There was a slight knock on Ian’s door. He looked up from the galley he was reading. “Come in.”
Susan Andrews stuck her head in the door.
“Susan.” Ian stood. “Please, have a seat.”
She folded her light jacket over her arm and seated herself. “Thank you.”
“May I take your coat? Get you something to drink?” He asked as he seated himself.
“No, I’ll only stay a minute.” She smiled. “You look rested, after your long night.”
“The same to you.”
They remained quiet for a moment. Ian wasn’t sure what to say, and Susan seemed to be looking around the room until she came up with something herself.
“Susan, I’m surprised to see you so soon.” He finally said. “Is there something I can do for you? You alluded last night that we might possibly have some business that would be mutually beneficial.”
“Yes, yes.” Susan’s eyes dropped to her lap. “Of course. I’ve been thinking that you might possibly be interested in a sort of soundtrack deal.”
“Soundtrack?”
“I have a large music corporation, and I’ve worked very hard to gather and contract talented people that some how don’t fall into the niches that most record labels seem attracted to.”
“I’ve always been impressed with the output of your label. You’ve done well, seeking out the best of the unique and do an impressive job finding them airplay.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking that perhaps we could both benefit by that.”
“Alright, what did you have in mind?”
“Well, it’s not as easy for us to get airplay, for the bulk of our artists. Although Internet is cheap, it is painfully difficult to get people to seek out our artist’s work if they aren’t getting some kind of exposure other than clubs and, well, internet.”
“I understand, but…”
“Well, ever since I saw you at…” Susan blushed. “Anyway, I keep thinking about HRT, all the programming and how expensive it is for your side of the industry to get music rights…”
Ian smiled, thinking he was now understanding. “So you were thinking, maybe some sort of first look musically for our producers at some sort of reduced licensing fee?”
“Actually yes…”
“Susan, that’s great for me, but what does that get for you?”
“I was watching a rerun of something with J.J. the other day, and at the end there was like a little tag that said in tonight’s episode included music by so and so available at so and so. I thought maybe in exchange for music, allowing that the artist agrees, we could do that, listing websites, download and label information.”
“Actually, that could be done.” Ian leaned in a little closer. “But Susan, as I understand it, usually when that sort of thing happens, its all prearranged to coincide with an upcoming release of the artist.”
“Usually, but I thought the we could simply open up our artist catalogs, specifically for HRT. It would certainly give your programming a more inexpensive outlet to use music as they needed, and generate and regenerate interest in our artists.”
“Why don’t we both talk with our legal departments and see if there might be any snags, and go from there. Personally, I think it’s a great idea, and as you said beneficial to both of us.”
Susan smiled, “Good. I don’t watch a lot of television, at our house it’s pretty much old Sniffles the mouse cartoons and Sesame Street. I’d make it a point it to watch more myself, but I really find very little of interest. My TiVo is only set for Carol Burnett reruns.”
Ian smiled. “I miss the variety shows. Hers was the last good one, and you’ve pointed out why. They are so expensive to do.”
“Well, maybe we can change that.” Susan stood. “Thank you for your time, Ian.”
Ian stood and took her hand. “It was a pleasure, as always.” Ian walked around the desk and went to the door to open it for her.
“I almost forgot.” Susan snapped open her purse and pulled something out. “I thought you might like this. Marc Torrey had some old tapes of…I had them put on disc and thought. Well, just enjoy them.”
Ian took the little box of disks. “Thank you. That was…I’ll…thank you Susan.”
She nodded her head, and reached over and kissed him on the cheek, reaching up to rub a little smear of lipstick off. “I hope to see you soon.”
Ian nodded his head and opened the door, catching David Turner in mid knock. “Oh, excuse me. I’m interrupting.” the old man said.
“David…” Susan smiled warmly and hugged him. “You look wonderful.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear, Susan.” He almost cradled her in his arms. “You make an old man’s heart sing.”
“Why don’t I let the two of you chat?” Ian said. “I’m going to take a moment to speak to Blake.”
“Of course, that would be nice.” Susan kissed Ian again. “I’ll see you soon.”
“I look forward to it.” Ian turned to Turner. “I’ll be back in just a moment, and then I’m all yours.”
“Great, my boy. You take your time. I’ll delight myself in this young lady.”
Ian stepped over to Blake’s desk.
“I need you to set up a meeting with legal for me.”
“No problem.” He said, picking up a pencil. “Concerning?”
“Music licensing.”
“Specific? General?”
“Not sure, fees, that sort of thing…”
“Okay.” Blake picked up a large manila envelope and handed it to him. “This just arrived from your neighbor. I was waiting for Ms. Andrews to leave.”
“Thank you.”
“And Saxon Allen called, she’s on her way.”
“Thank you again.” Ian fidgeted with the package. “Blake where would you take a woman to dinner?”
“My mother’s if I wanted her to die happy.”
“You know what I mean…some place special.”
“Romantic?” Blake grinned.
Ian blushed. “Yeah.”
“Someplace that says I had to work my ass off to get us in, but I wanted you to know that you are worth the trouble and all I want to do is concentrate on you?”
He blushed again. “Yes…”
Blake said the name of some place very French.
“Oookay…think you can arrange it, for this week?” Ian said.
“I may have to put out…”
“No problem then?”
Blake shot him a look. “I’ll do my best.”
“Wednesday night?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Just make it Wednesday night, someplace exclusive, someplace romantic, and something I can pronounce.”
“I’ll write it down phonetically for you…in crayon.”
“Kisses, sweetness.”
“Do lunch?”
Ian mocked call me with his fingers. Ian walked towards his office and Blake yelled. “Oh, they’re sending you over a new phone!”
Ian gave him the thumbs up as he shut the door, immediately turning his attention to the gentlemen standing in his office looking at the painting he had given him.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“You like it?”
“Absolutely.” Ian stood with the man and looked at the canvas, a waterfront scene in the moonlight. “You shouldn’t have, I am honored and humbled.”
“Don’t get excited, dear boy. It’s been in a closet of my penthouse for years. I remembered it and thought it might appeal to you.”
“It does. I’m not a connoisseur by any means, but it definitely appeals to me.”
“A little birdy by the name of Mamie Rae Tipton told me you were partial to the artist.”
“I am?”
“She said you had one in your home, and stood for hours just admiring it.”
“I do?”
“Herman Elysian, he gave this to me as a gift before he passed away, one of several, actually. I thought you might like this particular one. It reminds me of you for some reason.”
“Oh?” Ian motioned for the man to take his usual comfy chair, and Ian took the one beside it as was becoming their custom.
“Strong, fascinating and seeming unaware of the power and passion it possesses.”
Ian smiled. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered, confused or kiss you.”
Turner threw back his head and laughed. “Now to the business at hand. I got a call today from CNN.”
“Okay.”
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