William Morris sent a white man named Hayden, around forty years old, of average appearance. He claimed to have been a mid-level manager at a car dealership in Detroit and had only been a real estate agent for less than three years. He was indeed very 'concerned' about cars; during signings, he would periodically walk to the window and peer at his Dodge Dynasty parked below Old Joe's Music building. Every black kid who passed by the car made him anxious.
"Yeah, let's drink to that!"
Old Joe was very satisfied. Alex didn't intend to take advantage of him at this critical juncture. Of course, the main reason was that Alex didn't dare to and didn't need to. The conditions he offered were basically no different from those in a standard transfer contract.
Wishing your new album great success.
Pablo could accept that Little Lowry's name appeared in the lyricist column, alongside Alex, but only for external publicity. In the contract, Little Lowry's actual rights to the lyrics were only half of Alex's. Of course, half was still a lot, as it was copyright that could benefit him for a lifetime.
In this contract, the lyricist and composer each receive approximately 6% of the thrift store's revenue, with lyricist little lowry receiving 2% and Alex receiving 4%, plus the composer's 6%, totaling 10%. If it's an album, the revenue is equal to that of other songs. Taking an album with ten songs as an example, multiplying 10% by one-tenth, Alex would receive exactly 10% of the album's revenue. This percentage is unrelated to profit margins; if an album cassette sells for five dollars, Alex would receive five cents.
Don't be fooled by the fact that a million album sales only bring Alex $50,000 in revenue. The bulk of the income comes from the singles. With singles, the revenue doesn't have to be split with other songs, so 10% is a solid 10%. Moreover, singles are usually vinyl records and mini CDs, which are actually more expensive than the cassettes that are popular now.
"Hey." Alex raised his glass, taking the initiative to show goodwill to Little Lori.
What's done is done, and little Lori isn't throwing a tantrum anymore. Perhaps Pablo's confrontation with him has given him a clearer understanding of himself. "Cheers!" he declared, downing his drink first. Their relationship would become delicate, but everyone knew it was far too early to worry about such things.
"Cheers." Hayden, who had spent half his life in sales, was quick to charm. "Wishing your new album great success."
"cheers."
The drink in the glass was Old Joe's collection, Rémy Martin XO. Alex took a sip first. It seemed that people from southern india also liked this. He downed it in one gulp and felt it was quite good.
The people present didn't think there was anything wrong with minors drinking alcohol. After finishing one round of drinks, Hayden and Pablo prepared two more contracts, which still needed to be signed.
First, there was the transfer fee. Alex transferred one-third of the copyright of the lyrics to Little Lowry for $2,500. This figure was estimated based on the album's sales of 50,000 copies and the single's sales of 10,000 copies. Hayden was not satisfied and wanted to negotiate further, but Alex told him to forget it and consider it tuition he paid to enter the industry.
Next is the confidentiality agreement regarding the previous contract, commonly known as hush money, another $2,500. From now on, in any situation, Little Lowry can claim to have completed the rap part of the song "thrift Shop," while Alex is only the chorus writer, and Alex must fully support this claim. As for the penalty for breach of contract, that's just a meaningless number; Little Lowry won't voluntarily reveal the truth, and if he were to renege on his promise…
That means it's impossible to settle things simply by giving money.
Pablo pulled out five neat stacks of twenty dollars and threw them in front of Hayden, asking him to count them.
Alex remembered Goodman's instructions and secretly reminded himself that even cash income should not be forgotten to be taxed. The US tax season in April was just around the corner, and he absolutely could not forget this.
After everything was settled, Alex paid Hayden's share and then saw him downstairs to leave. "You mainly have two things to do now: keep an eye on the copyright application progress and help me get into the Composers' Guild as soon as possible," he instructed in front of Hayden's Dodge Dynasty.
"I'll keep an eye on it."
"
Driving to South City twice to review a few contracts will net you $500, and you'll also get a steady 10% cut of Alex's royalties for the next year—it's practically free money. Although you still have to pay a portion to William Morris, Hayden is still in a great mood. "No problem," he readily agreed. "However, I suggest you join BMI (Broadcast Music Association). It's more expensive, but BMI's clients overlap more with your song's audience, you know, radio."
"I understand, you handle it."
The two had already had a good talk before. After Alex felt that he could recognize the other party's professionalism, he took him and Aunt Susie to Goodman's law firm to sign the first financial contract after his transmigration and settle the bill with Goodman.
"Anything else? Do you want me to help you find some more opportunities?" Hayden offered. "Many aspiring singers need lyrics and music, and I even have connections in some commercial advertising, as long as you can write them."
"never mind."
Alex could write it, but he wouldn't. Without the 'flash back' cheat code, he knew his own limitations. "You should leave quickly. It's not safe for white people to stay here for too long," he reminded him.
"Well..."
Hayden glanced at the dark mass of people at the entrance of the underground nightclub across the street. "I'm off then. Contact me by phone. Bye." He quickly started his car and disappeared in a flash.
Back upstairs, the room was packed with people, mostly girlfriends and companions of musicians. Tony even brought his ex-girlfriend, and the two were huddled in a corner, all lovey-dovey. The musicians who joined later were sprawled out on the sofa in the control room, watching the drummer test the sound again and again. The only one actually doing all the work was the sound engineer, Eric. He had only slept a few hours in the past few days and was completely exhausted. Alex felt that he might die from overwork at any moment.
The air was incredibly stuffy, a mixture of perfume, leaves, alcohol, tobacco, and strong body odor—but perhaps that's just how it is in the music industry; anything can be a party. Even Old Joe, the boss, didn't seem to mind. He was surrounded by girls brought by the musicians, holding a wine glass, chatting animatedly and thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Sigh, maybe it's because I'm the only outsider here."
Despite the lively atmosphere, Alex felt a sense of loneliness; the Indian soul made him feel completely out of place.
Thinking that he hadn't been to school for several days, his academic plans were in jeopardy, and he didn't know how or when the next 'flash back' would be triggered. He felt a wave of frustration, but thankfully, the four thousand five hundred dollars in cash in his pocket provided him with great comfort.
"Having made my first fortune after transmigrating, what should I do with it?"
He thought about it for a moment. Without memories of his past life, prophetic investment was out of the question. In the United States, it was really inconvenient not to have a car. So he went to find Tony and said, "Hey, come with me to the used car market tomorrow."