“Dad’s looked at the numbers,” I assured her. “I’m not going to go crazy or anything but I’ve been looking at buildings to make a lil headquarters and I want us”—I gestured around the table—“To name this shit. As of right now, I’m going to keep shit small, sign ten artists max and focus on them heavily for a few years. I have a generic contract already drawn up. It’s low stakes on both ends. I’ll be taking the loss if it comes down to it but I’m down for that. I’m thinking a sixty-forty split with me getting the sixty but I’ll eat all production and performance costs and give a lil signing bonus. The contract is going to be for one album, maybe two, or until I make my signing bonus money back. I’ll eat the loss for what I poured into artists' development. If shit don’t rock, they can move on and so can I.”
Chandler took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re serious about this?”
“I’m serious and I think I can handle it. Shit. I’ve been damn near managing Rome and Merch this whole time. ”
“I don’t doubt you can handle it, Berlin. I just… want to make sure you’re not going to fucking drown.”
“How I’m gon’ drown when I got y’all?” I lifted an eyebrow and she scoffed.
“Fine. What do you need from me?”
“I want to name this shit and I want you to trademark it. Today.”
“I can start on that.” She nodded. “You’re fucking insane,” she added.
“But we’re proud of you.” Rome hit me on my back.
“That means a lot coming from my first unofficial artist.”
A huge smile took over Rome’s face.
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.” He nodded. “You gon’ give me a special percentage decrease?”
“Yeah. I’ll take thirty-five instead of sixty. I know I’ll get my money back from you in some form.”
“Bet.” He took a drink from his glass. “I will say your contract sounds cool for someone starting out. A lot of people sign on the dotted line for an advance and don’t realize they’re immediately in debt and every little bit of work they do is costing them. At least your way they know they just have to come up off the advance and can get the fuck on.”
“Yeah. I’m not trying to keep nobody that don’t want to be kept, and even if I sign a few duds, which I won’t, it only takes a few big names to keep shit flowing.”
“That’s real, and ay, people are going to want to sign with you off the strength of your name and connections at the beginning. But once they realize you’re not a shark out here, people will be banging the damn door down,” Dashawn offered.
“So, what are we thinking in terms of naming the label?” Chandler asked.
“Do something with Trill in it,” Dashawn offered. I chuckled.
He, Trapp and I had been a lil stupid ass group for all of three months. We’d gone by the Trill Boys. It was a neighborhood thing we’d done when we were younger and used to run the streets being bad ass kids, some of us more than others.
“That could be a cool homage,” I admitted.
“Okay.” Chandler grabbed a pen and napkin and wrote Trill. “Let’s ask this. What do you want to accomplish by starting this label, Berlin?”
“I want to get out music that isn’t the same old shit repackaged and force fed to people.” I tapped my knuckles on the table. “I want to start a label that’s mutually beneficial to the label and the artist, something where you don’t get shelved just because you’re human and fuck up sometimes.” I exhaled. “When mothafuckas walk away from my shit, I want them to be like ‘that nigga Drix may trip sometimes but he’s never done me wrong about my money or my art’. You know?”
“Shit. You’re a lot of things but nobody can say you aren’t loyal.” Dashawn took a drink from his cup.
“That’s right and that’s what I want the brand to be.”
“Trill and loyal?” Chandler questioned then paused. “Trill Loyalty, like a play on words, real loyalty?”
“Trill Loyalty,” I repeated after her.
“Trill Records, where we only sign the real,” Rome joked.
Chandler tilted her head and I grinned.
“Snatch it up, C. Trill Loyalty.”
“Trill Loyalty,” she repeated and nodded.