Welcome to Chicago

The process of retrieving the negatives went smoothly. The three of them practically marched the old man into his office, where he handed over all the photos and negatives from his desk drawer. Eric even searched the drawers thoroughly to ensure nothing was missed.

"Wow, that was intense!" Delay said excitedly on the way back to the hotel.

Song Ya didn't respond. He had calmed down by then, feeling a bit of regret.

He had been walking on the edge of the law—no, in some ways, he had already crossed it. In the lobby, if the old man had just called security, he wouldn't have been able to escape the trouble. In the office, if the old man had called the police, they would have been caught red-handed.

Fortunately, it seemed his fierce demeanor at the time had completely intimidated the old man, leaving him too scared to do anything.

But Song Ya knew that since this old man could get into SBK and speak to him before the audition results were even out, his influence behind the scenes couldn't be small. In particular, the Italian name "Antonio" on his office door plate made one think of the brutal Italian Mafia. In this day and age, the Mafia might be failing in Chicago, but they still held a lingering reputation in New York.

Aside from hooking up with Mira, his trip to New York could hardly be called a success. During this time, he had offended quite a few people at SBK, earned a reputation among the Black community in New York for not helping his own, and violated his usual cautious style of conduct. He had spent money like water—just on Mira alone, he'd spent five thousand plus eight hundred, plus miscellaneous expenses, totaling six or seven thousand dollars... and he had to remember that Aunt Susie and the rest of his family were still living in the slums on welfare.

"What a city of desire, capable of making one lose themselves."

He walked outside the hotel, looked up at the skyscrapers reaching into the clouds, and couldn't help but sigh.

Knocking on the door, Mira, her eyes red, threw herself into his arms. "What should I do?" she cried.

"It's okay, everything is fine now." Song Ya stroked her back and comforted her softly.

Mrs. Jovovich was on the phone in the room. "The earnings from the song will take a long time. Even if the record hits the market in the second half of the year, it won't be settled by SBK until next year. The movie... Columbia will only pay 15 or 20 percent of the salary when filming starts, and the rest..." She kept wiping her tears with a handkerchief.

Song Ya looked around the beautiful hotel suite, feeling quite unimpressed.

"APLUS, what should we do?" Mrs. Jovovich hung up the phone and looked at her daughter, who was clinging tightly to Song Ya, her face growing paler.

"It's fine, Mrs. Jovovich, it's all resolved."

"Resolved?" A look of surprise appeared in Mrs. Jovovich's eyes.

"Yeah, I got all the negatives back." Song Ya took the white negative envelope from his jacket and handed it to her.

"Really!" Mrs. Jovovich checked it carefully. "How... how did you manage to do it?"

Song Ya shrugged. "I paid for it... in New York, what other good way is there to solve problems besides money?"

"How much did it cost?" Mrs. Jovovich pressed.

"One hundred thousand dollars." Song Ya looked indifferent.

Mira, in his arms, shrieked, "You shouldn't have given that bad old man so much money!"

"Oh, my God!" Mrs. Jovovich covered her mouth in amazement. "Thank you so much, APLUS."

"Forget it, let's not talk about that." Song Ya briefed them on the rehearsals in Chicago. "During this time, SBK will be responsible for your accommodation and other expenses in Chicago. Since Mira is a minor and a member of the Screen Actors Guild, SBK will also cover the additional expenses for that."

"Yay! Honey, let's leave here and go to Chicago!" Under her mother's gaze, Mira took the initiative to kiss him.

Daniel moved quickly. He thoughtfully dispatched a massive tour bus used by the band to transport the personnel and equipment all at once to Chicago, right downstairs from Joe Music.

"This is it?" Mira jumped off the bus excitedly, looked around the surrounding environment, and was instantly disappointed.

"This is it." Song Ya knocked on the iron door, and it was Carl who opened it again. "Come in, let me introduce everyone..."

Joe Music was still the same, except for a new photo on the stairwell wall of Joe and Congressman Underwood. The promotional posters for Little Lowry and Al at the front desk on the second floor had long been taken down, replaced by Lowry's solo act.

"As everyone knows, the South Side of Chicago isn't safe. The area near the hotel is considered safe, but don't go wandering around Joe Music, especially across the street..." Song Ya pointed to the underground nightclub opposite. "You white folks should absolutely not have any thoughts of going in there to hang out."

"I get it, I get it, Al Capone! Da-da-da..." Delay used his hands to mimic the spray of a Chicago Typewriter.

Song Ya smiled. Al Capone had been finished long ago. His failure caused a massive retreat of the Mafia in Chicago. This was the first tier-one city in the United States where the underground rules were controlled by Black people.

He couldn't be bothered to explain these things to Delay and the others. He opened the recording studio door, had them move the equipment from the tour bus, and took Mira into Joe's office, locking the door behind them. Mira's mother stayed at the hotel to pack; it was a rare opportunity.

He dialed Pablo's cell phone. "Hey, Pablo, it's APLUS. Is Tony next to you?" he asked.

The call was transferred to Tony.

"Uh... Tony, I wanted to ask, how should I pay the compensation for... uh, no, for my partner?"

After finishing the call with Tony, he told Mira to get dressed and join the rehearsal, got into Eric's car for a trip to the bank, and then returned to his home in the slums.

Standing outside his dilapidated house, it was hard to imagine that not long ago he was riding high in New York, with a large group of singers and agents racking their brains to figure out his preferences and engaging in power struggles centered around his choices.

"Hey, Al, is the car fixed?" He saw Al crawling out from under the car, covered in grease.

"It was fixed a long time ago, but it broke again shortly after. I just have to keep fixing it," Al replied.

Aunt Susie and the others weren't there; they must have gone to church. Song Ya walked into his room, where the small television was playing a news report from local Chicago media about the Thrift Shop hit.

Al quickly turned off the TV.

"Al, be my partner. I'm really short-handed right now." He searched the room for a long time and found a few rubber bands for tying up small items.

Al didn't speak.

"Don't be so damn depressed. You hate Joe and the others, but you don't hate me, right?" Song Ya urged. "Or do you want to throw away another opportunity?"

"Alright." Al didn't hold out for long before agreeing. "Thank you, APLUS."

"Don't mention it."

Having settled Al, Song Ya pulled five hundred dollars from his jacket, bundled it with a rubber band, went out, found Eric, and tossed it to him. "Your share."

"Thanks, APLUS." Eric didn't even count it, smiling as he stuffed the roll of cash into his pants pocket.

This was another benefit of having a lackey... no, a partner. It was cheap. After working high-intensity jobs with him for so long, a normal salary for a sound engineer in New York would definitely be more than this. In fact, this was a common problem; the income of ordinary members in Chicago gangs was far lower than the government minimum wage, and even small-time bosses couldn't reach the normal income of white-collar workers in big companies outside. Many gang members still lived with their moms after becoming adults, not because they were filial, but because they really didn't have the money to move out...

Taking Al along, they returned to Joe Music.

"Hey... Al." Carl, who was usually a man of few words, took the initiative to greet Al.

Al gave him the middle finger.

Carl smiled, a rare sight.

As night fell, Delay and the others finished their rehearsal and walked out of Joe Music. From now on, Al would be responsible for driving that Ford pickup to shuttle them back and forth from the hotel.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, a dull gunshot rang out from the underground nightclub across the street, followed by the screams of men and women. A dark mass of figures surged out from inside like a tide, descending into chaos.

Delay and the others were all stunned.

"Welcome to Chicago." Song Ya smiled.