Turning It In

The deeply disappointed Chicagoans fled Detroit, that city of heartbreak, one after another. Old Joe and the others had to continue their promotional tour in Indiana, while Song Ya was naturally going back with Mira. Before they parted, he seized the chance to pull Tony aside, and the brothers had a good heart-to-heart.

His idea was simple: now that he could afford to hire help, there was no reason his own brother should still have to work as someone else's sidekick.

Tony refused quite frankly. For one thing, he was used to being the boss of the original owner of Song Ya's body and didn't want to follow around his younger brother, whose personality had changed dramatically after the transmigration, only to end up taking orders from him. For another, siblings didn't interact as often once they were adults; they usually went about their own lives. Of course, the main reason was that being with the singer Little Lowry came with better "perks." These days, Tony followed Little Lowry to nightclubs and strip bars all over the country, eating, drinking, and having a good time. Every so often, he even got to pick through the "meat" Little Lowry had passed over (a general term for girls who enjoyed sleeping with celebrities). Finally, he showed off his Gold Rolex and the AJ shoes on his feet again.

"Little Lowry and I are brothers too," Tony said.

Song Ya couldn't force him. He still had to focus most of his energy on the single, so he could only let Tony be.

Another weekend arrived. Grant Park, Chicago.

FXXXYOU's first public appearance was finally here.

"I'm so nervous." Mira kept peeking out from backstage. "Why isn't anyone looking over here?" she asked.

Thousands of people had gathered in the park plaza, and their numbers were still growing. Some were finding spots in front of the stage, others were chatting, and the rest were waiting. The place was loud and only loosely orderly, while police officers and volunteers did their best to keep things under control.

"This isn't a music festival," Song Ya teased with a smile. "You're just the opening act. Don't think you're that important." He did his best to ease Mira's nerves.

The highlight of the equal-rights rally was the speeches by politicians; the performances were just a minor detail. No one would notice if she hit a wrong note or sang off-key. The real danger was freezing onstage and not knowing what to do. That happened often at newcomers' debut performances.

"We go on in an hour. Everyone, come over here."

The publicist SBK had sent gathered the band and carefully went over the details. "We're on after the children's choir. Once the kids leave, Delay, you'll bring the drum kit up. The facilities here are basic, so we'll have to do a lot ourselves. The volunteers will lend a hand, but make sure they don't bump or damage the equipment. Check all the connections before the performance. Mira..."

He led Mira to the edge of the stage and pointed to a camera below. "That's the only camera that's ours. Try to play to it during your performance. You have a great feel for the camera. I believe in you—don't mess this up."

"I understand, I understand." Mira bobbed her head like a pecking chicken.

This was a sizable rally, so it was bound to appear in major news outlets. How much footage of Mira they could get into the coverage depended on SBK's public relations skills and that camera. It was the same old problem: songs full of profanity weren't fit for respectable audiences, so they had to take an unconventional approach. SBK's promotional strategy was very professional.

Delay and the drummer kept taking deep breaths and loosening up, sometimes bouncing in place. The guitarist and bassist bowed their heads, silently fingering imaginary strings to warm up. Rock musicians might always give off the impression that they didn't care about anyone, but with the immense pressure of making it big, how could these young people not be nervous?

"Don't be nervous!" the publicist shouted.

Everyone got even more nervous.

Song Ya was still a novice himself and couldn't offer much help. All he could do was pace around the five of them, patting one on the back, another on the shoulder, and offering a few words of encouragement.

In the blink of an eye, there were only thirty minutes left before the performance.

A Black woman with a soaring soprano was singing onstage. The hubbub gradually died down as people's attention shifted to the stage.

"Come on, let's touch up your makeup." Mrs. Jovovich had come back from Los Angeles, bringing a middle-aged female assistant with her. She watched the assistant touch up Mira's makeup, then took a small bottle of vodka out of her bag.

Using alcohol to get into the mood wasn't a long-term solution. During rehearsals, Song Ya had gradually stopped Mira from drinking. The Russian girl could already hold her liquor well; getting her hooked would be a bad thing.

Mira looked at Song Ya.

"Today's pretty important..." Song Ya thought it over, then nodded. "Go ahead, but not again after today."

Mira took the bottle and tipped back a large gulp.

"She only listens to you now," Mrs. Jovovich said, sounding a little jealous.

Mira giggled and kissed Song Ya on the cheek, leaving a vivid red lipstick mark. "Touch up the makeup, touch up the makeup!" Mrs. Jovovich could only turn to bossing the assistant around.

The children's choir, who were up before them, began their performance. They sang in a typical Black gospel style, and the audience knew the songs well; many sang along.

At that point, everyone backstage fell silent. They waited quietly as the children finished and filed off under their teacher's guidance. Delay and the other musicians hurriedly picked up the various parts of the drum kit and got busy onstage.

"Next up, please welcome Milla Jovovich! She'll be performing... 'To de Klerk'!"

Once Delay had finished setting up, the emcee announced her loudly.

"I'm going on..." The alcohol had kicked in, and Mira's cheeks were flushed.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Mira went onstage. It wasn't a concert, after all, so there was no cheering; the people below watched in silence.

Taking the conservative audience into account, she was dressed more like a country singer today: jeans and a simple, fresh-looking solid-color shirt, knotted at the hem to show off her figure. Song Ya had also specifically told her to put away the Sexy Kitten act and just be herself.

"Hello, everyone!" The alcohol had wiped away Mira's stage fright. She adjusted the microphone stand to the right height and greeted the audience loudly.

"The camera! The camera!" SBK's publicist called out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

"Hi~"

Mira immediately turned her body slightly and smiled flirtatiously toward the camera.

The publicist let out a breath of relief. "Thank goodness. That was close."

Song Ya shrugged. Mira had been appearing on magazine covers since she was nine and entered the modeling world at eleven. She wouldn't forget something like that.

Mira turned back and gave Delay a look. He nodded, pressed a key, and the music began.

"Look inside, look inside your tiny mind..." Mira's fresh, slightly girlish voice rang out.

When she sang, "Fuck you~ Fuck you~, Fuck you very, very much," many people in the audience burst out laughing.

Halfway through the song, Song Ya noticed a lot of people had raised their hands and were starting to clap along to the music. The men near the stage in particular were staring fixedly at Mira, almost unable to look away.

"Not bad, not bad. This is going well," the publicist said, pleased with the response.

"Really?" Mrs. Jovovich wasn't sure. She looked to Song Ya, who gave her an affirming nod.

"Fuck you~"

When Mira sang "Fuck you" for the second time, a little incident occurred below the stage. A middle-aged white man in the crowd suddenly shouted, "I want to fuck you too!" The people around him burst out laughing.

Mira was singing while also paying attention to the camera, so she didn't notice what had happened.

After finishing the song, she bowed to the audience. "Thank you, everyone!" They responded with enthusiastic cheers and whistles...

Mira left the stage, and a Baptist minister who had visited Old Joe Music before came up. He faced the audience and shook his head with a wry smile. "Mr. de Klerk wouldn't like this song..."

That familiar line brought another round of laughter.

"End segregation!" a volunteer shouted, raising his fist, and everyone began chanting with him.

The atmosphere continued to build.

"How come I've never heard this song before?"

"The singer's not famous, I guess. Let's look for it at a record store later. She should have an album out."

"Yeah, records by singers like that are usually stuck somewhere inconspicuous. We'll have to dig through the shelves again."

"What was that girl's name? Why does she look familiar?"

Backstage, Song Ya heard several volunteers nearby talking quietly, and the weight finally lifted from his chest.

The deed was done!