Benny's car pulled up in front of a quiet, worn-down brick building in Chelsea. The sign over the door read "Wilde Audio Productions" in peeling gold lettering. The place looked more like a forgotten jazz bar than a functioning studio.
Lex stepped out, buttoning his coat as Benny rounded the hood.
"This where careers are made?" Lex asked dryly, eyeing the faded exterior.
Benny smirked. "Hey, don't let the looks fool you. Jason's good at finding talent before they explode. He just doesn't care about aesthetics."
Lex glanced at the building one more time. Fair enough.
Benny led him through a side door, down a narrow hallway that smelled faintly of stale coffee and old wood. The hum of low bass drifted from the studio below as they approached a glass-walled lounge overlooking the recording booth.
Inside, Jason Wilde stood leaning against the mixing console, nodding in time with the beat thumping softly through the speakers. He wore a leather jacket over a plain tee, and his graying hair was pulled back into a loose knot. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he monitored the soundboard with an almost obsessive focus.
Benny knocked lightly on the glass. Jason glanced up, eyes narrowing briefly before he waved them inside.
Lex followed Benny through the door, letting it swing shut behind him.
Jason pulled his cigarette from his mouth, exhaling slowly. His gaze landed on Lex.
"Well, if it isn't the young Latham," Jason said, stepping forward and shaking Lex's hand. "I've been hearing your name more than usual lately."
Lex smiled faintly. "I'm working on that."
Jason chuckled. "Good answer. Benny told me you're interested in The Black Wall."
"I am," Lex replied, his tone smooth and even. "I heard the leads aren't locked yet. I want in—with creative control and rights to tie down the talent for the sequel."
Jason arched a brow, clearly intrigued but keeping his guard up.
"You haven't even read the full script," Jason said, watching Lex carefully.
Lex's eyes didn't waver. "I don't need to. I know how long you've been pushing this project. If you're still holding on to it, that's enough for me."
Jason smirked faintly, turning toward the glass and nodding at the booth below.
A soft acoustic track played as a young singer in the recording booth adjusted his mic. His voice, smooth and rich, carried through the room like honey—rough around the edges but unmistakably talented.
Lex leaned closer to the glass, studying him. The guy couldn't have been older than twenty-two, with dark curls falling over his eyes and a casual confidence that suggested he was used to smaller stages.
"Who's that?" Lex asked.
Jason smiled slightly, watching the booth.
"Aiden," Jason said. "Not a household name yet, but he's getting traction. Had a viral single last year—some breakup ballad that's been circling streaming charts. He's young, hungry, and wants into film. I've already tapped him to score half the movie."
Lex's gaze lingered on David. Small name now, but not for long.
"And the other half of the score?" Lex asked, glancing at Jason.
Jason chuckled, grinding out his cigarette. "We'll see if he survives the first half."
Lex smirked, turning to face Jason fully.
"I'll fund it," Lex said. "Five million—full backing. But I want Aiden under contract for the sequel if this takes off."
Jason considered it for a moment, tapping his fingers against the edge of the console.
"You're betting a lot on a no-name kid," Jason mused.
Lex shrugged. "That's what you did once, right?"
Jason's lips curled into a grin. "Fair enough."
He extended his hand. Lex shook it firmly.
"I'll send over the paperwork," Jason said. "You'll have it by the end of the week."
Benny grinned, raising his glass of water from the corner. "I love it when things work out."
Lex's eyes flicked back to the old vinyl. It made him paused. He cork his head and look at Jason with an evil smirk.
"So," Jason said, swirling the glass in his hand, "you've got your film. You've got your unknown musician. What else are you hunting for, Latham?"
Lex set the record down carefully, his fingers tracing the faded artwork.
"I'm interested in buying music, producing albums." Lex replied smoothly. "Not just scores—catalogs. Older ones. '70s, '80s… maybe even further back."
Jason's brow lifted slightly. "You trying to become a record executive now?"
Lex smirked faintly. "No. I'm interested in ownership, not production. For now the rights, the publishing. Oldies but goodies."
Jason studied him for a long moment, setting his glass down with a soft clink.
"You know, most people your age are busy chasing tech stocks," Jason said, crossing his arms. "You want to buy up songs that peaked before you were even born. Why?"
Lex's eyes narrowed slightly, the flicker of calculation barely hidden beneath his calm exterior.
"Because they're stable assets." Lex leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Music catalogs appreciate over time. Streaming makes them evergreen. The labels let them sit there, but the artists—the families—they're sitting on gold without realizing it."
Jason exhaled slowly, nodding in approval.
"You're not wrong," Jason admitted. "I know a few small artists who sold their rights for dirt back in the day. Now the labels are bleeding their catalogs dry."
Lex tapped the record sleeve lightly.
"I don't want the artists," Lex said. "I want the forgotten catalogs—the ones no one thinks about until they show up in a car commercial."
Jason chuckled, shaking his head. "Smart move, but not exactly easy to crack into. The majors hold most of the valuable stuff, and the ones they don't are either owned by dinosaurs who won't sell or buried under bad contracts."
Lex's smirk didn't fade. "That's why I'm talking to you. Its something you do. Right?"
Jason's eyes narrowed. "You want introductions."
"I want leads," Lex corrected. "I know you've worked with musicians long enough to have connections in that world. Indie artists, one-hit wonders, bands that never made it past their first album. I'll take anything that's undervalued."
Jason mulled it over for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
"There's this guy—Marcus Dillard," Jason said finally. "Old-school producer. Used to manage some pretty big acts in the early '90s. Most of them fizzled out, but he kept the rights to their stuff when they couldn't pay back loans. Now he sits on those catalogs like a dragon."
Lex's interest piqued. "Is he selling?"
Jason laughed. "Not openly, but Marcus loves cash over nostalgia. You make the right offer, and he'll part with some of the less flashy stuff."
Lex nodded slowly. "I want that meeting."
Jason raised a brow. "You're serious about this, huh?"
Lex leaned back in his chair, smirking.
"Music lasts longer than CEOs."
Jason grinned, reaching for his phone.
"I'll make the call. But don't expect a warm welcome. Marcus doesn't trust easily—especially not Wall Street types."
Lex's smirk didn't falter.
"Good thing I'm not Wall Street," Lex replied. "I'm family."
Jason chuckled, shaking his head as he dialed.
Barnie could keep his mergers and acquisitions while Lex made his play.