“First of all, Joz Raynor has agreed to sign with us. I sent the contract to his people last night.”
“Well done,” Dad said, beaming. “I knew you’d get him in the end.”
“Well, he hasn’t signed yet, but he will. Downside is he’d only agree to a three-year, two-album deal, with an option for a further two, but I can live with that.”
“What else did he demand?” my eldest brother, Roman, asked.
“Creative control, but again, that’s not surprising, and something I was happy to agree to. He’s experienced enough to know what sells.” Unlike Presley. “I’ve alerted our publicity department to begin drafting the press release, so the second he signs, we can make the announcement. I don’t want this getting out before we’re ready and someone stealing our thunder.”
Dad nodded. “Good call.”
I fielded a few more questions, then moved on to my other piece of news. “There’s one more thing I wanted to raise with you.” I shared my screen and pressed play on the video I’d scraped from the internet of Presley singing. The picture was grainy and the sound awful quality, but both Presley’s green stage presence and achingly soulful voice came through wellenough. It was only a ninety-second video, and once it ended I clicked through to the next slide, where I’d laid out my pitch.
“What you just heard was a singer by the name of Presley Knox. He’s a complete unknown, but he has oodles of raw talent, and I would like your blessing to sign him to a contract with Kingcaid Music. I’m looking at two years initially, with an option to extend, but if he works out as I hope he will this could be a lucrative deal.”
“Great voice,” my cousin Johannes piped up. Out of all of us, he was usually the quietest at these meetings. He ran our exclusive nightclub business, and over the last few years, he’d grown exponentially, both in business and in his personal life. I, for one, couldn’t be happier for him.
“Agreed,” Roman said. “Great looking, too. Sure he doesn’t want to get into movies?” Roman ran our film studios out of Los Angeles.
“Hey.” My other brother, London, who headed up our TV studios, gave Roman a sharp dig in the ribs. “TV and streaming services are the new Hollywood.”
“Neither of you can have him. He’s my find, and providing there are no objections, I plan to meet with him sometime this week.”
“Okay, let’s take a vote,” Uncle Joshua said.
No one dissented, and the motion was passed.
Excitement coursed through me. I wasn’t over the line yet, but I had no doubt Presley would be all too keen to sign with me, and Joz was virtually in the bag. Two brand new signings—an established megastar and a hidden talent—was a hell of a coup for a small label like ours.
My phone dinged with a message.
Penn: Knew Raynor wouldn’t be able to resist. An amazing find, too. Congratulations. You’re a fucking superstar.
For the rest of the meeting, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Two days later, I met with Presley over video call. Talk about a bundle of nerves. I felt sorry for the kid and did my best to put him at ease, but every time he raised his hand to rake his fingers through his jet-black hair, it shook. I presented him with our offer and advised him to get a lawyer to look it over. It wasn’t my place to spoon feed him, but there were too many vultures in this business eager to make a fortune off the backs of talented individuals without giving them a fair deal. I prided myself on being different, and advising Presley fell in line with my ethics.
After the call, I could not resist sending a text to Joz.
Me: Signed yet?
I didn’t expect an answer, but one came anyway, almost immediately.
Joz R: Still waiting for lawyer approval (rolling eyes emoji).
I chuckled.
Me: At this rate, Presley will have signed before you.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. His reply, when it came, was quite the surprise.
Joz R: Thank you, Aspen. You are good people.
I stared at that text for a straight five minutes, unable to conjure a reply. In the end, I chose not to respond, but the blooming pride in my chest stayed with me for the rest of the day.
Chapter 6
Joz
