George couldn't help the urge to wear her nicest pair of pajamas to her meeting at Concept. There was a gnawing feeling, an unwavering suspicion, forcing its way up from the depths of her stomach into her throat, that the meeting was going to be a disaster. She had the unnerving feeling she was walking into a military-style ambush and so figured she might as well dress comfy for the end of her world as she knew it.

And yet, another part of George riled against this idea. This part of George wanted to go on the full offensive, full Vivian to the extent that George's mother would have to be proud of her. She could see it clearly, walking into that conference room, in a perfectly tailored three-piece designer suit with the air that she just happened to have it lying around, she was that sophisticated and powerful.

But both ideas, when played out to the full extent, yielded one outcome: George would be walking into the room visibly defensive and that was the last thing she wanted. She settled instead on something she would have worn to any other board meeting. The blazer she pulled on top of her favorite band-tee shirt she couldn't help thinking she had worn to a board meeting before but couldn't remember which one. There had been too many and they had all been equally traumatizing.

At the ripe tender age of twenty, George didn't understand the concept of a five-year record deal. But standing on the other end of it, she knew every ins and out's like the back of her hand. And she hated every single one of them.

George's contract with Concept Records ran out on December 31st at 11:59 pm. George had been sent a renewal last fall but she had postponed it until she had time to negotiate her terms. It was now eleven months later and George's proposal for her contract revision had been submitted. The response to said proposal was the reason for the pit gnawing away at the bottom of George's stomach.

The first red flag George noticed was the actual response to her email with her full terms laid out in clear, understandable bullet points. The email had been sent to the entire board of directors at Concept Records, as well as Julien and the legal team.

George didn't need a response from Julien, he called her immediately and told her what he thought of her conditions. No, the red flag appeared when no one on the board responded to George's email. The only person who did respond was the head of the legal department, letting George know they had received her email.

The second red flag that deepened George's conviction that she was on her way to an ambush was the persistence with which Lionel (the head of company) had his secretary make sure George would be in attendance at this specific meeting. The poor secretary's casual persistent reminder of the date and time was a clear act of war in George's eyes as she had a long-standing tradition with the board to send Julien as her representation when she was unavailable due to a job somewhere not in LA.

And the third, and final, red flag came in the scene George found waiting for her when she stepped off the elevator, heading for the conference room. She was a perfect five minutes early. She hadn't even wanted to risk being on time, she had to be early and Sydney had made that happen. And yet, the entire board was already in the conference room, mingling around the table, waiting to take their seats. They all looked at her as soon as she walked in and only took their seats when she took hers.

George's hands were looking for something to destroy and so she sent them after each other, hiding them underneath the long mahogany table that separated George from the people who decided her future.

"Georgiana! So good to see you!"

George could spot Lionel's blinding white teeth all the way from her end of the table. Even from so far away, she could see he had had more work since the last time they had talked.

"Lionel. Board. Thank you for meeting with me today."

George fought the urge to sit up perfectly straight with her hands clasped in front of her like the perfect schoolgirl she had never been. She had never been so uncomfortable leaning back in her assigned leather office chair.

"I heard you've been working with Wes Keats recently," Lionel said, perfectly hiding any emotion other than forced enthusiasm in his voice. "How exciting. I know what a big fan you are. How did that come about? Anything to report?"

George glanced at Julien to her right. He shook his head the barest amount. He had not told Lionel about Wes Keats.

"He's a dear friend of a dear friend of mine. She linked us up. He wanted some help looking into some new sounds for his next album. Nothing official. I was just there as a friend."

"Good! Good. I figured. So there as Just Georgiana, huh?"

George's hands clutched each other as if holding on to dear life.

"Just George," she replied.

"Get any good material while you were there? Anything you'd like Julien to pass along to one of our artists?"

George could feel the gorge around her, the air blowing through the canyon beneath her feet. She could feel the soles of her feet start to blister as the wire she was barely balanced upon swayed in the wind.

"Sure. Yeah. A few good pieces."

"Anything you'd like to share, pass along?"

Lionel was too interested. George's stomach was screaming for her to abort. She glanced at Sydney who sat to her left. Sydney nodded. George should answer.

"No, actually. They're too personal. I'm keeping them for myself."

"Really?"

Now he was too excited. There was a light in Lionel's eyes that made George contemplate jumping out the window and hoping she'd grow wings as she fell to the ground. Lionel made eyes with a few too many of his colleagues along the length of the table. Those white teeth he paid so much money for were starting to look like fangs.

"Well, then. Let's get started, shall we? Thank you for your proposal regarding your contract extension."

Lionel pulled out a single sheet of paper from a folder and looked at it, nodding enthusiastically as if it were the map to hidden treasure. Sydney pulled out the same sheet from her folder and passed it to George. It was a print-up of her email. George looked over her own words, her own wishes for how she wanted the next phase of her career to go. Her future was on that single page.

Lionel looked up and placed his copy to the side, out of view, forgotten.

"You make some excellent points. And we can easily see that you are looking to expand your role here at Concept. We're simply honored that you're willing to sign on for another five years."

George's stomach lifted at the right words but then sank at that number. She had clearly stated that she wanted a year-by-year contract with Concept.

"Everyone here has read your email. We've discussed it to death at this point."

Lionel's light laugh that rippled down the table sent a cold shiver down George's spine.

"And I think we've come up an appropriate counter-offer to what you're suggesting. A new phase of your career here with Concept and I think you're going to like it."

Lionel pulled out a whole stack of papers from the same place he had pulled out George's email. One of the many assistants standing along the perimeter of the room approached his seat and took the stack of papers for him. No one seemed to breathe as the assistant made her way around the table and placed the stack in front of George.

George knew what it was from the minute she saw it. She had seen it countless times. She had helped others get to this exact moment. She had stood in this room, right next to Felix, and watched him sign this exact contract.

"An artist contract," she said, her voice void of any emotion.

"Yes!" Lionel replied. "An artist contract! We can see you're eager to expand your career, to seek out new horizons, to try new things and we think this is the perfect fit for you!"

George had to keep herself from grabbing the stack of papers and throwing them right at Lionel's perfect smile. She took a deep breath and bought herself some time with the simple reply of "Tell me more."

And Lionel did. He gave her the whole spiel he gave every other artist that had ever walked into this room. He told her about the music videos, the parties, the award shows, the albums, the singles, and every other thing he could possibly think of to try and entice George into signing those papers. He seemed to forget one key important detail: George had already been in the spotlight. She had grown up in it. Everything he was describing sounded like a death sentence, every social appearance torture.

With a long deep breath, she managed to get her anger was under control, enough so that she could speak. It was time to get answers.

"I'm flattered by your overestimation of my vocal abilities." George's sarcasm was lost on them all and the board laughed at her little joke.

"What you're describing here is a multi-million dollar record deal," George said, meeting every set of eyes lining the table.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Lionel replied.

"You want me to become a singer, George Briggs stepping into the spotlight."

"Well, no, not George Briggs." One of the other members, the youngest member by George's estimation, finally spoke and George's eyes zoomed in on him.

Lionel forced her attention back on him but George kept that young member in mind.

"Reggie." Lionel's tone shut Reggie up. "To make your music career the biggest we can, we would be using your real name and the weight that it carries. Georgiana Burns. It has such a nice tone to it."

George didn't realize how far forward she had been leaning until she sat back in her chair. The game seemed to be laid out in front of her, all the moving pieces being used to their greatest advantage. And George was losing.

"So you are willing to invest millions of dollars into a singing career I don't want but you are not willing to make me part of the A&R division, a part of the artist development team. Is that what you're saying?"

"Well..." Lionel looked to his cohorts for anyone else to reply but he was the boss. He was the one who had to answer. "Yes, I guess so. It's not that we don't trust you, it's just-"

"You don't want me in your A&R division. Why? Why not? What are you afraid of?"

Lionel wouldn't meet George's eye so George looked to the rest of the board. None of them would meet her eye either.

"Are you afraid I'll introduce myself to enough people as George Briggs and that maybe people will start getting the picture that I am, in fact, George Briggs and your precious little secret will get out? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but most people already know. And if they don't, they're not paying attention! So-"

"You wouldn't be under the name George Briggs in the A&R division."
Reggie had spoken again and George pounced before Lionel could shut him up again.

'What are you saying, Reggie? If I wasn't going by George Briggs, what name would I be going under? Some new alias you guys want me to adopt?"

"You would legally have to be under your own name."

Reggie registered his mistake before Lionel could call out his name in that deep menacing tone he had been trying to hide the whole meeting.

George sat back again, this time with a smile on her face. Everything made sense now.

"You don't want me in A&R because I would be doing it as Georgiana Burns. I can't be a talent scout because I would be doing it as Georgiana Burns. And that would make you guys look like complete fools. I'm right, aren't I?"

George looked to Julien for confirmation. His look of caution and embarrassment confirmed everything George suspected.

"You guys already have a bad rep for being strong leaders in the nepotism game. You've chosen family members as new signees over acts that I've sent your way almost every time. I should've seen this coming." George spoke this last sentence more to herself than the board in a huff of bitter laughter.

"Everything makes perfect sense now. You can't have the daughter of your artistic director head up A&R. That's a PR nightmare simply waiting to happen. Ha!"

George felt giddy with the truth. Her future seemed so clear. Everything made sense. Of course. Of course they would never promote her to A&R. Of course they would never take the acts she had scouted for them seriously. If it got out that Georgiana Burns was playing a big role at Concept Records, they'd be the laughingstock of the industry.

"Okay, then. Well. I think that settles it."

George got up from her seat and headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lionel called after her.

"I'm leaving. Don't need to stick around here any longer. If you guys don't value my input and my abilities, then why would I stay? I'll take my name, my songs, and my reputation and find someone else who does. Oh! And by the way!"

George was on a role. She even backtracked a few steps to face the board one last time.

"I have met a lot of music producers over the years. Dozens if not hundreds of music producers. Not one of them has a record contract with a label. Not one. They all work freelance! Shows you how naive I've been. Now, if you'll excuse me, George Briggs is leaving the building."

"You don't own the name George Briggs," someone called after George as she reached out to open the conference room door.

"Reggie!"

Lionel's teeth were whiter than ever contrasted with the bright red of his scouring face.

"No, no, Reggie, keep talking. What do you mean, I don't own George Briggs? I am George Briggs. George Briggs is me."

George forgot about her exit in favor of getting Reggie to talk. She crossed to his seat and leaned over him, meeting him dead in the eye. "Tell me what you mean, Reggie."

Reggie opened his mouth to speak but words didn't come out. He tried again and a soft whisper was all he could manage. But it was enough for George's whole world to fall apart.

"George Briggs is the intellectual property of Concept Records."

Those eight words were all it took. The power, the energy George had just had running through her, the clarity, the excitement, all gone. Vanished into thin air.

"If you leave this label," Lionel said, his words barely penetrating George's sudden whirlwind of brain fog. "If you don't resign with Concept, you'll need to leave George Briggs behind. For good."

George could feel herself falling, falling, down into the ravine, with no one to catch her, nothing to grab hold of, that thin wire ripped out from underneath her.

"Can I think about it?" she asked, her voice small, her eyes glazed over, her heartbreaking inside her chest.

"You have until the New Year to resign. After that..."
Lionel didn't need to finish his thought. George knew what came after that.

Disaster.

A/N:

This is so GOOD!! AHHHH!!! The TENSION!!! The DRAMA!!! Amazing!!!

See I can say that because I was legitimately a totally different person when I wrote this chapter TWO YEARS AGO!!!

Geez I forgot how good this chapter is! It freaking HITS man!

Another reason I'm so glad I ended up posting all of this! We get the gist of George's fight with her label on Dec 24th but nothing like this!

I freaking love it! And I hope you do too! No time for long authors notes! Let's keep reading!