Page 52 of Love U Down II

“What can I do for you, man? Your girl a fan?”

“Bitch, what the fuck you just said to me?”

Kevo froze and turned around to face me.

“I don’t see you as the type of guy who would be listening to my music, so I thought you may be here to pitch something for your wife: birthday, anniversary, date night, or something.”

“Right.” I looked him up and down. “Nah. My wife is cool.”

“My bad.” He held his hands up in surrender and chuckled. “Then what can I do for you?”

“I started my own record label recently, Trill Loyalty Records.”

“Congrats, man.” He plucked up a water bottle. “What does that have to do with me?”

“I want to sign you.”

“To your label?”

“That’s right.”

“I thought we just established you weren’t a fan.”

“I don’t have to be a fan to know good music and gifts when I hear it and you’ve got it.”

“Yeah. You hearing gifts or seeing dollar signs?” He smirked and took a drink of his water.

“Both,” I deadpanned. “And I’ve heard you were up to rework your contract, so I wanted to throw my hat in the ring.”

“You know how long I’ve been with my current label?”

“What are they offering you?”

“Fifty percent of all digital and physical revenue and I get to choose where all my shows are.”

“I can give you sixty.”

“Oh yeah?”

“That’s right and you won’t have to move. I won’t even suggest it. You stay with me for three years and I’ll personally pay to add a studio to your house. You won’t even have to leave home to submit your music. If we want a feature and we can’t do it virtually, I’ll fly everyone I need to you there. I’ll offer touring but it won’t be necessary. Granted, you’re going to have to sign a shit ton of physical merch to make up for it but I think that’s a good compromise. I’ll expect you out twice a year roughly, for the label’s launch and the label’s birthday. I’m a compromising man. I’ll pitch events and shows but I’m willing to hear you out and nothing will be mandatory per your contract.”

“There are thousands of men singing country music, Drix. Why do you need this one?”

“Because I just saw you sing in person and it didn’t feel like a performance. It felt like you were trying to connect to everyone in that room and I respect that. I respect hard work and shit that takes time and I respect you and your code. I’m a family man too, a husband, brother, and uncle. I may not have the biggest fucking label but I can promise you I’ll never ask you to compromise your beliefs, and at the root of all the bullshit, the music is the most important thing.”

“Sixty percent and no mandatory travel?” he repeated.

“That’s right.”

“How many country artists do you have?”

“None so far, but the label is new.”

“If your label is that new, what does that mean for me and my distribution?”

“It’ll be taken care of, and if I fuck up, I’m man enough to admit I fucked up and do whatever it takes to fix it. I’m not going to bullshit you or make promises that I can’t keep, but I will tell you that I love this label already and there’s no plan B. This label is it for me and my fucking family.”

“I hear you.”