Page 59 of Songbird: Black Kite
“They won’t be signing withCastor Records, boys. They’ll be signing withBlack Kite Records.”
“Whoa,” Gavin breathed.
“Way to bury the lead there, brother,” Alex grumped, crossing his arms. “When the fuck were you going to talk to us about this?”
“Right now. I literally only came up with the idea last night.”
“You want to start our own label? Do you have any idea what kind of a headache something like that will be? Who the fuck is gonna run that shit, because I know your ass isn’t qualified?”
“I was thinking I’d talk to Mick. He’s got a really good head for the business, right? I mean, he’s been keeping our asses out of trouble for years. And if I can offer him a job that keeps him in L.A. and behind a desk, maybe Jennifer will stop looking at me like she’d like to gut me every time we’re in the same room together.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, both seeming to be contemplating the idea, which was more than I could have hoped for. I knew Gavin would look at that shit logically, but Alex was a wild card. He liked his rock star life, and the idea of getting into the business side would be a hard pill for him to swallow.
“I think this is something I need to do, boys. Something powerful, you know? What’s the point of all the shit we’ve been through, all we’ve done, if we don’t share it with other people? I just want to make it about the music again, you know? Castor has been pulling the strings for far too long. It’s time we got our own power back, and I really think this is how we do it.”
“It would be nice to make the music we want to make again,” Alex agreed thoughtfully.
“And I like the idea of helping new bands without exploiting the shit out of them,” Gavin added. He’d never been as vocal about the bullshitCastor Recordshad pulled as Alex and me, but I knew it burned him up inside.
“It’s gonna take a fuckload of leg work. You understand that, right?” Gavin finally announced. “Like, you’re finally going to have to pack away your party boy persona and buckle down hard. You’ll need an office, at least one studio, never mind things like legal and distribution. This shit won’t come easy. Or cheap.”
I’d gathered that much already; I’d been up all night googling shit like ‘how to start your own record label.’ The thing was, I was fucking excited about it, and I hadn’t been excited about much these last few years.
Except Wren’s letters, that was.
“I know it will take work, man. I’m not afraid of that. And as for money, I have more than enough to invest. It won’t cost you two a thing.”
“Fuck that,” Alex snapped, pointing at me. “If we do this, we do it as a team. Partners. I’ll be just as invested as you will, brother.”
“Same,” Gavin added, nodding solemnly.
“You serious?” I was gobsmacked. I’d expected resistance. I’d even expected doubt and laughter. I had fully believed they would smile and nod, patting me on the head patronizingly, while saying, “Sure thing, Hawk. Good luck with that.”
What I hadn’t expected was this kind of support.
“Of course we’re serious, you fuck,” Alex laughed. “When are you going to get it through your head that you’re not alone? We got you, brother. Always.”
Blowing out a breath, I stared at the box of demos between my feet, trying to gather myself enough to speak.
When I finally had my shit together, I looked up, seeing the guys looking right back at me.
“Thank you,” I said simply, and Alex’s face broke out into a grin.
“Besides, it will all be worth it to see the look on Castor’s face when we start stealing his artists. That greedy fuck is going to rue the day he crossedBlack Kite.”
We talked for hours, laying out ideas, listing people we knew in the industry, people we felt might side with us if it came down to it. By the time the guys left, I was even more hyped than before. Tomorrow, I’d call Mick, see if he wanted to come on board. I hoped he would; it’d be nice to offer him something that wasn’t a mess to clean up for once.
I was just hauling the box of demos back into the study, when I thought about Wren again. I hadn’t found another letter from her yet. The last one I’d read had been the night she’d attended our show. I wondered if she’d liked it, if she’d had a good time.
Knowing there were still dozens of boxes left to go through, I hoped I’d find something else from her. Those decorated envelopes had become precious to me, and I was worried I might have seen the last of them.
I thought about all I had to do tomorrow, and the days and weeks after; building a label from scratch was not going to be easy, especially whileCastor Recordswas still holding our last album over our heads. He’d been especially annoying these last few weeks, having Victoria checking in constantly, asking about the two additional songs and just being a royal pain in my ass.
Cornelius himself had even called once, his holier than thou ass actually picking up the phone himself to remind me what was at stake and how if I defaulted on those songs, he’d sue us for breach of contract.
Fucking blackmailing son of a bitch. Cornelius Castor was nothing if not consistent. After all, he’d proven before that he’d do anything to get what he wanted.
And when it came to his daughter, I’d been the one who’d paid the price.
