Industry Interest

The Def Jam offices hadn't changed much between timelines – same wood-paneled walls, same gold records, same sense of history in the air. But this time, I wasn't walking in blind. Rico sat beside me, reviewing contract points on a legal pad while three label executives watched us from across the conference table.

"Your sound is unique," said Marcus Thompson, VP of A&R. "Different from what's out there, but still connected to the culture. We could push this nationwide within six months."

In my previous timeline, those words had made me sign immediately. Now, I shared a knowing look with Rico. We'd already had meetings with Columbia, Epic, and two independent labels. Each one thought they knew exactly how to market me.

"Six months is aggressive," Rico commented, not looking up from his notes. "Especially since we haven't discussed marketing budgets or creative control."

Thompson's colleague, a sharp-suited woman I recognized as Sarah Chen (future head of digital distribution, though that department didn't exist yet), leaned forward. "We're prepared to offer full creative control on the first album. After that, we'll need some input."

"Define 'some input,'" I said, thinking of battles I'd fought in my previous life.

The third executive, whose name I couldn't remember from either timeline, jumped in. "Look, kid. You've got buzz, real buzz. Your tracks are playing in clubs from here to Chicago. But buzz fades. We're offering you a chance to build something lasting."

I had to suppress a smile at the irony of his words. Lasting? I'd already lived one version of that future. The question was whether this path would be better.

"Let's talk numbers," Rico said, turning to a fresh page in his notepad.

The figures they laid out were solid – better than my first deal in the previous timeline. Eight albums, with renegotiation possible after the third. Marketing budget triple what I'd gotten before. Tour support, video budgets, even a clothing line option.

"We'll want three singles ready before we announce the signing," Thompson added. "Keep the momentum going."

"That won't be a problem," I said, thinking of the tracks I had ready – future hits from my other life, carefully reconstructed to fit this era.

After the meeting, Rico and I walked to a nearby diner – the same one where, in my previous life, I'd signed my first contract without reading it properly. This time, we spread the offers across the table, comparing terms while sharing a plate of fries.

"Def Jam's serious," Rico said. "But Columbia's offering better publishing terms. And that indie label, Street Level? Their marketing plan actually makes sense for your sound."

I stirred my coffee, thinking about how different everything was this time around. "What about Epic? They were first to show interest."

"Jerry Thompson's been calling daily," Rico confirmed. "Doubled their initial offer yesterday. But..." He hesitated.

"But what?"

"But they want changes. Said your sound is 'too forward-thinking.' Want to pull it back, make it more commercial."

I remembered this conversation from my other life, though it had happened with a different label. The eternal struggle between innovation and marketability. Back then, I'd compromised too much, too soon.

"No changes," I said firmly. "The sound stays as it is."

Rico nodded, satisfied. "That's what I told them. Now, about these contract points..."

The bell above the diner door chimed, and I looked up to see Jade walking in with some friends. She spotted us, waved, then did a double-take at the papers spread across our table.

"Business meeting?" she asked, stopping by our booth.

"Just some homework," Rico said smoothly, gathering the papers. "Your boy here is about to make some big decisions."

Jade raised an eyebrow at me. "Big enough to miss another study group?"

"I'll be there tomorrow," I promised. "History test, remember?"

After she left, Rico gave me a knowing look. "You know, in all these meetings, nobody's asked about your personal life. They will. The labels will want to know everything – who you hang with, who you date, all of it."

I thought about how my relationships had changed under the spotlight in my previous timeline. Some friends had drifted away, others had gotten too close for the wrong reasons. This time, I wanted to protect what mattered.

"That's not part of the deal," I said. "My music goes public. My life stays private."

Rico smiled. "Good answer. Now, about these publishing rights..."

We spent the next three hours going through every detail of every offer. In my previous life, I'd skimmed these documents, trusted the wrong people, missed crucial details. This time, Rico insisted we understand everything.

"One more thing," he said as we wrapped up. "Your mother called while you were in the booth yesterday. Wants to meet all these label people herself."

That was new. In my other timeline, Mom had stayed away from the business side entirely. But maybe this was better – her sharp eyes might catch things even Rico and I missed.

"Set it up," I said. "But first, we need to decide what we want."

Rico pulled out a fresh page. "Alright, let's list our non-negotiables. What matters most?"

I thought about both timelines – the success I'd had, the mistakes I'd made, the lessons learned. "Creative control. Fair publishing split. Budget for the community studio program."

"Community studio program?"

"Something I've been thinking about," I said, remembering how many talented kids I'd met in my other life who never got their shot. "Every neighborhood needs a place where young artists can record, learn the business."

Rico studied me for a long moment. "Sometimes you think awful big for a teenage rapper from the Bronx."

If he only knew.

"Speaking of thinking big," he continued, "Def Jam mentioned touring. You ready for that? It would mean leaving the neighborhood, being on the road..."

"One step at a time," I said, remembering how touring had both made and almost broken me in my previous life. "First, we get the right deal. Then we build something that lasts."

Outside the diner, I could hear someone playing my latest track from their car. The sound echoed off the buildings, mixing with the usual street noise – a preview of how the borough's soundtrack was about to change. Again.