The Price

Song Ya knew full well that it wasn't so much that Pablo had been blown away as that the song had only truly been unveiled once Old Joe took over the chorus.

In other words, it wasn't that "Thrift Shop" suited Old Joe. Rather, his unique clothes and voice had helped Song Ya grasp what people called his "revelation." Old Joe was the cause, "Thrift Shop" the effect. In this world, he was the person best suited to sing the chorus. Little Lowry's rap, by contrast, still fell far short of the original. So the moment Old Joe started singing, the song's real flavor came through.

But it was his first time working on it, and Old Joe was getting on in years. He still ran into plenty of trouble with the more complicated lyrics in the second half. When he finished, he spread his arms in a gesture asking for feedback. Song Ya immediately gave him two thumbs up through the glass, buttering him up. Old Joe clearly appreciated it and bowed with a flourish.

"I'm done for. I'm exhausted. I need a drink and a rest." Old Morgan pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his sweat as he left the recording booth.

"Hey!"

Old Joe had only just gotten into the groove. There was no way he was going to let that slide. He followed after him. "Don't kill the mood, old man. I'm not even warmed up yet!"

"Why don't you practice the lyrics first? Did you bite your tongue just now?"

Old Morgan wasn't about to lose the verbal sparring match. He opened a little liquor cabinet beside the sofa with practiced ease, reaching inside to rummage around until he finally fished out a bottle of Chivas. He poured himself a small glass, tossed it back, then let out a satisfied sigh and slumped onto the sofa. "You should stock your liquor cabinet, Old Joe..."

"Shut your mouth and drink your piss!"

Old Joe was getting annoyed. "I haven't made a profit here in ages..."

Pablo gave a slight cough.

Just then, Eric came in, with Tony right behind him, laughing as he shouted, "That chick dumped him!" Then he pointed at one side of Eric's face. "Look at that!" A pale five-fingered mark stood out on his cheek.

Eric couldn't be bothered with him. He silently walked over to the mixing console, sat down, put on his headphones, and shut himself off from the world.

"The pizza's here." AK's voice came from outside.

"Let's all grab something to eat and take a break." Pablo gave Old Joe a look, then pointed at Song Ya. "You, come with me."

He led Song Ya outside, pulled a pizza box from the stack, and brushed aside the change "Silencer" handed him. "Keep it, you idiot." He walked down the hallway as if he knew it by heart and opened the door to the office at the very end.

"Sit."

He set the pizza on the desk, pointed to the chair opposite it, then sat down beside it himself.

Once Song Ya had sat down, Pablo said, "Let's skip the small talk." He asked bluntly, "What are you planning to do?"

"Uh..."

Song Ya tensed up. "I'm not sure what you mean... What exactly are you asking about?"

"Copyright, lyrics, a management contract... Everything." Pablo took out a cigarette holder and loaded it. "This song's good. No... it's really good. I have high hopes for you. All you're missing now is someone to bring you into the business."

"Yes."

Song Ya felt like Pablo had been leading him around by the nose the whole time. In the car, he'd said they needed to settle the lyrics issue first. So why was he skipping over that now and hinting at a management contract instead?

"But didn't you say we had to settle the lyrics copyright issue first?" Song Ya decided to play dumb.

"Of course. Then let's talk about that first."

Pablo gestured with his hand. "You don't know this business. You might hear this and think I'm being overbearing. But I'm telling you, this is absolutely necessary. Little Lowry has to be listed as one of the lyricists, or he'll never be able to make it in this business. It's the same with any rapper. The bar to get into this business is low, and if anyone catches you out, countless nobodies will try to make a name for themselves by dissing you. Radio DJs love a feud like that, too. It draws listeners. Here's what I can do: I'll pay you a buyout fee on Little Lowry's behalf. You can name your price."

After saying this, he got up and went to the window. He lit a cigarette and began to smoke slowly.

How the hell am I supposed to know what a fair price is? Song Ya cursed inwardly.

He was actually asking a rookie to name a price. Watching Pablo's back, Song Ya grew increasingly wary of him. "Uh... Could I consult a lawyer first?"

"Damn it!"

Pablo swore. "The fewer people who know about this, the safer it is. You understand, NGer?" He turned and walked closer, looking down into Song Ya's eyes. "I've already explained this twice. Don't make me say it a third time."

It seemed like some kind of pressure tactic. The old Alexander Song might have fallen for it, but Song Ya was much stronger now, and he knew how to soften his stance without giving in. "As far as I know, lawyers are much better than us NGers at keeping things confidential."

Pablo's gaze turned cold.

"They... they have that thing... what's it called... attorney-client privilege..." Song Ya could tell Pablo had genuinely changed his expression this time, and he started to feel nervous. People like Pablo, who thrived in the Black neighborhood, usually had some gang connections. Add in his Mexican roots... Latin American gangs were even more ruthless.

In the Black neighborhood, a death or two was no big deal.

Should I just back down? I need to be alive to spend the money...

"I wear your granddad's clothes, I look incredible..."

Thank God. Just as Song Ya was caught in an inner struggle, Old Joe came swaying in, humming as he went.

"Why aren't you eating pizza?" He took off his pink suit and hung it on the coat rack, opened the pizza box, and grabbed a slice. He bit into it while keeping his eyes on the sheet music in his other hand. "Hey, APLUS, what did you think of my performance just now? Give me some feedback," he asked.

"Uh..."

Song Ya glanced at Pablo, who had sat back down, then closed his eyes and recalled the original song in his mind. "I think you could make it a little more playful."

"Playful? What do you mean?"

"I mean... um..." Song Ya stood up and imitated the bit in the music video, gripping his suit lapels with both hands and giving them a little shake as he performed. "Something like this."

"I get it, I get it..."

Old Joe finished the pizza in a few bites and started singing again. From time to time, he stopped to discuss it with Song Ya, completely absorbed in it.

Pablo glanced at Song Ya. Song Ya gave him an innocent look in return.

"Joe."

After waiting a while, Pablo finally couldn't hold back and interrupted Old Joe. He explained the disagreement between them, then asked, "What do you think?"

"Hmm..." Old Joe sat down behind the desk and thought for a moment. Then he said to Song Ya, "Find a lawyer you trust, okay?"

"Oh, my God!" Pablo stood up and clutched his head in disbelief. "This kid's got you on his side!?"

"Can we not make this more complicated than it needs to be?" Old Joe replied. "I've already placed the order with the tape factory. I only held back the master because you said we should add another song. We can't keep delaying. We need to finish recording the master and send it to the factory as soon as possible, or I can't afford the penalty for breaking the contract."

"You didn't have to say all that in front of APLUS. We haven't reached any agreement with him yet..." Pablo didn't even care that Song Ya was there anymore. He yelled at Old Joe, "What you just said will put us at a disadvantage in front of his lawyer!"

"I don't care."

Old Joe spread his hands. "I don't care anymore. I've supported Little Lowry and Al, who are both under your wing, for two years. I've run out of patience. I just want to put an end to all this as soon as possible. Are they going to make it or not? It's time to turn over the cards. Understand?"

"FXXX!"

Pablo was so furious that he slammed the door on his way out.

"Forget him. Where were we? What else did I need to work on besides making it more playful?"

"Uh... Could you work on reducing the aspiration a little more?"

"Sure, sure, no problem... I'm a professional. I've been a star before, so don't underestimate me. Just remind me to pay more attention to it when the time comes..."

"All right."

"What else? What other parts should I watch out for..."