Song

In the circle of Joe Music, Song Ya was undoubtedly considered one of Joe's people. It wasn't that there was any real professional dependency; the South Side slums followed a kind of "street" code of ethics. In layman's terms, he was "under Joe's protection."

After chatting with Tony and the others for a while, he went to greet Eric and his group. "Joe wants to see you." Eric led him and Hayden into Joe's dressing room.

"Hey! APLUS!"

Seeing Song Ya, Joe pointed to a square cardboard box on the vanity. "Look, this is the single cover those SBK people came up with. What do you think? Give me some feedback."

"It's too late to change it, right?"

Song Ya took the twelve-inch cardboard cover into his hands. The image was filled with various items commonly found in a thrift shop. The photographer had cleverly used a shallow depth of field to blur out all brand names and style details, leaving only a rich, dazzling array of small, colorful fragments. The store name at the top had been replaced with the song title, Thrift Shop, and the "SALE" on a white discount tag had been replaced with "Lowry and Joe," both using a chubby, slightly "playful" font that echoed the humorous tone of the song perfectly. Seeing this level of completion, Song Ya knew SBK had never intended to ask for Joe's opinion, but Daniel had kept his promise; Joe and Little Lowry were on equal footing on this single.

"Yeah, I need to have a serious talk with Daniel. The people at SBK need to show us more respect." Joe grumbled, though it was just grumbling. He was grinning from ear to ear; he was happy.

"Don't move!" the Black female makeup artist barked.

Joe shut his mouth obediently.

After a brief silence, Song Ya and Hayden exchanged glances. They both realized they had nothing to do. "Then I'll..." Hayden pointed toward the door, "Call me if you need anything."

After Hayden left, Song Ya wandered around the set, leaving his pager number with acquaintances. He then moved a folding chair to a spot behind the director's monitor that wouldn't interfere with the shoot, preparing to observe the filming of the music video. However, since filming hadn't started yet, he took out paper and a pen and began drafting his assigned essay, "To Mandela."

At the first light of dawn, the crew officially began filming. All the lights were turned off, and a simple speaker played Thrift Shop. Joe and Little Lowry began to perform according to the director's instructions, aided by the faint glow of the rising sun.

Without the lights, he couldn't write his essay. Song Ya put away his paper and pen, and Allie, now fully made up, snuck over to him.

"Yeah." Song Ya frowned. It was hard for kids from poor families to even find a place to be alone. He was cautious by nature, and with Al at home who never went anywhere, he didn't have many good options.

It's just a matter of money, and we have money now, he thought to himself.

When the sun was fully up, Allie took out her small compact mirror to touch up her lipstick and joined the shoot. This time, however, she, Connie, Emily, and the others could only serve as background extras. After all, it was a big production—though "big" was relative. Song Ya secretly compared it to the original version; the original had a scene with a speedboat, which was impossible here, not to mention the astronomical budgets of music videos for superstars like Michael Jackson from the same era. Of course, it still cost much more than Little Lowry's first music video.

The director was a middle-aged white man with very high standards who kept the entire crew running in circles. No one had the spare time to chat with a bystander. By noon, Song Ya was bored to tears. During a break in filming, he was chatting with Joe when he suddenly heard Tony and the others whistling and hooting.

Song Ya looked over. A bus had pulled up not far away. The doors opened, and a dozen white girls stepped out one by one. Regardless of whether they were blonde, brunette, or redhead, they were all tall and stunning.

"Those are the models SBK hired." Joe also put his fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle.

Led by their agent, the white girls headed toward the makeup trailer. Tony's ex-girlfriend wasn't among them—he'd likely dumped her—so he took the lead, bringing his single buddies over to pester them one by one.

This time, Allie, Connie, Emily, and the other Black girls all rolled their eyes.

Black men had a mix of inferiority and obsession toward light-skinned girls. Their method of picking them up was simple: brute-force probability. They would hit on them one by one, and if they got rejected, they'd move to the next. This frivolous method shouldn't have worked, but women were emotional creatures; as long as the sample size was large enough, there was always a chance of success.

Little Lowry, who was usually incredibly cocky, was also tempted this time. He had high standards and took his wingman, AK, straight toward a white girl who had just stepped out of a car behind the bus. To his surprise, the girl immediately gave him the middle finger, causing a burst of laughter throughout the set.

"Bitch." Little Lowry lost face and sulked back to the dressing room.

"Why does she look so familiar?" Song Ya stared at the beautiful girl who was about five-foot-eight, had jewel-like green eyes, and a hint of heroic spirit in her features. The fire Allie had ignited in him earlier was inexplicably rekindled.

"Of course she does, Milla Jovovich. She used to be very popular." An SBK staffer nearby took over the conversation. "You must have seen her commercials."

"Used to be?" Song Ya wondered how old this girl could possibly be.

"When she was eleven or twelve, she did a lot of commercials and was even voted the most unforgettable woman in the world. But as she matured, she kind of flopped. She signed with our company as a singer the year before last, but an album release is nowhere in sight. Looking at it now, it's a losing investment. She's better suited for playing eye candy or doing print ads." The staffer curled his lip in disdain, clearly having a very poor impression of her. "She's spoiled and going through a rebellious phase; she's very difficult to deal with."

Sure enough, a girl's scream soon came from the makeup trailer. "I want a VIP dressing room! I won't do my makeup with them!"

The middle-aged white woman beside the girl came to find the director, looking troubled; she appeared to be the girl's mother.

The director scratched his head and came over to find Joe. "Joe, look..."

Joe was in a good mood. "APLUS, take them over there."

"Alright, follow me."

Song Ya led the mother and daughter toward Joe's dressing room. On the way, they spoke entirely in a foreign language that sounded like Russian.

"Was that Russian you were just speaking?" Song Ya asked the girl's mother while standing outside the door after the girl sat down at the vanity.

"I suppose so." The woman clearly didn't want to engage with Song Ya, giving a perfunctory reply as she prepared to close the dressing room door.

Song Ya noticed she was holding Little Lowry's album cassette. "Let me introduce myself. I'm the songwriter for this track, the one called APLUS." He pointed to the cassette.

"Oh?" This time, the woman's eyes lit up, and her attitude changed completely. "Wow, I didn't expect you to be so young. How old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Exactly the same age as my Milla..." The mother held back for a moment but couldn't resist asking for a song: "Do you have any songs suitable for a girl Milla's age to sing? Uh... she loves singing, and I can only help her fulfill her dream. For this, we've given up many opportunities in the commercial and film worlds... We've been with SBK for almost two years, but..."

"Why are you telling an outsider these things!"

The girl threw another tantrum. She tossed her long hair, shooed the makeup artist away, and with her long legs, rushed to the door in a few strides. "FXXXYOU!" she shrieked at Song Ya, who hadn't done anything to provoke her, before slamming the door shut with a bang.

"FXXXYOU... FXXXYOU..." Song Ya stood there as if struck by lightning, stunned. The girl's cursing echoed repeatedly in his mind—not because he was hurt by her attitude, but because...