“You can’t do this.” Pierce starts. “She’s got her third album half in the can already.”
“Which is where it is going to stay. As her contract states, we own it all. Her entire image and all intellectual properties are under our name. That includes the use of the stage name Nikki B.” Jerry pipes up, standing tall and smug.
“The album you finally let me pick the songs I want, you cancel? What kind of person does that? As for the doctor visits, you knew before ever takin’ me on that I had a heart replacement when I was a child. To use that makes you lower than a piece of gum on the bottom of my shoe.”
Mitchem lays a pen at the edge of the paper stack. “There are a few forms you need to sign, so we can move forward. David has already viewed the document. His signature is on the last page. I’ll let you look it over if you need to.” He stands. “You can choose not to sign, and we will recoup our losses from your royalties and give you your lyrical rights back, but of course, that would require you to pay back the latest advance. Or you can sign, keep the money and still receive your royalties for Juici and Double Tap, minus our losses. It’s up to you. But either way, you walk out of here, Nicolette Barrett, not Nikki B.” He excuses himself and, with Jerry, leaves the room.
“There’s nothing we can do?” I look from the papers to Pop.
“Not here, baby.”
I shake my head, picking up the papers to read through them. Happy Birthday to me!