The car pulled into a roadside restaurant, and Daniel Glass excused himself to the restroom, giving Alex and Hayden a chance to talk alone. He was a typical white elite, dressed in a suit and tie, with a tanned complexion from years spent at the beach, a well-proportioned figure, and a composed and perceptive demeanor. In the car, Alex had been humming and hawing to appease him, barely engaging in conversation.
What are you doing?
The two settled into the booth, and Hayden pointed towards the restroom, saying, "Last year, SBK was acquired by EMI. Do you know the exact amount? Three hundred million dollars! That's a big shot. You have no idea what a huge opportunity this is! Don't throw a tantrum!"
"F*** you!" Song Ya rarely swore, but this time he was genuinely angry. "Did you overhear something outside the door last time?! Did you? Otherwise, you wouldn't have thought to bring people from a major record company to see me!"
"Yes, that's right, I heard almost everything from outside the door."
Hayden readily admitted, "Pablo is right. We must bring in a big company to handle the distribution, otherwise old Joe will mess things up. He doesn't understand the modern record industry at all."
"I don't care whether he understands or not! Wait, I think I need to make things clear to you."
Alex confronted Hayden seriously: "You're my manager, and I'm your employer. You can't make decisions on your own. At least you should have consulted me on the phone before bringing people to see me! If Old Joe finds out you brought a major record company to see me, what will he think of me? He'll think I'm a traitor! Is it about money? It's about life and death! Didn't you see those gangsters at Old Joe's Music?"
Hayden was stunned. He hadn't even considered that possibility. "I'm sorry, I apologize..."
He clasped his hands together. "I underestimated the...danger of South City. But you have to understand, it's hard for me to refuse Mr. Glass. I have more than just you as an artist. If I call you first and you refuse to meet, I won't be able to explain it to Mr. Glass..."
"never mind."
Alex was actually exaggerating the seriousness of the situation to scare him, otherwise this manager might cause him some trouble in the future. "Your task now is to quickly get the song copyright and BMI membership sorted out for me, everything else..."
He saw Daniel Glass come out of the bathroom and said in a low voice, "We'll talk about everything else later."
"What's wrong? Can I help?"
Daniel Glass sat down opposite Alex . "I came to APLUS with sincerity. Let's not talk about that album. I can decide to sign you to a singer contract first. Two or three years is up to you. Whether you release an album or not is up to you. You just need to sign your name and we will pay you a salary. Of course, this amount is not much, about thirty to forty thousand dollars a year."
"Wow, this is amazing…" Hayden looked at Alex.
Alex glared at him.
"Uh, it's like this, Mr. Glass…"
"Just call me Daniel."
"Okay, Daniel, my employer doesn't want to think about any business matters right now, in his…" Hayden looked at Alex "Can I say that?"
Alex nodded.
"Before he gets the BMI membership sorted out," Hayden explained to Alex, "the copyright will be available soon; I've already taken care of it."
"BMI?" Daniel was a little surprised. He beckoned the waiter over and gestured for the two of them to order something to eat first. "Their efficiency has always been like that. They just go through the motions, and two or three months usually pass." He said to Alex, "You shouldn't face any obstacles in joining the association with your song 'Thrift Shop,' right?"
"Probably not," Hayden answered for Alex, "but my employer is an impatient person."
"Impatient? Heh..."
After the two finished ordering, Daniel casually ordered a light meal, then took out ten dollars and asked the waiter to exchange it for coins. "APLUS, you grew up in the slums, right? How can you remain unmoved by forty thousand dollars a year?"
Not worrying about Lowry's album sales, which are crucial to his livelihood, doesn't seem like a sign of impatience. Keep in mind, if his album sells only 100,000 copies, you'll only get about $5,000 in royalties.
"I'm used to being poor, and the poor folks in our South City have a natural wariness of people like you…" Song Ya pointed at Daniel.
"I know, I know."
Daniel smiled, took the food and coins from the waiter, walked to the jukebox in the corner of the restaurant, stuffed in all the coins, selected a song, and returned to his seat. "People like us have very precious time, so I will try my best to convince you as soon as possible."
'Yo! VIP! Ice ice baby...Ice ice baby...'
The jukebox was old-fashioned; a mechanical shelf picked out a vinyl record and slowly placed it in place. Accompanied by very rhythmic music, a rap song began to play.
"APLUS, do you know why I chose this place instead of a fancy restaurant to treat you to a big meal? It's because there's a jukebox here. Ice, a white guy, one of our signed artists. His album won't be released until the end of the year, but this single is already selling very well. You can order it at any little shop on the street in Chicago."
Daniel ate as he spoke, "Do you know what your boss, that old Joe, did wrong? He bet everything on Lowry's utterly worthless album. I tried my best to listen to every single song, but sorry, except for your Thrift store, I didn't manage to do any of the other twelve. Do you know what Lowry's manager did wrong? He went to Warner to negotiate a deal, my God, Warner Music, with its stellar lineup, isn't going to give that mediocre Chicago black guy Lowry much of a chance…"
After the single "Vanilla Ice" finished playing, a clear female chorus came on from the jukebox.
"Does this song sound familiar? Hold On, it's a Billboard number one single, by the Wilson sisters and Phillips, three white girls, also signed to our label. Their album is coming out soon, probably in June. Do you see anything? Yes, our SBK strategy has always been to release singles first, build up hype before releasing the album, which perfectly aligns with your... Aplus interests. For an album, you get one percent; for a single, you get one-tenth. As long as we can handle the release of Lowry II's album, believe me, I'll throw the other twelve songs in the trash and bet everything on 'Thrift Store.' I love Thrift Store, I only want Thrift Store."
As Alex listened, he found himself almost completely convinced. Was this some kind of hypnotic rhetoric? Were the real elites really this powerful?
"I can even sign a betting agreement with you."
Daniel pressed his advantage, "If you help me get in touch with Joe and finalize a deal, I'll give you an extra three percent of the royalties on the first million singles, in addition to what you're entitled to..."
"At five dollars per single, three percent of a million singles would be... 150,000 dollars?" Hayden calculated the number in his mind and couldn't help but swallow hard.
"That's right, and even if sales don't reach one million copies, I'll still give you 150,000. You don't have to pay anything; just help me close this deal!" Daniel pulled out his checkbook, filled in 10,000 dollars, and pushed it in front of Alex . "This is my personal referral fee for you. All you have to do is arrange for me to meet with Old Joe, and this 10,000 dollars is yours."
Alex fingers, hidden under the table, twitched uncontrollably.
"I can't direct those BMI people to do things, but I can help you recognize your own strengths and even help you understand how American society works. In fact, you can force those BMI people to speed up the process and get the membership done by yourself."
Daniel's words became the final straw that broke the camel's back.
Five minutes later, Alex, holding Daniel's brick, dialed Goodman's number. "Hey, Chuck, do you have time? Come help me with something... Yes, right now... The address is... Don't worry, you won't be shortchanged.