The Life Coach

After signing the contract in black and white, Song Ya had a long one-on-one talk with Daniel and gained a great deal from it.

For him, it had been much more than a simple chat. It had been a process of having his worldview overturned and rebuilt. Ever since he'd gotten his cheat, he'd been thinking about studying hard, keeping a low profile, waiting for the cheat to dig up one fortune after another, and then naturally making a name for himself and enjoying a carefree, romantic life.

But Daniel told him the truth: among Black stars in entertainment and sports, very few managed to avoid bankruptcy after their fame faded or they retired. Many died young under the combined effects of reckless spending, alcohol and sex, and drug abuse.

For example, after getting drunk, they might casually sign a document handed to them by someone they trusted, only to find that a property had somehow vanished from their name or a huge debt had appeared.

An ordinary attempt at picking someone up could end with the other person suing them afterward. Faced with a fabricated rape accusation, they would either pay a fortune to settle privately and bear the stigma for the rest of their lives, or spend even more on a legal team to clear their name, only to collapse mentally and physically under endless courtroom battles and media attacks. They might also face years of hefty child-support payments and relentless blackmail because the other person had deliberately gotten pregnant. Or they could contract a new sexually transmitted disease and die within a few years.

Tangled ties with gangs were another major hidden danger for Black stars from poor neighborhoods. On the one hand, living and growing up there made it nearly impossible to avoid gang connections. On the other, that background made them special targets for law enforcement. After becoming famous, one wrong move could mean paying their way out of trouble—or ending up behind bars.

Greedy relatives and childhood friends, shady hustlers everywhere, Wall Street crooks swarming in, agents, managers, lawyers, and accountants turning on them, lackeys bringing guns and drugs into their cars and rooms, accidentally miscalculated taxes, careless remarks...

Any one of these could deal him a fatal blow. So he needed far greater energy, self-control, judgment, and vigilance than ordinary people—even more than white people of equal standing.

At the same time, Daniel told him, in this increasingly equal-rights-minded and politically correct era, his skin color could bring him countless advantages. But to get them, he needed a thorough understanding of how American politics and social relations worked, along with the people skills and drive to act on that knowledge.

Did he think he could stay invisible all the way to success? No chance. A good student who kept his head down was a bookworm and a target for bullies. Only a good student who became a leader deserved success.

Take his BMI membership application.

"To get organizations like BMI to speed things up, you have to put pressure on them. The race card is an excellent way to do that, so you need to understand how to apply that pressure through politics and public opinion."

"Besides money, Americans like something else. It's like supermarket reward points. You can exchange supermarket points for goods, and once people have accumulated enough of these points, they trade them for money, power, friendship, attention, or a sense of spiritual elevation and satisfaction. For example, some rich people will spend a hundred thousand dollars hosting a charity dinner in New York, then spend a fortune flying back and forth to Africa just to give locals a few thousand dollars' worth of plastic backpacks. Why not simply buy a hundred thousand dollars' worth of backpacks and ship them over? For the points. Handing the backpacks to local children themselves and taking a commemorative photo earns the rich people points they can trade for moral satisfaction and prestige, while celebrities trade them for goodwill from the public and media, and high school students use them to build a record of community service for their college applications..."

"There are countless ways to spend these points and countless ways to earn them. But remember: only those who can provide points to others are truly unbeatable winners."

Under Daniel's earnest guidance, Song Ya made new plans for his life. He returned to school and went to see his music teacher first.

"Wow, Ya Li, so you're APLUS, the one who wrote 'Thrift Shop'! You've done a fantastic job. Congratulations! You kept us all in the dark!"

That was the music teacher's opening line.

"Thank you. I mean it. Everything I know about music came from you. I never thought this song would be a success. Lowry was my brother's best friend, and we hung out together all the time. I gave him a song I'd written on a whim, and then... sometimes wonderful things just happen out of nowhere, like a dream. It all caught me by surprise. Once I came back down to earth, there was a voice in my heart telling me to thank God and a lot of other people. You were the first person at this school I thought of. Without your help and encouragement, I wouldn't be where I am today."

The music teacher smiled. "Well, not really. I taught every student the same way, and you're the only one who's achieved anything. It's mostly down to your natural talent, isn't it?"

"You're too kind." Song Ya modestly brushed off the praise. "Actually, I'd planned to thank you at a more formal event. Thanks to my song, BMI—the Broadcast Music, Inc.—has approved my membership. They're planning a small ceremony to welcome me as a member. They'd put some chairs in the gym and... you know, nothing fancy. But unfortunately..."

He carefully adjusted his facial muscles into a bitter smile.

"Oh?" The music teacher perked up. "Why couldn't they hold it as planned?"

"I'm not sure how to put it... Something seems to have gotten held up somewhere. I have a feeling I might have experienced racial discrimination..." Song Ya replied.

"Racial discrimination!" The music teacher's eyes widened.

"It's just a feeling... Maybe. You know how sensitive we are to these things; we can pick up on certain..." Song Ya shrugged. "I was going to talk to the principal about it..."

"You absolutely should!" The music teacher grabbed his arm. "There's no need to hesitate when it comes to discrimination. Let's go right now!"

The music teacher led him to the principal's office.

The principal was an elderly Black man with a bald head. He patiently listened as Song Ya repeated his story.

"They're planning a small ceremony, but someone deliberately stalled it, is that right?"

The principal picked up the phone. "We can't let something like this go. I understand. Some white..." He glanced at the white music teacher and changed tack. "Institutions with a long history, like BMI, often have plenty of old racists lurking inside..."

He called someone he knew through his social connections. When he hung up, he smiled at Song Ya. "So the person who wrote 'Thrift Shop' is right here at my school, haha. What grade are you in? How old... Wow, a fifteen-year-old songwriter and BMI member. Yes, yes, you definitely deserve a ceremony. What else can I do to help? Just ask."

"It's like this," Song Ya said. "My manager suggested I ask whether you could get the local alderman to help. He also told me to try writing to a civil rights organization in Chicago."

"That's a great idea. I'll call Alderman Underwood; he'll definitely be willing to help. As for the civil rights organization... yes, it would be better for you to contact them yourself. You've got a good manager, kid. I'll give you the address and phone number of a civil rights organization. They have an office near the University of Chicago..."

With the help of his music teacher and the principal, Song Ya carried out Daniel's plan perfectly.

Maybe too perfectly. Did I take it too far? Will BMI hate me for it later? They haven't even done anything... He silently worried.

He left the principal's office and said goodbye to his music teacher, only to find two punks blocking his way in the hallway.

"Yo! APLUS..." One of the punks sauntered up to him. "You the one who wrote that song for Little Lowry?"

"Yeah." The transformed Song Ya didn't feel nervous at all.

"Let's make a deal. How about you write a song for my buddy too?" He pointed at the other punk. "He's got some pretty good rap skills."

Song Ya shoved him. "You serious? Huh?" He stepped forward and pressed his forehead against the other guy's, staring straight into his eyes. "You know I wrote a song for Little Lowry, but you didn't think to ask who my boss is? Huh? Ever heard of the Bobcats? Huh!? You're blocking my way!?"

The punk backed away step by step until Song Ya had him pinned against the wall. "You want me to write you a song? Huh? You've got good rap skills, do you?" He turned to the other punk and kept pressing...

The two punks fled.

Song Ya had wanted to plant his hands on his hips and laugh at the sky.

But his delight soon turned to dismay. He turned around and saw the cheerleader goddess sauntering toward him with irresistible allure. Then he spotted a football team's offensive lineman at the other end of the hallway, already rubbing his fists and warming up.

"FXXX!"

In a flash of inspiration, he dashed over to a group of girls passing by and picked the prettiest one. "Hey, can I get to know you?" He was desperate to avoid a beating.