Published: April 13, 2020

Track 2: Sign the Dotted Line

Springtime; new beginnings, fresh starts. The stuffy breeze carried the scent of dusty pollen and cigarette smoke. A harsh, imposing sun dominated the sky, like a taskmaster bearing down on a slew of subordinates. Far below the heavens was an outdoor stage. It was completely empty, save for a robed, middle-aged man and a podium. The air was still and silent until suddenly, it was not.

A lone figure walked out onto the stage and took her position with shaky confidence. The rows of vacant chairs before her were never ending, seemingly multiplying into the distance of the horizon. The man stepped forward and grasped her hand with a tight, overbearing grip.

"Are you ready?"

The answer was a vacuum of deafening silence. The man cupped his ear and leaned closer to the young woman who had approached the podium.

"I can't hear you," he whispered, his words reverberating through her eardrums. "I said, are you ready?"

The woman broke their shared gaze to look at the audience, the chairs now filled with an audience of cap and gown-clad graduates. The hundreds upon thousands upon millions of people opened their mouths in unison, all muttering under their breaths.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEE-"

The scene ended abruptly, causing the dreamer to roll over with a sigh of relief. Her hand emerged from the thin sheets and turned off the alarm clock before the third beep could finish its high-pitched whine. She promptly got up and put on a pair of cozy slippers that were already waiting by the bedside. The young woman looked out her bedroom window and took in the sunrise, eyes travelling downward to observe what was going on several stories below.

The street was devoid of activity, with the exception of a few pigeons fluttering onto a bench. She watched the birds intently, feeling at peace when the flock took flight and soared into the sky. She cherished this time of day for its tranquility and soft, delicate light. It reminded her that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise. She inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times before leaving her room and heading to the kitchen.

After switching on her electric kettle, she peeked into the living room to see if she could catch a glance of her pet cat. She didn't have to look far since the kitchen, living and dining areas were interconnected in an open floor plan. She spotted him sleeping comfortably in her reading chair, tail curled around his body. The sunlight shone on his smoky grey fur, no doubt warming up his favourite spot for cat naps.

The woman settled onto a plain blue yoga mat that lay parallel to the rug in the center of her living room. She flowed into her daily morning yoga routine with grace and ease. Downward dog to three-legged dog, followed by a low lunge that transformed into a low crescent lunge. She took her time going through the sequence, making sure to even her breath and empty her mind. Twenty minutes later, she finished the last of her stretches.

She walked back into her kitchen and touched the side of the kettle with the back of her hand. The metal was still warm, but not nearly as hot as it was when it first finished boiling. Satisfied with the temperature of the water, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed a mug from the shelf above the counter. After pouring water over the concoction of dried green tea leaves, she returned to the living room and drank the bitter, caffeinated beverage in slow, measured sips. She took this time to reflect on the recent developments of her life.

Three months prior, Raven Roth had completed her Master's in Business Administration from Princeton University. The school was a three-hour drive from her former home in Gotham, so she had rented a one-bedroom apartment near campus to cut down the long commute. That tiny studio was a far cry from her current residence. She looked around her new place, remembering that she owned it. When Raven moved to Jump City a few weeks ago, she was appalled by the rental rates for apartments. It seemed like highway robbery, charging people thousands of dollars a month for properties that would cost half as much in New Jersey.

She decided to bite the bullet and look for a condo to buy instead. The prices were just as obscene, but at least she would have ownership of her home instead of being at the mercy of a landlord. Regardless, she had all of this money with nothing to spend it on. She may as well make a smart purchase that would increase in value over time. And if things didn't work out in Jump City... The condo could always be re-sold in the future.

Other than the overpriced real estate market, Raven actually preferred living in Jump City to life in Gotham. In many ways, it almost felt like she had been transported to another dimension. For one thing, the temperature in Jump City was much better suited to her tastes. The Golden Coast was temperate throughout the entire year, whereas Gotham got sticky and humid in the middle of summer, then plummeted to below freezing in the winter.

In addition, the people out West seemed to be much friendlier than those in the East, not that Raven was looking to make any friends. However, she had to admit that her spirits lifted whenever she saw strangers exchange easy smiles while walking on the street. This was very different to the busy, fast-paced rhythm of Gotham, where people would regard you suspiciously if you accidentally made eye contact.

Without a doubt, the best part of it all was the opportunity of a fresh start. In Jump City, no one knew who she was or anything about her past. There were no expectations, no preconceived notions. People could only judge her on what she presented at face-value and that suited her just fine.

Raven spent the rest of her morning filing paperwork and sorting through her mail. She stopped for a quick lunch around noon, throwing together a sad-looking sandwich. Just as she took the first bite, her phone began to ring. She chewed rapidly, taking a swig of tea to clear her mouth of food before accepting the call.

"Raven Roth, speaking."

"Morning! My name is Gar Logan. Hopefully you remember me from Wolfie's last night?" The man spoke with a crack in his voice, almost as if he had woken up just minutes before.

Raven glanced at her watch, noting that it was a quarter past noon. "What kind of grown adult wakes up at this time of day?" she thought, then answered aloud, "Yes, I do recall giving you my card last night. Have you thought about my offer?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I'm going to have to pass."

Raven's eyebrows raised in surprise. They had yet to go over the details and he hadn't even attempted to ask any questions or negotiate. "May I ask why?"

"I'm very flattered that you think I'm talented, but I can't just abandon my buddies like that."

Silence filled the air as she absorbed his words. After half a beat of hesitation, she said, "Excuse me?"

"Music is my life," Gar began, "and I know that shows through my performance. I mean, I'm a literal guitar hero, I've got pipes, my stage presence is off the walls, not to mention my dashing good looks... I'm the total package! It would be a dream come true to sign to a label, but like I said, you either get me and my friends, or nothing at all."

Raven was completely baffled by this man's cocky attitude. What kind of idiot would assume that she wanted him as a solo act? She scoffed loudly into the phone, "I think you misunderstood my proposition. I want all four of you. As a band."

Gar's voice took on an embarrassed, slightly defensive tone. "Well how was I supposed to know that? You didn't approach Dick and he's clearly the frontman..."

"He was occupied in conversation at the time," Raven retorted, cutting him off with a sharp tone. "I wasn't planning on staying at that bar for much longer, but I wanted to offer you- and by you, I mean the plural 'you'- a contract. But if you're not interested-"

It was Gar's turn to interrupt, "-No, no, no! If your offer's for all of us, that changes everything!"

At this point in the conversation, Raven was extremely turned off by the man's ramblings and fought the urge to hang up on him right there and then. The night before, he had given off the impression that he was the introspective, sensitive type. Right now, he was conducting himself like a total donkey. But the Titans' potential was undeniable. It was a mystery as to how they hadn't been signed already.

"Would you be free this afternoon to have a preliminary meeting?" Raven said. "And again, by 'you', I mean all of you."

"Uhhh, I'd have to check. I mean it's a Saturday and no one is working-"

"-Fine," she cut him off again, "I'll text you the details."

"Thank you so much!" Gar shouted with great enthusiasm. "I promise we'll be there!"

"Wonderful," she said sarcastically, cringing away from the speaker of her phone as his loud voice sent a throb of pain to her head. "One more thing, Mr. Logan."

"Oh, you don't have to call me that, everybody calls me Ga-"

Raven butted in for the third and final time. "-Try to dress yourself in something a little more professional. We will be discussing a legal contract and references to hentai hardly inspire confidence."

Before he could get in another word edgewise, she pressed the red "End Call" button and tossed her phone onto the kitchen island where she sat. Feeling the pressure of a migraine coming on, she raised her hands to her temples, then whispered the words of Sainte Azar. "Leniret animam meam... Leniret animam meam... " She repeated the mantra in an attempt to ward off the stress-induced headache, sitting still for several moments until the pain finally subsided. With a frustrated groan, she picked up her phone again and typed out a message with a meeting time and her address. Hitting "Send", Raven asked herself, "Why do I have a terrible feeling about this?"

Booking one of the condo's conference rooms last-minute was easy enough. Raven was pleased that she would finally get to use one of her building's facilities, especially since she was already paying for the perk in hefty condo fees. She had yet to visit the gym, swimming pool or tennis court, but she had no intention of ever using those. Apart from yoga, physical exercise was not her cup of tea.

After recovering from the disastrous phone call with Gar, Raven took a quick shower, styled her hair and applied a light layer of makeup. She then shrugged on a black bodycon dress that was tight enough to show off her figure, but not so tight as to be unprofessional. The hem reached her mid calf and the collar came up to the top of her throat in a turtleneck. A dark blue blazer completed the look, along with a gold chain necklace with a small ruby pendant cut in the shape of a diamond. If business school taught her anything, it was that first impressions count.

Now, the young woman sat alone in the conference room, waiting for her potential clients to arrive. She chose the middle seat of the table on the side that faced the door. She figured that the group would take the hint and sit beside each other, across from her. This would ease the exchange of discussion between the two parties. She held a sleek tablet in her hands and in front of her lay a thick manila folder, stuffed to the brim with legal documents.

Raven set down her tablet and closed her eyes to calm herself. She was nervous. Today was her first official business meeting post-grad. Her hand instinctively rose to her throat to clutch at her ruby pendant, rubbing it gently with the tips of her thumb and forefinger. "Leniret animam meam... Leniret animam..." she murmured under her breath. The door creaked open and she quickly opened her eyes, rearranging her face into a composed expression.

A man of lean build and average height entered first. His complexion and body type were those of a typical Californian surfer. He had tanned skin and his blonde head looked sunkissed, indicating that he spent a lot of time outside. However, the tips of his hair were dyed an obnoxious neon green. Blue eyes lit up his handsome face, which donned a wide, toothy grin. He wore a pair of black jeans with a simple, light blue button up shirt. Raven assumed this was his sad attempt at "cleaning up".

Gar Logan sauntered over to her side of the table, strutting like a peacock. Three others followed him inside the room, revealing themselves to be the lead singer, bassist and drummer that Raven had seen on stage the night before. Gar continued on his collision course and plopped into the seat beside her. He gave her a winning smile as he rested his arm around the back of her chair.

"'Sup, Raven?"

The casual greeting was immediately countered with glare. "I was not aware we were on a first-name basis," Raven replied icily. "Please take a seat, Mr. Logan." She gestured to the other side of the table where his companions had already settled. Gar gave her a sheepish look and got up, moving in the direction she pointed. Raven noticed that the man wearing sunglasses seemed to be rolling his eyes behind the shaded lenses. "At least his friends seem to have some common sense..." she thought.

The four band members looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to start the meeting.

"Good afternoon, everyone," she addressed the group, "it's a pleasure to meet you all officially. My name is Raven Roth and I am the founder and owner of Nevermore Records." She reached over the table to shake their hands one by one from left to right.

"Kory Anders."

"Richard Grayson."

"Victor Stone."

"Gar Logan. But you already knew that, didn't you, doll?" The guitarist's hand held onto hers a little longer than the others. Raven shuddered from the sensation of calloused fingertips grazing her palm as he let go. The gesture was oddly intimate and left her feeling unsettled.

The tall, muscular man sitting next to Gar smacked his shorter friend on the backside of his head. "Would it kill you to show some respect, ya little twerp?" Victor said in a hushed voice.

She decided to ignore the exchange between the two men and continue the conversation. "I understand you all work during the week, so I appreciate that you are giving up a weekend afternoon to meet with me."

"There are no worries, Ms. Roth," Kory answered back with a beaming smile.

Raven noticed that the woman spoke with a slight accent that she couldn't quite place. The flow of her speech and awkward sentence structure indicated that she wasn't a native English speaker. She took a mental note of this detail in case a work visa or citizenship issue became involved.

"As Mr. Logan may have mentioned to you, I attended your show at Wolfman's last night," continued Raven. "I was deeply impressed with your performance."

"That's what she said," Gar mumbled under his breath with a snicker, although his fun was interrupted by another smack in the head from Victor.

The green-haired man's look of indignation was worthy of a laugh, but Raven managed to forge ahead in a neutral, deadpan tone. "As you may have gathered from our unusual meeting place, Nevermore Records is a brand new company, which is why I don't have an office space set up yet. I founded it recently and I intend to run it as an independent label. I am looking for musical talent that is both worthy and willing to launch Nevermore off the ground. Based on my observations, I would say that you fit the bill."

The Titans were quiet as they mulled over her bold statement. Kory, Victor and Gar all looked over to their leader, waiting for his reply. Richard sat up straight in his seat and peered at Raven over the top edge of his sunglasses. "What are your credentials, what's the source of your capital, and why would we settle for an indie label that's in its infant stage?" he asked brusquely.

Raven leaned forward to settle her elbows on the table and steeple her hands together. She liked the fact that Richard didn't beat around the bush. "One, I have an MBA, specializing in entertainment management," she countered immediately. "Two, I will be taking on 100% of the investment costs, so if your real question is, 'Will I have to contribute my own money to the recording process?', the answer is no. Three, that's for the four of you to decide."

She pulled a blank sheet of paper from her folder and uncapped a pen, quickly jotting down some words in three rows. Then, she flipped the paper upside-down so that the band could read it right side up. Pointing at each company in the first row with the tip of her pen, she said, "The music industry is basically run by what's known as the 'Big Three': Sony, Universal and Warner. Most major labels fall under these companies, like Columbia, Def Jam, and Elektra." Raven drew three vertical lines, connecting the names of the first row to the ones she just mentioned in the second. "Finally, you have independent labels, such as Nevermore Records." She circled the name of her own company, separating it from the rest of the pack.

"The Big Three and their subsidiaries' biggest advantage is that they have hundreds of millions of dollars at their disposal. This means that artists who sign with them have access to tons of funding. They are usually given a cash advance to cover living costs while the record is in production. The rest of the money is spent towards expert sound engineering, high-budget music videos and heavy promotion on TV and billboards. You also have to take their power and influence in the media into consideration. However, they don't refer to it as 'selling your soul to the Devil' for nothing. Often, major labels take away your creative control and most contracts lock you in for 10 years. In addition, the royalties offered to first-time signees come out to peanuts after all of the deductions, and you don't get a chance to re-negotiate until your decade-long contract is up."

Raven paused to gauge whether or not her guests were keeping up with her lengthy explanation. Kory and Victor looked at her intently, actively listening with head nods and looks of understanding. Richard leaned back in his chair, looking deep in thought as he absorbed her words. Gar, on the other hand, had completely checked out. His eyes were glazed over and he had a faraway look on his face.

"I advise that you pay attention, Mr. Logan," Raven said pointedly in his direction. "This material will be on the final exam and I won't be repeating myself." The man came back down from space with a jolt and mumbled a quick apology before she continued. "That brings us to independent labels like Nevermore. Obviously, our budgets are a fraction of what major labels have. We also hold significantly less influence and connections in the media, so promotion and advertising is going to take a lot more work. That being said, the advantages are undeniable. If you were to sign with me, the contract would last for only one album. I have no interest in being a jailer. If things work out and the first album is a success, you can decide to re-sign and negotiate new terms. If it turns out to be a total bust, you can walk away and move on to a different label, or quit music altogether."

Gar's previously blank eyes snapped to attention at Raven's last statement. "We would never quit music," he said quietly.

Kory and Victor both gave him an apprehensive glance, but Richard just sat there, still thinking deeply upon Raven's words. After half a moment of silence, the band leader spoke, "What's in it for you?"

"I get the first cut of profits to pay off the recording and promotional costs," answered Raven. "After those costs are deducted, the net amount is divided between the label and the band in what is called a profit split agreement. I get my share and you get yours. And that includes a royalty rate that you will see is much more generous than what the Big Three offer."

She reached into her manila folder and took out four copies of the contract draft, then placed one in front of each band member. Drawing a deep breath before launching into the end of her pitch, Raven filled her voice with as much conviction she could muster. "I won't be able to provide an advance because you're my first clients and the capital needs time to grow. In other words, you won't be able to quit your day jobs anytime soon. But you can rest assured that I will do everything I can to make your music a success. You already have the talent, all that's left to do is polish it and market it. And I believe that I'm the person to do that for you."

The group looked at each other, silently conversing with their eyes. Raven waited patiently as they deliberated her offer.

"Can you give us a moment to read this and talk things over?" the leader asked politely, picking up the document in front of him.

"Of course. Why don't I give you four a moment to talk amongst yourselves?" Raven replied. "I'll take a walk and be back in say, 15 minutes? Feel free to take notes or highlight any of the legal jargon you don't understand, I can help translate when I return."

"That's alright," Gar said, pointing to Richard, "Lil' Dicky over here is a hot-shot lawyer."

Richard shook his head humbly and said, "I'm just a paralegal. Anyway, thank you for your offer, but I should be able to handle all of the 'legalese'."

Raven nodded in understanding and picked up her things, getting ready to leave. As she exited the room, she could feel Gar's eyes follow her. She glanced over her shoulder to see him shamelessly checking her out. Holding back the urge to say something that could potentially jeopardize the deal, she gave him a dirty look before finally shutting the door behind her.

Despite her cool and collected outward demeanour, Raven panicked internally. She berated herself as she walked down the hall, "Why did I say all of that? I practically threw myself at them! Now I look like a desperate patsy. I just gave away all of my negotiation power... Calm yourself, calm yourself. Leniret animam meam..." Feeling restless, Raven walked to the front entrance of her condo building and sat down on a couch in the lobby. She stared at the clock above the elevator, willing the time to go faster. 14 minutes and 59 seconds later, she decided it was time to walk back to the conference room. She rapped at the door with three loud knocks before entering. "So Titans, what's the verdict?"

Richard answered as the spokesperson of the group, "It's a yes."

Raven felt her heart jump in her chest. She forced herself to keep her expression indifferent, trying to make up for her impassioned speech earlier.

"However," he continued, "there are some things that we'd like to change."

When he handed back the annotated copy, she read it slowly, making sure to be meticulous in her review. Raven was pleased. The edits were minor and held very little impact over the financial side of things.

"Excellent," she said while taking out her tablet and opening the original Word document. "Let me go ahead and put in these additions... In the meantime, you can fill these out." She dove into her folder again and pulled out copies of a basic contact information form. It asked for the band members' full names, places of residence, job history and more. "By the way," she added, speaking in Kory's direction, "I hope you don't take offense to this but I have to ask: Are you a U.S. citizen?"

"I take no offense," Kory answered back sweetly. "I am originally from Tamaran. I came here as a refugee when I was a teenager. I have had my full citizenship for three years."

"I see," Raven replied. She remembered that a civil war had taken place in the small European country over a decade ago. It was all over the news at the time, but Kory was the first Tamaranean person she had ever met personally. Pens scratched and papers were shuffled as the Titans continued filling out the paperwork. Gar finished his form first and slid it over to Raven.

"That's a real creative way to try to get a guy's digits," he said flirtatiously.

"I already have your phone number, you called me this morning, remember?" rebutted Raven. "This is for business purposes only."

"Sure, sure, whatever you say," Gar answered with a saucy wink. "Well if you're looking for someone to take care of your business, you know who to call."

Appalled at the man's brazen cheek, Raven looked down at his form in order to hide her flush of exasperation. "Garfield Mark Logan" was scribbled at the top of the page. She swallowed the giggle that threatened to escape her lips, addressing him in a dry, even tone instead. "Tell me Garfield, are you trying to emulate your feline namesake, or do you always go for lazy, uninspired one-liners?"

Victor and Richard guffawed at Raven's jab, while Gar just scowled back. "Barely anyone calls me that," the guitarist mumbled gruffly, crossing his arms in defense.

"Fine. I prefer 'Mr. Logan' anyway."

A few minutes passed before all of the documents were in order. Raven scrolled through the contract one more time on her tablet before sending it to print. "Would you mind waiting here while I go up to my unit to get the printed copy?" she asked the band. "You could sign them digitally, but I think traditional pen and paper makes things feel more ceremonial. I'll be back shortly." Sure enough, Raven returned 10 minutes later, a little out of breath from rushing back to the room. "Sign here, on the dotted line. Initials, here and here. And one last signature here."

Each team member took their turn to inscribe their names onto the contract. It was a quiet moment filled with great expectation, the kind that made one feel like something big was on the horizon.

"I'll keep the originals, but you should receive your own copies in the mail within the next few days," Raven said as she added her own signatures and initials. "Welcome to Nevermore Records. I look forward to doing business with you." The young woman offered the group a small smile and sealed the deal once more with a round of handshakes.

Gar took her hand last and leaned in to speak into her ear. "I look forward to doing business with you, too," he whispered.

Raven flushed with heat once more, this time with less frustration and more embarrassment. Before she could say anything back, the insufferable man had already turned to make his exit, leaving her alone in the room.

"Shit," she said to herself with a facepalm. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

A/N: I changed Raven's mantra, since my main goal with this AU is make it as realistic as possible. I can't think of a good reason as to why anyone would ever say the words "Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos" in real life. Leniret animam meam means "calm my soul" in Latin.

On another note, this chapter required tons of research. I knew nothing of how record labels work before I started this story, but isn't it fascinating? The next chapter should be less information heavy, so please stick out the boring (but necessary parts) with me!

Till next time, Lily Timbers