A Song for Julia

get right to it. Allen called me yesterday raving about this song you’ve written, Crank. He said we have to sign you immediately. I don’t even take calls on holidays, but it was Allen, so I gave it a listen. And I liked it. A lot. We can do something with this.”
    Allen said, “I listened to the rest of your music last night, at least what you’ve got on the website. It’s solid stuff.”
    I felt myself starting to grin.
    “So, where do you stand, Crank?”
    Julia gently placed a hand on my knee. I knew what she was trying to communicate. Shut up. She leaned forward, all business. “We have an offer for a recording contract from Division Records, but we haven’t signed yet.”
    Boris tilted his head. “Tell me why.”
    She replied, “To be honest, I’m concerned about Division’s financial stability. We’re not looking for a one-song deal. The band is in this for the long haul, so we want a contract which will best serve that.”
    Boris nodded. “What kind of deal are you looking for?”
    I felt my throat tighten up. I wanted to jump in. I’ll take anything. Single? Recording deal? Whatever! When Julia spoke, it almost made my ears bleed, and I wanted to tell her to shut up now and accept whatever they offered.
    “Ideally, I want a recording contract for a full album, plus an immediate release on the single. Budget for the album. Decent royalties, and an advance big enough to get the band off ramen noodles in the meantime. Some introductions to help us get signed as openers for a tour …”
    Allen jumped in, “You want an opener? We just fired our opening act for this summer’s tour. I want you guys.”
    She grinned. “Excellent. That will be a big step up, I think.”
    Boris looked at her and made an offer of more money than I’d ever seen in my life.
    Holy shit.
    She pushed. For just a second, I almost blurted out We’ll take it! Because she calmly, and with a straight face, doubled the figures he’d offered.
    Boris frowned. “If we do that, I want an exclusive option on the next two albums.”
    “What happens if you don’t take them?”
    “We make the contract three years. Renewable if both sides agree. Exclusive. And if we don’t take additional albums, then we cut you loose at the end of the three years.”
    “Okay,” she said. “What’s the budget on future albums?”
    “Depends on sales with the first. I’ve got standard language, but bottom line is, if you want more than the initial budget, then your album needs to earn out plus two hundred percent.”
    Boris looked at me. “Crank, you got anything to add?”
    I shook my head, still trying to get my thumping heart calmed down. “I think she’s got this under control.”
    “Smart guy.”
    Julia grinned. “I think we have a deal?”
    Boris reached over and shook her hand, and I fought to keep myself from freaking out. Because right here in this office, everything I’d ever dreamed of just came true. I don’t know how she did it. I don’t even care how she did it. All I knew was that right that second, I wanted to jump up and down and scream my heart out.

    You two are cute (Julia)
    I was in a daze by the time we left Boris’s office.
    After the meeting was over, Allen and Crank sat talking music, while I sat down with Boris’s assistant. She wrote up the terms we’d agreed on, inserting the numbers in their standard contract. I read it over carefully and then signed on behalf of the band. And just like that, Morbid Obesity was signed with a major label.
    As I signed the contract, I made a decision. I wasn’t going back. I wasn’t going to graduate school, unless it was later, on my own terms. No Foreign Service, no law school, none of the things my parents were pushing. Instead, I was going to manage this band, through the tour and afterwards. This was my job now and going forward.
    Now, how to make it turn a profit. As we all shook hands, and Crank and I walked out the door of the office, me carrying the contract and a huge check, my mind was turning to a host of questions. Merchandising, t-shirts, websites. But that didn’t last, because the moment we stepped into the elevator, Crank let out a yell, then grabbed me and started kissing me. I forgot the contract and the check and wrapped my arms around him.
    “I can’t believe it,” he said.
    “I can’t either.”
    Then we were kissing and all talk was forgotten, until the doors opened and a guy in a suit stepped into the elevator and muttered, “Get a