Shinji tossed the packet of paper in his hand forward onto the mahogany boardroom table with a disgusted groan. “Seriously?!”
Ken sighed, clapping Shin on the shoulder through his black sport coat. “Hey. It’s not really that much worse than the last one.”
“Are you kidding?!” Shinji picked the packet back up, turning to the third page and pointing at a paragraph, holding the paper up to Ken. “They want to cut our percentage of merch in half.”
With a nod, Crash flipped to the fifth page of the packet. “This is saying we have to come up with another ten songs in nine months, and we can’t hold back any songs we don’t want to publish!”
Jacob pointed to the last paragraph of the third page. “And this says the money is split up the same as it was last time, between us. No mention of Emi or Hitomi at all.” The girls hadn’t even been invited to the negotiation meeting that the label had called, but Jacob was not about to let his friends’ contributions go unrewarded, either.
Watching as her bandmates fretted with an amused smirk, Ranko sat in her seat at the center of the boardroom. Unlike the previous negotiation, where Izumi had crammed her into an itchy business suit that made her feel like she was a stuffy lawyer’s Take Your Daughter to Work Day companion, today she wore a simple beige cardigan over a red and black plaid miniskirt with a beige felt beret keeping her hair largely in place. I'm an artist, and I'm gonna dress like one, she'd decided. She hadn’t even opened her copy of the draft contract.
“How are you so chill about this, Ranko?” Crash nudged her with his elbow. They hadn’t had much opportunity to talk since the album release party, and he was still fairly concerned about his friend after the breakdown she’d had during the first performance of Freak. “Are you okay? You seem kinda… zoned out.”
Ranko nodded, beaming confidently. “I’m just fine, Crash. And we’re all good. Nothing to worry about.”
Shinji growled loudly, throwing the paper aside. “I say we walk out. Get a better deal somewhere else. This is horseshit! After all the good press we’ve had with the first album? How the fuck are you not pissed as hell about this, Ranko?! It’s like you don’t even ca…”
He cut off his thought as Amaya Uyehara pulled open the double doors, stalking into the room in her bright yellow skirt suit. “Have we had a chance to look things over,” she asked smugly. “If so, let’s go ahead and get things signed, and you’ll officially be making a second album!” She gave an almost condescending smirk, sliding cheap plastic ballpoint pens across the table to each of them. She hadn’t even bothered closing the boardroom doors behind her; there was nothing further to discuss.
Crash looked up in confusion at the sound of loud clacking approaching down the tiled hallway. He leaned over to Ranko, speaking under his breath. “What fresh hell is this?”
Ranko grinned victoriously, putting her arm around her friend’s shoulder. “That, Crash, is our secret weapon.”
The Yokai representative turned in time to see a slender young brunette in a gray pinstripe skirt suit and a cream-colored blouse stride confidently into the room. Her black patent heels gave an intimidating clack with every step. She held a brown leather attache case in her left hand, and a white paper cup from the coffee shop around the corner in her right.
“I’m sorry, miss, but this is a private meeting,” Amaya began. “I’m going to need to ask you to…”
The brunette dropped her bag on the table, lifting her hand to shush the A&R representative. Her presence was commanding, despite the record executive’s nearly fourteen-year age advantage.
“Nabiki Tendo, representing Ranko and the Dapper Dragons.” She smirked sanguinely. “We’re going to have a few… amendments… to your terms, I think.”
The band’s lead singer grinned excitedly. Oh, are you in for it now, Amaya…
Nabiki pulled out her own copy of the contract, which Ranko had given her the night before. “Based on the fact that the Rise single outsold everything else in your catalog by thirty-eight percent last quarter, and the Phoenix Rising album is shaping up to be your best launch ever, I think my clients have earned themselves some more favorable terms, don’t you?”
Amaya scoffed dismissively. “You couldn’t possibly have numbers like that. None of our sales figures for last quarter have even been reported to our stockholders yet.”
Nabiki nodded. Checkmate. “Well, luckily for me, and my friends here, your assistant is remarkably helpful, especially when she thinks she’s talking to someone from Rolling Stone. Oh, speaking of which…” She extended her arm, offering the paper cup to her negotiating adversary. “Half-caff, almond milk, two sugars, and a hint of cinnamon, right?”
As the incredulous woman reached out tentatively for the paper cup she’d rested on the table, Nabiki popped open her attache case, pulling out stacks of paper with colorful graphs and charts all over them. “It’s probably best for you to assume that I know everything you do, and some more besides. It’ll make this go much faster for all of us.”
Shinji glanced over at Ranko, his eyes wide. How the hell did you…
Ranko smirked winningly. Gods, she’s good.
Amaya sat in one of the tall-backed leather chairs, a bit rocked by this new development. She was certainly going to have to have a talk with Sachiko when she got back to her desk. “So, then, Miss Tendo, what did you have in mind?”
“For starters,” Nabiki began, sliding into the empty chair next to Ranko, “you won’t be signing the artists individually. We’ve set up a corporation, and that entity will be the party to all external contracts moving forward. That leaves our artists the flexibility to negotiate revenue share amongst themselves as people join or leave the group, such as the two backup singers I’ve noticed you conveniently omitted entirely despite their voices appearing on three of the tracks on Phoenix Rising. So, instead of doling out three percent of net to each of the four artists with a bonus percent for composition and songwriting credits, how’s about we go ahead and make that an even twenty-five, and the band can divvy it up as they see fit?”
“Twenty-five?! None of our artists have a rev share anything close to that!” Amaya slammed her palm on the table. Damn it, Sachiko. You’re liable to get us both fired, screwing up like this.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Nabiki nodded. “None of your artists have the kind of following that the Dragons do, either. Distribution and retail pre-orders for Phoenix Rising were over half a million copies all over Japan and Southeast Asia in the first three days alone. Face it, Miss Uyehara. Yokai needs the Dragons more than the Dragons need Yokai.”
Ranko sputtered, covering her mouth to avoid spitting a mouthful of water on the mahogany boardroom table. Five hundred thousand copies?! She’s got to be making that number up. But, why isn’t Amaya correcting her, then? Holy mother of…
Amaya swallowed hard. “Let’s table that for the moment. What else do you have?” Maybe I can give ground there if the other demands aren’t too bad, and save at least a little face with the boss and the bean counters.
Nabiki continued. “The band will commit to delivering ten songs in the next nine months, plus relevant radio edits or other alternative versions as needed, but which songs they submit will be entirely up to them. If they have songs in their catalog that they choose to retain for live-only performances, they may do so, so long as they meet their ten-song commitment.”
“Ten songs in nine months, with them holding songs back? That seems kind of unrealistic, don’t you think? What assurances do we get that they’ll be able to meet this obligation?” Amaya leaned back in her chair, looking forward to watching Nabiki squirm.
“Because they already have four of them composed.” Nabiki winked to Ranko, having read the lyrics for two of them just the other night when they planned their strategy in Ranko and Akane’s apartment.
Amaya sighed heavily. “Fine. Agreed.”
Crash looked over at Shinji, his eyes wide. He said nothing, but his shock was evident. Not only did she know everything we’d have a problem with, she’s raking this lady over the coals for it! Way to go, Ranko!
Shinji nodded his silent agreement with Crash’s shock. Maybe I underestimated you after all, kid.
“Oh, speaking of songs not on albums…” Nabiki smiled. “I noticed this provision here about holiday-themed songs. Checking into it, it looks like you’re planning on releasing a compilation album of holiday songs from a variety of artists in the Yokai stable, and Every Day is Christmas is planned to be one of those songs, correct?”
The executive nodded. “Of course. It didn’t make sense to include a Christmas song on a regular album.”
Folding her hands and lacing her fingers with a smug expression, Nabiki bobbed her head. “On this, we agree. However, given the relative sales numbers and radio plays between the Dragons and the other bands slated for inclusion, we believe it’s in Yokai’s best interest to feature Every Day is Christmas as the anchor track, including featuring Ranko prominently on the cover art. Simply put, her presence sells your stuff. Of course, you’ll be providing the group double the compensation the other contributing artists will receive, for graciously helping you sell the album. This will boost the profiles of the other artists in the Yokai family, ultimately making more money for you in the long term.”
Damn, Jacob thought with an impressed nod. We didn’t even think of that one. This chick’s good!
Amaya bobbed her head slowly. “Fine, but they perform at least two live shows with the other artists next Christmas through our production company.”
“One,” Nabiki said, “and in a venue no more than 90 minutes’ travel from here.”
I’m getting my ass kicked here by this… kid, Amaya thought with dismay. “Alright.”
“One other detail on creative control: Miss Tendo and the band members will need right of refusal over any staff or cast involved in the production of their albums or videos. If they don’t like an actor or director, they don’t work with them. Call it the Takao Tashima Clause, if you like. We credit Yokai for dealing with him quickly when his transgressions were reported, but we can’t leave it to chance that the band will not be exposed to some similarly unsavory individuals, or that they will continue to receive as sympathetic an ear as Mr. Oe gave Ranko on Rise if they are.”
“That one, we can more than agree to. We were all sickened when we heard what Tashima had done, and we would never put one of our artists in that situation knowingly. In fact, Ranko, on behalf of the Yokai Record Company, we’d like to formally apologize for that encounter.”
Ranko nodded gratefully, speaking up for the first time in about ten minutes. “Apology accepted. Thank you for looking out for me, and for us, Amaya. Truly. And, thanks for what you did for Emi and Hitomi, bringing them on as house talent to get them out from under that prick.”
Nabiki jotted down a few notes as to what was agreed. “Excellent. Now, for live performances. We’re fine with all of the terms as it pertains to revenue share of Yokai versus cover songs, but we’ll need to carve out Dragons original songs not licensed to Yokai as well. As a show of good faith, we’ll give you an extra two percent of revenue from these shows, provided you make Yokai marketing and promotional resources available as needed to help the band book and sell out the shows.”
Amaya nodded. “I can work with that.”
“Fantastic! Don’t worry, Miss Uyehara. We’re almost finished. As it pertains to merchandise sales, it looks like you’ve lowered the band’s percentage of apparel and other merchandise by fifty percent. Given our now well-established agreement that a smaller piece of a larger pie benefits you, I’m certain that this was just a clerical error, and you actually meant to increase their percentage by half over the original contract, correct?”
Amaya rolled her eyes, staring down into her palms. I am going to murder Sachiko. Choke the life out of her with my own two hands. “Of course,” she croaked. “Our mistake.”
“Excellent!” Nabiki scratched out a few more notes. “So, then, we’re back to album share. Our number is twenty-five percent. Do we have an agreement?”
Amaya shook her head. “I can’t do it. Fifteen.”
“That won’t even get the new band members paid. Twenty-two.” Nabiki folded her hands expectantly.
Amaya groaned. “Eighteen, and that’s the best I can do!”
“Are you sure?” Nabiki pulled out a folder from her attache case. “Because, I’ve got offers for twenty-two and up from three other record labels in town who would love to snatch these guys out from under you. Of course, Miss Tendo and the gentlemen have greatly enjoyed their experience working with Yokai, and they’re very hopeful to come to an equitable arrangement to stay with you. Call it a show of appreciation and loyalty for all the company has done to help them get launched.”
Ranko blinked. You what?! When the hell did you have time to do that?
Amaya lowered her head in defeat. “I can do twenty percent. One yen more, and my boss is going to decorate the halls with my guts.” If he isn’t already.
Nabiki stood, bowing politely. “I believe we have a deal.”
Amaya reciprocated the gesture. “I’ll have Sachiko send you over an updated contract for signatures.” If I don’t fire her first, anyway.
“Outstanding. We look forward to signing it, and working with Yokai for many successful albums to come.” Nabiki smiled, and Amaya blustered out the double doors into the hall, slamming them closed behind her.
“You were fucking incredible, Nabiki! You’re amazing!” Ranko stood, wrapping her arms around her sister and giving her a tight squeeze. “Thank you so much!”
Shinji looked over with a satisfied grin. “Not bad, Nabiki. Not bad at all! But, out of curiosity, who were the other labels? Maybe we should have at least considered their offers.”
Smirking arrogantly, Nabiki slid the manila folder over to him. “See for yourself.” It must have contained forty pages of paper. He opened the folder, beginning to flip through the pages, his eyes widening a bit more with each.
They were all black-and-white photocopies of a ramen takeout menu.