“TWO DRINK MINIMUM,” said the waitress. She had been a brunette a couple of weeks ago, assuming her hair grew at the same rate as Kat’s. She thrust her boobs in Angus’s direction as she talked.
“Huh?” asked Kat, who had never been in a strip club before and hadn’t ever thought she’d have a reason to be in one.
“You have to order at least two drinks. I’ll be back later to get your second. It’s how we get by without charging a cover.”
“I’ll have a Sprite. No free refills?”
“Nope.”
“I’ll have a Heinie,” said Angus, groping the waitress’s ass. She dodged and minimized the contact and gave a fake laugh as if she’d heard the joke before.
Angus waited for her to go before speaking. “You can have your songs back if you give up your interest in the band.” Angus leaned back and smirked. He was wearing a polo shirt, which looked incongruous on him. He used to wear band shirts before he decided he was too cool to advertise anyone else’s band, but the rules of the club apparently required that “gentlemen” wear collared shirts. Kat would have been perfectly willing to vouch that Angus wasn’t a gentleman. The dress code for women, apparently, was much looser.
Kat snorted. “I’m not interested in the band anyway.” It wasn’t all the way true, but it was getting more so. The music she did with Kradle was good, but she’d moved on. She certainly didn’t want to rejoin after they’d kicked her out. She had more pride than that.
“Interest. It’s a legal term,” explained Angus condescendingly. “It means that you won’t receive any of the profits from the albums.”
Kat sighed. She should have figured that was what he meant. She wasn’t stupid. She had a tendency to assume Angus was. Working with Cindy had been refreshing because she picked up stuff so much faster than Angus ever had. But Angus was clever, in some ways. “So, you just want to steal my life’s work pretty much.”
Angus shrugged. “The checks come from the record company to me anyway. It’s just clearing up a few legal niceties. You’re not getting the money.”
She looked at him. He was so smug. His gaze flicked away from hers, causing her to look over her shoulder to see what he was looking at. Ah, of course. The woman onstage was all the way naked now, and showing off all her secrets.
“She’s pretty, huh?” Actually, Kat thought she was too thin, and that her breasts were too obviously fake. But she needed to buy herself time.
“Yeah, fucking sexy,” said Angus.
She started to say something catty and held back. However she chose to make a living, the woman was no part of what was going on between her and Angus. Maybe she found stripping empowering. Whatever. The dancer didn’t need more of Angus’s attention than she already had. She wasn’t sure any woman needed an Angus in their life, but if they were going to put up with him, they needed him to start with respect, not ogling. She had thought she had Angus’s respect once. More fool me.
He was right. She wasn’t getting the money either way as things stood now. She had a great deal of hope for her future. She and Cindy might not have a name for their band yet, but they were a band, even if they were only two people. Cindy was more than just a backup musician. They were getting press, and after the response they’d gotten, clubs all up and down the East Coast would want to book them. There were no sure things in the music industry, but she was certain she could make it on the money she could make with her future, even without the past.
The waitress brought her soda and his beer and scampered away before Angus could grope her again. Smart woman. Kat took one more look at Angus. Right now it felt like it would be worth it to never have to see his smirking face again.
“We’d need a lawyer to make it all right and legal,” she said.
“Oh, I’ve got a lawyer.”
Ah, Angus always did turn “we” into “I.” She ought to get her own lawyer, she supposed, but she remembered how it had gone down when her mother and father had gotten divorced. They’d had cash set aside for her for college. By the time they were done arguing about it, the lawyers had taken it all. And she didn’t have any money for it anyway. “I’ll think about it.”
“Sure. I’ve got all night. The scenery is good.” He leaned back and looked over at a redhead who was climbing the stairs to the stage. Kat was willing to bet the red hair was no more real than the other girl’s tits, but who knew. “Oh, almost forgot.” Angus reached down and came back up with a bunch of papers, stapled together and folded twice as if it had been intended for a normal-size envelope. “Here. Your cease and desist order. That’s all ‘right and legal’ too.”
Kat opened it up, her heart sinking. It was blackmail. It would take her months to come up with enough totally new material for a CD or a full club performance without using any of the Kradle songs. The document listed every song she’d ever written for Kradle. In the lousy light, she could barely read it, but she knew what they all were, so she could make them out.
“Nice tits on that one. Bet she has a nice, tight pussy too,” said Angus.
Kat thought that was unlikely.
He tossed another document onto the table, along with a ballpoint pen. “This is the agreement that will let you keep doing that crap you were doing onstage the other night.” He shook his head. “It’s such a shame, Kat. We had something that was so good. A great band, a great relationship. And you threw it all away. Those are two things you should never throw away. You wrote a song about that once. About us.”
That song was never about you. She thought about Cindy and the music they were creating. That was something to be kept, for sure. If she didn’t sign, was she throwing away the band with Cindy?
Brett flashed into her mind, unbidden. She had stood him up for this, so she’d better have something to show for it, because he was a keeper too. She felt considerably less sure that she could keep him, though. She picked up the pen.
“Ah, I knew you’d see reason.” Angus’s gaze was still on the strippers, and he barely spared her a glance.
“Could you give me a dollar?”
It wasn’t Angus who had spoken. She turned to see Brett sitting next to her. How a man that big could sneak up on her, she didn’t know. “Huh?”
He smiled. “Trust me. Any bill will do.”
Where had he come from? And was he going to tip the strippers? She supposed they worked hard enough for their money, but the last thing she wanted to see was Brett putting money in some girl’s panties. Nonetheless, he asked her to trust him. He’d been more trustworthy than she had been, so far. She wasn’t proud of it, and she wanted to make it up to him. Trusting him seemed like a good start.
She reached into her purse, opened her wallet, and handed him a wrinkled one-dollar bill.
“You’re the guy who got saved by the cops the other day. You know him?” asked Angus.
“He’s my—” Kat had been about to say boyfriend, but was he?
“As of right now,” Brett cut in, “I’m her lawyer.” He stuffed the bill in his pocket. “Thanks for the retainer. Would you like me to take a look at those before you sign them?”
“Oh my God,” said Katrina.
Brett waited, calmly. How could he be calm in this situation? He didn’t, couldn’t know how she was going to react. Hell, she didn’t know how to react. He was a lawyer? Even if he was pretending, it might give her an advantage, but she had a suspicion that Brett didn’t pretend.
My God, something has gone right in my life for once. Her eyes widened. Actually, everything had been going right in her life lately. Brett, Cindy, the break at the Caravan Club. She hadn’t realized how right it was, until now.
Angus was glaring at her. “I told you to come alone.”
“Yes, please, have a look,” said Kat, not afraid of Angus anymore.
“The deal’s off if he does,” said Angus.
“Up to something, are you?” said Kat. Angus had a lawyer; why shouldn’t she? He had legal advice. It was only fair. Her eyes narrowed.
Judging from his reaction, his advice must have included the notion that he was on very shaky ground indeed. She grinned at Angus.
He gritted his teeth.
Brett was already reading the documents, seemingly oblivious to Angus. He started with the cease and desist order. She wanted to tell him to look at the other one, the agreement Angus wanted her to sign. That was the important one, rendering the other irrelevant.
The tension was so thick in the air she could feel it. She was sweating more than the strippers onstage. At least they got to shed some layers. Read faster. Yet somehow there was something comforting about the way Brett was being so meticulous. Any thought that he was faking it had vanished.
“Hurry it up,” said Angus, glancing at his watch. “If I don’t get a signature on the other one before two thirty, the deal is off.
“No,” said Brett.
Such a simple word. Angus stared.
“I said—” started Angus again, after another glance at his watch.
“There’s nothing magical about two thirty,” said Brett. “You made that up based on what time it is now. Katrina, did you ever sign a legal document granting Kradle the right to play the songs you have copyrighted?”
“Um, no, but we, they, always have. Why would we put that in writing?”
“Why, indeed. Where are you staying, Mr. Azrael?”
No one ever called Angus that, and if Kat hadn’t just read his name on the documents, she would have been startled even more than she was. It wasn’t even his real last name—well, it was, because he’d had it legally changed after their first album because he wanted something that sounded more “suitable” for his public persona than Jones. She always thought it sounded more goth than punk. There was nothing wrong with a punk rocker named Jones. It was a good, working-class name.
“None of your business,” Angus snarled.
Brett nodded and flipped over the other document and skimmed it quickly. “Ah, here it is, your permanent address. In Los Angeles, so this will take a while. I’ll be drafting a cease and desist order for you, but I can deliver it there. It will take longer, of course. Frankly, I think they’ll both be thrown out, but as far as I can see, your rights are completely balanced.”
“I wrote those songs,” Kat said. “He didn’t have a thing to do with most of them. That ought to matter, shouldn’t it?”
“I hold a shared copyright. Doesn’t mean squat,” said Angus. “And you know I was—”
“Shared, Mr. Azrael, goes both ways,” Brett said, his voice silky smooth. “Next time you write a song, I suggest you keep the copyright entirely to yourself. However, in this case, my client has exactly the same claims as you. Even on your own lawyer’s document, the copyright for each song is carefully listed for both of you. Do you have any songs to play that my client doesn’t have rights to?”
“I wrote every bloody song,” said Kat. “If I can’t use them, Kradle can’t use them. And that means that new Canadian singer you have, who can’t quite hit the high note on ‘The Man Wants My Back,’ well, she can’t sing it.” It sounded catty, she knew, but it was true. Marcy had a lovely clear voice and was a beautiful girl, but she had no range. The songs had all been written for Kat’s voice, and if Angus had any sense, he’d have looked for a singer who could sing them.
“We’re a band,” said Angus. “It’s always been a Kradle song, Kat. You know that. You’d still be in the band if you hadn’t gotten it in your head that it was all about you.”
“Your fans are going to be very disappointed,” said Brett, looking as if he truly regretted it. Maybe he did.
It struck Kat that it was such a waste. She didn’t have a problem with Kradle playing her music. The more music in the world, the better. She almost said so, but she held her tongue. Brett was handling things, and she understood what he was trying to do. She leaned back in her chair and sipped her soda. She could let him take care of it. It felt like a huge burden off her shoulders to have him take charge, like he had at the club and in the bedroom.
She was going to fuck him well as soon as she could. She smiled.
“What are you grinning about?” asked Angus, glowering.
“None of your business.” She tried to stop grinning and failed.
“I’m leaving,” said Angus. He stood up, but she could tell from the way his shoulders slumped that he was defeated.
“I’ll contact your attorney in the morning, Mr. Azrael.”
“Yeah,” said Angus. “You do that.” He walked out of the club.
“He didn’t even tip the ladies,” remarked Brett after the doors had swung closed behind Angus.
Their eyes met.
“That,” said Kat, trying to sound stern, “was one of the most arrogant displays of machismo I’ve ever seen.”
Brett didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped for. An apology? Hardly. I shouldn’t play with him like this.
“And thank you.” She kissed him on the cheek, or at least that’s what she aimed for. He turned and caught her lips with his, and pretty soon their tongues were dancing together. “Mmm.”
“You’re welcome. Now, we’re going to wake up a lawyer friend of mine bright and early and get this all straightened out.”
She pulled back. “You aren’t really a lawyer?”
“Oh, I’m a lawyer, all right. I’m just not a contract lawyer. Of course I had to take a class in this stuff in law school, and I know enough to be sure that he’s on very thin ground. There’s no reason you should have to give up anything to play music you hold a copyright on, regardless of how it’s shared, if you haven’t explicitly given those rights away.”
“He’s never going to pay any of that stuff anyway.” Kat sighed. “And I can’t afford a real lawyer. Not that— I didn’t mean—”
“You mean one who charges more than a dollar?”
“Yes.”
“How much does Kradle owe you roughly? And how much each month?”
“About ten thousand dollars right now. I don’t know, since I haven’t seen the sales figures. And, well, it varies. Two or three thousand dollars a month? It’s not great, but it’s something. It’s been a while since Kradle released a CD, and sales are usually best the first year. But I don’t have any way to get it from them.”
Brett shook his head. “We’ll see my friend in the morning. I suspect she’ll be willing to take the case on a contingent fee basis.”
“Meaning, exactly?”
“That you don’t owe her anything unless she collects money for you.”
“Oh.” That would have saved her mother a lot of money, thought Kat. Water over the dam now.
“In the meantime, I find this dive kind of distracting. Shall we go back to my place?”
Kat nodded, slowly. “I feel like saying we should go back to my hotel since I’m paying for it.”
Brett didn’t move. He had the same look on his face he’d had when he was looking over Angus’s papers. Calm, thoughtful. Finally, he smiled. “I think we might be able to make an arrangement, Katrina. Of course, it would involve you sleeping in my bed every night for a week. Possibly longer, if we like the arrangement. And if you’re in my bed, I expect three things.”
“What are they?” Mouth, pussy, and ass?
“Honesty.Obedience.”
She blinked. Honesty. She owed him that, and she hadn’t been very good about it. Obedience covered about everything, didn’t it? It was scary. It was exciting. If there ever had been a man she could give herself completely to, however, it was Brett. Had she ever felt that way about Angus? No. It was early, for sure, and Brett might yet disappoint her, but he was the only man she’d been with who might be something other than a compromise. She hadn’t expected to ever find anyone like that.
“Yes, Master.”
He grinned. “Good girl.”
“That’s only two,” she said.
“Yes, well. The other is that you’ll be sleeping in less clothing than the girl onstage is wearing.”<
br />
Given that the current girl onstage was wearing only a G-string and pasties, that wasn’t much. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t even looked at her to check. He was telling her he wanted her naked.
She exhaled. If he told her to be, wasn’t that obedience? But it didn’t matter. She’d be available to him, for whatever he wanted to do, and being naked would remind her of it. “Yes, Master,” she said. She had never wanted to be in charge in the bedroom or of anything but her music. She could be, and she could take care of herself, but it wasn’t what she wanted.
The blonde waitress came up, and Kat could swear she shook her breasts at Brett before she asked, “So what are you two having as a second drink?”
“We were leaving. But that should cover it.” Brett put a twenty on the table. “Oh, and Angus didn’t pay, did he?” He plunked down another twenty and then stood and offered his hand to Kat. She took it gratefully and let her lead him out of the bar, but not before she thought there was a song somewhere in there she could write about flashing one’s body for money.
Chapter Seven
It wasn’t considered legal judgment that had made Brett sit down next to Kat and ask her for a dollar retainer. It was a primal urge to protect his woman. My woman. He’d only known her for a few weeks. They’d had two dates.
If he’d been his best self, he’d have offered her his couch. Now he’d made it seem as if the price of saving on her rent was her submission, and that wasn’t what he intended at all. Oh, he wanted her submission, all right. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, and when he did he imagined her on all fours, waiting to be fucked, as often as he thought of her singing. He wanted her more than he’d wanted any woman for a long time. My woman. He was used to stating exactly what he wanted.
They were quiet as they walked back to Brett’s apartment because Kat said she had a song idea going through her head. Every once in a while she would hum or whistle a few notes. It was a strange way to be together, but he enjoyed watching her work too.
Blue Desire Page 11
