Two Times Platinum

By Lloyd Zane Remick

With a quarterback and two rappers trading autographs in the elevator and a film producer with secured funding and national distribution waiting in reception, it is another picture perfect day in the offices of Dex Randle’s Philadelphia entertainment and sports law practice. That is, until Val Clifton and organized crime boss Vince Carpozzi march through the glass doors with an envelope stuffed full of cash. An emerging pop star with killer looks and a voice destined for fame, Val's desires quickly rise to conflict with Carpozzi's devious scheming and control.

Soon love struck by her producer and fellow Dex client, Trolly Turner, the three must conceal a budding relationship from Carpozzi and his cronies. Following a gambling ploy gone awry and feeling a lack of appreciation from Val, Carpozzi vows to ruin them all. Blood is shed and lives are forever changed before Dex can salvage the day with a little help from some unlikely resources.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Jun 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463687802

Lloyd Zane Remick

Lloyd Zane Remick, Esquire concentrates his practice in the areas of entertainment, sports,hospitality and communications law. He is also President of Zane Management, Inc., a Philadelphia based sports, entertainment and communications consulting and management firm. Mr. Remick received his B.S. from Wharton School in 1959, his J.D. from Temple University School of Law in 1962, and a L.L.M. in tax law from Villanova School of Law in 1984.Mr. Remick represents several award winning recording artists, writers, and producers, as well as a number of television, radio, and entertainment personalities. In addition, he represented and managed the late Grammy Award winning Grover Washington, Jr. for over 20 years and 4-time Grammy singer, producer and recording artist Bunny Sigler for over 40 years. Mr. Remick has been a registered contract adviser with the National Football League Players’ Association and the NCAA. He has also represented athletes in variety of other sports, including basketball, baseball, ice-skating, crew, boxing, soccer, and track and field. He has been elected by his peers to include “Super Lawyers”; “Best Lawyers in America” and Internationl Entertainment Lawyer of the Year.

Book preview

Chapter One

So you want to be a star? Dex Randle laughed as he shifted in his old but comfortable chair. A relic from the past, the chair was oversized and outdated; however, Dex couldn’t break a tradition he learned long ago. He remembered receiving advice some 25 years prior from his crafty old mentor, Always sit in an imposing large chair, look down upon your client, and you can charge more. If your client is taller than you, sit on the edge of the desk.

Yeah, Dex thought, can’t even charge my normal rate of $400 per hour on this deal. Gotta go contingent, but what the hell? Been doing that most of my life. Maybe this client will be the one, a monster act.

All managers and entertainment lawyers go searching the world over for that one great act, and that brisk autumn day sitting across the desk, maybe three feet away, was the best voice combined with great looks Dex had seen or heard in a very long time.

Can you help me with this management contract, and should I sign? Val Clifton’s raspy voice seemed to float through the air and have a body of its own.

Dex studied the beautiful recording artist wannabe, peering into her violet and piercing eyes, which seemed to look into his very soul.

If she could read his mind at that very moment, he would be embarrassed.

Entertainment lawyers by their very nature can ask enough questions to confuse a saint. Dex bombarded her with questions.

How did you meet this guy?

Has he ever seen you perform live?

Does he have industry contacts, and can he get you a record deal?

Will he put his money where his mouth is?

What about getting you an agent so you can have gigs?

Can he get you a top producer who can make magic with your voice and the right song?

Val put up her hand indicating he should slow down, then sat ready for his advice and lecture. Dex was almost on autopilot for lecture 101—how the industry was tough on newcomers, how everyone in it was glib, fast-talking and always ready to pounce on the innocent and take advantage. This was one innocent lady who would be grabbed up by the parasites without some guiding hand.

Let me review the contract, suggest some changes, do some due diligence on this guy and you can call my office on Monday after eleven.

She stood, stretched and watched Dex follow her movement, smiled with those piercing violet eyes, extended her hand for him to shake, and then nodded good-bye.

This lady was trouble, and Dex scratched the scribbled word innocent off his yellow tablet and smiled back.

Dex was in his forties, young looking for his age, and had years of martial arts training, both physical and mental, that conditioned him to appear relaxed. Comfortable with his own being, he was outwardly friendly and easy to be with, but it hid a keen awareness of his surroundings. Hidden was a deep wariness of people and what they said, more important was what they did.

He really understood the heart of the warrior and spent much of his time conditioning his mind and body to remain under control.

Never let the other side know all of what you are thinking, appear to help them to achieve their purpose just so long as you achieve what you want. Never think one move at a time, rather plan several moves ahead of your opponent, Dex quietly said beneath his breath.

Be like water. How many times had he heard his sensei say that? Flow and be adaptable.

Water conforms to what contains it. It knows no size nor limitation, other than where you put it. You change shape and direction in a negotiation as water changes shape, he said. You confront your enemy smiling but at a second you can change to be deadly serious.

The ring of the intercom startled Dex. This was going to be a heck of a good day.

Prof, Sara, his third-year law student who had a slight British accent, intoned into the intercom.

I’ve got a Sammy, sounds like lethal or something like that, on the phone asking for you.

Don’t know him. What’s he want?

Wouldn’t say.

Okay, put him through.

Mr. Randle, they call me Sammy—Sammy the Lethal. Mr. Carpozzi says I’m to pick up the papers now. Like right now, pronto.

Excuse me? Do I know you?

Not important. What is important is if Mr. Carpozzi says now, he means now, and I’m on my way over to your office, he said, then the phone went dead.

Hey, what’s going on? Who is this Caroza or Carpoiti or whatever his name is? What papers? Sara, come in here, now please. Dex looked up and towards the door.

Yes, Prof, what do you need?

Do we know this guy on the phone or a Mr. Caroza?

It’s Carpozzi. She smiled and handed Dex Thursday’s Philadelphia Daily News, the city newspaper with the headline carpozzi purchases ctiwy record co.

A long article followed detailing Carpozzi and his alleged ties to some criminal enterprises and certain organized crime figures. The article detailed Carpozzi’s takeover of Can’t Take It with You Records as president and CEO.

Sara looked at her boss as he read the article and shifted slightly in her chair, letting out her breath. Her blouse tightened as Dex looked up and his eyes moved involuntarily to her chest.

They both laughed and Dex told her to pack up her bag so he could give her a lift to class and on the way they would discuss the call.

Chapter Two

Dex eased his two-seater Lexus out of his reserved spot and turned north toward the law school, where he was an adjunct professor teaching entertainment law to second- and third-year students.

Sara chattered on about something or other, but Dex was already lost in his own thoughts. It was a bunch of bull about those who can do and the others teach. Two of his close friends had given up the fast-paced world of private practice, feeling burned out and unfulfilled. They were now the happiest of his friends. He often wondered why he taught. It definitely wasn’t for the money. Maybe it was the give and take of trading with young minds or the control factor. Control? He laughed at the thought. A year before, a young associate in a moment of anger or perhaps honesty told Dex guys like him teach as part ego and a part control.

Was it control? It did make him feel good to lecture, almost like being an actor on stage or opening in front of a jury and gaining the jurors’ attention, each person hanging on every word. Power did feel good, he thought as a pair of violet eyes entered his mind. He thought about how just a few hours before he’d had his meeting with Ms. Violet Eyes, then his thoughts quickly shifted to the menacing phone call that followed. He wondered if and how they were connected.

I wonder if that guy Sammy ever showed at my office. Oh well, tomorrow is another day, Dex mumbled to himself.

What did you say, Prof? Sara chirped.

Nothing important. Let’s go. They pulled into the reserved space for faculty, parked and proceeded up the path to the law school and into classroom 305. The eager students were already in their seats as Dex walked to the lectern.

So, Professor Randle, what about T.O. And McNabb? Will they ever get it together? piped a voice from the third row, referring to the unsettled status of two football players.

"Not in this lifetime. Football teams like armies or law firms must learn to subvert the individual ID to the team effort or it all doesn’t mesh. We’ve all heard there is no letter ‘I’ in the word team, and life is like an assembly line. When everyone is moving in sync, it’s like being in a zone. When a part goes awry, it all breaks down."

What about his salary? Can they cut it for failure for conduct unbecoming?

Well, Jon, what do you think?

Dex loved to take questions directed at him and turn them back on the students. The very essence of law school training was to question everything and learn from self-doubt and then learn to reason and hopefully search and find the truth. Socrates had it right in raising questions in his eternal search for the truth. Good professors didn’t spoon-feed every answer but tried to instill a hunger for searching and desire for learning.

The class went well and after answering a few after-class questions, Dex heard his cell phone ring with one of his client’s ring tones blaring away.

Hello?

Don’t ever do that again. Where’s the contract?

The voice needed no introduction. Been teaching. Why am I explaining anything to this jerk? Dex thought but knew better than to say it out loud.

Meet you at your office in 15 minutes, and don’t be late.

Hey, how did you get this private number?

The only answer was the dead sound of the phone. Dex unhappily made a U-turn and headed back towards the office.

As he stepped off the elevator, Nora, his receptionist said, Mr. Randle, some guys are in your office. Should I call security? They said you were expecting them, and I couldn’t stop them and didn’t know what to do.

It’s okay, Nora. Thanks, Dex said as he walked down the hall. He felt an uneasiness in his solar plexus, like someone planting a shot in a ball game or an unexpected punch in the stomach.

In his office, on his back couch, sat a character that looked like he was out of a gangster movie, complete with sunglasses, chains and a body that could play defensive tackle on any team in the NFL.

On a chair in front of his desk sat a slightly heavy well-dressed man with a perfectly starched white shirt, dark tie and very expensive gold-and-diamond cufflinks shaped like dice.

Good evening, Mr. Randle. I trust your class went well.

There was no mistaking the voice—thick accent, cold and emotionless. Dex had heard it many times on TV, always on the news segment.

Mr. Carpozzi, how are you, and what brings you to my office?

Val Clifton. You are going to represent her, came the reply. I was told you’re the best, and I only deal with the best.

"Thanks…but I haven’t made up my mind as to whether I am representing her yet. Carpozzi raised his hand to cut Dex off mid-sentence.

Sammy here will be her manager. She’s going to sign a management contract, then she’ll soon be signing a record contract. You’ll be involved in that also.

Carpozzi reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick envelope and gently pushed it to the top of a pile of papers on Dex’s desk, never taking his eyes from him.

Take care of this first thing in the morning. Sammy will call you.

He rose, straightened his jacket as the mountain jumped to get the door without another word. Dex sat in his big chair, stared at the envelope and recalled his earlier thoughts on being in control.

Wow, first meeting and I lose control. Chalk one up for the other side, he said to no one in particular.

Chapter Three

Dinner at the Randle home was a fun event. The two kids Bret, 11, and 15 year-old James were all boys, having lean-in build like their father and chiseled features like their mother, Donna. Bret was tough and questioned everything; Jamie was more easygoing, smart but casual in his approach to life.

Dex spent whatever time he could with his sons, believing quality time was even more important than quantity. The family interacted with activities like ball games, target shooting with air guns, and dinner, especially dinner. After the encounter with Carpozzi, Dex looked forward to a relaxing and informal dinner with Donna and the kids.

So how was school? Dex, asked no one in particular.

Okay, they both answered in unison.

Dex turned to his wife, smiled, and sipped at his nightly glass of red wine, usually merlot. Donna swiftly and deftly portioned the take-out dinner of spare ribs and mashed potatoes. Donna was a good cook but cooking for her family wasn’t much appreciated. She had vainly tried to instill an appreciation for fine food but found greater success with casual menus. The boys took turns doing the dishes while their parents enjoyed a few minutes alone at the table drinking coffee and speaking about the day’s events.

Then Dex would usually go into his study, a retreat with a large-screen HDTV, surround sound, books everywhere and a shelf full of trophies. Among his numerous tennis and football trophies, the one Dex was most proud of was a four foot silver martial arts figure from his triumph in a tri-state black belt tournament. Dex believed every man needed his own cave or retreat, a place where he could unwind and think through his day and contemplate that which was to come. Amongst these outward trappings representing just an instance of personal achievements, he could discard them and focus on what was really important to him—family, friends and clients.

The books on his table next to his desk were a composite of his being. The Art of War by Sun Tzu, the Chinese general who wrote of war, and how to plan and plot overcoming an adversary, which Dex often read and reread, three books on philosophy, and law books on movie law, record contracts and sports law.

The study had an elaborate sound system that was used to listen to music client demos and, of course, the large HDTV.

Better think about that management contract and what I want it to convey, he muttered. Fifteen percent commission is plenty for that Sammy mountain man, and who would want to be tied to him anyway? Perhaps a one-year term and if he gets Val a good record deal with cash advances and a good royalty rate and nationwide distribution of her records, then he can have a two-year option to extend the contract. While I’m at it, I’ll exclude production costs while making the record from management commissions. He jotted notes for later inclusion. Oh yes, don’t give him any ownership of any writers or publishing shares in case she wrote songs. Many managers want to share in a percentage of songs written by their client but Dex tried to avoid doing so. He thought, If I gotta get involved then damn. I’m gonna do a good job for her, she’s my client, and the heck with Carpozzi.

He tried not to think about the thick, white envelope that had been placed on his desk and contained 50 hundred-dollar bills and where it came from.

Upstairs, he heard his wife walking toward the bedroom, and his thoughts turned to his beautiful Donna, then back to the notes for the management contract. Time enough for that later.

Jamie came in and slid next to his dad and asked, Whatcha doing? Without waiting for an answer, he showed Dex a picture of him with his teammates dressed in their hockey uniforms. Dex hugged Jamie and told him how proud he was of him making varsity in his freshman year of high school, and promised he would be at all the home games.

Study hard, ’cause college is important. A scholarship for hockey would be great, but there’s more to life than sports. You want to be a good person. Don’t forget, being respected by your buddies is also part of a man’s character. The test of a man is his character and keeping his word.

I got it, Dad. Love ya. Later, Jamie said as he bounced up the study steps. Dex noted a few more points on his yellow pad and his thoughts again turned to Donna as he turned off the lights and bounded upstairs.

The morning sun lit the bedroom and Dex stumbled to the bathroom for his daily stretching and balancing exercises. He challenged himself to see how long he could stand on one foot with his eyes closed. Twenty, thirty, yes thirty-five seconds. He was going to beat old man time. One of the health books he’s read said if a man could balance on one foot for 30 seconds with his eyes closed, he had the balance of a thirty-year-old in good health. Dex practiced every morning.

Donna and the kids were already eating breakfast and in conversation as Dex got his juice and black coffee, drank them and blew a kiss to the kids, hugged Donna and was out the door.

Morning, Mr. R. Here are your messages, and that man Sammy has called at least three times already. He sure isn’t polite on the phone. Nora, his office receptionist made a face as she handed him the last message.

Dex opened the door to his office, tossed his stuff on his desk then leaned back in his chair as the phone rang. Dex didn’t have to guess who it was.

Got your client Val in the car, and we’ll be at your office in 15 minutes.

Take her to breakfast and make it an hour and the contracts will be ready, but I need some time to speak to her alone.

Done.

It was 10:15 when Sammy called. At 11:20, Val appeared and by 11:45, Val had no questions left about the contract and asked for a pen. What a beauty, Dex thought, but what was driving her, and what was her rush to jump into this relationship and what was the real deal with Carpozzi?

Dex went out to the reception area and beckoned Sammy to come in to his office. Sammy signed without looking at the pages and motioned to Val to get up. She forced a smile, said thanks, and the two walked out as quickly as they appeared.

When Dex headed out of his office to talk to his receptionist, Don ‘the Bomber’ Carson who was rumored to be the next middleweight champion of the world was waiting in the reception area. He touched Dex’s extended fist with his, hugged him, and followed the familiar path to the office.

So champ, how’s it goin’ and you watching your weight?

Yes, sir. I am. How’s the fight negotiations going? Have they come up with a better purse offer? I can kill that bum. Don threw several imaginary punches and finished with a right uppercut as if knocking out his next opponent.

We’re at $475,000 but I can nudge it to $600,000 if you agree to let him fight at a couple of pounds more. Does it matter to you if you give away two pounds? Does that make him stronger?

I could kill that bum at any weight. Make the fight, can I come into the ring last, I got Dondi-Z to rap for my entrance music?

Twelve rounds where two guys who hit like bricks, slug it out till one is knocked senseless, and this dude is worried about who sings a rap tune? What a world, Dex thought. Let me go through the numbers for you, champ.

The purse is $600,000. Take off thirty-three and a third percent for your manager, another ten percent for your trainer, one percent for your cutman, taxes, and training camp expenses, and you end up with about $225,000, if you’re lucky.

What about your fee?

Deduct another $25,000.

Okay, make the deal, but only if you get me six weeks to train and get the promoter to cover training camp expenses out of his share, and tell him I need an advance of $75,000 to hold me over.

The future champ was no fool and that’s the way boxing deals are made. The Bomber smiled and started to leave, then he leaned back in the door and said, Need eight good ringside tickets and two others, not near the eight, for a certain friend and get two extra airline tickets and rooms for five. What about concession sales, are we getting any of that?

I’ll work the terms out, plus my two tickets and RFB from the casino, Dex said, referring to free room, food and beverages.

Dex thought a moment. Don, I know you’ll train hard. This is your big opportunity, so let me say this as a friend. I know you love women, if you keep your camp clean, you can beat this guy and the next fight is for a million plus and the title.

Don pumped his fist then hit his heart with a ‘V’ for victory sign.

Chapter Four

God, I love this place, Dex said out loud as he jumped from the limo and into the large lobby of the Las Vegas Hilton and straight to the VIP registration room, where he was handed a glass of champagne. His thoughts immediately turned to Don and how he had done without drink or woman during the tough