Free Home by Melissa Pearl Page A

me with a twinkle in his eye. “If you ask me, I think Club Liberation’s cooler.” He winked, making me giggle.
    I sat back in my chair and soaked it all in—the buzzing crowd, the stage lights, the beautiful costumes. It was all so magical, and then there was the song she was singing. It spoke to me somehow. In that moment I was exactly where I was meant to be, and if Aren was willing to give me a contract, I would most definitely sign it.
     
    *****
     
    “I have a contract for you.” It was the first thing Parker said when I opened my door to him on Monday morning.
    I squealed and jumped out of his way to let him in.
    He chuckled, sliding the bag off his shoulder and taking a seat at the small table. Pulling out a thick pile of papers, he then placed it on the table and gave it a tap. “Here you go.”
    My eyes bulged before I could stop them. “That’s my contract?”
    “Yep.” Parker winked. “I spent yesterday afternoon going over it with Aren and making sure you’re getting the best deal possible. It’s pretty standard and exactly the same as the contract that his previous singer signed in February, so as long as you’re happy with it, we can move forward.”
    I sat opposite him and flicked my thumb through the pages. “It’s like a book.”
    He grinned. “Aren likes to cover all the bases.”
    “I can see that.” The stack in front of me must have been at least thirty pages. The writing was small, making the ‘book’ seem like an epic novel. I scratched the side of my neck and tried to smile at Parker.
    “Don’t be overwhelmed, I do this for a living. Let me walk you through it.” He shuffled his chair around so he sat closer and lifted the first page. “This is a standard industry contract, and most of it will seem like mumbo-jumbo, but basically what it’s saying is that you agree to let Aren train and prepare you for a recording contract while working at Club Liberation. You’ll perform six nights a week and will be required to practice daily, as well as be available for any marketing and promotional requirements. Aren is obligated to train you and invite producers to watch you perform. If they like what they see, Aren will set you up with an audition and help you with that process.” He pointed at his chest. “I will also be available to help you negotiate any contracts, and I’ll be working to get you auditions, as well. If Aren, or I, can’t secure a label for you within twelve months, then you are free of the contract. However, we’ve never had that happen before.”
    My insides were buzzing so fast and strong I could barely hear what he was saying.
    He flicked through the pages, briefly going over things, pointing out paragraphs here and there.
    “This just says that you’ll take Aren’s advice with performances, song selections, and wardrobe. Think of him like a coach or tutor.” Parker flicked over to the next part. “This is your income.”
    My eyebrows rose as I looked at the figure. Someone pinch me!
    “Minus, of course, the housing Aren provides and other necessities, like utilities, clothing for performances, travel, things like that.”
    I nodded, still too stunned stupid by the idea of earning close to eighty thousand dollars in a year.
    Parker turned the page before I could read more. His finger breezed down the paper. “This is just legal jargon to protect both parties,” he mumbled.
    I scanned the paper, trying to absorb the words, but I barely understood the two sentences I read. I was not a top of the class kind of gal. Hell, I missed close to a year of school when I was homeless and then recovering. Josh’s uncle made me do twelfth grade at the school just out of town. It was torture, and I barely scraped through with straight Cs. I’m not necessarily proud of that fact. School just wasn’t for me. Music was the only class I did well in and even then, I only got a B, because the teacher had it in for me. Stupid wench.
    “Okay, the final page is for