Al's stubbornness was understandable to Song Ya, but he couldn't agree with it. What was so bad about putting up with a little mistreatment? Working with people you didn't like was common in society, and the USA was no different. A huge sum of money was right there for the taking. If you didn't go after it, someone else would—and the people who benefited would be Pablo and the others you hated. They'd probably laugh at what a dumbass you were while counting their money. How could you not understand something so simple?
But Song Ya didn't want to try persuading him again. If he managed to change Al's mind, and one day Al lost control and opened fire, big brother Tony was still Little Lowry's errand boy... uh, partner.
Safety first.
In the second week, after the initial phase of praising the song for money had passed, DJs on Chicago radio began analyzing Thrift Shop more objectively and calmly. As expected, their ratings had dropped a little, but overall they were still high. Shops like supermarkets and restaurants began adding the song to their background music playlists, and familiar tunes rang out from students' Walkmans now and then. The secondhand stores, big and small, especially loved the song and put it on an endless loop.
In Illinois alone, the initial batch of seven thousand cassettes sold out in about ten days. The next ten thousand had already been restocked and put on sale.
Old Joe and Pablo were greatly encouraged. They made the Northeast—the greater New York area—their next promotional focus. It was the heart of the American record industry, and they planned to tour five cities in six days: New York, Philadelphia, Boston, Baltimore, and Washington. Their goal was to push Lowry II's album into the upper ranks of Billboard's Top 200, the weekly album sales chart.
Song Ya felt that "his" song was on the verge of taking off.
But reality was harsh.
On Friday night, Tony called. They'd run straight into a brick wall this time.
At their first stop, they got lost in New York's endless sea of media. Two radio interviews and a small performance hadn't even made a ripple.
In Philadelphia, during an interview, Old Joe was publicly mocked by the well-known DJ Philby. Philby's remarks were so vicious that the two sides nearly came to blows outside the studio.
In Baltimore, an unknown rapper disrupted Little Lowry's nightclub performance. Young and hotheaded, he agreed to the man's challenge to an impromptu battle, only to be left speechless after a few rounds.
"Onstage?"
"Right there onstage. Little Lowry was holding the mic, his mouth moving, but not a sound came out. I could see tears welling in his eyes, and he was already shaking. I was about to charge up and knock the other guy out, but Pablo held me back."
From Tony's description over the phone, Song Ya tried to put himself in Little Lowry's shoes and imagine how humiliating it must have been. Emmmm... just thinking about it gave him goosebumps.
And that wasn't all. The promotional team was having trouble internally, too. Old Joe and Pablo had several heated arguments, while Little Lowry, unhappy that Old Morgan's lack of stamina was slowing the whole group down, declared that it was either him or Old Morgan.
"Don't blame them. They're just exhausted. We catch up on sleep on the plane, then as soon as we land, we're rushing from one event to the next. We're on the go nonstop, and even meals and bathroom breaks have to be timed. Everyone's in a terrible mood in that state, and the slightest thing sets them off. Old Joe's promotional strategy has problems. Maybe we shouldn't have gone to New York first, and the itinerary shouldn't have been so packed... Um... that's what Pablo said." Tony tried to make excuses. "Don't make any other plans for Sunday. They want to meet with you."
"Fine..." What else could Song Ya say? They were all in the same boat.
On Sunday, Song Ya brought his manager, Hayden, along to Joe Music.
But the atmosphere at Joe Music felt a little off that day. Two unfamiliar Black men stood outside. One watched their surroundings warily, while the other searched Song Ya and Hayden very thoroughly. There were also more cars than usual outside the entrance to the underground nightclub across the street.
"This job..." After they entered, Hayden seemed to regret taking Song Ya on as a client.
"It's fine. Even gangs have to play fair," Song Ya could only reassure him.
Old Joe's office was packed with people. Behind the desk, a Black boss in his thirties, with a mustache, a patterned headscarf, and a cigar in his mouth, leaned lazily against the back of his chair. "Everyone here? Then let's get started. The rest of you, leave." He waved them away.
Song Ya had learned enough about life by now to recognize the meaning behind the different patterned headscarves worn on the South Side. This one matched the one the dead "ET" had worn, with "Hell Bobcat" written in elaborate script, indicating that the wearer belonged to the Hell Bobcats. The six-pointed star on the scarf meant the gang was subordinate to the larger GD gang, which in turn led the Folk Nation alliance. Folk Nation was currently at odds with another gang alliance, People Nation.
More than half the people left at once. "Tony, you go out too." Pablo sent Tony, who was still standing there, out the door.
"Who's this white guy?" the boss asked, pointing at Hayden.
Song Ya answered, "He's my manager."
"Is he one of us?" the boss asked.
"Uh..." Song Ya couldn't answer, so Pablo stepped in. "Hayden, you should go out too."
"Okay, sure." Hayden didn't dare breathe too loudly and hurried out.
Only the boss, Song Ya, Old Joe, Pablo, Little Lowry, and Old Morgan were left in the room.
"Go ahead. I don't know anything about the record industry. I'm just a shareholder and a mediator." It turned out that the boss from the Hell Bobcats was a shareholder in Joe Music—and perhaps the gangland backer for everyone present.
"I want him replaced!"
Little Lowry was the first to speak, clearly pointing at Old Morgan. "Because of you, our schedule was delayed by a whole day! And you kept messing up your playing onstage."
"What can I do? I'm old."
Old Morgan clearly didn't want to give up such a good chance to make money. He argued, "I'm just tired. I'll be fine once I get through this stretch. It's not like we'll always be doing this kind of intense promotion."
"You're tired? You're full of shit! You're just drinking too much! The minute you got on the plane, you grabbed a bottle and started guzzling, you old drunk!" Little Lowry bluntly exposed his lie.
"Hey! Hey! Watch your mouth, kid! I was famous before you were even born! And I wouldn't get my ass handed to me onstage and cry about it!" Old Morgan's retort was sharp and vicious.
"M-FXXX! You damn old bastard!" Stung by the taunt, Little Lowry flew into a rage, springing up like a coil and lunging at Old Morgan.
"Hey! Hey!" Old Joe and Pablo hurriedly pulled them apart.
Old Morgan didn't dare provoke him again and looked pitifully at Old Joe.
Old Joe tried to smooth things over for him. "Morgan, you can't keep drinking so much..."
"I-I was wrong. I swear it won't happen again." Old Morgan took the way out and backed down.
"Pablo, aren't you their manager? What do you think?" The boss looked at Pablo. "Do you accept Old Morgan's promise?"
"Old Morgan watched us grow up. I won't let him get the short end of the stick." Pablo shrugged. "But he can't keep up with the pace during the album's promotional period. We can get a saxophone player to fill in for now, then bring him back when we start booking live shows."
"Pablo, you..." Old Morgan started to curse, but swallowed the words.
"Old Morgan, you agree to this, then?" the boss asked.
Old Morgan nodded miserably.
"And then? Anything else?" the boss continued to keep the meeting on track.
Next came the conflict between Old Joe and Pablo. Pablo said calmly, "We botched the promotion in the greater New York area. I don't think we can keep doing things this way. One of the Big Six contacted me. They're willing to handle distribution for us. It would be a win-win."
"Win-win? Heh..." Old Joe sneered. "They'd take thirty percent the minute they came in. That's our money. And I haven't even settled the score with you for secretly negotiating a deal with them behind my back!"
"Don't be naive, Joe," Pablo said. "Don't you understand? What we ran into in New York this week was the Big Six's welcome gift to us. Otherwise, why would Philby in Philadelphia take our money and then risk his reputation by breaking the rules to set you up? He wouldn't dare do that without someone powerful behind him! Small-scale distribution is fine, but we can't make it nationwide without the Big Six. Stop being so short-sighted!"
"Wait, wait, wait." The boss looked confused. "Pablo, which six gangs are you talking about?"
"Uh..." Pablo paused, then explained, "They're not gangs. They're six major record companies: Warner, MCA, Sony Columbia, PolyGram, EMI, and BMG."
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