Page 17 of Diva Pop

God, how he despised rude, disrespectful behavior. “Since you don't work here anymore, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Veronica grabbed a folding chair and hurled it, the metal object clattering across the wooden floor, the echo in the large open space grabbing everyone’s attention. The room fell silent before it was broken by their now ex-choreographer shrieks.

“Dickhead! Good luck dealing with this group of losers. Oh wait, you got stuck with them, so you must be just as big of a loser in the label’s eyes.”

Wow. Silas waited for her to stomp off after gathering her things, then rose to employ what damage control he could. As he made his way to the still-stunned men, he checked his watch again. Dammit. Jett was now officially ten minutes late. Clearly, it was going to be one of those days.

“Gentlemen, why don’t you take a break. Be back in thirty.” Silas’ eyes darted to Paul. “Could you come speak with me, please?”

Paul favored Silas with a challenging stare, his body language radiating defiance. He tossed his workout towel over his shoulder then swaggered over. He paused in front of Silas.

“Sure. We can speak. But just so we’re clear -- you’re not my manager.”

Silas inwardly groaned. So, this is how it’s going to be. He’d sensed this might be where things went when he’d first arrived. But as the excitement over the new choreographer and seeming acceptance of Silas’s place in their world unfolded, he’d held out hope that a major fallout like this wouldn’t happen.

“Have a seat, Paul.”

A moment passed before Paul gave in to Silas’ request. Silas waited until Paul sat down, then let a moment of his own go by as he towered silently over Paul. When he detected the slightest indication of submission, Paul easing back in his chair, then Silas perched on the chair next to him.

Silas propped his elbows on his knees, folded his hands then fixed his gaze on Paul. He noted Paul’s Adam’s apple bob a few times and determined that the defiant dancer realized he wasn’t the one in control.

“Veronica gave us quite a performance, didn’t she?”

“Uh…” Paul appeared confused, glancing from side to side. “Yeah, I guess.” He coughed into his fist then went back to the barely concealed scowl he’d been employing a minute ago. “I guess you fired her.” He chuckled derisively. “Well, she was a bitch anyway, so good riddance. Now, listen. You’re not my manager, but I’m the big draw of this band. That new guy, Crispin? He’s nothing. Just make sure he’s gone before you get the new choreographer, and you and me? We don’t have a problem. I’ll pretend you’re my manager and play nice. Problem solved.”

Silas nodded sagely as if he was buying into Paul’s self-entitled asshattery. “What about Jett?”

Paul’s brow furrowed. “What about him?”

“Oh, well…” Silas shrugged. “I’m surprised you weren’t demanding that he be fired, too.”

“Look, I’m not stupid. I know he’s almost as popular as me. The fans would get over Tory, and Sean doesn’t worry me, but our followers would miss both me and Jett.” Paul leaned forward as if he and Silas were suddenly best buddies. “My advice would be to hang on to Sean. You know, in case Jett walks. That other asshole? The fans don’t even know he exists, so who cares if he isn’t here anymore?”

Silas had wondered if that was where Paul was heading. He’d likely been stewing all week, pondering the course of action that would benefit him the most. Paul was counting on Jett storming out for good, and if he only had two easygoing bandmates who were willing to back off and let him be the star of the show, he’d be all set.

“Hmm. Interesting.” Silas moved to rise then paused before Paul could stand up. “Oh, by the way. Did you ever follow my advice and get an entertainment lawyer?”

Paul’s features clouded, the self-satisfied expression disappearing in an instant. “I uh, I haven’t gotten around to it yet. Been busy practicing.”

Silas nodded again. “Gotcha.” He rose then added, “Might want to look into that sooner rather than later. I think you’ll find that your contract is binding and that I most certainly am your manager. Which also means that I’m the one who decides what happens with this band.” He fixed Paul with a steely glare. “Anytime you find you can’t handle that, you’re welcome to walk. But bear in mind you forfeit all rights and future royalties related to Three Trick Pony.”

Silas hated that all the members had been unknowingly screwed over from the contract with Bob. Even though the original songs had been written by Bob, the members had contributed to the more recent material. They received a share of the royalties for those, but only if they remained in the band. The moment they walked, they’d be cut off without a backward glance.

Paul snapped his jaw shut. “The fuck? Why are you being such a dick?”

“I made it clear from the beginning that I won’t tolerate bad behavior. If I’m going to save this band, make it successful, I need everyone to be on board. Once we’ve settled in and have developed a positive working relationship, then feedback is welcomed and encouraged. Unfortunately, egos and emotions are running too hot right now, so a captain is needed to keep things running smoothly.”

Silas snuck a glance at his watch. Fuck. Twenty past, and still no Jett. He regarded Paul again. “I didn’t give you the contract nor did I ask you to sign it. Those are the cards you’ve been dealt, so find a way to handle things without shooting yourself in the foot.” Silas arched his eyebrows. “Drop the attitude, then do yourself a favor and get a lawyer.”

Without waiting for Paul’s response, Silas turned and made his way back to his laptop. Maybe he’d get a chance to speak with his assistant, see if there was anything that needed his urgent attention from his other clients. Fortunately, those performers weren’t hot messes. They were pros and had all been in the industry long enough to where they could function without constant hand holding.

His ass had barely hit the chair when Paul marched past him as Jett stumbled in.

“Out of my way, fuckhead,” Paul snarled at Jett.

“Eat me,” Jett croaked back.

With a sigh, Silas turned his attention to a rather bedraggled Jett. “Nice to see you could make it.”

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