"You little punk, if it weren't for Ryan, you'd still be in Nashville. This time, keep your head on straight. Don't let me catch you anywhere near a microphone, or you're out of here. Understand?"
At Orlando International Airport, the moment Marvin saw Ryan and Joel, he rushed over to warn them. Joel nodded repeatedly, frightened.
Deadmau5 wasn't part of the Performance Team this time. Marvin had contacted Ryan directly and arranged the travel himself.
Only after they were in the MPV did a still-shaken Joel come around. He looked at Ryan, wanting to say something to thank him, but Ryan stopped him.
"Remember, don't touch the microphone."
"You know, I was just really nervous back then." Joel gave an awkward grin, then nodded to Ryan.
"Remember, get through the rehearsal quickly later. Don't look around. You can talk to the others, but don't go out of your way to strike up a conversation. It's for your own good."
Marvin reminded them from the seat opposite them in the car.
"Why? I heard there are a lot of big names coming this time. Why can't we get to know them?" Joel asked, puzzled.
Marvin ignored him and turned to Ryan, who was looking out the window. The car was passing a bay, and in the distance, shadowy rows of houses stretched on and on, like a pack of beasts lying in wait.
"This is why I didn't want to bring this idiot along." Marvin shook his head.
"Forget it. I'd better explain it to you two muggles. How much do you know about the music industry in America today?" Marvin asked.
"Um... Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, Tim McGraw." Joel counted off some country stars on his fingers. He really was from Nashville.
"Even my dad doesn't like listening to that old-fashioned country music. Do you know what's mainstream in the market now? R&B, hip-hop, Black music. Of course, that was the mainstream until recently. The latest trend in hip-hop is starting to turn into dance music, too. I'm not kidding."
"The music industry is highly concentrated in five cities..." Marvin began explaining.
That meant New York in the east, Los Angeles in the west, Atlanta in the south, Chicago in the north, and Nashville in the middle. Other cities, including Miami and Memphis, had music industries, too, but they were a step below those five.
"Okay, now I get it. Like Jay-Z in New York, Dr. Dre in Los Angeles, and Puff Daddy in Atlanta." Joel nodded.
"What does any of this have to do with the performance?" Ryan turned his head toward them.
"Of course it's related. How much do you know about Puff Daddy?" Marvin asked in return.
"Every step I take, every move I make, every single day, every time I pray, I'll be missing you..." Joel started humming in the car.
It was the glorious beginning of Puff Daddy's career. The song had held the number-one spot on the Hot 100 for eleven weeks straight. Who knew if that counted as cashing in on a "blood-soaked bun"? It was 1997 at the time.
"The East Coast-West Coast rivalry... All right, don't look at me with that confused expression." Marvin seemed exasperated.
"To put it simply, more than ten years ago, Puff Daddy had 2PAC taken out, and Suge Knight had B.I.G. taken out. I'm not kidding. This was the real deal, got it?"
Ryan thought of the three Black college students committing crimes on the beach, and his brow furrowed.
"Suge Knight ended up in prison, but Puff Daddy's still doing fine. Want to know why? A lot of people say he's the FBI's bagman." Marvin explained.
"So this nightclub belongs to Puff Daddy?" Ryan's brow furrowed even deeper.
"Do you think Puff Daddy would invite a DJ who plays electronic music to perform? Actually, one of the shareholders behind this nightclub is Puff Daddy's daddy. The daddy of all daddies."
"Who?" Ryan and Joel asked at the same time.
"Antonio Marquis 'L.A.' Reid. He graduated from Harvard and worked his way up from drummer to record-industry executive. He's the most powerful Black man in Atlanta's music scene. Fifteen years ago, when Sean Combs was still an unknown intern, Reid helped him start Bad Boy Records. He's been protecting Sean Combs in the music business all these years. As for what kind of deal they made back then? Heh, that depends on what Sean had to offer at the time." Marvin grinned.
"L.A. has always been known in the industry for sleeping with both men and women," he added.
"Who are the performers this time?" Ryan asked.
"Most of them are DJs, with a few artists from Def Jam and Bad Boy. They're all small fry, though. The biggest name is DJ Khaled. He's close to Diddy, so you might see him later. He's of Middle Eastern descent, so you'll recognize him right away. He's been a radio DJ for years and has a big following in the South. He's produced songs for a lot of people at Bad Boy Records. Besides him, there's supposedly a mystery guest. So mysterious even I don't know who it is."
"Could it be Diddy?" Ryan asked, a little worried.
"Not likely. Diddy's preparing a VH1 reality show called I Want To Work For Diddy." Marvin shook his head.
Good grief, just listen to that title.
The nightclub was in a standalone building. Even though Ryan and the others arrived late at night, plenty of staff were still coming and going, preparing for the celebration the next day.
Ryan noticed the lavish interior. The building had been hollowed out to create three levels, with private boxes on either side. It was an impressive setup, but the DJ booth was still "shabby." Like every other nightclub in America, this place didn't care much about the DJ's performance setup.
Marvin had invited quite a few other DJs besides Ryan, and he was chatting with them now.
While he waited, Ryan spotted the Middle Eastern DJ Marvin had mentioned, DJ Khaled. A crowd stood around him. One white man among them noticed Ryan and gave him a small nod in greeting.
Ryan simply turned his head away. He wanted nothing to do with anyone who had any direct or indirect connection to Puff Daddy.
From a business standpoint, electronic music and hip-hop had different audiences.
On top of that, Ryan hadn't had a good impression of Black people, so instinctively, he didn't want anything to do with them.
After Ryan and Joel finished rehearsing, Ryan saw that the man who had greeted him hadn't left with DJ Khaled's group. He was still standing there, as if he'd been waiting specifically for Ryan.
When Ryan passed by, the man approached and introduced himself.
"Scooter Braun." He held out his hand.
Taylor's father and the owner of Big Machine had both been called Scott. Now there was another "Scott"? Couldn't these foreigners come up with some different names?
"You can call me Scooter, too," he added.
"Scooter?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.
"That's right." He nodded. "I'm the person who got in touch with you online earlier—the one with the scooter avatar."
Scooter was what the name meant, and he didn't try to hide that from Ryan.
Ryan didn't even shake his hand. He walked straight past him.
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