, Kurt, sticks his head in the door, and Geoff eyes him with undisguised disapproval. My guy Kurt’s pretty much the exact opposite of Dana, the stalwart assistant he’s had since graduating from B-School.
“Your uh…personal law team just arrived?” Kurt tells me. “They’re saying you have a meeting with them—but it’s not on the schedule. Not sure how I missed it.”
Kurt’s voice sounds a little shaky. He’s probably just as confused as the guest waiting for me downstairs.
“Thanks, Kurt.” I shoot Geoff the same smirk he gave me earlier. “Sorry, bro. Gotta go.”
“Lawyers? What do you have planned?” Geoff asks, his eyes bouncing from Kurt to me. “Are you going to try to sue Dad?”
Not exactly.
Instead of answering his questions, I put on the suit jacket I traded out for my Reaper leathers when I took this job.
And I can’t resist needling him one last time as I walk out the door. “But seriously, let me know if you want to talk more about backing me for CEO. Trust me. Things will go a whole lot better for you if you do.”
I drop that last mic on him, but I don’t bother to look back over my shoulder to see how he reacts.
My sole focus is going to meet my downstairs guest, who, as it turns out, has very convenient timing.
“You son of a bitch! How could you do this? How could you? I’m going to kill you!”