“I don’t think those sales figures have anything to do with my band getting wasted and fucking up their performances night after night. If anything, they would have sold more albums if they’d kept their shit together and put on decent shows.”
Obie shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know, huh?”
“I guess we won’t,” she had to agree. “So, what’s up, Obie? Why’d you haul your hungover ass in here on New Year’s Day to talk to my hungover ass?”
He took a larger drink of his scotch and appraised her for a moment. He then set the glass down. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the progress of Jake and Celia,” he told her.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Troy and Alicia have been giving me reports, of course—and they are really enjoying their time with the Nerdlys, by the way.”
“Glad to hear it,” she said. “They’re fast learners and good at their jobs, Sharon tells me.”
“That’s why I hired them,” Obie said. “Anyway, they tell me your people are laying down some pretty impressive tunes in that studio. Not just feel-good pop or formula rock music, but actual artistically pleasing shit that is probably going to sell quite well once it’s released.”
“That is our goal,” Pauline allowed.
“That’s everybody’s goal,” he said. “The problem is that most people can’t seem to pull it off to the level they hope for. That’s kind of what I assumed was going to happen when I signed y’all up for the studio time, you know.”
“Oh really?” Pauline said with a smile. “You didn’t have faith in them, Obie?”
He shrugged. “I had no reason to have faith in them,” he said. “I didn’t know them. I like a few of those Intemperance tunes I’ve heard over the years. The road songs that Jake writes are particularly poignant. I Found Myself Again is deep, gets me right here.” He pounded his fist on his chest, just over his heart. “And as for Celia, I’ve heard that drivel that she used to put out with those other beaners, and I never really cared for it, except for listening to her voice and watching those titties of hers bounce around in her videos, you know what I’m saying?”
“I know what you’re saying,” Pauline allowed. After all, she had gotten an almost glimpse of the titties in question one night after she sang in the shower. And they really were a set to be reckoned with.
“Anyway,” Obie continued, “I had no reason to suspect that those two were actually going to put out something worthwhile and profitable. I was trying to get my hands on the Nerdlys for a bit. That was the sole motivation of doing business with y’all.”
“I understand that,” Pauline said, wondering: Where is he going with this?
“But anyway, when I started hearing reports from my people that they actually are putting down some decent tunes, well, I decided to check into it a little.”
“Check into it?”
He nodded. “It’s my recording studio, and I have access to everything that’s stored here. So the other night I had Alicia stay after y’all left and told her to cue me up some of their work.”
“Really?” Pauline said, wondering if she should be offended or not.
“I wasn’t trying to pry or anything ... well ... okay, maybe I was. Anyway, I took a listen to your basics and I have to say I’m impressed. They really are putting down some good solid tracks, and the Nerdlys haven’t even really started to work on them yet.” He looked at her pointedly. “Those albums are going to sell.”
“Again,” Pauline said, “that’s the goal.”
“It’s a goal you’re going to achieve,” Obie said. “And I want in on it.”
“You are in on it,” she reminded him. “You’ll be pulling in three percent royalties on both albums for eternity. Not a bad deal, really.”
“It’s not,” he agreed. “Especially since y’all are also paying me for studio time and I get the Nerdlys for a bit when it’s done. Still, I want more.”
“You signed a contract with us, Obie. You’re not entitled to more.”
He dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “That’s not what I’m talking about,” he assured her. “I’m not trying to change the terms of our contract. I’m happy with that part and, even if you don’t agree to what I’m about to suggest, I’ll still pull in a healthy profit from y’all.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting y’all contract with Blake Family Records for manufacturing, distribution and promotion of those albums.”
Pauline blinked slowly. “Contract with Blake Family Records?” she asked.
“I did not misspeak, ma’am,” he said.
She sighed. What kind of bullshit is he trying to pull here? she thought, then decided it was a valid enough concern to say aloud. “What kind of bullshit are you trying to pull here, Obie?”
“No bullshit,” he assured her. “I am sincere in my offer.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but doesn’t Blake Family Records have to contract with Mason-Dixon Records for MD&P?”
“Well ... yes, that is true,” he admitted.
“You don’t have your own manufacturing and distribution network set up, Obie. How are you planning to manufacture and distribute and, most importantly, promote these albums without that very necessary apparatus in place?”
“Obviously I would have to contract with one of the record companies for that,” he said.
Pauline shook her head and gave him an eye roll. “I fail to see how this suggestion could possibly be advantageous to KVA Records. You’re talking about adding a middle man where none exists currently. That cannot possibly make KVA more profitable. We are prepared to negotiate directly with the record companies once we have masters in hand.”
“And that is what I’m offering you,” Obie said. “I know it sounds like a scam on the surface, but it’s not. I am prepared to offer both Jake and Celia complete and total packages of manufacturing, distribution, and promotion for forty percent royalties atop what I already have in place for giving you studio time.”
Pauline looked at him sharply. “Forty percent, huh?”
“It’s a fair offer,” Obie told her, “and I’m offering it prior to engaging in any negotiations of my own.”
“In other words,” Pauline said, “you seem to think you can negotiate a royalty rate for Jake and Celia’s albums that is considerably less than forty percent, otherwise you wouldn’t have made the offer.”
“That is correct,” Obie said. “I believe I can probably get thirty-two percent, thirty-five at the most.”
“If you can get thirty-two or thirty-five, then so can we,” Pauline said.
“Ahhh now, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I have extensive contacts throughout this industry and I am well respected as a musician, businessman, and negotiator of all things music related. Furthermore, I know how to talk to those people. Now you, Pauline, I’m not saying you haven’t done a fine job at being a manager—the tales of your renegotiation of the Intemperance contract are fuckin’ legendary, you know what I’m saying?—but you’re still relatively new to it, you still don’t have all that many contacts, and, perhaps most damning, you’re not an insider to the biz. You pushed your way in where many felt you didn’t belong. The fact that you did it successfully doesn’t mean shit to them. I’ve grown up with these people. I can talk to them. I can get that thirty-two to thirty-five, but you’ll be lucky if you can negotiate them down below forty-five. If you were to get forty, it would be a miracle on the order of the baby Jesus Himself. And there is no way in hell you are going to get below forty, even if you threw in a few blowjobs along the way.”
She was shaking her head again. This still didn’t ring true to her. “I don’t see why any record company would offer you thirty-two percent if they know that they can just come to us and offer forty—the same that you would be charging us—and we would take it. Explain that to me, Obie.”