The Manager

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Ya Li. If Little Lowry doesn't agree—if he says no—then that's the end of it. You don't get to bother him anymore. Take that lousy song and do whatever you want with it!"

The next day, in the moving Toyota Eagle, Tony listened to the demo, took out the cassette, and casually tossed it back to Song Ya.

"Fine. At worst, I'll figure out how to release a single on my own."

That was the downside of letting Tony in on the plan first. Song Ya had meant for it to be a win-win, but now Tony saw him as an opportunist. Of course, saying he would release a single himself was just an angry outburst. In this era, trying to debut with a single alone meant taking a long, difficult road. To get strong support from DJs at all the big and small radio stations across the country, he needed connections, backing, or money—at least one of the three. And that was without even considering the need for exceptional music; the singer also had to be a master networker.

"Cool."

Silencer chimed in with a single word and parked outside an office building. The Chicago office of the Songwriters Association was inside.

"That's expensive..."

Song Ya grimaced at the rates on the parking meter beside the car, fed it a few coins, and couldn't help complaining, "I told you I could come by myself."

"Not a chance. I need to keep a close eye on you now."

As they entered the building, Tony glanced around and remarked, "It's so 'white' in here!"

He wasn't wrong. The prime districts downtown were almost entirely white territory. This was the real Chicago, a world-renowned center of academia, art, law, finance, commerce, journalism, and publishing—the birthplace of skyscrapers. Men and women in expensive suits and business attire hurried about, their pace of life belonging to a completely different world from the South Side.

As they reached the elevator, a young white woman waiting there saw the three of them and instinctively stepped several feet away. She switched her purse to the other shoulder, moving it from the side nearest them to the side farthest away.

"NAZI!" Tony muttered.

The elevator doors opened, and the three of them stepped inside. The woman stayed where she was, head down, pretending to stare at her toes as if there were a flower growing there.

Song Ya could feel Tony's anger about to boil over, so he hurriedly pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

"Look! We're already in the final decade of the twentieth century, and white people still act like this! They assassinated Dr. King, covered up Area 51..." Tony launched into another long rant about racial discrimination and white conspiracies.

Song Ya was used to it by now. Whenever Tony got like this, his brain automatically filtered out the sound of his voice. He had only one goal at the moment: to make the most of his cheat as quickly as possible and improve his life.

The filing process was simple: pay the fee, leave his name and contact information, and put the cassette and sheet music into the envelope provided by the Songwriters Guild. That was it. Song Ya checked the information Goodman had given him with the staff again, and it was all correct. The filing wasn't related to copyright, but if he ever had to go to court over song ownership, the filing date and contents would serve as powerful evidence and offer him solid protection.

"Looks like you're really serious about this..."

After watching Song Ya calmly go through the filing process from start to finish, Tony's suspicions had eased considerably.

"Obviously. I've almost spent all the money Aunt Susie gave me," Song Ya grumbled.

The three of them came out, and Silencer started the car and drove straight to the building where Little Lowry lived.

Though Little Lowry was into rap, he hadn't grown up in the projects. His high-rise apartment building was old, but it had all the usual amenities, including a secure entrance and a property manager.

They were let upstairs, where AK was already waiting at the door. After the usual round of Black greetings, he welcomed them inside.

The living room was large, with a classically styled rug on the floor.

Little Lowry was lounging halfway down the sofa, a guitar in his arms. He made no effort to hide his displeasure. "Hey, APLUS! Come on! Let's hear what you've got!" He beckoned to Song Ya, calling out in a teasing tone.

"Uh, all right."

Song Ya took the demo cassette and sheet music out of his bag. AK took them with a smile. "Have a seat." He pointed to the sofa, then turned and handed the sheet music to Little Lowry while putting the cassette into a dual-cassette player.

"Hey." Tony acted as if he couldn't sense the awkwardness in the room. He hurried over to sit beside Little Lowry, then held out his fist with a friendly smile. "Thanks for giving Ya Li a chance, brother."

Little Lowry smiled helplessly and bumped fists with him. He didn't say anything, just nodded toward the cassette player.

The kind of dual-cassette player he had was a favorite among Black people, who'd carry them on their shoulders to the basketball court or a party. After a burst of static came Song Ya's youthful singing. The Thrift Shop song was short; a little over three minutes later, it was over, leaving only the faint hiss of the tape spinning.

AK turned off the player.

Tony watched Little Lowry's face nervously.

Song Ya's attention, though, was fixed on someone else: Little Lowry's manager. He had come out of the back room just as the song began and was listening intently from a corner, arms folded across his chest. This was what Song Ya had asked Tony to make sure of. He'd promised Tony that if Little Lowry said no, he'd turn around and leave. In return, Little Lowry's manager had to be there. Little Lowry might not know that his new album was almost certain to fail, but the manager—the one who'd shouted, "We're finished!"—surely knew exactly what they were up against. A man his age wouldn't give away what he was thinking easily. He'd kept a straight face throughout, without cracking a smile.

"Hmm..."

Little Lowry thought it over carefully. He had the sheet music and had listened while following along. Given the circumstances, Song Ya's recording had no accompaniment, just the mechanical beat of a metronome in the background. Tony hadn't thought much of it after listening, but Little Lowry understood music and would surely recognize its potential.

"Drums and saxophone?" Little Lowry hadn't said no.

"Right." Song Ya secretly breathed a sigh of relief and pointed to the sheet music in Little Lowry's hand. "There are other instruments later on."

"I know, I know..."

Little Lowry muttered as he looked through the sheet music several times. "The lyrics are pretty interesting..." He tapped out the beat with his hand and hummed a couple of lines.

"Ya Li came up with this while browsing the Thrift Shop, on the day we shot our music video. Heh, this kid's got a knack for it." Tony explained on Song Ya's behalf. "What do you think? Pretty good, right?"

"It's very polished." Little Lowry raised an eyebrow at Song Ya.

"Really?"

Tony beamed. "I told you this kid had something. He's the lead trumpet player in our school band, and the teachers all love him. The equipment he used to record this song was borrowed from a teacher! He has really high hopes for the song, too. Guess what we were doing before we came here? We went to file... file what was it again?" He turned to Song Ya.

Bro, please shut up already... Song Ya lamented inwardly, but he had to answer. "File it."

"Right, right, file it!" Once Tony got going, he couldn't stop. "You have no idea. While we were waiting for the elevator, we ran into this white chick. When she saw us..." He mimicked the woman's awkward gesture of switching her purse to the other shoulder. "She acted like she'd seen a bunch of thieves..."

"Wow... filed it..."

Little Lowry smiled and handed the sheet music to AK, then leaned back again.

"Racism! That's racism! She's a NAZI! She sees a NGer and thinks of a thief..." Tony was still at it.

AK looked over the sheet music and said, "I don't think this song is right for you, Lowry..."

"Why?" Tony fell silent and stared at AK.

"Uh..."

AK hesitated for a long while before saying, "The song is mainly about shopping for secondhand clothes and stuff, right? Your image is all about being cool, handsome, young, and fashionable. If you sing so flamboyantly about the joys of buying used stuff... wouldn't that... wouldn't the young women... well... you get what I mean."

"Hey, AK, you..." Tony started to get mad at AK, but he didn't have much conviction. He turned to Little Lowry. "What do you think, Lowry?"

"Hmm..."

Little Lowry shrugged. "When it comes to professional matters like this, I trust AK's opinion."

"Okay... all right." Tony's eyes dimmed.

AK took the cassette out and handed it back to Song Ya along with the sheet music.

"Thanks." Song Ya smiled at him. He felt much more at ease than Tony did. There was nothing to say; it looked like he'd have to find another way.

"Uh... wait a minute."

The manager, who'd been silent all this time, suddenly spoke. "Ya Li, right?"

"That's right." Song Ya nodded.

"Tony said you play the trumpet, but your sheet music calls for saxophone and drums. Why don't you... why not replace the saxophone with the trumpet and play it for us? Right here. We have a trumpet, and as for the drums..." He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers at AK. "Go get the trumpet from the back room, and the djembe too."