Capítulo 130: Chapter 130: Record Company
The meeting ended at five o'clock, and everyone left for the day.
Simon, carrying the record company information Jennifer had organized, headed to the parking lot through the office side door. There, he saw his female assistant standing in front of her car with the hood open, while Neil Bennett was bent over, helping her check something.
Simon approached and glanced at the engine, asking, "What's the problem?"
Neil withdrew his hands from the engine and said to Simon, "It won't start, looks like an issue with the electronic control system."
Hearing Neil's explanation and taking another look at the engine, Simon noticed Jennifer's hopeful gaze and chuckled at his assistant, "You don't think I know how to fix cars, do you?"
Feeling Simon's close gaze, Jennifer shyly shrugged her shoulders but replied, "I thought you knew how to do everything."
Simon nodded as if agreeing, "Seems like I might. But if I fix your car now, wouldn't that be a bit lacking in emotional intelligence?"
Jennifer looked puzzled, "Huh?"
Simon pointed to his car and said, "Come on, I'll drive you home. You can get your car fixed tomorrow."
Jennifer's cheeks flushed immediately, and she couldn't help but glance at the paparazzi outside the parking lot, taking photos. Feeling dizzy, she nonetheless got into his SUV. It wasn't until he asked where she lived that she snapped back to reality, quickly replying, "I'm staying at my uncle's place for now."
Simon smiled, "George's place, I don't think I've been there."
She then gave him her uncle's address and, realizing what she had said, quickly explained to Neil in the front seat.
Feeling like a deer caught in a trap, she noticed the man beside her smiling, clearly enjoying her flustered state, which made her a bit annoyed and tempted to pinch him.
After a moment of awkwardness, or at least what felt like a moment to her, she saw him lower his head to flip through the documents in his hand and she scrambled for a new topic, "How's Miss Johnston doing lately?"
As soon as she said it, she felt foolish.
She knew it.
And it was such a silly question.
Simon didn't look up, his gaze still on the documents, "She's still in New York. I'll be joining her there next week for Christmas. You should come along, you'll be heading back to New York too, right?"
She nodded quickly and changed the subject, looking at the record company information she had been organizing, "Are you thinking of starting a record company?"
Simon shook his head, "Just looking for now. But it would be better to buy an existing one, starting from scratch is too much hassle."
This idea actually came from the song he had written for Madonna.
Although it was a condition for Madonna's participation in "Pulp Fiction," the song was not just written for free.
The contract specifics were handled by Jonathan and Madonna's production company—$100,000 in basic pay, which was not much for Simon. However, with the album's success, Simon's personal earnings suddenly increased significantly.
With "Celebration's" immense popularity, Madonna's album was projected to exceed 10 million global sales.
As the lyricist and composer of "Celebration," Simon's role was similar to that of a Hollywood screenwriter. According to the American Recording Industry Association, lyricists and composers receive a certain percentage from each album sold, a rule that has been in place since the early twentieth century, predating similar arrangements for screenwriters. Initially, lyricists and composers received 2 cents per record, but after decades of negotiation, this has risen to 7.5 cents.
Thus, based on the projected global sales of "You-Can-Dance" at 10 million copies, Simon expected to earn $750,000 in royalties.
Like screenwriters who receive additional royalties from television rights and other sources beyond VHS sales, Simon would also continuously earn from "Celebration's" airplay on radio and TV, live performances, and licensing for movies and TV shows.
Industry statistics suggest that these earnings could match the album sales royalties.
All told, just one song in an album could bring Simon an estimated income of $1.6 million over the next few years.
While $1.6 million was trivial compared to Simon's current net worth, it made him realize the immense potential wealth in the countless songs from the memories of thirteen individuals over the next three decades.
Taking "You-Can-Dance" as an example, just from pure album sales at an average price of $20 per copy, 10 million global sales meant $200 million in total revenue.
As a songwriter, Simon might only get $750,000 from album sales, but if he were the record company owner, like his transition from screenwriter to owner of Daenerys Media, the corresponding revenue would far exceed $750,
000.
Of course, creating a global bestseller exceeding 10 million copies was not easy, otherwise, Madonna wouldn't be Madonna.
In fact, among all the albums released by major North American record companies, even platinum records reaching a million sales were less than 5% of the total; more than 95% ended in failure. However, for someone like Simon, who lacked neither fame nor understanding of the next three decades of music industry trends in Europe and America, creating a few top pop artists and launching some bestselling albums wasn't too difficult.
Simon casually chatted with Jennifer while flipping through the documents.
The SUV turned into the winding roads of the Bel Air community, and as they were about to reach her house, Jennifer paused and said, "Simon, there's something else."
Feeling Jennifer's sudden cautious tone, Simon looked up, "What is it?"
Hesitating for a moment, Jennifer took a newspaper out of her bag, unfolded it, and handed it over, "I think you should see this."
Simon took the newspaper Jennifer handed him. Most of the front page was taken up by a notice from a couple in San Diego claiming they had lost a four-year-old boy in 1972. The paper included a photo of a young boy, his name, birth date, case records, and a missing persons notice. The couple believed Simon was their long-lost son. Having made unsuccessful private attempts to contact him, they were now seeking a public response through the newspaper.
Simon glanced at the newspaper and immediately shook his head, "Fake."
Jennifer whispered, "The little boy in the newspaper looks a lot like the photo published by the orphanage where you were."
"Maybe, but they're definitely not my parents," Simon closed the newspaper, feeling Jennifer's inquiring gaze. After a moment of reflection and a surge of emotion that made him dizzy, he gave up trying to recall that year's memories. Yet, having pieced together some vague fragments over a year and a half, he added, "Jennifer, you know, I was five then, I had some memories. Although it's a bit blurry now, I sort of remember, my parents, um, they probably weren't American. So, these people claiming to be relatives, if they're from North America, they're definitely fake."
Hearing Simon's intermittent, nonchalant explanation, Jennifer suddenly felt a strong pity because, to her surprise, tears streamed from Simon's eyes as he spoke.
So, he could cry too.
This boy so strong it seemed he could conquer the world.
Just.
Seeing him cry made her feel so distressed.
She instinctively raised her hand, wanting to wipe away his tears, but Simon already noticed and touched his face, finding fresh tears. He awkwardly smiled at Jennifer, "Sorry, I don't know what happened."
She handed him a tissue from her bag, her voice filled with guilt, "It's my fault, Simon. I shouldn't have shown you the newspaper."
As he wiped the tears from his face, she recalled the incidents mentioned in the paper.
He had preferred to fend for himself from the age of thirteen rather than be adopted, clearly having an instinctive resistance to family. Therefore, his biological parents probably hadn't left him even a trace of warm memories. With that in mind, there seemed to be no need to look for those people anymore.
She resolved never to bring up this subject in front of him again.
Entering the Bel Air community, the SUV soon stopped in front of a villa. Simon glanced outside the window and said, "I won't come in, see you tomorrow, and say hi to George for me."
Neil got out and opened the door on the other side.
She wanted to hug him, but seeing the paparazzi already crowding around the SUV's front window taking photos, she just nodded, "See you tomorrow."
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