Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,68

specialties.

“They want three bonus tracks that will be exclusive to their stores.” Bristol checks her notes before going on. “We need to choose the songs today. Rhys and Grip have several songs not included on the wide version of the album for us to consider. We have to move fast, though, because we’ll need to re-master the tracks and get that version of the project pressed and shipped out as quickly as possible.” “And how exactly did this happen again?” Max frowns at the folder in front of him. “Are we rushing? Committing to something we can’t pull off well in time? I’m not sure about this.”

Before I can tell Max to go suck his own dick, Bristol beats me to it . . . if not more tactfully.

“Max, I don’t have time for you to punch holes in something because you didn’t come up with it.” She rests a fist on her hip and looks at him impatiently. “It’s a freaking Target Exclusive for a debut album. What’s there not to be sure about?”

“I do have legitimate concerns,” he replies firmly. “It isn’t that I didn’t come up with it.”

Bristol tilts her head and gives him a knowing look.

“Okay, maybe that’s part of it,” Max admits with a laugh. “But it’s a lot to turn around in a tight time frame. Can we do it with excellence?”

“Max, I get your concerns.” Bristol tosses her folder onto the conference room table. “But have you ever known me to commit to something we couldn’t get done? I’m not saying it will be easy. Between this, the shows we have with Qwest over the next few weeks, the reporter trailing Grip for the story, and let’s not forget a trip to Dubai thrown in the mix, I’ll probably have a bald spot by the time this is all said and done.”

There are smiles, snickers, various expressions of amusement from everyone at the conference table.

“But it’ll be worth it.” Bristol’s eyes land on me. “Grip will be one of the best albums of the year, and we’re damn well gonna treat it that way.”

I knew she believed in me, but the sincere passion resonating from her is deeper than I even thought. I wish she’d direct some of that passion to me, instead of my work.

“And that starts with positioning it for the best possible opportunities.” Bristol’s eyes shift from mine and touch on each person at the table. “This is something we can’t let get away. I promise you we can do it.”

“I say let’s go for it,” Rhyson says.

And if he says it, we’re going for it. Rhyson and Bristol often disagree loudly and vehemently, but when they agree, it’s done.

“Well, that’s settled.” Bristol shares a brief smile with her brother but then snaps her fingers. “I almost forgot. Grip?”

She turns to me, and we look straight at each other. I barely catch the flash of vulnerable uncertainty before she shutters it.

“Yeah?” It’s the first word I’ve spoken since the meeting officially started, even though it’s all about my album. It isn’t that I don’t care about this stuff, but I’m much more interested in actually getting the music to listeners, for them to connect with what I created.

“Target wants you to film a spot next week.” She taps the iPad, her eyes roaming over the screen. “They sent over a treatment for the commercial. I have it here somewhere.”

“Lemme guess,” I say. “There’s lots of red and big dots.”

“Smart ass.” She shoots me her first natural smile of the morn- ing. “I’ll show you later. Let’s listen to these tracks. My contact is wait- ing. Grip and Rhys, you guys walk us through our options.”

Rhyson dips his head to defer to me. Right.

“So this first song,” I say, pulling up the file sharing where we’ve stored the bonus tracks. “It’s called ‘Bruise.’”

There’s so much I could say to set up this song. I tell them bits and pieces of it. How personal it is. How cathartic it was to write about the tension and fear that marked my relationship with cops growing up. Before black lives or blue was preceded by hashtags, the debate dividing our nation, divided my family. There’s so much more I could say to make them know what this song means to me, but I don’t say any of it. I just play the song and hope it speaks for me. And while it plays, I can’t help but remember the day that inspired it.

Chapter 4

GRIP

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