“I’m kind of hoping the same thing,” Obie said. “When can we sign?”
“I’ll get the documents all printed up and ready for final review and signatures tomorrow morning around nine.”
“Better make it closer to noon,” Obie told him. “Nine is a bit early for the likes of me.”
“Noon it is,” Doolittle said. “You’ll tell Pauline about this?”
“Absolutely,” Obie promised. “I’ll tell her as soon as I hang up with you.”
“Very good,” Doolittle said. “See you tomorrow at noon.”
“Looking forward to it,” Obie replied. He hung up the phone, a smile on his face.
He turned to his left, where Pauline was on her back in the bed, the sheets pulled down, her enticing breasts on display.
“Doolittle says we have a contract,” he told her.
“Very nice,” she replied. “Noon tomorrow?”
“Noon tomorrow,” he confirmed, reaching out to put his hand on her right breast. He began to play with it. “You up for another shot, darlin’?”
“So soon?” she asked with a smile. “I thought you old people needed a couple of days to recharge.”
“Old?” he barked. “I’m forty-seven, hon, only ten years older than you.”
“That’s still pretty damn old,” she told him. “You sure you’re gonna be able to get it up?”
“Try me, darlin’,” he challenged.
“All right,” she said, pushing the covers the rest of the way down. “Let’s see what you can do here.”
“So, here’s the deal,” Obie told Jake, Celia, Greg and the Nerdlys as they had a pre-meeting breakfast at The Brick Town Restaurant the next morning. “National collects thirty-five percent royalties on the deal, which will come out of the forty percent that I collect from y’all.”
“You called it, Obie,” Jake said, impressed. “That is exactly what you predicted you would get.”
“Yeah, I could’ve got a little better I think, if not for that promotional clause y’all wanted to slip in.”
“Obie,” Pauline said warningly, though with a smile on her face. She seemed in a particularly good mood this morning, Jake could not help but notice. What was up with that? Was it just the contract?
“I know, I know,” Obie said. “I’m not bitter about it or nothing. I agreed to that clause in the contract with my eyes open, knowing it might cost me a percentage point or two.”
“Which, apparently it did,” Nerdly added helpfully.
“Yeah ... right,” Obie grunted. “Anyway, National agreed to play ball on the promotions as well, although they fought tooth and nail to try to keep it for themselves. They really seem to think they know a lot better than you, Jake, about how to sell those albums.”
“They have always thought that,” Jake said. “And we’ve proved them wrong time and time again. If we’d listened to them, Intemperance would’ve been hawking a bunch of hacker tunes about Satanism mixed in with some cover tunes as filler. That promotions department is the very epitome of killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.”
“I suppose,” Obie said. “In any case, they assure me those clauses will be there and will be intact. However, I know how sleazy they can be as well. Pauline here is going to look that contract over like ... well ... like a lawyer looking over a contract. She assures me that they will not be able to slip anything past her.”
“I know how those fuckers operate,” Pauline said confidently.
“And I will look things over as well,” Greg said.
“Hey, the more eyes the better,” Pauline told him, unoffended—at least externally.
“If we sign this thing today,” asked Celia, “when can actual production start?”
“They can start in two weeks, I’m told,” Obie replied. “That is, of course, contingent on the transfer of funds to their account to cover manufacturing and distribution costs, which, under my contract with them, I will be financially responsible for, but, under my contract with you, you all are financially responsible for.”
“So ... we have to wire the money to your account,” said Nerdly, “so you can wire it to theirs?”
“That’s the way the game is played,” Obie confirmed.
“Do we have an amount?” asked Greg.
“We do,” Obie said. “Three hundred thousand dollars per album for manufacture and distribution of one million copies apiece.”
Greg whistled. It was not a happy sound. “Six hundred grand, huh?”
“That is the minimum amount,” Obie said. “If you don’t sell a million copies, they’re not giving the money back, by the way. And if you sell more than a million copies, then you will be responsible for the extra costs associated with producing more than a million.”
“That’s goddamn highway robbery!” Greg said.
“Perhaps,” Obie said, “but it would be a nice problem to have, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Greg grunted.
“A silver lining to every cloud, eh?” Obie asked. “And if y’alls’ records both tank and don’t even sell a million copies, at least you won’t have to worry about additional fees.”
“You do have a way of finding that proverbial silver lining, Obie,” Nerdly observed.
“I do,” he agreed. “Now, let’s go into this here meeting with our facts straight and with all of us on the same page, okay?”
“Okay,” Celia said, and then furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about exactly?”
“About you, darlin’,” Obie told her. “I want y’all to understand exactly which way the toast is buttered here.”
“A good analogy Obie,” Jake told him. “But we still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No, I suppose you don’t,” he allowed. “Here’s the deal.” He looked at Jake. “Sorry to say this, Jake, but they weren’t all that impressed with your master.”
“They weren’t?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrows.
“They weren’t,” Obie confirmed. “It’s not that they think the music is bad, it’s that they think it’s too much of a departure from the genre you’re normally associated with. They are of the opinion that it won’t sell many copies and that it won’t get much airplay.”
“Really?” Jake said, feeling a little surge of anger at this information, but not surprise.
“That’s the way it is,” Obie told him. “They were inclined to trash the whole deal when they first heard it, but then they listened to Celia’s master.”
“My master?” Celia asked.
Obie looked at her and nodded his head. “You blew them away, darlin’,” he told her. “They took one listen to that thing and they knew what I knew when I first heard your work. It’s good shit that is going to sell like hotcakes. They’re anticipating a multi-platinum seller at the very least, maybe even a Grammy at the next awards, maybe even multiple Grammys.”
Celia was astonished. “They’re anticipating that?” she asked. “From my album?”
“Wait a minute,” Jake said. “How did you get this information?”
“They told me,” Obie said. “They weren’t trying to make no secret of it. In fact, they even hinted around the edges about how if I wanted to just sign Celia and keep you for myself, they’d offer a better rate.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jake whispered. They didn’t like his tunes? What the hell?
“What makes them think my album is going to be so great?” Celia asked. “I mean ... I think we did some good work there, but it’s not exactly groundbreaking or anything.”
“Actually, that’s where you’re wrong,” Obie said. “It is groundbreaking work, going from a pop music icon who relied on teenagers to sell your work to a fully mature, deep artist with some deep music. And then there’s the whole female artist thing.”
“The female artist thing?” asked Greg.
“We’re in the beginning of a little renaissance for female singers, a trend that is only projected to get stronger over the next few years. Don’t sell yourself short, darlin’. You’ve put down some powerful, wonderful tracks and now it’s time to cash in on them. That is what I wanted y’all to know before we went in there. Celia is the true negotiating point, not Jake. Any games they try to play with promotion is going to be toward Celia, not Jake. Those assholes honestly believe that they know how to promote Celia better than y’all do. They will try to worm their way into the process, no matter what is written down in the contract we sign.”