I guess you can see where this is going.
And if Jake knows about Rally, then Rally definitely knows I’m signed with TMS Records.
This isn’t good.
I don’t have what you could call a relationship with Rally, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to interfere in my life, especially when he feels it is crossing over into his.
And this? My band signing with TMS Records. He’ll definitely feel that this is stepping into his territory.
I clear my throat. “Yes, Rally is my father…in the biological sense of the word.”
I’m now standing out in open space and looking over at the tour bus, hoping with all hope that it will still be moving with the guys and me on it.
“Were you ever going to share this piece of information with me?” His voice is so even that I can’t get a read on where this is going.
I’m just praying it’s not the end before the beginning.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “No…well, yes…no. I don’t know.” I scrub my hand over my face.
I’m not a deceitful person, but looking at this now, it seems an awful lot like deceit.
I start to feel a little sick.
“I think I would have at some point, but I just wanted you to see us for what we could do, so you could make an informed choice before you knew. I know how you feel about Rally. I feel the same. Yes, he’s my father, but that term is used loosely. I don’t have a relationship with him. He’s a dumbass.”
Jake laughs. I take that as a good sign.
“I’ve heard Rally called a lot of things but never a dumbass. It actually suits him.”
Silence.
Then, he exhales. “I know Rally, Lyla, too well. I know how he works. I also know a little something about wanting to hide your past. Thing is, when you hide stuff, especially in this business, it has a tendency to come out and bite you in the ass.”
My memory reminds me of the news story that came out about Jake’s dad last year. From what the press said, Jake’s dad hurt him and his mom pretty bad, and his dad went to prison for whatever he did to them.
“And I don’t like surprises, Lyla.”
I cringe at the turn in his tone of voice.
“I don’t like receiving a phone call from Rally Brochstein when I’m just about to eat breakfast with my family, especially when I’m going into that conversation blind.”
I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth. “I should have told you.”
“Yeah, you should have.”
I know Rally and what he’s capable of. His reputation in the music business is notorious.
Jake Wethers is one of the few people who has ever gone up against my father and walked away clean.
Rally is a shark, and he takes no prisoners. Nothing and no one gets in his way. That’s how he became the youngest ever CEO of AME—American Music Entertainment—which he ran for fifteen years and then left on questionable terms for an undisclosed sum.
That was when he started Rally Records, and it got big, fast.
Just not fast enough for TMS.
TMS was the first act to sign with them. After that, I don’t know much, besides what the press detailed, which was that TMS outgrew Rally Records. Apparently, Jake and Rally had a difficult relationship, which I can understand because my father is not an easy man to get along with.
Jake and Rally’s relationship disintegrated, and the band walked away mid-contract, buying themselves out.
Immediately after, Jake and the late Jonny Creed—TMS’s lead guitarist who died a few years ago in an automobile accident—set up TMS Records, putting themselves in direct competition with Rally Records.
That didn’t sit well with Rally.
And me signing with TMS Records won’t sit well with him either.
But I don’t care about that. All I care about is that I might have screwed this up because I wasn’t honest with Jake from the start.
“I know I might seem like a wayward daughter doing this to piss off her father, but believe me, I don’t even care about Rally enough to bother. I signed with TMS Records because you care about your acts.”
“That’s good to know.”
“And I kept it from you because I was worried you’d judge me based on him.”
Jake says nothing more.
I’m biting on my nails, dying in the stretch of silence. Finally, I ask, “How was Rally when you spoke to him?” I’m trying to gauge as to where this is going because, so far, I have no clue.
“He was a total dumbass.”
I let out a laugh, but that’s quickly cut off by his next sentence.
“Rally wants you off my label, Lyla.”
And there it is.
Bye, bye, tour bus. It was nice while it lasted.
Have I said how much I hate my father?
The guys are going to be gutted.
I know Jake is a hard ass, and he hates Rally, possibly as much as I do, but this is hassle he could do without. He doesn’t owe me anything, and keeping us on his label will be nothing but trouble for him. Rally won’t drop it until he gets what he wants.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “about Rally calling and giving you a hard time.”
“Lyla, it’s not your fault you got a shithole for a dad. You said you didn’t tell me about Rally because you wanted to prove yourself, to let me see what you’re capable of, so I could make an informed choice. I’ve seen, and I’ve made my choice. I told Rally he could go fuck himself. Vintage is my act, and you’re staying put.”
My hand goes to my chest as the breath I was holding whooshes out.
I could kiss Jake Wethers right now.
And he’s not done either. “I don’t care if it’s the King of fucking England. No one tells me how to run my business. Now, under normal circumstance, I’d say to you that he’s your old man, so it’s on you to pull him into line and tell him to back the fuck off, but this is Rally Brochstein we’re talking about. I wouldn’t put you in that position. You say your relationship with him is non-existent. Was that his choice or yours?”
“Growing up, his. Now, mine.”
“Okay. I’ll deal with any shit that Rally might pull. You just concentrate on the tour. But I need you to tell me now if there is anything else I need to know. Next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”
Taking a deep breath, I say, “My mother was Joni Summers.”
“That I know,” Jake replies. “I knew Rally had a kid with Joni Summers. You come from good stock, Lyla, and I’m talking about your mom when I say that.”