[Chapter 11: Official Signing]
Orlando had only run into Jennifer Lopez by chance. They had exchanged a few words in the elevator, but the setting and his own situation held him back. He knew he was still living off Daisy Cuomo's support, and it wasn't the time to push things.
He was a cautious man and he kept himself in check.
Two days passed. It was Monday. New York had delivered a rare clear, sunny day. Sunlight across Manhattan made the glass facade of the Warner Bros. Records building gleam.
Orlando straightened his denim jacket and watched Frank DiLeo climb out of his BMW. Seymour Stein was with him -- the veteran who had become general manager at Orlando Records. They had an appointment at Warner Bros. Records. Today they were there to sign.
Orlando felt nervous.
"Kid, relax," Seymour said, patting Orlando on the back. "With Ms. Cuomo's arrangement, nothing was going to go wrong."
"I know," Orlando breathed out. He was, indeed, a little tense. In his previous life he had been just an online writer. At thirty-something, he hadn't been spectacular -- just ordinary. Now, thanks to a strange twist and a lucky connection, he had a shot at stardom. It was natural to be nervous.
Having two industry heavyweights at his side helped settle him.
---
They reached the building entrance together. A secretary with big blond waves and high heels was already waiting at the revolving door. Her gold curls bounced with each step.
"Good morning, gentlemen. Mr. Morris and the others are in the third-floor conference room. This way, please," she said.
"Thanks, Jessi," Seymour replied with a smile.
Inside the lobby, Seymour quietly introduced Orlando and Frank to her. Then they rode the elevator up to Warner Bros. Records' conference room.
---
When the door opened, the smell of tobacco mixed with coffee welcomed them. At the head of a long table, Gray Morris raised a hand. Six men in suits were seated behind him. Seven in total, one of them was Black.
"Welcome, welcome," Gray said, voice full and confident. He pointed to the chairs at the far end of the table. "Have a seat."
They hadn't been sitting long when an older white man to Gray's left adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and spoke up. "Your voice had promise, kid. A little like Stevie Wonder with a rock edge -- but the technique was raw. Your runs lost air."
Seymour whispered, "This was Arif Martin, Warner Bros. Records' lead producer."
Orlando smiled, trying to keep the newcomer's composure. "Before this, I was in the Bronx and worried about where my next meal would come from. Nobody was born a singer, right?"
"Plenty of confidence," Arif sniffed, tapping his pen on the table. "But there was a kid from Utah last year who was just as confident. Now he was singing in a Vegas bar. Confidence and talent didn't pay the bills."
The room tightened. Orlando frowned. He could sense that Arif Martin didn't like him. Arif was a conservative white guy with roots in country and folk, and Orlando's lead single for their collaboration blended hip-hop with folk/country. Arif wasn't going to be a fan.
Still, Arif wasn't the only voice in the room.
Laughter came from the other side of the table. A Black producer in a floral shirt -- the only Black executive there -- leaned back and tapped a rhythm on the table's edge. "Arif loves to rain on parades," his voice warm and sax-like. "But I liked your idea -- stuffing R&B melodies into folk, with African instruments in the backing. That was wild."
Seymour leaned close and explained, "That is Quincy Jones. He had produced for Michael Jackson and a bunch of other major artists."
Orlando nodded. "I just thought the mash-up was cool."
"It was cool," Quincy said with a smile. He had goodwill in his tone. Orlando could feel it. Part of that goodwill came from Quincy liking the music. Part of it came from Orlando's background -- Quincy's notes on Orlando included Black ancestry; that kind of detail carried weight: people clustered around their own, and if the art resonated, they treat him like one of their own.
Gray cleared his throat, tapping the table. He ground the tip of his cigar into the ashtray and grinned. "Enough small talk. Let's get down to business."
---
Legal pushed over three copies of the contract in blue folders stamped with Warner's shield.
Frank put on his reading glasses and flipped through. He clicked his tongue. "Clause 17 -- the artist had to buy a radio package specified by the label?"
He slapped the contract down. "My client is a newcomer, but do you think I am a rookie? Everyone in this room know how deep radio-package fees run."
Negotiations naturally fell to Frank, with Seymour filling in the industry context. Frank, who had seen big stages and tougher rooms, didn't back down in front of the Warner executives.
The older white man leaned in and pointed at the clause. "Mr. Morris, my boss isn't wealthy. We can't afford those costs.
"If Warner wanted to sign an artist only to pass costs on, we'd walk out now," Frank said. "Or was this a sloppy mistake by Warner's legal team?"
The company lawyer's face tightened, but Gray laughed. "You're right -- that should be an error. Cross that out."
"It can't be a mistake," Seymour muttered. "They tried to sneak things in. But with Frank and me here, they couldn't get away with it."
Orlando nodded inwardly, thankful for the protection. If Frank had been a rookie agent and Seymour hadn't had industry ties, he as an unsigned singer would have been exposed to far more contractual traps.
After explaining to Orlando, Seymour thought that he couldn't let Frank take all the credit, he was now the general manager of Orlando Records.
Seymour flipped to page 23. "What about this? Market-penetration costs -- what did that cover? MTV chart pushing or billboards?"
Frank chimed in immediately and pulled out a notepad. "Yes, and there are a few more. First, penetration costs can't exceed 5% of gross revenues. Second, a co-managed account must be set up for marketing spend. Third, early termination pay will be $2 million in damages."
The room fell quiet. Arif rolled a pen. Quincy watched Orlando with interest. Finally, Gray extended a hand. "Agreed. At least one album within two years and a minimum of three singles with in the year. Deal?"
Frank and Seymour turned to Orlando.
"No problem!" Orlando said and finally let out a breath.
The revised contract was prepared. With lawyers watching, the signatures were signed quickly.
Gray smiled at Orlando before the champagne was even opened. "Signing bonus of $300,000. Check or wire?" he asked.
"A check is fine," Orlando replied.
*****
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