Chapter Forty-Nine: A Meteoric Rise

At the Chicago Music Festival a few days later, Mira's star was rising by the hour. The moment she entered Grant Park, reporters who had been waiting for ages swarmed her, while photographers' cameras flashed nonstop. Even the SBK publicists accompanying her hadn't expected this kind of reception. Song Ya and Al hurriedly stepped in as bodyguards, bracing themselves against the crowd on either side of her.

"Mira! What do you think of the protests from South Africa's diplomatic mission?"

"Mira! Do you have time for an interview? I'm a reporter with the Chicago... News!"

"I heard white supremacists sent you death threats. Is that true, Mira?"

"Mira! Stop and say a few words!"

"Mira, over here!"

"Mira! What's your opinion on the current situation in the Middle East?"

"Mi..."

After escorting Mira backstage, Song Ya rubbed his aching shoulder. "The situation in the Middle East? What the hell..." The two exchanged helpless smiles.

Before long, a representative from Columbia Pictures' distribution department arrived. He spoke privately with Mrs. Jovovich for a long time, then brought the SBK publicists over to find Song Ya.

"APLUS, you two aren't going to make your relationship public, are you?" he asked Song Ya.

"That's right." Song Ya gave him a firm answer. He had already discussed this with Daniel. There was nothing to gain from a teen idol making a relationship public in this day and age—not anywhere in the world.

The man went on, "Would you be willing to sign a nondisclosure agreement? At least until The Blue Lagoon leaves theaters. Because of Mira, Columbia Pictures has decided to increase the film's publicity budget, and we need to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"Talk to my manager. In principle, I agree."

Song Ya called Hayden over.

Hayden arrived with an executive from the William Morris Agency, who had also come to see Mrs. Jovovich. They wanted to sign Mira as a client.

"Mrs. Jovovich, at this rate, you won't have enough time to handle Mira's career by yourself. William Morris has a long history, and when it comes to expertise..." The executive began laying it on thick.

"Let's hear your offer. I just got a call from CAA, too," Mrs. Jovovich said smugly, dropping the name of another top talent agency in the country.

"Of course. Let's talk privately."

Watching them walk away, Hayden said ruefully to Song Ya, "I should've gotten to her first. Now... sigh! Why didn't I think of this sooner?"

Song Ya smiled. CAA, huh? When it came time to negotiate his next contract with Hayden, he might have to learn a thing or two from Mrs. Jovovich.

"Hey, APLUS, got a minute? Let's talk." Delay came over just then.

They found a quiet spot, and Delay got straight to the point. "Why don't I have a stake in A+ Audio? It was my idea, and I put in the work, too. I thought you'd bring me in."

"It's like this."

Song Ya had actually considered giving Delay a position when he set up the company. He might even have been willing to give up a little equity. But Song Asheng had stopped him. "My accountant recommended using this company to reduce my taxes legally, so... you understand. It wouldn't be convenient to have other shareholders. Besides, I'm not planning to grow the company just yet, and I don't have many new synth sounds in the works. For this recording of 'To de Klerk' alone, SBK paid less than a thousand dollars in licensing fees for the two sounds—not even enough to cover the cost of registering the company. Do you want to join me just to lose money?"

Delay thought it over, then nodded. "All right. I accept your explanation. Sorry, APLUS. I'm a direct person—I say what's on my mind. I'm just a little uncertain about the future, you know? Mira's about to make it big, and our band doesn't have a place in this song. It belongs to you and Mira, not us. We're just backing musicians paid by the show. SBK can replace any of us whenever they want."

Song Ya understood what was bothering him. Smiling, he held out his fist. "It's fine. I like your personality. A rock-and-roll guy, right? Ha-ha. Delay, if you ever decide you've had enough, come find me anytime."

Delay smiled awkwardly and bumped his fist. "Thanks, APLUS."

"Mira, get ready! Fifteen minutes!" A festival staff member came in to notify them. Delay and the others hurried to prepare for the performance.

As soon as Mira went out from backstage, Song Ya heard the crowd's roar like a tidal wave.

"Ya Li, thank you!"

Mrs. Jovovich's pager had been going off nonstop all day. After finishing a call, she was so excited she even called Song Ya by his nickname. "The song you gave Mira saved us—and it saved my husband, too. The bank suddenly agreed to keep lending to his company."

Song Ya frowned deeply. "I gave that song to Mira, Mrs. Jovovich. You can't keep spending her money without restraint."

"I know. Mira's father's just had bad luck..."

Mrs. Jovovich's pager went off again.

When Mira turns eighteen, I'll do whatever it takes to convince her to get away from her greedy parents, Song Ya silently decided.

Each day of the festival, Mira's reception was more enthusiastic than the day before. By the fourth and final day, she had even outshone every rock band there, despite the festival's audience being made up mostly of rock fans. Every time she sang "Fuck You," the crowd's response was so well-coordinated it sounded rehearsed. The organizers, eager to please the audience, came back to ask her to perform it once more.

The fashion world and the GG crowd, which had gradually drifted away, seemed to remember her all at once. Mrs. Jovovich was inundated with offers. On the morning of the third day, she had replaced her pager with a Motorola brick.

The SBK publicists were thrilled, too. All the remaining promotional appearances were canceled. The invitations coming in from across the country gave them plenty to choose from, which meant every future appearance would be paid—and handsomely.

"I'm exhausted!"

After singing her encore, Mira came backstage, pouting and complaining. "There's this creep who yells 'Fuck You' at me from the front row every day. Can we get the police to arrest him?"

"Darling!" Mrs. Jovovich rushed over and hugged her, bouncing around like a little girl as she shouted, "You'll never guess who just called me! Anna Wintour! The editor of Vogue!"

After seeing them off at the airport, Song Ya returned to his new home alone.

By the little basket where he kept his keys, the two magazines he subscribed to, Billboard and Rolling Stone, lay neatly arranged. He picked up Billboard, switched on his new Sony television, then settled into his comfortable leather sofa.

Trinitron technology made the picture on the TV especially vivid. It was showing the hit sitcom Growing Pains.

Song Ya wasn't interested in the television shows of this era. He left the TV running and flipped to the singles chart, giving it a quick scan.

"Thrift Shop" hadn't fallen out of the top fifty yet. It was currently at number forty-four. He'd heard that Old Joe and Little Lowry had finished recording their studio version at SBK, and it would be released next week to revive the song's fortunes.

"To de Klerk" had climbed from seventeen to number three in a week, behind "The Power" by SNAP!.

And at number one was Mariah Carey's "Vision of Love."

"Boring..."

Song Ya suddenly felt as if he'd lost his sense of purpose. He drifted lazily back to his room, sat down at his desk, and opened a calculus workbook. Before long, the pleasure of working through problems had drawn him in, and he became completely absorbed.