If This Gets Out(109)
In contrast, there are also a few rainbow flags in the crowd, being waved proudly.
We reach the front door, and our security team climbs out. The roar of the crowd becomes even louder, hurting my ears, and cameras start flashing violently. In my pocket, my phone buzzes again. It’s been going off nonstop, but I haven’t really wanted to check it. But I do now, to deflect from the situation outside and what’s about to happen. I have countless notifications, from my Instagram and also from people who have my number, like Dad (A buddy texted and told me the news, I think it’s fantastic! Love you no matter what—Dad) to Leigh, one of my friends from middle school who I haven’t talked to in years (YASSS BUDDY WERKKKK, WELCOME TO THE RAINBOW FAMILY). I even have one from Randy Kehoe (Nice work today, man. Proud of ya.).
Wow. We might not sing punk songs, but I guess what Ruben and I did is pretty punk.
We climb out of the car, and I’m blinded by the camera flashes and deafened by the sound. There are just so many people here, and the speed at which they’ve assembled is mind-blowing. I see reporters and news teams and countless paparazzi, all scrambling to get our picture or footage of us.
Shielded by a Chase guard, I am hurried inside, into a grand white foyer. It’s spacious and cold, designed with minimalist white furniture.
Once we’re all inside, the doors are closed and locked. Two Chase guards step across, blocking it. It’s like we’re trapped.
The receptionist glances up at us, then gets up out of her seat. “Follow me.”
We follow her down a hallway, her heels clicking on the polished cement floor. On the walls are posters of the other bands that Chorus also manages. We nearly reach the meeting room at the end of the hall when we finally see the Saturday one. It was taken just after our first album came out, and we look so young. I remember I had a pimple that day, but they photoshopped it out. We’re onstage, with our band name in golden lights underneath us. Each of us is smiling, and it looks genuine, because it was.
The receptionist opens a frosted white glass door for us, and we go inside.
Inside, there’s a number of suits sitting at a long desk. Geoff sits at the head of the table.
“Take a seat,” he says.
The four of us go in, and sit down at the end of the table.
The lawyers all watch us, their expressions cold.
“Now,” he says, a tone of smugness in his voice. “I want to make it clear that what is about to happen is not because Zach and Ruben announced their relationship. We at Chorus pride ourselves on building a supportive environment for all, regardless of nationality, sexuality, or gender expression.”
“Right,” scoffs Ruben.
“However, in the process of announcing your relationship, you have defamed us, and done irreversible damage to our brand. You signed a contract stating you would never publicly speak against Chorus, and you couldn’t fulfill your end of the bargain. So, it is with great sadness that I have to inform you that we will be taking legal action against all of you. There will be extreme punishment for what you just did.”
“Wait, Dad, what?” says Jon. “You’re doing this all because Ruben and Zach came out?”
“This has nothing to do with Ruben and Zach being together,” he says, his voice finally rising. He quirks his head to the side, like his emotions surprised him, and he needed to wrestle them back into submission. “This is business. You signed contracts agreeing to boundaries we set, and one of those boundaries was that you would not defame us. People are already calling us homophobic and the media is already running stories falsely accusing our company of homophobia due to your words, when we never said either of you couldn’t come out. You have proven you can’t be trusted. You went against us, have shown you are unreliable, and have done huge damage to our brand. This is the consequence.”
“You can’t be serious,” says Angel. “You know this is going to look like you truly are the homophobic assholes everyone is calling you, right? Because that’s exactly what you’re being.”
“I repeat, we at Chorus have always prided—”
“Oh, don’t give me that!” says Jon. “Ruben told us everything. He told us you pressured him to stay closeted for years.”
“We did no such thing. We simply advised Ruben and he agreed to wait for the ideal time—”
“Which never came! Dad, do you even see how messed up this is? You made him deny who he is, and then you tried to do it to Zach!”
Geoff clenches his fist, and then releases it. “I won’t argue with you about this, Jon. By saying what Ruben and Zach did on live television, in what was clearly a premeditated ploy, you have defamed us, and we will be seeking compensation.”
We have a five-album contract with Chorus, with two remaining. That means, for our next two albums, they will get their huge commission no matter what, and we can’t get new management, since the new team would need to take us on for free. So Chorus can make our lives a living hell while suing us for everything we have. And from the sound of things, Geoff is planning on doing all of that.
“You can’t do this,” says Ruben. I can hear the defeat in his voice, because he’s smart, and he knows that’s not true.
Geoff grins. “You’ll find that we can.”
I look around the room.
Geoff is backed by an entire team of the best lawyers in the world. Jon, Ruben, and Angel all look so young compared to them.