Little Kitten

The next day, Song Ya lay half-reclined on the sofa in the control room, watching the four band members in the recording studio adjust their equipment.

Daniel loved obsessively collecting street rock bands, but very few of them ever managed to release an album, and almost all of them were losing money. The people at SBK called this hobby of his a "quirk" behind his back, which objectively caused intense competition among similar musicians within the company. Since the studio version of the single FXXXYOU would be released first and this configuration would be used for future performances, the three spots other than the keyboardist Delay had sparked quite a bit of infighting, and those inside the studio were the winners.

Having only said goodbye to Mira and her mother at five in the morning before heading back, Song Ya had fully recovered after sleeping for about three hours. Youth meant he could pull all-nighters; of course, there was someone who could pull them even better: Eric, the only sound engineer at Joe Music, was already vibing away at the mixing console with his headphones on.

It seems there's a reason why Black stars like to bring entourages—or rather, partners. Eric's wingman mission last night was executed perfectly, Song Ya thought to himself. It was a pity that Mrs. Jovovich had woken up and come looking for them; if it hadn't been for Eric's quick thinking to stall for time, the two of them would have been caught red-handed.

Just then, Hayden pushed the door open. "Let's go outside and talk." Song Ya leaped up, pulled Hayden outside, and found a spot where they could talk easily.

"I need the real situation on Mira." He gave Hayden his instructions.

"Didn't we already..." Hayden had already briefed him on it before.

"I feel like something isn't right."

Mrs. Jovovich didn't seem like the greedy type, and she kept a very tight leash on Mira, which didn't seem to match the rumors. Aside from the cheap car they drove, their attire and accessories were consistent with Mira's income, and the brand of the travel bag he saw in the music classroom last night was also high-end. But the mere presence of such a large travel bag in a music classroom was a problem in itself. "Use the resources at William Morris to look into it."

Hayden made a few calls on the phone and returned, looking troubled. "It might cost some money."

"How much?" Song Ya asked.

Hayden made another call. "Eight hundred dollars." He stated the figure. "Actually, I could find out if I just asked around slowly."

Song Ya took out his checkbook. "Buy it. I'll write you a check."

"APLUS, you were still wearing thrift store clothes when you came to New York not long ago," Hayden said sincerely. "You are very different from other African American stars I've met who love to squander money after becoming famous. I don't want to see you go down that path."

"Buy it." Song Ya finished writing the check. "I won't. Thank you, Hayden."

Lisa came looking for him. "Daniel wants to see you, APLUS."

Song Ya went to Daniel's office.

"Mira?" Daniel was wiping a silver golf club, the question still on his mind.

"Yeah."

"Sigh, actually, I was paying attention to the song Thrift Shop very early on, but do you know why my actions still lagged behind Warner?" Daniel asked.

Song Ya shook his head, secretly becoming vigilant. Every time Daniel started a long-winded speech, he had to worry about whether he was being played.

"Because at first, I didn't believe you wrote it. Who starts writing songs for others at fifteen! And it was your first song, too. Although there are many stars who became famous at fifteen, how many are focused on composing at fifteen? Heh... when I was fifteen, I felt like I was the king of the world, my self-awareness was overflowing, and when I conceived a song, I never considered the idea of letting someone else sing it."

Daniel waved his club casually. "I went to the copyright office and compared it for a long time. It wasn't until I confirmed the song wasn't plagiarized that I set out to find you. Luckily, I wasn't too late. I haven't gotten the specific data yet, but after our music video aired on MTV, the sales of the Thrift Shop single across America skyrocketed. It shouldn't be a problem to get a Platinum record later."

A Platinum record meant one million sales. Song Ya thought about his ten percent of the songwriting royalties and the three percent he had bet against Daniel, and he licked his lips.

"You can make a lot of money from this song, but I have to say, the ones who really make the big money are Lowry and Joe. In America, with its wealth and abundance, a single that enters the annual Billboard Top 50 can basically guarantee a singer financial freedom for life, as long as they don't squander it. Early on, you rely on records, then you take every commercial gig, ad, and event you can get across the country. Three or five years later, when you're past your prime, you start doing residencies at casinos. Ten years later, you go into hibernation. Twenty years later, the generation that listened to your music grows older and starts getting nostalgic, and you come back out to cash in on those feelings... Even if you're gray-haired and step onto a music festival stage, there will still be people cheering for you below. Why? Because although young people chase trends, some of those posers among them will start talking about the 'old days' just to show off their unique taste."

Daniel went on at length. "So, young musicians usually sing their own songs if they can. If they can't, they'll form a band and force their way onto the stage. Only after twenty-five or thirty do they start considering others and accepting requests. You're an outlier, APLUS."

It's not my fault the apocalypse cheat gave me this, Song Ya muttered to himself.

"A lot of people are optimistic about this chick song of yours..."

Daniel stood up and swung the club at the air. "I underestimated it. I'm feeling the pressure from the outside now. Don't look at the singers auditioning as just newcomers; the agents and other connections behind them have a lot of power. I can't drag this out anymore. Tomorrow's second round of auditions will be the last. As soon as the auditions end, you announce the choice—whether it's Mira or some other girl—and that's it. We're closing up shop!"

Coming out of Daniel's office, Song Ya went to find Hayden and took the fax he handed over.

The information bought for eight hundred dollars was only a few lines long. Mira's father, Mr. Jovovich, had started an investment company in Los Angeles that was currently on the verge of bankruptcy. It was no wonder the mother and daughter were in such a tight spot, though not enough to lose their glamorous exterior. Then, Mira's so-called "most unforgettable woman" title was also problematic; the event held by that fashion magazine was just called "Unforgettable Women," not the result of any authoritative selection. Also, the Jovovich family claimed to come from a family of high-ranking military officials in the USSR and had left Ukraine due to persecution. While this couldn't be verified, it was full of suspicious points and was very likely a lie fabricated for immigration purposes.

"Are you still going there tonight?" Hayden asked.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" Song Ya walked into the recording studio. "Get the liquor ready," he instructed Eric.

It was nine o'clock again, and Song Ya and Eric paid another visit to the music classroom.

"Hi..." Mira had her hands behind her back, gently swaying her shoulders, and took the initiative to greet Song Ya with a hint of shyness.

Mrs. Jovovich's gaze darted between her daughter, who was not good at hiding her emotions, and Song Ya. Her facial expression was extremely complex. "Why bring liquor?" She saw the Chivas that Eric had placed on the desk.

"Mira's biggest problem right now is that she isn't open enough," Song Ya explained to her. "She's done too many print ads, and she's habitually used to showing that cold, cool side of hers to the camera. That won't do. She needs that tipsy feeling—the kind where she sways her body with the music, singing while teasing and flirting with the audience, like a sexy little kitten. Yes, just like a sexy little kitten."

Mrs. Jovovich fell silent. She found a seat and stopped questioning anything.

It seems you really are short on money. Even though Mira has a lead role in a movie in the second half of the year, you still won't let this opportunity go... Song Ya sneered in his heart. He wouldn't make the same mistake he made with the Thrift Shop song, letting the Jovovich family get the better of him without them paying their dues, like Little Lowry.

The teaching continued, and as Mira drank more and more, her singing and stage presence grew closer and closer to the original version in Song Ya's mind.

In the early hours of the morning, the two finally found an opportunity.

"Wait."

The five-foot-seven blonde, with her back against the wall, seemed to have suddenly shaken off her drunkenness. Her small hands pushed against Song Ya's chest, and those cat-like green eyes were shining brightly. "I want... I want to wait until I get that song... and then we can..."

"That's a paradox, my dear..."

Song Ya gazed into her beautiful face and said softly, "Without you, there is no song, and without that song, I don't have you..."