Page 106 of Sing Your Secrets

thirty-one

Miles

Walking down the stairs to the basement, I tuck my phone into my sweatpants pocket.

“What do you think?” Mac asks as the music fades and the studio falls silent again. “I’m happy. I’m really happy with it, but if you want to try the hook again in a falsetto, we can see how it flows.”

I can’t help but stare at the awards on Mac’s wall—platinum singles, multiple Grammys, and other awards framed in glass that I don’t recognize. “I’m happy if you’re happy.”

He holds up his palm. “No,” he says firmly. “I asked if you’re satisfied. You’re not here to get my approval. I’m here to make sure this EP is something you’re proud of.” He raises his thick, dark brows. “And you should be.”

I snort out loud. “This coming from the man who said he wasn’t excited to work with me.”

“Eh,” he says swiveling in his executive chair in front of his DAW, “I stand by it. Look at what I was able to pull out of you.” He points to the sound booth I originally thought was very impressive. But at the present moment, it feels like a prison cell seeing as I’ve been living in a soundproof box for two weeks straight.

“Does it even matter? If I sign that contract—do we own the songs? I just don’t understand.”

I’m glad I was with Mac when the email from Elite Records came through. My eyes went immediately to the section about the advance. I just wanted to see if it was enough to get the student loan creditors off my back and afford a place of my own. But what I read was so much more daunting. I still don’t understand all the fine print.

Folding his hands, Mac touches his fingertips to his lips. “Do you want me to talk to you as a producer, or your girlfriend’s dad?”

“Can I get both?”

“How much do you really know about working with labels?”

“Not much. I’ve been told to fight for my masters if I can.”

“I can ask Robin to comb over this if you’d like.” He points to the stack of papers that we printed out and laid out on the coffee table. “But from what I can tell, it’s a pretty boilerplate 360 deal. That’s why they’re offering you so much up front. They pay you a lot, but they are going to take a big cut of everything.”

“I don’t understand what that means…”

“It means…fuck masters, Miles. They won’t just own your music. They’ll own you. Signing this contract gives them the authority to decide how many records you produce, when you release, when you tour, what merch you sell. This can even go as far as deciding how you represent yourself as a brand.”

“How so?” I glance at all the papers. It’s so many words. Why do we need these many rules to make music?

“I’ve seen some labels go as far as deciding what an artist wears, what restaurants they can be seen at, who they can be seen with. You have zero autonomy in your creative decisions. In exchange, they’ll pay for everything. But believe me when I say they’re going to make their money back. Look, from someone who’s been in this industry a long time, I’ll tell you, you’d be hard-pressed to find another deal like this. Take it as a compliment. Labels aren’t taking risks on new artists like this anymore, so if you need validation—here it is. You’re good, and you’ve got something special, Miles.”

Pulling off my hat and setting it to the side, I suck in my lips and meet Mac’s gaze. “And as my girlfriend’s dad? What would you tell me to do?”

“Why don’t you ask Petey how his 360 deal with Elite worked out. I bet he’ll tell you it cost him his relationship. It’s the only reason I’ve let him back into my life and my studio. That label changed him, all the shitty decisions he made—weren’t really his. He was playing a part. For seven years, he played a part.”

Covering my face, I groan into my hands as I sink into Mac’s leather couch. The cushions look a little more worn than they did two weeks ago. This couch is where we wrote, jammed, ate, and napped. We worked like we were frenzied.

“I don’t know what to do. This is all I’ve wanted my whole life.” But now, there are other things I want too, just as much. “I’m going to meet Reese at The Garage and talk to her about all this. If I sign this contract, they’ll want me back in L.A. immediately.”

Mac leans forward in his chair, popping his fists off each other as he talks. I’ve learned he likes to keep his hands busy. If he’s not fiddling on the soundboard, he’s fidgeting in one way or the other. “You sure you don’t want to sleep on it for a night? Miles, you guys aren’t married. This is your decision, not Reese’s.”

I don’t think that’s true.

All my girl has done is support me, help me, and encourage me. She gives me space when I need to work, and she wraps me up with comfort when I need her even more. I wrote all these songs…about her…for her.

After Petey told me to write down all my secrets, I did exactly that. I bravely wrote everything in my heart down in a notebook and paired it with the melodies in my head.

The first song was to tell Reese how thankful I was she saw me the day we met. She really saw me. The second was to tell her that I saw her too—her wit, her charm, the way she’s brave behind her sass, but the way she’s vulnerable with her heart. The third song was to tell her she’s the first girl I’ve ever loved like this. I’ve never been so sure, so fast of anything in my life. The fourth song was sexy, and I’ll admit, that was fucking awkward to record in front of Mac, but it’s Reese’s favorite. “Huge deal” speaks for itself, because when Reese and I make love, just like I promised—it’s everything.

The final song for the EP was a medley of concern. It talked about pain I haven’t even gone through yet. I wrote about how I’d feel if I lost her or let her down and caused her pain. What if I accidentally break her, the way Petey did? When you give your whole heart to someone, when every smile you have starts with just one person, what remains if they walk away?

“Secrets” was my most painfully honest song. I laid all my worst fears on the track, just like Petey said I should. It worked. If we had to pick a racehorse to bet on, if I could pull a single from this EP that would make my career—it’d be “Secrets.”

“Mac, Reese believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. These songs only exist because of her.” I twist my hat back around my head before I rise. “She has a say.”

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