Larger Than Lyfe by Cynthia Diane Thornton Page A

had been so hungry to get her music heard by the right connection that she’d performed a whole host of sexual favors for the male A & R exec who’d promised her the world. The industry was filled with these young, beautiful, talentless creatures. They fit the sex-driven visual image that record labels generally marketed to the public and their voices were made to sound sellable in the studios via implementation of state-of-the-art recording equipment and techniques. Keshari removed the CD from the system, attached a note requesting that A & R try and find out the particulars of the producer, and then tossed the CD aside. She had no interest whatsoever in the singer. The music industry had overlooked enough true creativity and artistry in music already for these types and Keshari was bound and determined that Larger Than Lyfe Entertainment would never lower its standardsto swim around in the cesspool with some of the other record labels, signing talentless creatures who only looked like stars.
    She inserted the next CD. It was a male rapper, “Mack-A-Do-Shuz.” Mack-A-Do-Shuz wove intricate, philosophical, lyrical storylines of an urban gangster and his oftentimes dangerous life in the streets. The total package was impeccable, impressive creativity in the lyrical stylings and an innovative producer who worked in perfect synchrony with the artist.
    Keshari called Sharonda Richards in A & R.
    “Sharonda, who is this Mack-A-Do-Shuz? I’m listening to his demo right now.”
    “Chuckie Townsend has run into him a few times at The Gate and at Savannah West and he’s been begging Chuckie to listen to his demo. I take it you liked him.”
    “Definitely. Get him into our studios with the same producer who did his demo to drop a couple more tracks. No promises. If we like what we hear, we’ll negotiate a contract. We’ll even work out a production deal for the producer. Touch bases with me in two weeks.”
    “Key, here’s something you’ll really like. Mack-A-Do-Shuz completely produced the entire demo. He’s both rapper…he writes all of his own material…AND producer.”
    “Whoa,” Keshari said. “Get him in here right away. It’s a wonder that no one has snapped him up and signed him already.”
    She hung up and began going through the stack of documents that had also been delivered to her that morning. Some of them were very time-sensitive. She had checks to sign and return to accounting, a couple of artist management contracts to review and sign and return to the legal department, several video budgets that required her review and approval, and finalized invoicing from The Mondrian Hotel for the platinum party had been faxed over to Andre’s attention just that morning. Andre forwarded copies to her for her review and signatures before he submitted the invoices to accounting for payment.
    Every penny that was spent at Larger Than Lyfe Entertainment had documentation to come across Keshari’s desk. Projects with large budgets always required Keshari’s signed approval before they commenced; and she and her accounting department always kept a watchful eye on everything so that projects did not wind up going over budget. She ran a very tight ship.
    As she sat there at her desk signing documents, taking phone calls, and considering taking a ride up to the Malibu mansion where a music video was being shot for LTL’s girl group, Cashmere, she glimpsed the heavy, cream-colored, parchment card that had been attached to Mars Buchanan’s flowers to her. She lifted the card from the wastebasket and smiled to herself at its message. Then she dropped the card back into the trash.

    Moments passed and, as she was checking her voicemail and e-mail messages, something compelled her to pluck the card out of the trash again. She gazed at it for several moments, then rang her assistant.
    “Terrence, get me Mars Buchanan at ASCAP on the line. He’s in Legal Services.”
    “No problem,” Terrence replied.
    A couple of