Charttoppers - 2. Video Not Loading

It was only nine in the morning, but Ash had been in the studio for hours. He woke up that morning before the crack of dawn, wanting to get in some practice on his electric guitar – a very generous gift from Cliff Sanders, the CEO of Pinnacle Records.

A savvy but eccentric businessman, Sanders rose through the ranks in the record label from the position of assistant manager for sales and advertising to executive officer in just three short years. His ambition and fearlessness had rarely steered him wrong and he could even be said to love taking risks – the bigger the better. That always made his successes that much sweeter.

One of such risks was when he signed a young Korean prodigy who wanted to leave his boyband and pursue a solo career. Ash Khong had the drive, the looks, the talent and wanted to make music his own way. Sanders was quick to sign him up – whether because he truly believed in him or because he was afraid some other label would snatch him right under his nose, and he could not let that happen!

His gamble paid off big time, as Ash’s first album On My Way topped the charts around the globe and spawned three hit singles that were still receiving airplay. After that great success, Sanders decided to shower Ash and the entire top management at Pinnacle Records with lavish gifts - jewelry, technology and expensive dinners. Of course, he also treated himself with a brand new Mercedes-Benz. In fact, it was a well-known thing at the label that the CEO spared no expenses when it came to gifts, parties and other perks for his top employees, artists and especially himself. Many who worked there wondered how the company was still profitable, but no one dared question his methods. The few who did, got to know his bad side and promptly realized they would be better off to keep quiet or they would have to look for a new job.

Now, the young Korean singer was reaping the benefits of his extravagant CEO’s generosity and practicing his new songs with the live band that would accompany him on tour. He had spent much of his break between albums taking guitar lessons as he wanted to be more involved in the creation of his music and actually be able to play an instrument. As a member of 2Good, his only contributions were singing and dancing and only writing the occasional lyric. However, as a solo artist, Ash strived to have a hand in the creation of all of his songs and write about things that matter to him and that he can relate to. He also wanted to have live instrumentation on his concerts, so he hired a band and learned how to play the guitar, which he intended to bust out during a few of the tracks from his upcoming album.

It was a big day for the Korean, as his music video for Off The Rails was supposed to be finished. Ash was expecting to get the final version some time during the day, while the official release would be on Friday – which was in just three days. The song was already number six on the Elite 100, the biggest and most relevant chart in the country, and the music video would likely be enough to give it the boost to crack the top five or maybe even claim the top spot in the coming weeks. Even though Ash never cared much about the charts, he knew that his fans did, as they would always tweet him to congratulate him and brag about his accomplishments and records.

When he entered the lounge area some twenty minutes later, Ash’s six dancers were sitting at a table, chatting and eating Chinese food. Marcus was the first to spot him and his lips instantly spread into a smile.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” he greeted his boyfriend, but had to restrain himself from wrapping him up in a hug or kissing him, as much as he wanted to do all that and more. He never doubted that the other dancers would be fine with them as a couple, but rules were rules and NDAs were NDAs. If he broke it, he would not only lose his job, but also likely put Ash’s career into jeopardy.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” the singer asked as he approached their table.

“Just finished our practice,” Mia, one of the dancers, said. “Come join us!”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Ash pulled up a chair and sat between Marcus and Diana, a tall, skinny girl who looked like she survived on photosynthesis. He promptly helped himself to some honey chicken – after all that practice, he was starving!

“Now that you’re here, you gotta play with us,” Diana said, turning to Ash. He raised his eyebrows, curious to see what game they were doing.

“Sure, what are you playing?”

“Truth or fire,” Mia said, pushing a dish full of mapo tofu toward the center of the table.

“Fire? Do I even wanna know?” the singer chuckled, eyeing the brown ceramic dish.

“It’s simple: we ask each other questions and we have to answer truthfully. If you refuse, you take some mapo tofu, and it’s spicy as hell!” Marcus explained with a wicked smile.

“You seriously think that’s gonna stop me? I’ve got an armored mouth, so bring it on,” Ash cracked his knuckles and rolled his sleeves, looking around as if challenging anyone to go first.

“Ok, I’ll start… with you, Ash,” Rory, one of the male dancers, said. “Who was your least favorite ex-band member?”

While the others snickered, Ash rolled his eyes, thinking whether to answer or take the punishment. Being his first question, he did not want to give up so easily, so he decided to talk.

“Wow, right for the hard-hitting questions, huh? Ok, if I have to choose… I’m gonna say Jin, but only because he’d always eat my food!”

“Can we quote you on that?” Rory asked, sipping on his icy cold soda.

“Oh, absolutely, knock yourself out!” Ash shrugged, thinking of his time in the band. There was no bad blood between him and his ex bandmates, but they were certainly no best friends. Ever since he left the group, they barely kept in touch with him and he never really tried to stay in their lives either. Still, he would think of them from time to time and reminisce about everything they went through. He just couldn’t help it even though he didn’t quite consider himself an emotional person.

“Hello, Earth to Ash, are you with us?” Marcus waved a hand in front of his face, jolting him out of his reverie.

“What? Oh, yeah,” the Korean blinked, looking at his dancers. There was no use in thinking about his old band. They had a fun few years, but they always knew it would not last long, right? All bands have an expiration date, especially manufactured boybands like theirs. Now, his solo career was going strong and he would make the most of it for as long as he could.

“Ok, my turn. Let’s see, who do I ask?… Mia!”

“I’m ready!” the hot brunette almost jumped out of her seat, as if she was dying to be called out.

“Ok, what’s the weirdest dream you ever had about one of us?” Ash gave her a smirk as the others whooped and cackled.

After a few moments of hesitation, Mia reached out for the bowl and took a piece of the mapo tofu, quickly chewing it and swallowing while fighting the tears that had already threatened to spill.

“Shit, shit! I need water!” she fanned herself and took a glass of water from Rory, sitting next to her, nearly downing all of it in one gulp.

“Now I really wanna know what kind of dreams you had!” Diana said.

“Ok, Marcus, brace yourself,” Mia said after recovering from the spicy food she swallowed. “Who’s your biggest celebrity crush?”

Playing it cool, Ash smiled and glanced at Marcus, anxious to see if he would give himself away. For a moment, the dancer hesitated and Ash could have sworn Marcus was blushing. Still, he sat silently, waiting for his boyfriend’s response.

Finally, Marcus popped a piece of tofu into his mouth and quickly swallowed, following it up with a big gulp of lemonade.

“Umm yeah, I don’t want you guys exposing me on Twitter,” he smirked. “You can’t know all of my secrets.”

The game continued for a few more minutes until the door opened and Lauren came in, her eyes focused on the laptop in her left hand, as she was scrolling with her right. It was only when she reached their table that she put the device down and took notice of them.

“Oh, hello! How’s everyone doing today?” the publicist asked, fixing her thin glasses on her nose.

“Not bad! How are you, Lauren?” Rory asked back.

“Great. My in-laws are finally gone, my new babysitter is actually useful and my car’s been fixed. And if I’ve just jinxed all of it, I’m blaming you,” she replied, pointing a well-manicured finger at the confused Rory. “Anyways, Ash, the director just called me, he’s finished the video. Shall we take a look before we talk promo?”

“Hell yeah!” the singer exclaimed in excitement, eager to see the final result. He had spent two days shooting the video with his dancers and band at three locations, with no expenses spared. Off The Rails was the first single off his new album, so it had to have a memorable video that the audience and especially his fans would love.

As everyone gathered on the corner sofa in front of the big flatscreen TV on the wall, Lauren found the video file and pressed play.

The music started blasting through the speakers and everyone quickly began bopping their heads and humming the song, smiles on their faces as they watched the video. Everyone, that is, except Ash.

After the first two minutes had passed, his face fell as he realized the shots of him playing the guitar along with his live band had been cut to under twenty seconds. Instead, most of the video was filled with scenes of him and the dancers doing choreography and random beauty shots of him posing and walking.

Ash watched the rest of the clip in silence, but as soon as it was over, he was the first to get up, ignoring the applause and cheers from his dancers.

“What the hell was that?!”

“What’s the matter?” Lauren asked, confused at seeing Ash so upset all of a sudden.

Marcus quickly stood next to his boyfriend, wanting to console him somehow. He, of course, had a pretty good idea what the problem was – he knew Ash was ecstatic to start the new era by showing off his new skills. The Korean wanted to prove he was a proper musician, not a label puppet.

“What’s the matter?” Ash repeated his publicist’s question, feeling anger boiling inside him. “The video is nothing like what the director and I talked about! He cut almost all of the scenes of the band and I playing. For fuck’s sake, the instrumental part showed barely three seconds of Gabriel and I on the instruments!”

“To be fair, it’s still a really good video,” Lauren tried to appease him. “I’m sure that the fans-“

“That’s not the point,” Ash cut her off, taking the remote and replaying the video, fast forwarding through it while staring at the screen with a frown on his face.

“Maybe you should call the director or your manager?” Marcus suggested.

“Oh, I’m gonna!” the singer was quick to reply, pausing the video on an intense choreo scene with him and the dancers at the top of a building against the backdrop of city lights. “At least the dancing parts look amazing,” he sighed.

“They do,” Mia confirmed. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to.”

“It’s not your fault, but thanks,” Ash pulled his phone out of his pocket, ready to call his manager.

“Who are you calling? Paul?” Lauren asked, worryingly eyeing her client. She knew he was young and even though he had a few years under his belt, he still had much to learn about how showbiz functions. She was there to represent him in the media and manage his public relations, and so far her job had been relatively easy. However, the woman was perfectly aware of how stubborn Ash could be, which was not always a good quality in his line of business.

The singer just nodded in response as he held the phone against his ear, waiting for his manager to pick up.

“Ash, what’s up?” the voice on the other side of the line answered.

“Hey, Paul. I just saw the video,” Ash got straight to the point. “What the hell was that? Did you know about this?”

Paul Raines, who worked with a few other up-and-coming young stars, was Ash’s manager from the start of the singer’s solo career. It was he who helped the Korean land the record deal in the first place. He had been in the business for nearly two decades and knew very well how things worked – something that the young singer was yet to learn.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you, kid,” the older man sighed. “The order came from the top and there was little I could do about it. It was all very last minute, too.”

“You mean Sanders?” Ash asked, the annoying, smug face of the Pinnacle Records CEO in his mind.

“Yeah. He thinks you’re changing your image too quickly and doesn’t want to risk alienating your fanbase.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit. Have you seen the reactions to Off The Rails? Fans love it,” Ash countered. “It’s not like I went heavy metal or something.”

“I know that, but you know what Sanders is like. He thinks if people see you with this new image, the guitar, the pop-rock sound, they’re going to think you’ve betrayed them. And when he gets something stuck in his head, you can’t change his mind. He thinks he’s always right… at least for now,” the manager tried to reason with his young client. “Look, just give it some time. Once he sees your sales and streaming aren’t suffering and your music is doing well, he’ll realize it doesn’t matter if you change things up a bit. You can’t convince him that he’s wrong, he has to see it for himself. Ok?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ash groaned, knowing the answer would be no. “Alright, we’ll do it his way for now. But the tour is going forward as planned, live band and everything.”

“Of course. Just keep practicing and you’re golden,” Paul replied, relieved the fire had been put out for now.

“You know I will. And Paul, set me up a meeting with Sanders as soon as you can. I wanna talk to that rat,” Ash made his final request before hanging up.

~~

The fog machine was working overtime, covering the entire floor of the lavishly furnished room with thick mist. Two grand, elaborate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, while dim purple lights created a mysterious, sexy atmosphere.

Dressed in a white ruffle shirt and tight, dark gray pants, Samson lay on the plum-colored sofa in the center of the room as if sleeping. As the first beats of his new song Clouds started playing, he opened his eyeliner-framed eyes and slowly got up, seductively moving to the beat. One by one, his backup dancers emerged from behind the sofa, coming to stand behind him before breaking into their well-practiced choreography. The singer and his group of eight dancers all moved as one, executing the moves fluidly.

They continued this way until the second chorus ended, when the beat stopped and they all dropped down on the floor, completely swallowed by fog.

“Cut!” the director yelled and the cameras stopped rolling. “That was excellent!”

“Nice! Great job, girls and boys,” Samson purred as he got up.

“Alright, we cut the scene here and then you’ll move back there, Samson, and stand in front of the green screen,” the director instructed after the dancers moved away.

“Got it. Then I do the next dance sequence alone, the audience falls into a trance and we’ve got a hit on our hands?” the singer said, winking cheekily at the young video director who went by the name of Destiny.

“We can only hope so,” the man replied, chuckling. “Then we wrap up the scene in this room and move over to the pool.”

“Sounds great to me,” Samson clapped his hands in excitement.

Shooting music videos was one of his favorite parts of being a pop star. He got to dress up and play different roles, dance and perform to his music. It was a very fulfilling experience. If he could, he would do a video for each song on his album, but unfortunately, they were rather expensive to make and he was a perfectionist. He wouldn’t settle for just any low-budget clip with one location and basic outfits. No, his videos had to tell a story, look esthetically pleasing and be entertaining. However, since his first album didn’t reach the success his label had hoped, his budget wasn’t quite as big this time around. He would likely only have enough money for one or two proper videos, unless he managed to land a big sponsorship deal.

Even though his debut was popular with his small fanbase, the critical reception to it was not the greatest. It received a score of sixty-six out of one hundred, which was considered just above average. Although Samson tried to laugh it off and say he didn’t care about it, he was actually deeply upset. Some of the biggest criticisms were that his voice was just not strong enough and that the tracks didn’t have much artistic value. ‘Generic’ and ‘mindless pop’ were the words some critics used to describe his songs.

For an ambitious and driven person such as Samson, that would simply not do. With his upcoming album, he wanted to show a different side of himself and prove that he could sing. His new single Clouds, a powerful, upbeat song, was supposed to prove just that.

As he moved to the other part of the room to prepare for the next scene, Anna was there in a matter of seconds to fix his hair – which had gotten just a little messed up after his choreographed fall to the floor.

“There, now it’s flawless,” Anna stepped back to take a better look after she was done.

“Not that I don’t believe you, but let me see it for myself,” the singer smiled at her, holding out a hand. “Where’s my mirror?”

“Oh, it’s over there, Jeanette has it,” his friend said, pointing to one of the dancers.

“Jeanette, honey, when’s your birthday?” Samson asked as he went over to her, waiting for her to finish fixing her long, blond bangs.

“December fifth, why?” the girl replied, seemingly confused.

“So I can buy you a mirror of your own.”

“Oh, this is yours?! Sorry, no one was using it so I just borrowed it,” the dancer apologized and immediately handed it back to him.

“Hey, don’t worry, sweetie. I was just joking… Mostly,” Samson cocked his head to the side, but a friendly smile was still on his face, showing that there were no hard feelings. “But I do need it now, so thank you,” he added, proceeding to check his hair while humming the tune of his song.

“Ok, places everyone! Scene three, take one!” the director called out once everyone was in their positions, ready to continue the shoot.

Samson performed the choreography with ease, as he had learned it by heart. It was something he was always good at, ever since he started dancing to music in his bedroom as a little kid, later becoming a teenager who copied all the moves of his favorite pop singers and groups. He would always make sure to arrange the furniture in his room in such a way to leave enough space for his ‘performances’ in front of imaginary audiences who would adore and cheer him on, singing along with him to every word of his songs. Who knew that this big dream would actually become a reality?

It wasn’t long before the scene was done and the singer and his crew moved outside to shoot the next scene, which would take place by a pool. After the camera crew set everything up and Samson and the dancers changed into different outfits, it was time to continue the shooting.

The label requested that he keep his provocative image, which involved showing some skin here and there. Samson did not object to it. Wearing only short swimming trunks, the singer stood as Anna sprayed him with oil, making his tanned body glisten in the summer sun. Almost jumping on his toes, he could barely stand still from the excitement! In less than three weeks, his new song and video would be out for the world to see. The start of a new era!

“Honey, try to stand still,” Anna said. “Nervous or excited?”

“Umm, a little bit of both! I can’t wait for my fans to hear what I’ve been working on, but then, what if they don’t like it? Sophomore slump is a real thing, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, not for you. Your album is gonna do great, ok?” the girl was adamant. Even though Samson projected the image of confidence, she knew he could be insecure just like anyone else. “And you know how I know that? Because I’ve already heard it and I know it slaps!”

“Thanks, honey,” Samson smiled at her. “Even though you’re obligated to say that because you’re my friend and I’d fire you otherwise.”

“Sure, sis. We both know you wouldn’t survive a week without me,” Anna gave him a little slap on the ass and he jumped away, grinning.

“Guess we better not test that theory!”

After Destiny called everyone to assume their positions, Samson approached the pool, along with the rest of his dancers. However, neither of them noticed that someone was missing.

“Ok, people, let’s continue. Samson, you’ll lie down on that lounge chair and-“

“Sorry, sorry! I had to run to the bathroom,” Mikaela, one of the dancers, was running late, looking all flustered and nervous. She quickly ran over to the rest of the group, interrupting the director.

“Is EVERYONE here now?” Destiny asked, irritated. As people looked around and nodded affirmatively, he resumed with his instructions and the shooting continued late into the day.

That Monday morning found Samson getting up later than usual as his schedule was quite empty that day – he had no obligations other than his regular dance practice and a visit to a recording studio for another round of vocal lessons.

It was nearly eleven when the singer got out of bed. After taking a shower and getting dressed into his favorite salmon-colored sweatpants and a white t-shirt, he moved to the kitchen and fixed some breakfast: fried eggs, French toast, coconut-flavored cappuccino and some fruit.

His meal was interrupted, though, by the doorbell. Hank Silverton, Samson’s publicist, stood in the hall as the singer opened the door. The short, slim man furiously tapped on his smartphone as if engaged in the most intense online bidding war where every second mattered.

“Hank, what’s up? You usually call, is everything ok?” Samson asked, waiting to be noticed.

“Sam, sorry! Hi! Can I come in?” Hank babbled, finally looking up at his client and stepping inside, trying to figure out how to break the news.

“Sure. What’s going on? Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thanks, but I think you’ll need one. Look, I’m afraid we, uh, we have a bit of a situation,” the publicist said, running his fingers through his strawberry blond hair. It fell back perfectly into place and Samson made a mental note to ask him about his hair care routine. “Someone leaked a snippet of your song.”

“What?! You mean Clouds?” Samson exclaimed, his voice going high and his dark eyes widening.

“Yeah,” Hank nodded. Even the serious frown couldn’t make his face any less attractive. “It’s just ten seconds, though. A part of the chorus. Take a look.”

As the man offered his phone, Samson quickly grabbed it and looked at the Twitter page that was open. An anonymous account with no profile picture or info had just a single tweet with a short video embedded.

<If this gets 400,000 likes I’ll leak the whole song. HQ. #samsonflynn #clouds>

“Are you fucking kidding me…”

Feeling a hole opening up in his stomach, the singer pressed ‘play’ only to hear the familiar song he was preparing to release. It was a low-quality clip, likely recorded on someone’s phone, but his voice was still recognizable.

What was even worse was that the tweet was posted two hours ago and already had over 30,000 likes and about 400 comments. Samson scrolled through them, and even though some users urged the person not to leak anything, there were a lot of people hungry for his new music, begging the poster to post the full song.

“How did they even get their hands on it? Who could’ve done this?” he wondered aloud, his mind racing. If the song leaks, he’ll be forced to release it days before the plan, which would throw a wrench into his entire promo schedule.

“At this point, it’s anyone’s guess,” Hank shrugged. “Could be one of the producers, someone from the label, the dancers, the video crew. Anyone who had access to it may have played it to a friend, a family member...”

“Well, whoever it is, they can go fuck themselves! Did you contact Twitter, tell them to ban their ass?!”

“Of course, first thing I did,” the publicist nodded.

“Ugh, let me check my phone,” Samson groaned in frustration, finding his phone and unlocking it. The one day he decided to let himself sleep in!

Sure enough, his social media was flooded with notifications from fans asking about the leak, the new song and when he would release it.

“Should I tweet something? What do I even say?” he lay on the couch, unable to think clearly. All of his meticulous planning could be in vain because of one attention seeker!

“I think the best thing is to be cool about it,” Hank advised. “Just play it off. Tell your fans that you appreciate their interest in your music and that you’re just as eager as them to release it. Something like that. Acknowledge it without actually acknowledging it.”

“And you really think that’ll work? It won’t sound cringy?”

“Not at all. You’ll show that you’re not bothered and that you have an army of loyal fans thirsty for more Samson,” Hank said, a playful smile on his lips. “Put a positive spin on it.”

“Ok then, here we go,” the singer typed out a tweet, hesitating before posting.

<Stansons, I’m so glad you’re all excited for my new stuff! I’m keen as a bean for you to all hear it! Very soon, I promise! Luv ya all! xoxo>

Once the tweet was out, Samson looked at it, a finger hovering over the delete button. A moment later, he instead simply locked his phone and put it aside. There was nothing else he could do at that moment other than wait to see if the blasted tweet would be deleted… or reach 400,000 likes.