The Following Week

Song Ya could understand the motivation behind Al being so "stubborn," but he truly couldn't agree with it. What was a little grievance? Working with people you don't like is a common social phenomenon, and the United States is no different. Such a large sum of money is right in front of you; if you don't go earn it, someone else will. In the end, you'd only be benefiting people you hate like Pablo, and the beneficiaries would probably count their money while laughing at you for being an idiot. Can't you even grasp this simple logic?

However, he didn't want to persuade him anymore. If he managed to convince Al, and one day Al lost control and actually started shooting people, brother Tony would still be a lackey... oh no, a partner to Little Lowry.

Safety first.

In the second week, after passing the phase of mindless hype for the money, the DJs at Chicago radio stations began to objectively and calmly analyze the song Thrift Shop. As expected, the ratings dropped a little, but overall, they remained very high. Supermarkets, restaurants, and other businesses gradually added the song to their background music playlists, and the familiar melody could be heard from time to time in students' Walkmans. Especially in thrift stores large and small, they loved the song to death and directly turned on an infinite brainwashing loop mode.

In the state of Illinois alone, the first batch of seven thousand cassettes sold out in about ten days, and a subsequent ten thousand cassettes had been restocked and put on the market.

Joe and Pablo were greatly encouraged and shifted the focus of their next step in promotion directly to the Northeast... the Greater New York area, the heart of the American music industry. They planned to run through the five major cities of New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore, and Washington in six days, pushing the Lowry II album into the Billboard TOP 200, which is the upper echelon of the weekly album sales chart.

Song Ya felt that "his" song was on the eve of taking off.

However, reality is cruel.

On Friday night, Tony called; they had hit a brick wall this time.

At their first stop, they were lost in the endless ocean of media in New York. Two radio interviews and one small-scale performance didn't even stir up a ripple.

In Philadelphia, Joe was mocked and ridiculed in public by the famous DJ Philby during an exclusive interview. Because Philby's words were too mean, the two sides almost had a physical altercation outside the broadcast room.

In Baltimore, Little Lowry was interrupted by an unknown rapper during a nightclub performance. Young and hot-headed, he agreed to the other party's request for an impromptu battle, only to be left speechless after a few rounds.

"On stage?"

"Right on stage. Little Lowry was holding the microphone, his mouth was moving, but not a sound came out. I felt like tears were welling up in his eyes, and he was already trembling. I was ready to rush up and knock that guy out with one punch, but Pablo held me back."

From Tony's description on the phone, Song Ya put himself in Little Lowry's shoes to feel the embarrassment at that moment. Emmmm... he had goosebumps all over.

That wasn't all. There were also problems within the promotional team. Joe and Pablo had several fierce arguments, and Little Lowry, dissatisfied with Old Morgan's lack of stamina dragging down the whole team's progress, declared, "It's either him or me."

"Don't blame them; they're just too tired. We catch up on sleep on the plane, and as soon as we land, we have to rush to the next gig. It's non-stop. We have to time our meals and bathroom breaks. In this state, everyone is in a bad mood and ready to snap. Joe's promotional strategy is flawed. Maybe we shouldn't have gone to New York first, and the schedule shouldn't have been so tight... well... that's what Pablo said." Tony looked for excuses. "Don't arrange anything for Sunday; they want to have a meeting with you."

"Fine..." What else could Song Ya say? They were all in the same boat.

On Sunday, Song Ya called his agent Hayden and went to Joe Music together.

However, the atmosphere at Joe Music today was a bit off. Two unfamiliar Black men stood outside the door; one was observing the surroundings very vigilantly, while the other was responsible for searching Song Ya and Hayden, and he searched them very thoroughly. There were also many more vehicles parked in front of the underground nightclub across the street.

"This job..." After entering, Hayden seemed to start regretting taking on Song Ya as a client.

"It's fine. Even gangs have to be reasonable," Song Ya could only comfort him like this.

Joe's office was packed with people. Behind the boss's desk, a Black bigwig around thirty years old, with a handlebar mustache and a floral bandana, chewing on a cigar, leaned lazily against the back of his chair. "Is everyone here? Then let's start. You all get out." He gestured for them to leave.

Song Ya, who was becoming more experienced in life, could already recognize the hidden meanings of various floral bandanas on the South Side. It was the same style as the late ET, with the words "Hell Bobcat" in script, indicating that the gang he belonged to was the Hell Bobcat. The hexagram pattern on the bandana represented its submission to the larger gang GD, and GD in turn led a gang alliance, FN, the Folk Nation. FN was currently hostile to another gang alliance, PN, the People Nation.

More than half the people left in an instant. "Tony, you get out too." Pablo chased away Tony, who was still standing there.

"Who is this white guy?" The bigwig pointed at Hayden.

Song Ya replied, "He is my agent."

"Is he one of us?" the bigwig asked.

"Uh..." Song Ya couldn't answer. Pablo came to the rescue, "Hayden, you go out too."

"Right, okay." Hayden didn't dare to breathe loudly and hurried out.

Only the bigwig, Song Ya, Joe, Pablo, Little Lowry, and Old Morgan remained in the room.

"You guys start. I don't know anything about the record industry; I'm just a shareholder and a mediator." It turned out that this bigwig from the Hell Bobcat was indeed a shareholder of Joe Music and possibly the gang backing for everyone present.

"I demand a replacement!"

Little Lowry was the first to fire, pointing directly at Old Morgan. "Because of you, our schedule was delayed by a whole day! You also kept blowing your lines on stage."

"What can I do? I'm so old."

Old Morgan clearly didn't want to give up such a good opportunity to make money and argued, "I'm just too tired. I'll be fine after this period. It's impossible to always do such high-intensity promotion."

"Tired my ass! You're just drunk! As soon as you get on the plane, you're hugging a bottle and chugging. You old drunkard!" Little Lowry bluntly punctured the other's lie.

"Hey! Hey! Show some respect, kid! I was famous before you were even born! And I wouldn't be left crying on stage by someone else!" Old Morgan's counterattack was sharp and vicious.

"M-FXXX! You damn old man!" Stung in his sore spot, Little Lowry was instantly enraged, springing up like a coil to pounce on Old Morgan.

"Hey! Hey!" Joe and Pablo hurriedly pulled the two apart.

Old Morgan didn't dare to provoke him further and looked pitifully at Joe.

Joe smoothed things over for him, "Morgan, you can't drink that much anymore..."

"My, my fault. I swear this won't happen again," Old Morgan followed the ladder down and conceded.

"Pablo, aren't you their agent? What do you think?" The bigwig looked at Pablo. "Do you accept Old Morgan's guarantee?"

"Old Morgan watched us grow up; I won't let him suffer," Pablo shrugged. "But he can't keep up with the intensity of the album promotion period. We can find a saxophonist to fill in first, and let him perform when we take on live gigs later."

"Pablo, you..." Old Morgan swallowed the profanity that was on the tip of his tongue.

"Old Morgan, you agree to this too, right?" the bigwig asked.

Old Morgan nodded aggrievedly.

"Then what? Anything else?" The bigwig continued to control the room.

Next came the conflict between Joe and Pablo. Pablo said calmly, "We messed up the promotion in the Greater New York area this time. I don't think we can keep doing it like this. Companies within The Big Six have contacted me; they are willing to help with distribution. This is a win-win situation."

"Win-win? Heh..." Joe sneered. "They'll take thirty percent the moment they enter the game. That's all our money! I haven't even settled the account with you for secretly negotiating deals behind my back!"

"Don't be naive, Joe," Pablo said. "Don't you understand yet? Our encounter in New York this week was a greeting gift from The Big Six. Otherwise, why would Philby in Philadelphia take our money and still risk his reputation to set us up? Without someone powerful behind him, he wouldn't dare do that! Small-scale distribution is fine, but for national distribution, we can't make it without The Big Six. Don't be short-sighted anymore!"

"Wait, wait, wait." The bigwig was a bit confused. "Pablo, which six gangs are you referring to when you say The Big Six?"

"Uh..." Pablo was stunned for a moment and explained, "It's not gangs; it's six major record companies. They are Warner, MCA, Sony Columbia, PolyGram, EMI, and BMG (Bertelsmann Music)."