Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Thirty-Four

    Oliver raised his glance as Mia approached the table. He gave her a full once-over and sat back in his seat, his narrow eyes guarded.

    "You're growing your hair back," she observed after tipping down her angular shades. "Good look."

    A corner of his mouth lifted and he gestured to the chair facing him.

    "You're not going to be a gentleman and pull the chair out for me?" She tipped her shades back up her nose and looked away from him.

    Laughing, he scooted his chair back and stood. Then he rounded the table and chivalrously pulled her chair for her.

    She lowered into the chair and waited for him to scoot the chair in.

    He obliged, then walked around the table. "How are you?" he asked jovially.

    "I'm great," she replied, adjusting the purse hanging from her shoulder. She raised two fingers into the air.

    Her security team, seeing that she was seated and in no imminent danger, disappeared from sight - unseen, but still on-hand in case they were needed.

    Oliver tilted his head to the side. "Ever the diva," he remarked. "Or...boss bitch, was it?"

    "That tone you're speaking in right now," she said, mimicking the tone as she spoke of it. She gave a slight shake of her head. "Not okay."

    He nodded and clasped his hands together on top of the table. "You wanted to speak to me?"

    "We can get into that once the food is ordered," Mia stated, signaling the waiter while keeping her eyes locked on Oliver.

    Without being given a choice, Oliver politely waited for her to order.

    Once the young waiter made himself scarce, Mia returned her gaze to Oliver. "I called this meeting, because I wanted to know how much of a fight you would put up if I wanted out of my contract."

    His jaw twitched, the only telling sign that her words had even registered.

    "The contract was for three albums, and next week, my second drops."

    A forced smile appeared on his face and he blinked slowly. "I'm aware of the terms of your contract, Mia."

    "I want out of it," she said, her face completely emotionless. "And I want paperwork confirming that I am out of it after this next album drops."

    "We don't even know how this next album will do," he pointed out.

    She leaned forward and smirked. "Yes, Oli. We do. I'm going to kill album sales on this. You know it and I know it. So please cut the bullshit and stop acting like I'm brand new to this. Are you going to fight me on this?"

    "Would it really be that hard for you to give us one more album?" he countered.

    She shrugged. "No, but I'd rather shift my next project to a record label where I feel at home."

    "You no longer feel at home with us?"

    "I haven't felt at home with you all in a pretty long fucking time," she answered.

    He breathed in and rolled his shoulders back. "The terms of the contract or firm and clear, Mia."

    "I know. I just don't care."

    He burst out laughing.

    She removed her shades from her face and folded the arms on them. "If it would make you feel more comfortable, we can negotiate my exit from the label under the circumstances that I sell a certain amount of physical album copies. I wouldn't be above making a deal like that."