Chapter 22 #2
‘I’m all ears, Helen. Hit me with it.’
‘Number one, you petition for bankruptcy immediately and wash your hands of the company. That’ll get everyone off your back.
Number two, you try and find a buyer for Metropolitan Records who will look at the medium-term forecast and at least cover your debts if not actually paying you much for the company.
Or number three, you find a private investor to inject a considerable amount of cash into the business immediately. ’
‘I see.’ Brad shook his head. ‘None of them sound very palatable. Any way you look at it, I lose control of my little empire. That’s why I left the big guys, to have some autonomy.’
Helen shrugged. ‘But you said last night you weren’t an accountant, Brad. If you’re going to run a company, at the very least you should have someone who is competent to look after the financial side of things.’
‘I know, I know. I’ve got it all wrong, Helen. Well, there’s no point in dragging it out any longer. I’ll have to declare myself bankrupt. After all, it’s unlikely anyone will want to buy a pile of debts.’
Helen took a deep breath.
‘Actually, Brad . . . I might.’
The idea had come to Helen in the early hours of the morning. Her brain was still working overtime, even though she’d closed the books, got into bed and switched off the light in a vain attempt to get some sleep.
If an injection of cash could be made, and as long as the company was run sensibly, Helen sensed there was a possibility of serious success.
Metropolitan’s major attribute was Brad himself.
In a very short time he’d sniffed out several bands who were headed for success and signed them up.
The music business certainly respected him.
All he needed was to make one successful discovery every couple of years and the potential payoff was huge.
But how did one set about convincing a bank that this was the case? No reputable financial institution would take the chance. It had to be a private investor, someone who saw the potential and was prepared to take a risk.
Helen had sat bolt upright. The answer was staring her in the face.
She had switched on the light, retrieved the books and a large pad of paper, and begun to sketch out what kind of level of finance she’d be prepared to offer and, equally, what she’d expect from Metropolitan in return.
Helen knew Brad was desperate and also that he was hopeless with money. This put her in a strong position, but she didn’t want to abuse that. If she was to invest in Metropolitan Records and become a partner in the company, then things had to be fair from the start.
She’d be risking almost twenty-five thousand pounds just to keep the company afloat. Then she’d have to provide some liquidity to see the company through the next twelve months, until the cash started to flow in.
‘You?’ asked Brad, astonished.
‘Yes, me.’
‘Not being rude, Helen, but where would you get hold of the kind of money Metropolitan needs?’
‘My parents died when I was young and their money was invested for me. It’s grown into a very substantial amount. I inherited it all on my eighteenth birthday.’
‘Blimey, love, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?’ said Brad. ‘And exactly why would you want to help?’
‘Because I want to do something with my money and I can see Metropolitan’s potential.’
The telephone rang on Brad’s desk. Helen answered it and passed it to Brad.
‘It’s Billy Friar, the manager of The Trojans, from the States.’
‘This’ll be a long one. They’ve been trashing hotel rooms again. Look, let’s meet up at one for lunch to discuss things further.’
‘Okay.’
Helen went downstairs and sat behind the reception desk. Her adrenalin was pumping, her concentration wandering as she answered the telephone.
‘Hello, Metropolitan Records. Can I help you?’
‘Yeah, Brad, please. It’s Freddy Martin.’
‘I’m afraid he’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?’
‘Tell him not to forget about the gig at the Civic tonight. I’ll see him there around half seven.’
‘I’ll tell him, Freddy.’
‘Good girl. Wanna come along to the gig tonight and see the hottest band around?’
‘I’m afraid I’m busy. Another time maybe.’
‘Sure. Mind you tell him to be there tonight.’
‘I will. Goodbye, Freddy.’
‘Bye, love.’
An hour later, Helen and Brad were eating sandwiches in the pub.
‘So, what you’re saying, simplified, is that you’d be prepared to pay off Metropolitan’s debts, and also inject enough money to keep us going for the next twelve months?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what you want for that in return is fifty per cent of the company?’
‘That’s correct.’
Brad sighed and shook his head. ‘I dunno, love. I’m so used to being autonomous. Would I have to run to you every time I had to make a decision?’
‘A financial decision, yes. As far as the music side of the business goes, I’ll be completely guided by you. I’m well aware I know nothing about bands and what sells. If you spot a group with potential, as long as the figures work, then that’s fine by me.’
‘Okay, okay, so, let’s put a test case.’ Brad took a bite out of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. ‘I’m going to see a group tonight. I’ve heard their demo and if they’re as good live, I’d be keen to sign them. Would I have the autonomy to do that?’
‘Well, I presume what would happen is that we’d sit down and work out a suitable and sensible financial package. But yes, if you thought they had what it takes, I’d be happy to go along with you.’
‘So you really would leave that side of things to me?’
‘Absolutely.’
Brad nodded. ‘Okay. Now, I have to say this, love, you are only a temporary assistant with an inheritance and a year’s business course behind you. Do you think you could cope with running the financial side of Metropolitan?’
‘No, not immediately. I thought maybe we could employ an accountant for a while, someone who has had experience in the music business. They could put some order into the company and at the same time train me to keep the financial side of things on track. Only when I’m completely confident I can do the job myself would I look to take over the reins.
Remember, it’ll be my money keeping the company going and I don’t want to jeopardise things by running before I can walk. ’
‘That sounds sensible. I know a good accountant chap who left Parlophone a while back. He won’t be cheap, though.’
‘Then I’ll have to learn quickly, won’t I?’ she smiled.
Brad rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, then yawned. ‘I’m wrecked, Helen, absolutely wrecked.’
‘I’m sure you are. Look, Brad, why don’t you sleep on it? But make a decision by the end of the week. The sooner you make your mind up, the sooner we can deal with the Inland Revenue and start clearing some of these debts. Otherwise there might be no Metropolitan Records at all.’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Blimey, Helen, it must have been fate you coming to work for us.
At least now I’ve got an option. And whatever I decide, I’m grateful for all your help.
’ Brad stood up. ‘I’m going home for the afternoon.
I’ve got to get my head straight about all this and I can’t do that until I’ve had some sleep. ’
‘Okay, Brad. If anyone calls, I’ll tell them you’re in a meeting.’
She watched him as he sauntered out of the pub, his hands deep in his pockets.
She knew he’d agree. What choice did he have?
She smiled, thinking what a pleasant alternative to pain a smidge of power was.
Brad woke at six o’clock, feeling disorientated and hungover. He showered, made a strong cup of coffee, then picked up the telephone and dialled Tony Bryant’s number.
‘Yep, everything she told you is true. She’s a very wealthy young lady with a hell of a head for figures. But she’s still naive emotionally. Don’t you dare manipulate her, Brad.’
‘Huh? I think it’s her who’s manipulating me. She holds all the cards and is asking for half of the company.’
Tony chuckled. ‘That’s my girl. She’s had a bloody good teacher, don’t forget, Brad,’ he quipped.
‘So you think she’s kosher?’
‘Oh yeah, totally. Helen’s as straight as a die. If I were you, I’d snap her and her money up before someone else does.’
‘You think I should give her half the company?’
‘Well, from what you’ve said, there isn’t a company for much longer. Remember, half of something is better than all of nothing.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Anyway, thanks for the advice.’
‘Any time. Let me know what happens.’
‘I will. Bye, Tony.’
Brad swung out of his flat at ten to eight and headed for the Civic, a trendy club just off Brewer Street.
Watching a potential signing was the last thing he wanted to do when he wasn’t sure whether he’d got a record company or not, but the earache he’d receive from Freddy if he didn’t turn up just wasn’t worth it.
Brad pushed his way through the crowd at the bar and ordered a beer, then tried to find a dark corner so Freddy wouldn’t spot him.
The group came on stage to decent applause and a lot of wolf-whistling. There was no doubt they were an attractive bunch of lads.
The group started with one of the songs on the demo tape. They played it well and the audience’s reaction was positive. Then the bass guitarist came forward and took the microphone.
‘I’ve got a new one for you all. It’s called “Can Someone Tell Me Where She’s Gone?” Okay, let’s go.’
The bass guitarist sang the first verse alone, accompanied only by the lead guitar.
He had a great voice, deep and melodious.
At the chorus, the band backed him with tuneful harmonies and a well-constructed arrangement.
The middle eight needed some work, but the tune was undoubtedly catchy.
Brad felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck.
The audience had fallen silent, but after the last note a huge surge of applause rang round the club.
The song was something special. Brad could still hear the haunting melody line in his head.
It was a perfect Christmas debut single.
It was August now . . . under four months to record the single, organise the PR and launch the group onto the scene.
If they could compose songs like that on a regular basis, he was on to a winner.
Brad stopped himself. It was pointless getting excited until he knew what was happening with Metropolitan. On the other hand, if he did bite the bullet and sell Helen McCarthy half the company, this band could be his.
Brad had heard enough. He left the Civic and walked back to the office. He unlocked the front door, ran up the stairs and searched his cluttered desk for his address book. Having found Helen’s details, he locked up the office and hailed a taxi.
‘Hello.’ She was wearing a dressing gown and her face was shiny with some kind of cream that she’d hastily tried to remove before answering the door.
‘Sorry it’s so late, Helen, love. Can I come in?’
‘Of course.’ She let him pass.
‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ he commented as he stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room.
‘Thanks. Please sit down, Brad.’
He did so. Helen took the armchair opposite and waited expectantly.
‘Look, Helen, I just came to say that if your offer’s still on the table, I’ll take it. I’ve put so much work into Metropolitan that I couldn’t bear to lose it. This way, at least, I’m only losing half.’
Helen nodded, pleased. ‘Wonderful news! We need to finalise some details then and obviously get some documents drawn up by a solicitor.’
‘As soon as possible,’ Brad agreed. ‘I presume you’ll be cutting short your business studies course?’
‘Well, it does seem rather pointless now I have the real thing to keep me busy.’ She smiled.
‘I’m not casting aspersions on your obvious head for figures, but you will have an awful lot to learn.’
‘I know. And that’s why we’ll employ an accountant as soon as possible.’
‘Fine. As long as you are happy to do that, and you really will be prepared to let me get on with the creative side of the business without interfering, then let’s run with it.
’ Brad smiled at her and held out his hand.
‘Shake on it.’ Helen grasped it firmly. ‘Howdee, partner,’ he laughed. ‘Welcome to Metropolitan Records.’
‘Thank you, partner.’
‘Look, I’ll leave you to get your beauty sleep now. We can talk tomorrow morning.’
‘Sure.’
‘Oh, just one more thing.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve seen a band who I really think might have something.
I know the timing isn’t good but if I don’t snatch them up, then someone else is bound to.
I want to call their manager and make them an offer tomorrow.
It would mean putting up some kind of initial advance, but I really think they’re worth it. ’
Helen wondered if Brad was testing her. She shrugged casually.
‘If you think Metropolitan Records needs this group, then I won’t argue against it. I’ve no idea how much a band is worth.’
‘Depends how desperate they are,’ he laughed. ‘I reckon we can get this particular group for a relatively small amount of money.’
‘That sounds like a good start.’
‘Yes, well. Anyway, I’ll leave you be.’ Brad stood up and headed for the door. ‘Night, Helen, and thanks for saving my bacon.’
‘That’s okay. There’s just one other thing that needs addressing.’
‘What’s that?’ Brad turned.
Helen’s eyes twinkled. ‘I think we should find ourselves a new temporary receptionist, don’t you?’