Downton Records (Carson/Hughes AU)
Yet more lovebelowstairsbattleship entries. Yes, I was a writing machine.
I would say such wonderful things to you (spoilers for the S2E6 promo)
The advantage of being CFO was that though their company was a record label, she never had to attend the loud raucous events at which their products were launched. She worked her 16 hour days and went home to her cat and her glass of wine and let others, people who liked that sort of screeching, party into the night.
She did go to the Grammys when she thought their label would do well or when the CEO personally invited her. When she did go, it was only polite to be as well turned out as possible, with a new dress and her hair and nails done. It had nothing to do with her date for the evening.
She told herself that she was only attending tonight's party because the latest album by Mary and The Turkish Gentleman was pretty sure to boost their bottom line by a healthy margin. It had nothing to do with the fact that the CEO had invited her, had said he wanted to talk to her, alone, away from the office.
She dressed carefully, in her least conservative black dress, a loose up-do, and her highest heels. If he wanted to talk to her confidentially at a thousand-decibel party, the least she could do would be to make her ear somewhat accessible.
The company car was late picking her up (Branson said it was traffic delayed him, but the stain on his lips was curiously similar to the color worn by Sybil, the receptionist), so by the time she walked in to the club, the loudspeakers were already blaring the new single. Elsie doubted whether she'd ever heard anything which sounded worse than If I wuz da only gurrrl (in da world), but as long as ITune sales were strong…
She saw the CEO talking to the lead singer. He nodded toward her and she nodded back, going to wait by the bar for him to finish.
"Party's going well, isn't it, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked when he joined her.
"It is, Mr. Carson. And I got the day's pre-orders before I left the office. It looks good -- very good."
"That's because Mary really puts her heart into it."
"Along with other parts…"
He shot her a look and too late she recalled that Mary Crawley was his protégé, his first international success.
"If this disc does as well as I think it will, it'll put us in the black for the first time ever."
"And without her?"
"We'd be back where we were. Struggling from month to month. She's never thinking of retiring, is she? After only 2 discs?"
"Thinking of starting a label of her own," Carson said.
"We can manage. It'll take some belt tightening, and no question about that. But you found one hit maker, you can find another."
"She's asked me to go with her. Run her label."
"But Downton is your label. You've spent your whole life building it."
"I can't just let her go out into the world to sink or swim. I discovered her, built her up. She's got spirit. With the right guidance, her label
could become something really worthwhile."
"Downton is something really worthwhile." Elsie hoped she was keeping the edge of desperation out of her voice.
"And it still will be. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'd like you to buy my shares. You'd be the new CEO."
She made a few hasty calculations in her head. She knew, down to the penny, what Carson's shares were worth and what her assets were. If she took a second mortgage on her condo, she could just about manage it. But still --
"Downton won't be the same without you."
"Don't tell me you'll miss me."
Elsie lowered her eyes to her drink, unwilling to let Charles see them, even in the low light of the club. "I will, Mr. Carson. Very much."
We're not downhearted yet
For ellie987, who wanted music exec Elsie Hughes to be left better off than in financial distress, with a cat and a bottle of wine. And who inspired the post-punk band Daisy and the Footmen (with Thomas and William playing bass and guitar).
------------------------
The advantage of being CEO was that you could switch direction without asking anyone's leave. Two years after Charles Carson left, there wasn't a Top 40 act in their roster. Elsie had studied the market, scoped out the competition, given her cat to friends, gave up on wine, rented out her condo, and slept off her 20 hour days in a back room at the office. Downton featured indie bands and post-punk, turned a profit for the tenth month in a row, and had been nominated for over a dozen Grammys.
Mary and the Turkish Gentleman hadn't been nominated for one, and no wonder. After Mary had had that public flame-out with Ian Carmichael and run off with that Italian porn star, the only charts she ranked on were the scandal sheets. The other acts Carson had signed were adult oriented rock, and who bought that anymore? He was getting old, was the truth, and he'd lost his touch.
She felt bad for him. And she had no escort for the awards night. It wouldn't be cruel to invite him, would it? It might do him some good to mingle.
He answered his own office phone. Always a bad sign. And he hadn't needed to check his calendar, another. And he sounded pitifully grateful for her call, so she threw in an invite for some of the post-event parties and made a mental note to see if there wasn't somewhere he could come back to at Downton.
She arranged to meet him at the hall. It was impolite to pick him up in the company car when he probably spent most of his time getting around by public transportation. As worker bees they did not interest the paparazzi, so they quietly slipped into their seats just before the opening act.
"Daisy and the Footmen. One of yours, Mrs. Hughes?"
Elsie nodded. "Our current hit maker. Critics say they're better than the Sex Pistols."
"I never thought that was your style."
"I don’t have a style, Mr. Carson. I know what makes money."
"But what about standards?"
"You want me to sell them Bach and Beethoven? Or would Sinatra and Doris Day be acceptable to you? Wake up, Charles. This is 2011. The music business is different from when you were starting. Radio play is nice, but going viral sells better. Downton band websites get Slashdotted every other day. Do your acts even have websites?"
"I'm not sure they need…"
"Of course they do. And you sell singles on ITunes and Amazon and Bandcamp?"
"Band what?"
"How many of your acts tweet?"
"None. They all sing!"
She banged her head gently against his shoulder. "Why don't you come round to my office for a few days. Let me show you what we've changed. You might not like it, but it's working."
"Why would you do this? I sold you Downton and handed over the keys."
"Because you're my friend. Is there any reason better?"
I would say such wonderful things to you (spoilers for the S2E6 promo)
The advantage of being CFO was that though their company was a record label, she never had to attend the loud raucous events at which their products were launched. She worked her 16 hour days and went home to her cat and her glass of wine and let others, people who liked that sort of screeching, party into the night.
She did go to the Grammys when she thought their label would do well or when the CEO personally invited her. When she did go, it was only polite to be as well turned out as possible, with a new dress and her hair and nails done. It had nothing to do with her date for the evening.
She told herself that she was only attending tonight's party because the latest album by Mary and The Turkish Gentleman was pretty sure to boost their bottom line by a healthy margin. It had nothing to do with the fact that the CEO had invited her, had said he wanted to talk to her, alone, away from the office.
She dressed carefully, in her least conservative black dress, a loose up-do, and her highest heels. If he wanted to talk to her confidentially at a thousand-decibel party, the least she could do would be to make her ear somewhat accessible.
The company car was late picking her up (Branson said it was traffic delayed him, but the stain on his lips was curiously similar to the color worn by Sybil, the receptionist), so by the time she walked in to the club, the loudspeakers were already blaring the new single. Elsie doubted whether she'd ever heard anything which sounded worse than If I wuz da only gurrrl (in da world), but as long as ITune sales were strong…
She saw the CEO talking to the lead singer. He nodded toward her and she nodded back, going to wait by the bar for him to finish.
"Party's going well, isn't it, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked when he joined her.
"It is, Mr. Carson. And I got the day's pre-orders before I left the office. It looks good -- very good."
"That's because Mary really puts her heart into it."
"Along with other parts…"
He shot her a look and too late she recalled that Mary Crawley was his protégé, his first international success.
"If this disc does as well as I think it will, it'll put us in the black for the first time ever."
"And without her?"
"We'd be back where we were. Struggling from month to month. She's never thinking of retiring, is she? After only 2 discs?"
"Thinking of starting a label of her own," Carson said.
"We can manage. It'll take some belt tightening, and no question about that. But you found one hit maker, you can find another."
"She's asked me to go with her. Run her label."
"But Downton is your label. You've spent your whole life building it."
"I can't just let her go out into the world to sink or swim. I discovered her, built her up. She's got spirit. With the right guidance, her label
could become something really worthwhile."
"Downton is something really worthwhile." Elsie hoped she was keeping the edge of desperation out of her voice.
"And it still will be. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'd like you to buy my shares. You'd be the new CEO."
She made a few hasty calculations in her head. She knew, down to the penny, what Carson's shares were worth and what her assets were. If she took a second mortgage on her condo, she could just about manage it. But still --
"Downton won't be the same without you."
"Don't tell me you'll miss me."
Elsie lowered her eyes to her drink, unwilling to let Charles see them, even in the low light of the club. "I will, Mr. Carson. Very much."
We're not downhearted yet
For ellie987, who wanted music exec Elsie Hughes to be left better off than in financial distress, with a cat and a bottle of wine. And who inspired the post-punk band Daisy and the Footmen (with Thomas and William playing bass and guitar).
------------------------
The advantage of being CEO was that you could switch direction without asking anyone's leave. Two years after Charles Carson left, there wasn't a Top 40 act in their roster. Elsie had studied the market, scoped out the competition, given her cat to friends, gave up on wine, rented out her condo, and slept off her 20 hour days in a back room at the office. Downton featured indie bands and post-punk, turned a profit for the tenth month in a row, and had been nominated for over a dozen Grammys.
Mary and the Turkish Gentleman hadn't been nominated for one, and no wonder. After Mary had had that public flame-out with Ian Carmichael and run off with that Italian porn star, the only charts she ranked on were the scandal sheets. The other acts Carson had signed were adult oriented rock, and who bought that anymore? He was getting old, was the truth, and he'd lost his touch.
She felt bad for him. And she had no escort for the awards night. It wouldn't be cruel to invite him, would it? It might do him some good to mingle.
He answered his own office phone. Always a bad sign. And he hadn't needed to check his calendar, another. And he sounded pitifully grateful for her call, so she threw in an invite for some of the post-event parties and made a mental note to see if there wasn't somewhere he could come back to at Downton.
She arranged to meet him at the hall. It was impolite to pick him up in the company car when he probably spent most of his time getting around by public transportation. As worker bees they did not interest the paparazzi, so they quietly slipped into their seats just before the opening act.
"Daisy and the Footmen. One of yours, Mrs. Hughes?"
Elsie nodded. "Our current hit maker. Critics say they're better than the Sex Pistols."
"I never thought that was your style."
"I don’t have a style, Mr. Carson. I know what makes money."
"But what about standards?"
"You want me to sell them Bach and Beethoven? Or would Sinatra and Doris Day be acceptable to you? Wake up, Charles. This is 2011. The music business is different from when you were starting. Radio play is nice, but going viral sells better. Downton band websites get Slashdotted every other day. Do your acts even have websites?"
"I'm not sure they need…"
"Of course they do. And you sell singles on ITunes and Amazon and Bandcamp?"
"Band what?"
"How many of your acts tweet?"
"None. They all sing!"
She banged her head gently against his shoulder. "Why don't you come round to my office for a few days. Let me show you what we've changed. You might not like it, but it's working."
"Why would you do this? I sold you Downton and handed over the keys."
"Because you're my friend. Is there any reason better?"