Diddy's Daddy

"Brat, if it weren't for Ryan, you'd still be in Nashville. This time, keep your wits about you, and don't let me see you touch that microphone, or you're out on your ass immediately. Got it?"

At Orlando International Airport, the moment Marvin spotted Ryan and Joel, he rushed over to warn them, scaring Joel into nodding frantically.

This performance team didn't include Deadmau5; Marvin and Ryan had handled the contact directly, and Marvin arranged the travel as well.

In the MPV, Joel, still shaken, finally snapped out of it. He looked at Ryan, wanting to say something grateful, but Ryan stopped him.

"Remember, don't touch the microphone."

"You know, I was just too nervous back then," Joel said with an awkward smile, but eventually nodded to Ryan.

·

"Remember, finish the rehearsal quickly, don't look around, you can chat with others, but don't initiate conversations. This is for both of your own good."

In the car, Marvin, sitting across from the two, reminded them.

"Why? I heard there are plenty of big shots coming this time. Why can't we get to know them?" Joel asked, puzzled.

Marvin ignored him and turned to Ryan, who was staring out the window. The vehicle was now driving near a bay, with faint clusters of houses stretching into the distance like a lurking herd.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to bring this idiot along," Marvin shook his head.

"Fine, let me explain it to you two Muggles. How much do you know about the current music industry in America?" Marvin asked.

"Uh... Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, Tim McGraw." Joel counted off some country stars on his fingers, true to his Nashville roots.

"Even my dad doesn't like listening to that old-fashioned country music. Do you know what the mainstream market is now? It's R&B, it's hip-hop, it's Black music. Of course, that's just the former mainstream. The latest popular hip-hop is starting to 'dance-ify,' and I'm not joking."

"The current music industry is highly concentrated in five cities..." Marvin began narrating.

Those were East New York, West Los Angeles, South Atlanta, North Chicago, and Central Nashville. Other cities, including Miami and Memphis, also had music industries, but they were a tier below these five.

"Put it that way, I get it. Like Jay-Z in New York, Dr. Dre in Los Angeles, Puff Daddy in Atlanta," Joel nodded.

"What does this have to do with this performance?" Ryan turned his head around.

"Of course it does. How much do you know about Puff Daddy?" Marvin countered.

"Every step I take, every move I make, every single day, every time I pray, I'll be missing you..." Joel started humming right there in the car.

That was the starting point of Puff Daddy's glorious career, topping the Hot 100 for 11 consecutive weeks. Whether that counted as "blood money" or not, it was 1997.

"'The East Coast-West Coast beef'... Alright, don't look at me with those confused eyes." Marvin looked a bit exasperated.

"Simply put, over a decade ago, Puff Daddy had 2PAC taken out, and Suge Knight took out B.I.G. I'm not joking with you—this is the real deal, understand?"

Ryan thought back to the three Black college criminals on the beach and couldn't help but frown.

"Suge Knight ended up in prison, but Puff Daddy's still fine. Want to know why? A lot of people say he's FBL's black glove," Marvin explained.

"So, this nightclub is Puff Daddy's turf?" Ryan's frown deepened.

"Do you think Puff Daddy would invite an electronic music DJ to perform? Actually, one of the shareholders behind this nightclub is Puff Daddy's daddy, the daddy of daddies."

"Who?" Ryan and Joel asked in unison.

"A guy nicknamed L.A. Reid. Harvard graduate, went from being a drummer to a record industry executive, the most powerful Black man in Atlanta's music scene. Fifteen years ago, when Sean Combs was still a nobody intern, it was with his help that Bad Boy Records was founded. He's been backing Sean Combs in the music world all these years. As for what kind of deal they had back then? Heh, that depends on what Sean had to offer at the time." Marvin grinned.

"L.A.'s known in the industry for being indiscriminate with men and women," he added as a warning.

"Who are the performing guests this time?" Ryan asked.

"Mostly DJs, plus a few artists from Def Jam and Bad Boy. But they're all small fry. The biggest name is DJ Khaled—he's close with Diddy. You might see him later; he's Middle Eastern, easy to spot. He's been a radio DJ for years, has a big audience in the South, and produced tracks for a lot of people at Bad Boy. Besides that, I hear there's a mystery guest, so mysterious even I don't know who it is."

"It's not Diddy, is it?" Ryan asked, worried.

"Unlikely. Diddy's busy preparing for a VH1 talent show called I Want to Work for Diddy," Marvin shook his head.

Tsk, just listen to that name.

·

The nightclub was in a standalone building. Even though Ryan and the others arrived late at night, there were still plenty of staff coming and going, preparing for tomorrow's celebration.

Ryan noticed the lavish decor inside. The interior had been hollowed out into three levels, with VIP boxes on both sides—no small expense. But the DJ booth was still "shabby," just like every nightclub in America right now; this one didn't prioritize the DJ's performance effect either.

Besides Ryan, Marvin had invited several other DJs this time and was now chatting with them.

While waiting, Ryan also spotted the Middle Eastern DJ Khaled Marvin had mentioned. A group of people stood around him, and one white male noticed Ryan, giving him a slight nod as a greeting.

Ryan simply turned his head away. He wouldn't have any connection with anyone directly or indirectly tied to Puff Daddy.

From a business perspective, electronic music and hip-hop audiences were different.

Plus, his previous impression of Black men hadn't been good, so he instinctively wanted nothing to do with them.

After Ryan and Joel finished their rehearsal, Ryan saw that the man who had nodded at him hadn't left with DJ Khaled's group but was standing there, seemingly waiting specifically for him.

As Ryan passed by, the man stepped forward and introduced himself.

"Scooter Braun." He extended his hand.

Earlier, Taylor's father and the boss of Big Machine were both named Scott. Now another "Scott"? Couldn't these foreigners come up with different names?

"You can also call me Scooter," he added.

"Scooter?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"That's right." He nodded. "I'm the one who contacted you online, the guy with the scooter avatar."

Scooter's original meaning was just that—a scooter—and he wasn't hiding it from Ryan.

Ryan didn't shake his hand at all and walked straight off.