Jake thought about that for a few seconds. "I wouldn't think it unreasonable to say they're selling about five hundred of them at every show."
"That sounds about right to me," agreed Matt.
"Okay," said Bill. "We'll plug in that figure then." He punched a few keys on his calculator. "That means for each show they're clearing $2100 in T-shirt sales. That's the net, remember. We did 126 shows on the Thrill tour. We did 110 on the Descent tour. $2100 times 236 shows is..." He pushed the buttons. "$495,600 in net T-shirt profit alone, none of which is shared with us in any way. Now the sweaters and the hats don't sell as well, but I think that a hundred apiece at each show is a conservative estimate, right?"
"Right," Jake agreed.
Bill punched up some more numbers on his calculator. "Assuming a hundred of each item times 236 total shows means they've generated $264,320 in hats and sweaters — give or take a few dollars because of uncertain variables."
"So basically, we're talking about almost three-quarters of a million or so in net merchandising profits," said Jake.
"I'm sure the grand total is closer to a million," said Bill. "Maybe even a little more. We just figured out the totals for T-shirts, hats, and sweaters. Don't forget, they sell dozens of other things with the Intemperance name on them. Lighters, stickers, baby-doll shirts, rolling papers, ashtrays, key-chains, pictures of us with our autographs copied on by a machine, fan club memberships. All of that stuff adds up to more revenue. And we also only did the concert sales. Don't forget, they're selling all this merchandise in malls and department stores across the country as well. I'm sure the profit margin is decreased in the mall sales but you can bet your protractor it's still significant, otherwise they wouldn't be doing it."
"So what's the bottom line here, Nerdly?" Matt asked. "How much money has National pulled in from us in total?"
"Well," he said, "as I told you, there are a number of variables that I just can't confirm, but I would think that somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty million dollars is about accurate."
"Twenty million dollars," said Matt, his eyes narrowing in anger.
"That's not fair," said Jake.
Bill and Matt both looked at him strangely.
"Well no fuckin' shit it's not fair," Matt said. "Now do you have anything constructive to say?"
"You don't understand," said Jake, "I mean it's not fair. We are not being treated fairly here." He looked at both of them. "I cannot condone being treated unfairly."
"So what's your solution then?" Matt asked. "Should we march in there and tell Crow and Doolittle that we don't like being treated unfairly and that they should change our contract around so they can give us a little bigger cut of that twenty fucking million they've made off of us?"
"We're locked into this contract for four more albums, guys," Jake said. "Do you know what that means? If things keep going at this rate, we'll be about five million in the hole and National will have made more than a hundred million." He shook his head angrily as that worked its way around his brain. "A hundred million dollars," he said. "I refuse to go along with that. I refuse! It's unacceptable."
Matt groaned in frustration. "But it's the reality we're faced with now, isn't it?"
"Reality can be changed," said Jake. "I think its time we tried to change it."
"How?" asked Bill. "We've signed a contract. We don't have a leg to stand on."
"A hundred million dollars is a lot of money," Jake said. "National won't want to risk losing that."
"What are you saying?" Matt asked.
"I've had an idea I've been tossing around for awhile," Jake said. "I think the time has come to start firming it up a little, to start thinking about putting it into motion."
"What's the idea?" asked Matt.
"It's kind of drastic," Jake said. "But if it works, we'll have ourselves a new contract, one where the terms will guarantee some positive cash flow for us, the band members, and will put a little bit of the control of our destiny back in our hands."
"What is it?" asked Bill.
"National will not want to jeopardize the future revenue stream that Intemperance will give them."
"And how will we jeopardize it?"
"Simply by the possibility of them losing it," Jake said.
Matt grunted. "Speak, Jake. Fucking speak. Quit talking in mysterious Zen Buddha language here and get to the point."
"It's simple," Jake said. "National caves to us every time we demand something that we really want and threaten to do something that will hamper production of their albums or their tour or anything else that generates revenue for them. They caved when you took a stand on playing your Strat instead of a Brogan. They caved when we refused to perform those hacker songs. They caved when we refused to do their little choreography moves on the Thrill tour. In each case they could have pushed the issue and possibly come out the winner — especially with your Strat and with the hacker tunes — but they didn't. And do you know why they didn't?"
"Because they'd lose money doing it," said Bill. "They would've been able to get a breach of contract ruling against us with the hacker tunes but they knew they would end up losing money."
"Right," said Jake. "They don't care about losing face, about being humiliated, about revenge, about making a point. All they care about is the bottom line. They will try to intimidate us, threaten us, manipulate us, and do a thousand other things to control what we do so they can produce more revenue out of us, but when push comes to shove, they always take the option that makes the most money for them. Always."
"That's true," agreed Matt. "But I don't see how that's going to help us here. What exactly is the plan?"
Jake looked at them both, his expression deadly serious. "The plan," he said, "is for us to cross the line."
Neither Bill nor Matt responded at first. They both knew the concept of his song and they both knew exactly what he meant. He wanted to go on strike, to cease all song composition and recording activities until National agreed to re-negotiate their contract.
"I don't know, Jake," Matt said. "You're talking about a blatant violation of our contract here."
"We really wouldn't have a leg to stand on if they decided to take legal action against us," said Bill.
"I don't think they'll take legal action though," Jake said. "They'll threaten it, and they'll bluster and they'll have us meet with their lawyers and they'll do everything else in their power to get us to cave in to them, but if we stand firm on this — if we stand really firm and united — they'll eventually get around to concluding that they would make more money by doing what we want then they would by filing a breach of contract suit and ruining us. Remember, all they care about is money, not saving face or making an example."
"We'd be gambling everything, Jake," Matt said. "Literally everything."
Jake nodded. "That's what crossing the line is all about, isn't it?"
Matt and Bill were clearly not keen on this idea at all. Jake could tell by the looks they were passing back and forth. He himself had already decided on the matter. He was not going to produce another album for National under their current contract. They were being treated unfairly and he was not going to tolerate it not matter what his fellow core members decided to do. If they wanted to keep working on this album under their current terms, they would have to do it without him. But he didn't want to tell Bill and Matt that unless he had to. It would be much easier if he could convince them to go along with this daring scheme of their own volition.