“I think I remember hearing about that.” Duncan’s mouth twisted like he wasn’t sure a smile would be welcome.
“Everyone heard. We won record of the year. It was a big moment of triumph, and the label had no choice but to be supportive, or so I thought.” My pulse surged at the memory of all the flashbulbs, the relief at finally being myself, the utter terror that the band might suffer, and the momentary victorious feeling.
“But they weren’t?”
“Behind the scenes, it was chaos.” I could laugh at the memory now, but there was a bitter edge to my chuckle. “They threatened to cancel our big European tour because I’d dared to defy them. And people were counting on that tour. A lot of jobs were on the line. But then a funny thing happened.”
“Oh?”
“Our fans came through. They bought more music, not less, more merch, more tickets, pushed more stories and positive media coverage.” Warmth underscored my words, the way I never stopped feeling grateful for our amazing fans. “We really were too big to drop, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on the label’s part. That’s why I get so passionate about our fans having a good experience. I owe everything to them, and they’re why I get to keep doing what I love.”
“I see.” Duncan nodded slowly, setting his half-empty plate aside. “If you’re so big now, though, why not go your own way? Another label or self-produce?”
“Ah.” Acid rose in my throat, making my voice rougher. “There’s the rub. We can’t. They’ve got us. The contract, the one they held over my head for years, is about as draconian as you can get and still be legal.”
“But why—”
I held up a hand. “I know what you’re about to say. Why sign the deal? Why not read the contract? But I did. I was seventeen. I read every damn word. Had a lawyer too. And I signed anyway because people said it was standard procedure. I was a kid with a huge notebook of songs and some friends with a dream. So I signed. That’s why I didn’t read your contact—if people want to screw me, they will, regardless of how closely I read the fine print.”
“I’m sorry.” Duncan stepped closer like he might be about to touch me but came to a stop right outside of touching distance. “And now you’re stuck?”
“Pretty much. I owe everything to our fans, and I still love the group, love performing, love every song I’ve written, but I’m over the label’s power games. And I’m the one who should be sorry because I let a decade of frustration with them turn me into a brat for you.” I huffed out a breath, the last of the apology stealing what little wind I had left.
“It’s okay.” Duncan nodded slowly. “I can understand a little because I’ve been in a similar situation. I’ve never been much on long-term relationships, but I also never saw much point in hiding who I hooked up with from my closest friends. I didn’t make a huge deal of being bi around my team, but pretty much everyone knew. But having supportive friends didn’t stop some homophobic bullshit that wanted to have a say in how far up the chain of command I moved.”
I’d already pegged Duncan as some flavor of queer, so I wasn’t surprised at his admission, but my back tensed at the thought of him facing resistance. “I thought there were a lot more out soldiers and sailors now?”
“Right. There are, but increased numbers and visibility don’t matter much if you end up with a superior who’d rather go back to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. So I get where you’re coming from.” He took another step closer, allowing him to bump my shoulder. “I’m not saying it’s okay to be a jerk, but you wanting to stick it to the label makes more sense now. It sucks to not feel supported in who you are.”
“Yeah.” I had a feeling there was a lot more to his story, but I wasn’t sure I had the right to ask for it. The moment between us felt fragile, like holding one of my mom’s antique teacups. I wasn’t ready for this tentative trust to shatter. “Thanks. And I’m sorry for you too.”
“Eh. Story of my life. I know who’s got my six when the chips are down. And who doesn’t.” His jaw hardened. Yup. The man had an entire library worth of stories lodged in his stony stare, and for the first time, I really wanted to know them.
“Ezra?” Kate called as she bustled over to where we stood, and Duncan slid away so smoothly that I wondered if I’d imagined his touch. He gathered up his plate as Kate reached us. “We’re starting to load up.”
“I’ll be there.” The plan was to do the Kansas City to Saint Louis drive overnight, get into our Saint Louis hotel early, prep for that show, then stay there tomorrow night. We always did a mix of the bus and hotels when on tour. Given how amped I still was from the show, kicking back on the bus sounded better than trying to convince myself to sleep. “You coming?”