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keith_ltd2022-01-14 10:03 pm
runawayballista) wrote in keith_ltd2022-01-14 10:03 pm
Live at the Mile High Club! Chapter 3
Fandom: BanG Dream!, Scum Villain
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: In the wake of the disastrous live show, Shang Qinghua is desperate for bands to book for the Mile High Club. On a tip from Shen Yuan, she seeks out the help of another live house.
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After the exhausting and unmitigated disaster that was this weekend’s show, Shang Qinghua was prepared to drop her miserable ass in bed as soon as she got home and pass out into blissful unconsciousness. If she wasn’t conscious, she didn’t have to think about how thoroughly fucked the Mile High Club was. It was nearly midnight when she clumsily keyed open her apartment and stepped over the small pile of newspapers she kept forgetting to take to the trash. She stripped off her work clothes and dropped them tiredly onto yesterday’s pile, ambled over to her futon, and out of habit, glanced blearily just once at her open laptop screen. The bottom of her stomach dropped out. No, no, no…
In all the rush to prepare for the show, she’d completely forgotten to release a new track this week!
Even though she had a buffer! She should have been totally fine, she just…fuck, she totally forgot it was supposded to go out last night! And now the subscribers on her early release tier were out for blood, leaving a string of vicious comments and messages berating her for letting down her adoring (paying) fans.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Shang Qinghua seriously wondered if she’d have to give up her music career as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky in order to save the live house. But she couldn’t do that—whatever Peerless Cucumber and her other critics said, music was her life! Also her livelihood, because she really didn’t want to be the owner of a failing business forever. And if she dropped off the scene, all her fans, all that traction she’d worked so hard to gain over the years would be impossible to recover!
Shang Qinghua slapped her laptop closed, threw herself onto her futon, and screamed into her pillow.
Everything was not coming up Airplane! Everything was coming down Airplane! Mayday! Mayday! God dammit, even Cucumber’s stupid quips were stuck in her head!
A pathetic round of tears and a couple of beers later, Shang Qinghua was feeling…well, not better, but less like throwing up. Okay, so she missed the deadline, but only just barely! She could make it up by posting it tomorrow with a big apology, maybe some bonus content? She had to have something lying around she could toss up…okay, she was totally going to come back from this. Everything could still come up Airplane!
The next morning, Shang Qinghua woke up to a fresh post on Peerless Cucumber’s blog, putting her on blast for failing to get her early release out on time.
Okay, what gives! First you criticize her for putting out too much material, now you’re mad because she didn’t release this one on time? Make! Up! Your! Mind!
It really wasn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that Shang Qinghua had been too wrapped up with event planning to remember her own schedule, but at this point in time, she had no reservations about adding this to the pile of things to blame on her. The fact that Shang Qinghua woke up with an angry stomach because she’d had nothing but beer and coffee after noon the previous day, too, was getting added to the list.
She texted Yuka to let her know she’d be calling out sick and prayed that the rest of her staff weren’t going to do the same. She needed to do some damage control, which meant a whole lot of digital ass-kissing to convince people not to drop their subscriptions. Yuka didn’t respond, but that was fine. She usually didn’t.
Fortunately, Airplane was only a day and change late on the new track, and the groveling apology-slash-excuse (waahhh so sorry everyone, she was struck down by a stomach bug and couldn’t even crawl far enough to reach her laptop _ :(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ ) and a mini set of samples she’d been saving for another tier seemed to save her subs for the most part. There wasn’t anything she could do about Peerless Cucumber’s blog post—it’d probably be followed up in a few days with a scathing review of the late track—but as long as her fans stayed, it was fine!
Never mind the fact that she was running out of buffer material, and she hadn’t had time to finish anything new lately. And there was no rest for the destitute! Studio sessions alone weren’t going to cut the bill; she still had to book another show! Shang Qinghua was dreading the hustle that awaited her. It had been hard enough to book a follow-up to a successful show—who’d be willing to play at the Mile High Club now? She couldn’t afford to go two weeks between shows at this point.
Gnawing on that hangnail, Shang Qinghua flipped through her notes in search of a solution. Hello, Happy World! was booked for a while, although maybe she could slot them in for a later date, assuming she was still operating then. Ah, no, she had to forge on with a positive attitude! There were tons of bands in this city, and maybe word about last night wouldn’t spread too far. In retrospect, this time around, Shang Qinghua was nauseatingly relieved that Peerless Cucumber had chosen to write about Airplane’s music and not Shang Qinghua’s live house.
But it was hard to maintain a positive attitude when she was poring over accounting records and scheduling. One of the only—no, the only nice thing Yuka had ever said to her was that Shang Qinghua was actually good at this logistics stuff, but that didn’t make her hate it any less. And no administrative finagling was going to save them if all the money ran out.
Shang Qinghua chewed on a pen in thought and was rewarded for her trouble with a mouthful of blue ink and a freshly stained t-shirt. While she rinsed her mouth out in the bathroom sink, accepting with resignation that she was probably permanently staining the porcelain, she considered the possibility of a loan. Hahaha no. No bank in the country would offer her a loan now. But even though the event had, technically, sold very well, they’d had to refund a whole lot of tickets, and the damage expenses alone were enough to put them back in the red. She was just grateful that the guitar Luo Binghe smashed hadn’t been a rental.
Wiping her face and chest off with a towel, Shang Qinghua looked around her one-room apartment. Her gaze settled guiltily on the shelves bearing her collection of figures. She could…sell some of them? The thought was physically painful. She clutched at her chest. Well, she probably wouldn’t be able to get the money quick enough anyway. Case closed. She reviewed her personal accounts (okay, account) instead and concluded, with a sigh, that she’d just have to cover the difference out of her own pocket. Not for the first time, either. Last month she’d forgone paying her own rent in favor of keeping the lights on at the live house. Her landlord sighed and said she’d accept a late payment…Shang Qinghua just hadn’t said how late it would be.
At the end of the night, Shang Qinghua finally received a response from Yuka. It consisted only of a few pictures of the live house still in a miserable state of disarray with the caption we did our best. Shang Qinghua smacked her phone against her forehead three times and sent a text to her staff informing them that the live house would be closed for cleaning tomorrow.
After a dinner of reheated curry and half a can of Pringles, Shang Qinghua attempted to be productive. She had a few sketches she could work with, see if she could wrangle those into a cohesive new song. But for once she was struck with composer’s block. Everything came out feeling flat and forced and after an hour, she gave up and closed her laptop. This was the worst time to fall into a creative rut, but all the stress and lack of sleep lately was totally drying up her mojo!
Shang Qinghua needed inspiration. More importantly, she needed just one night of fun. She didn’t like being this stressed! She wasn’t cut out for it! If she had to be in charge of a business, why couldn’t she be the laid back, hands off kind of boss who never had to deal with logistics? She put on a fresh shirt, pulled yesterday’s jeans out from under her blanket, and headed for the door. If she had nowhere to be tomorrow, then she was not going to spend the night miserable at home!
Shang Qinghua’s preferred karaoke joint was small, permanently stained with cigarette smoke, and served watered-down drinks, but their hourly rates were reasonable and they didn’t gouge their customers with a spending minimum. Plus they had a pretty good selection, so Shang Qinghua never got bored of coming here when she needed to blow off some steam. She wasn’t, you know, a good singer, there was a reason she never used her own voice for her music, but that really wasn’t a requirement when you were singing to a tiny, empty room. It was fun, and that was all that mattered about karaoke.
And it worked! After a couple of hours of cheap drinks and belting out nostalgic chart toppers from her college days, Shang Qinghua felt a little more pep in her step. What was more, she felt like her creative batteries were finally charged again. She could totally spend the day making music, and she’d probably be super productive, even with the hangover she was currently destined for! Yes! Tonight was a good night to be Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky!
She collected her bag and headed for the door. Then she spotted a familiar fan and froze mid-step.
Actually, the fan wasn’t familiar at all, the lighting in here was too dim to tell, but the dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail, the thick-rimmed glasses and the general aura of aloofness — who else could it be? Shang Qinghua was reasonably sure enough that she made a beeline to the bar and threw out an accusing finger.
“Shen Yuan! I can’t believe you stood me up!”
Okay, when she phrased it like that, it really did sound like a date.
Shen Yuan stared blankly at her from behind the fan for a few moments, then blinked. “Ah. The Mile High Club, right?”
“Yes, the Mile High Club you were supposed to show up at on Saturday!” Shang Qinghua glared, but it mostly came off plaintive, and her voice wound up into a whine. “What gives? You said you’d be there! I sent you, like, a ton of DMs!”
“Ah, that…well.” Shen Yuan’s gaze slid to the side, and she cleared her throat delicately. “I had something else going on that night.”
“What, and you couldn’t even send me a reply?” Shang Qinghua’s voice came out as a whine. Not that it would have mattered—she would’ve begged Shen Yuan until she caved—but still! No one liked being ghosted!
“I was indisposed,” Shen Yuan said crisply. Shang Qinghua choked slightly. What was that supposed to be, code for getting laid? Talk about a thinly veiled brag. Nah, there was no way Shen Yuan was actually as cool as she or her inexplicable legion of fans pretended she was.
“What, you mean like writing ranty blog posts?”
Shen Yuan’s brows drew down and, Shang Qinghua imagined, she was probably pursing her lips behind that fan. “Did you need something?”
Yes! You! But Shang Qinghua was going to use more words to say it. Two words were not enough to convey her desperation. But just as she opened her mouth, Shen Yuan held up a hand.
“One drink.”
“Uh?”
“Buy me one drink, and we’ll talk.”
One drink just for a conversation? Wasn’t this kind of a downgrade from their prior arrangement? Was this some kind of weird negging pickup strategy??
But Shang Qinghua sighed and pulled out her wallet. Her pride was used to being benched anyway. She really, really needed a comeback and as far as she could see, Shen Yuan was pretty much her only hope for climbing out of this hole.
Shen Yuan flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink Shang Qinghua had never heard of but sounded expensive; Shang Qinghua, who had stuck to cheep beer all night and wasn’t about to quit now, ordered another. She glanced over at Shen Yuan, who was preoccupied with her phone and had shifted her fan to an angle that still covered her face, and wondered if she was planning to drink with a really long straw.
“Please come to my live house,” Shang Qinghua said the second the bartender left. She was mad, yeah, sure, but that didn’t mean she was above begging! “Seriously. I meant it when I said free drinks, as many as you want! Just come and hang out! Saturday was a disaster!”
Shen Yuan’s eyebrows lifted. “Did no one show up?”
“No, a ton of people showed up! Because they thought you were going to be there, and you weren’t, and they were pissed!”
“And why were they so convinced I was going to be there?”
Shang Qinghua opened her mouth. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “Oh—y’know, rumors.”
“Mm.” She peered over the fan at Shang Qinghua, her brows knit together in a faint expression of—what, exactly? After a moment: “Okay.”
Shang Qinghua blinked. “Okay?”
“I’ll come to your next show.”
“Seriously? Do you promise?”
Shen Yuan puffed out a little sigh, her gaze fixed on her phone. Probably checking her schedule or something. “Yes, yes, I’ll—make sure I’m available this weekend.”
Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!
Shen Yuan cleared her throat. “Are you done?”
Shang Qinghua hadn’t noticed that she was pumping a fist along with her inward cheers. She (badly) pretended she was just stretching and lowered her arm, reaching for her drink. Who knew her pick-me-up karaoke night would end with cause for celebration?
“So who’s playing at your next show?”
Shang Qinghua’s smile froze. “Haha, well, that’s the thing! Considering the last event ended with an angry mob, I don’t, uh, have anyone lined up just yet!”
Shen Yuan, who looked like she was beginning to regret that promise, lowered her fan to take a sip of her drink. Shang Qinghua was almost disappointed she didn’t have a really long straw. She turned her glass in her hands, making little wet rings on the bartop.
“But…you know, like, a ton of bands,” Shang Qinghua said tentatively. “You’re probably—actually, you’re definitely more familiar with the whole scene than I am! You probably even know who’s looking for gigs right now, sooo…”
She trailed off hopefully, but fully prepared to argue her case. Shen Yuan closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose.
“No.”
“No, you don’t know any bands looking for gigs right now?”
“No, I am not going to be your booking agent!” Shen Yuan snapped her fan shut and set her drink down with a muffled thud. “You’re the one with the live house, book your own show. I’m the one who writes about it afterwards.”
“So you’ll definitely write about the show?” Shang Qinghua said, immediately switching tacks. The corner of Shen Yuan’s mouth twitched.
“I only write about good shows,” she said airily. Hey, what’s with the different standard for events and music?! “So, if you manage to put together another show—if it’s good—I might write about it for my blog. But I’m not scouting for you just for free drinks.”
Shang Qinghua’s pitiful look must have been effective, because after a moment, Shen Yuan exhaled a tiny sigh through her nose and reached into her bag. She produced a business card and slid it across the bar to her with two fingers. It was the same little gesture as the drink ticket.
“You can start with her.”
Shang Qinghua picked up the business card and turned it over in the dim light. “Uh, this is another live house. Why would they help me?”
“You don’t have any other leads, do you?”
Shang Qinghua’s mouth turned down in a frown that looked like more of a pout. “Well, no, but—seriously, you’re not gonna name drop even like, one band? Just a tip?”
Shen Yuan rolled her eyes, finished her drink (how was something so expensive so small!), and stood up. “Thanks for the drink. DM me later. Good luck booking your show.”
It was hard to tell from her tone if she meant it encouragingly or sarcastically. Maybe both. Before Shang Qinghua could babble out a good excuse for her to stay, she was already gone with a swish of her hair. Shang Qinghua slumped back against the bar, watching the door.
Wait, why would she bother getting Shen Yuan to stay any longer if that was as far as her help went? Shang Qinghua would probably wind up buying the next round too, and she was the one on the brink of personal and professional destitution!
Shang Qinghua sipped down the last of her drink as she inspected the business card Shen Yuan had given her. She really would have preferred a direct hookup, but this was…something, at least? Maybe this was what they called industry networking! Feeling significantly more optimistic than when she’d walked in, Shang Qinghua pocketed the business card and headed home.
CiRCLE was not only a bigger live house, it was also a much nicer looking one. Looking at the tidy signage, gleaming windows and the bustling little cafe, it made the Mile High Club look seedy in comparison. Shang Qinghua observed (observed, not stared) at the storefront from across the street, debating whether or not Shen Yuan had sent her here as a mean joke. Thanks, Peerless Cucumber, she already knows what a successful business looks like, okay!
But Shang Qinghua hadn’t gotten this far in life by being afraid of embarrassment. She’d check her pride at the door and scatter her dignity before her like rose petals if it meant closing this month out in the black. And she would throw herself at the feet of the person Shen Yuan had referred her to and grovel if she had to!
There was a little buzz of activity at the cafe, mostly high school students hanging out on a weekend afternoon. The inside of the lobby was just as crisp and clean as the outside suggested; the floors were polished, the lights were high and bright, and the walls were impeccably organized with racks of magazines and instruments. There were fewer customers in here, just a small cluster of girls talking with an employee at the counter, wrapping up their studio session for the day. She saw them off with a wave and a cheerful smile, then turned her warm brown eyes on Shang Qinghua, who chose to use that moment to convert her awkward loitering to a more or less confident stride towards the counter.
“Hi there! What can I help you with today?”
And here was another thing the Mile High Club was missing: charm! Maybe they’d get more walk-ins and return customers if they had someone this cute and friendly at the counter. Shang Qinghua didn’t possess a fraction of the grown-up moe factor this woman emanated with that seemingly effortless smile. It was the girl-next-door look that really seemed to—anyway. Shang Qinghua cleared her throat.
“I’m looking for Tsukishima Marina,” she said, holding up the business card and hoping it looked more like a power pose than it felt. The woman brightened and came out from behind the counter to offer a polite bow.
“Well, you’re in luck, because that’s me! Is that my card?”
Shen Yuan, you need to warn someone when you’re introducing them to someone this cute! The girl-next-door vibe is even more potent up close!
Shang Qinghua cut a jerky bow in response, discreetly tugging at the hem of her rumpled shirt. It wasn’t that she was opposed to doing laundry before meeting with industry rivals, but she’d kind of used the last of her cash on Shen Yuan’s drink last night. Whatever, this was from the clean pile. At least, it had been clean a few weeks ago.
“Ah, yeah, a friend—” Shang Qinghua decided she didn’t want to find out just now if Shen Yuan’s magnetism extended to adult women, too. “She said you might be able to help me out. I mean, she didn’t say how. She just kind of gave me your business card and said ‘go talk to her’.”
With every word, Shang Qinghua was feeling less and less sure about this strategy. Who walks up to their competition and asks to be cut in on a little of their business! Who in their right mind would actually do that! But she was here and already committed and without any other options, so she plowed on without giving Marina a chance to say anything.
“The thing is, ownership of this live house kind of got dumped on me without warning and it’s in terrible shape—seriously, aside from the staggering debt, the whole space looks like the inside of a garbage dumpster compared to this place—and if I don’t get bands playing on our stage soon, the whole thing is going to fold and I’ll have to fire all of the staff and then myself, and our last live show was a hot flaming disaster and I’m out of bands to tap for performances, so if you could please maybe give me a lead on some bands with flexible standards even though I’m technically your competition I would owe you my totally worthless life okay please thank you!”
By the time she was finished, she was on her hands and knees in the middle of the lobby. It was embarrassing—it was pathetic, yes, but pity could be very powerful! And pity was the emotion that Shang Qinghua was best at evoking in other people!
Marina stared down at her helplessly for a beat, but then let out a little laugh, one hand to her head. “Oh, you’re the new owner of the Mile High Club, aren’t you?”
Shang Qinghua looked up, startled. That…wasn’t a response of total ridicule?
“Oh, uh…we haven’t met, have we?” Shang Qinghua was pretty sure she would remember that josei manga smile.
Marina shook her head. “No, but word gets around, you know? Besides, it…was kind of an open secret that something fishy was up with the management there, ahaha.”
Shang Qinghua choked back a noise. Why was this the first she was hearing of it, then? Marina let out another laugh, this one a little awkward, and waved her hand at Shang Qinghua.
“Come on, no need for you to be on the floor. If you need some kind of help, why don’t we go sit down and talk about it? We can start with your name.”
Hm, yeah, she probably should’ve led with that. She scrambled to her feet, tugging at her collar, and cleared her throat. “Ah, yeah—I’m Shang Qinghua, nice to meet you. But—I’m like, your business rival, aren’t I? Why would you want to help?”
“Oh, you’re not my business rival.” Marina said it with a smile on her face, but the words landed on Shang Qinghua like a pile of bricks. “Besides, while we might both be vying for audiences, it doesn’t really benefit us to start dwindling in number. Shang-san, let me just ask you one thing—do you care about the music here?”
“Yes,” Shang Qinghua answered automatically, but then actually considered it. “I mean—yeah, of course I do. Music is my passion! It’s why I found a job at a live house in the first place. I just didn’t expect to end up owning one, haha…”
Seriously, it was slowly sucking the life out of her—physically, creatively, financially. If there was anything left of Shang Qinghua but a withered husk by the end of the year, it would be a miracle. Marina offered her a sympathetic smile, guiding her over to a table tucked away in a corner.
“I can’t say I know what it’s like to own a live house,” she admitted. “I’m just a manager here. But I do know that it’s a labor of love for all of us here. You know live houses aren’t just businesses—they’re a place for music to grow, for musicians to find and hone their sound. And the atmosphere of every live house here is just a little bit different, offering its own energy and support to the bands that play there, influencing their music in unique ways. We want the music scene here to keep growing, but if there’s nowhere to play, then that growth is stifled, even strangled. So losing a live house would really just hurt the scene. I’d hate to see that happen.”
Shang Qinghua blinked. That was…a really sincere and earnest answer? Maybe Shen Yuan actually was trying to do her a favor by pointing her here? She retracted all unfavorable thoughts about Shen Yuan for now.
“Aah, really? You’re really willing to help me out?”
Shang Qinghua was nearly in tears with relief. Three cheers for pity! Marina patted her arm and gave her an encouraging smile.
“I’ll see what I can do. I’m guessing you need a band to headline?” She tapped a finger to her chin in thought. “We’re still in music festival season, so a lot of the bands are pretty busy, and I can’t say I know all their schedules, but…hm…the Mile High Club has kind of a basement grunge vibe, doesn’t it?”
You can just say “dank and dirty,” really, it’d be a lot more honest!
“Sure,” Shang Qinghua said, “let’s go with that. You know a band that wants to play in a grungy basement?”
“Mm…well, there are a few bands that fit that image, yeah. I think I might know one or two to recommend for an audition.”
Shang Qinghua threw her hands up. “They don’t need to audition, they just have to be willing to show up and bring in a few customers!”
Marina gave her a little frown that actually did make Shang Qinghua feel a hot flash of embarrassment, and she shrunk back with a helpless shrug.
“You have to audition bands before you let them play on your stage,” Marina said. “It shows that you have standards and gives them something to strive for, so you’ll get their best possible performance.”
“But I don’t have standards,” whined Shang Qinghua.
“Ahaha…then at least pretend you do, for the sake of your live house’s reputation. I mean, think about it. Why would an aspiring band want to play at a live house that doesn’t take pride in its stage?”
Hmm. Okay, she had a good point. After all, Shang Qinghua took pride in her own music, and that had to be part of Airplane’s appeal, right? She still wanted to make the live house someone else’s problem as soon as it was no longer on the verge of collapse, but in the meantime…
“I’ll forward your information to a couple of bands and encourage them to contact you,” Marina said, tucking Shang Qinghua’s business card into her wallet. “Let me know how it goes, hm? I’d like to come see the show, if I’m able to.”
Shang Qinghua kept on thanking Marina right up until she backed her way out the front doors. As soon as she was on a train back to her apartment, she ran a little mental victory lap. Things had really started to look bad for a minute there, and while she wasn’t in the clear yet, there was still hope for recovery. If infusing the Mile High Club with a sense of pride was the way to bring bands in and save it from the brink, then Shang Qinghua would fake it till she made it. Not today, debt collectors!
Title: Live at the Mile High Club!
Summary: In the wake of the disastrous live show, Shang Qinghua is desperate for bands to book for the Mile High Club. On a tip from Shen Yuan, she seeks out the help of another live house.
AO3 mirror
After the exhausting and unmitigated disaster that was this weekend’s show, Shang Qinghua was prepared to drop her miserable ass in bed as soon as she got home and pass out into blissful unconsciousness. If she wasn’t conscious, she didn’t have to think about how thoroughly fucked the Mile High Club was. It was nearly midnight when she clumsily keyed open her apartment and stepped over the small pile of newspapers she kept forgetting to take to the trash. She stripped off her work clothes and dropped them tiredly onto yesterday’s pile, ambled over to her futon, and out of habit, glanced blearily just once at her open laptop screen. The bottom of her stomach dropped out. No, no, no…
In all the rush to prepare for the show, she’d completely forgotten to release a new track this week!
Even though she had a buffer! She should have been totally fine, she just…fuck, she totally forgot it was supposded to go out last night! And now the subscribers on her early release tier were out for blood, leaving a string of vicious comments and messages berating her for letting down her adoring (paying) fans.
For a brief, terrifying moment, Shang Qinghua seriously wondered if she’d have to give up her music career as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky in order to save the live house. But she couldn’t do that—whatever Peerless Cucumber and her other critics said, music was her life! Also her livelihood, because she really didn’t want to be the owner of a failing business forever. And if she dropped off the scene, all her fans, all that traction she’d worked so hard to gain over the years would be impossible to recover!
Shang Qinghua slapped her laptop closed, threw herself onto her futon, and screamed into her pillow.
Everything was not coming up Airplane! Everything was coming down Airplane! Mayday! Mayday! God dammit, even Cucumber’s stupid quips were stuck in her head!
A pathetic round of tears and a couple of beers later, Shang Qinghua was feeling…well, not better, but less like throwing up. Okay, so she missed the deadline, but only just barely! She could make it up by posting it tomorrow with a big apology, maybe some bonus content? She had to have something lying around she could toss up…okay, she was totally going to come back from this. Everything could still come up Airplane!
The next morning, Shang Qinghua woke up to a fresh post on Peerless Cucumber’s blog, putting her on blast for failing to get her early release out on time.
Okay, what gives! First you criticize her for putting out too much material, now you’re mad because she didn’t release this one on time? Make! Up! Your! Mind!
It really wasn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that Shang Qinghua had been too wrapped up with event planning to remember her own schedule, but at this point in time, she had no reservations about adding this to the pile of things to blame on her. The fact that Shang Qinghua woke up with an angry stomach because she’d had nothing but beer and coffee after noon the previous day, too, was getting added to the list.
She texted Yuka to let her know she’d be calling out sick and prayed that the rest of her staff weren’t going to do the same. She needed to do some damage control, which meant a whole lot of digital ass-kissing to convince people not to drop their subscriptions. Yuka didn’t respond, but that was fine. She usually didn’t.
Fortunately, Airplane was only a day and change late on the new track, and the groveling apology-slash-excuse (waahhh so sorry everyone, she was struck down by a stomach bug and couldn’t even crawl far enough to reach her laptop _ :(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ ) and a mini set of samples she’d been saving for another tier seemed to save her subs for the most part. There wasn’t anything she could do about Peerless Cucumber’s blog post—it’d probably be followed up in a few days with a scathing review of the late track—but as long as her fans stayed, it was fine!
Never mind the fact that she was running out of buffer material, and she hadn’t had time to finish anything new lately. And there was no rest for the destitute! Studio sessions alone weren’t going to cut the bill; she still had to book another show! Shang Qinghua was dreading the hustle that awaited her. It had been hard enough to book a follow-up to a successful show—who’d be willing to play at the Mile High Club now? She couldn’t afford to go two weeks between shows at this point.
Gnawing on that hangnail, Shang Qinghua flipped through her notes in search of a solution. Hello, Happy World! was booked for a while, although maybe she could slot them in for a later date, assuming she was still operating then. Ah, no, she had to forge on with a positive attitude! There were tons of bands in this city, and maybe word about last night wouldn’t spread too far. In retrospect, this time around, Shang Qinghua was nauseatingly relieved that Peerless Cucumber had chosen to write about Airplane’s music and not Shang Qinghua’s live house.
But it was hard to maintain a positive attitude when she was poring over accounting records and scheduling. One of the only—no, the only nice thing Yuka had ever said to her was that Shang Qinghua was actually good at this logistics stuff, but that didn’t make her hate it any less. And no administrative finagling was going to save them if all the money ran out.
Shang Qinghua chewed on a pen in thought and was rewarded for her trouble with a mouthful of blue ink and a freshly stained t-shirt. While she rinsed her mouth out in the bathroom sink, accepting with resignation that she was probably permanently staining the porcelain, she considered the possibility of a loan. Hahaha no. No bank in the country would offer her a loan now. But even though the event had, technically, sold very well, they’d had to refund a whole lot of tickets, and the damage expenses alone were enough to put them back in the red. She was just grateful that the guitar Luo Binghe smashed hadn’t been a rental.
Wiping her face and chest off with a towel, Shang Qinghua looked around her one-room apartment. Her gaze settled guiltily on the shelves bearing her collection of figures. She could…sell some of them? The thought was physically painful. She clutched at her chest. Well, she probably wouldn’t be able to get the money quick enough anyway. Case closed. She reviewed her personal accounts (okay, account) instead and concluded, with a sigh, that she’d just have to cover the difference out of her own pocket. Not for the first time, either. Last month she’d forgone paying her own rent in favor of keeping the lights on at the live house. Her landlord sighed and said she’d accept a late payment…Shang Qinghua just hadn’t said how late it would be.
At the end of the night, Shang Qinghua finally received a response from Yuka. It consisted only of a few pictures of the live house still in a miserable state of disarray with the caption we did our best. Shang Qinghua smacked her phone against her forehead three times and sent a text to her staff informing them that the live house would be closed for cleaning tomorrow.
After a dinner of reheated curry and half a can of Pringles, Shang Qinghua attempted to be productive. She had a few sketches she could work with, see if she could wrangle those into a cohesive new song. But for once she was struck with composer’s block. Everything came out feeling flat and forced and after an hour, she gave up and closed her laptop. This was the worst time to fall into a creative rut, but all the stress and lack of sleep lately was totally drying up her mojo!
Shang Qinghua needed inspiration. More importantly, she needed just one night of fun. She didn’t like being this stressed! She wasn’t cut out for it! If she had to be in charge of a business, why couldn’t she be the laid back, hands off kind of boss who never had to deal with logistics? She put on a fresh shirt, pulled yesterday’s jeans out from under her blanket, and headed for the door. If she had nowhere to be tomorrow, then she was not going to spend the night miserable at home!
Shang Qinghua’s preferred karaoke joint was small, permanently stained with cigarette smoke, and served watered-down drinks, but their hourly rates were reasonable and they didn’t gouge their customers with a spending minimum. Plus they had a pretty good selection, so Shang Qinghua never got bored of coming here when she needed to blow off some steam. She wasn’t, you know, a good singer, there was a reason she never used her own voice for her music, but that really wasn’t a requirement when you were singing to a tiny, empty room. It was fun, and that was all that mattered about karaoke.
And it worked! After a couple of hours of cheap drinks and belting out nostalgic chart toppers from her college days, Shang Qinghua felt a little more pep in her step. What was more, she felt like her creative batteries were finally charged again. She could totally spend the day making music, and she’d probably be super productive, even with the hangover she was currently destined for! Yes! Tonight was a good night to be Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky!
She collected her bag and headed for the door. Then she spotted a familiar fan and froze mid-step.
Actually, the fan wasn’t familiar at all, the lighting in here was too dim to tell, but the dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail, the thick-rimmed glasses and the general aura of aloofness — who else could it be? Shang Qinghua was reasonably sure enough that she made a beeline to the bar and threw out an accusing finger.
“Shen Yuan! I can’t believe you stood me up!”
Okay, when she phrased it like that, it really did sound like a date.
Shen Yuan stared blankly at her from behind the fan for a few moments, then blinked. “Ah. The Mile High Club, right?”
“Yes, the Mile High Club you were supposed to show up at on Saturday!” Shang Qinghua glared, but it mostly came off plaintive, and her voice wound up into a whine. “What gives? You said you’d be there! I sent you, like, a ton of DMs!”
“Ah, that…well.” Shen Yuan’s gaze slid to the side, and she cleared her throat delicately. “I had something else going on that night.”
“What, and you couldn’t even send me a reply?” Shang Qinghua’s voice came out as a whine. Not that it would have mattered—she would’ve begged Shen Yuan until she caved—but still! No one liked being ghosted!
“I was indisposed,” Shen Yuan said crisply. Shang Qinghua choked slightly. What was that supposed to be, code for getting laid? Talk about a thinly veiled brag. Nah, there was no way Shen Yuan was actually as cool as she or her inexplicable legion of fans pretended she was.
“What, you mean like writing ranty blog posts?”
Shen Yuan’s brows drew down and, Shang Qinghua imagined, she was probably pursing her lips behind that fan. “Did you need something?”
Yes! You! But Shang Qinghua was going to use more words to say it. Two words were not enough to convey her desperation. But just as she opened her mouth, Shen Yuan held up a hand.
“One drink.”
“Uh?”
“Buy me one drink, and we’ll talk.”
One drink just for a conversation? Wasn’t this kind of a downgrade from their prior arrangement? Was this some kind of weird negging pickup strategy??
But Shang Qinghua sighed and pulled out her wallet. Her pride was used to being benched anyway. She really, really needed a comeback and as far as she could see, Shen Yuan was pretty much her only hope for climbing out of this hole.
Shen Yuan flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink Shang Qinghua had never heard of but sounded expensive; Shang Qinghua, who had stuck to cheep beer all night and wasn’t about to quit now, ordered another. She glanced over at Shen Yuan, who was preoccupied with her phone and had shifted her fan to an angle that still covered her face, and wondered if she was planning to drink with a really long straw.
“Please come to my live house,” Shang Qinghua said the second the bartender left. She was mad, yeah, sure, but that didn’t mean she was above begging! “Seriously. I meant it when I said free drinks, as many as you want! Just come and hang out! Saturday was a disaster!”
Shen Yuan’s eyebrows lifted. “Did no one show up?”
“No, a ton of people showed up! Because they thought you were going to be there, and you weren’t, and they were pissed!”
“And why were they so convinced I was going to be there?”
Shang Qinghua opened her mouth. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “Oh—y’know, rumors.”
“Mm.” She peered over the fan at Shang Qinghua, her brows knit together in a faint expression of—what, exactly? After a moment: “Okay.”
Shang Qinghua blinked. “Okay?”
“I’ll come to your next show.”
“Seriously? Do you promise?”
Shen Yuan puffed out a little sigh, her gaze fixed on her phone. Probably checking her schedule or something. “Yes, yes, I’ll—make sure I’m available this weekend.”
Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!
Shen Yuan cleared her throat. “Are you done?”
Shang Qinghua hadn’t noticed that she was pumping a fist along with her inward cheers. She (badly) pretended she was just stretching and lowered her arm, reaching for her drink. Who knew her pick-me-up karaoke night would end with cause for celebration?
“So who’s playing at your next show?”
Shang Qinghua’s smile froze. “Haha, well, that’s the thing! Considering the last event ended with an angry mob, I don’t, uh, have anyone lined up just yet!”
Shen Yuan, who looked like she was beginning to regret that promise, lowered her fan to take a sip of her drink. Shang Qinghua was almost disappointed she didn’t have a really long straw. She turned her glass in her hands, making little wet rings on the bartop.
“But…you know, like, a ton of bands,” Shang Qinghua said tentatively. “You’re probably—actually, you’re definitely more familiar with the whole scene than I am! You probably even know who’s looking for gigs right now, sooo…”
She trailed off hopefully, but fully prepared to argue her case. Shen Yuan closed her eyes and pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose.
“No.”
“No, you don’t know any bands looking for gigs right now?”
“No, I am not going to be your booking agent!” Shen Yuan snapped her fan shut and set her drink down with a muffled thud. “You’re the one with the live house, book your own show. I’m the one who writes about it afterwards.”
“So you’ll definitely write about the show?” Shang Qinghua said, immediately switching tacks. The corner of Shen Yuan’s mouth twitched.
“I only write about good shows,” she said airily. Hey, what’s with the different standard for events and music?! “So, if you manage to put together another show—if it’s good—I might write about it for my blog. But I’m not scouting for you just for free drinks.”
Shang Qinghua’s pitiful look must have been effective, because after a moment, Shen Yuan exhaled a tiny sigh through her nose and reached into her bag. She produced a business card and slid it across the bar to her with two fingers. It was the same little gesture as the drink ticket.
“You can start with her.”
Shang Qinghua picked up the business card and turned it over in the dim light. “Uh, this is another live house. Why would they help me?”
“You don’t have any other leads, do you?”
Shang Qinghua’s mouth turned down in a frown that looked like more of a pout. “Well, no, but—seriously, you’re not gonna name drop even like, one band? Just a tip?”
Shen Yuan rolled her eyes, finished her drink (how was something so expensive so small!), and stood up. “Thanks for the drink. DM me later. Good luck booking your show.”
It was hard to tell from her tone if she meant it encouragingly or sarcastically. Maybe both. Before Shang Qinghua could babble out a good excuse for her to stay, she was already gone with a swish of her hair. Shang Qinghua slumped back against the bar, watching the door.
Wait, why would she bother getting Shen Yuan to stay any longer if that was as far as her help went? Shang Qinghua would probably wind up buying the next round too, and she was the one on the brink of personal and professional destitution!
Shang Qinghua sipped down the last of her drink as she inspected the business card Shen Yuan had given her. She really would have preferred a direct hookup, but this was…something, at least? Maybe this was what they called industry networking! Feeling significantly more optimistic than when she’d walked in, Shang Qinghua pocketed the business card and headed home.
CiRCLE was not only a bigger live house, it was also a much nicer looking one. Looking at the tidy signage, gleaming windows and the bustling little cafe, it made the Mile High Club look seedy in comparison. Shang Qinghua observed (observed, not stared) at the storefront from across the street, debating whether or not Shen Yuan had sent her here as a mean joke. Thanks, Peerless Cucumber, she already knows what a successful business looks like, okay!
But Shang Qinghua hadn’t gotten this far in life by being afraid of embarrassment. She’d check her pride at the door and scatter her dignity before her like rose petals if it meant closing this month out in the black. And she would throw herself at the feet of the person Shen Yuan had referred her to and grovel if she had to!
There was a little buzz of activity at the cafe, mostly high school students hanging out on a weekend afternoon. The inside of the lobby was just as crisp and clean as the outside suggested; the floors were polished, the lights were high and bright, and the walls were impeccably organized with racks of magazines and instruments. There were fewer customers in here, just a small cluster of girls talking with an employee at the counter, wrapping up their studio session for the day. She saw them off with a wave and a cheerful smile, then turned her warm brown eyes on Shang Qinghua, who chose to use that moment to convert her awkward loitering to a more or less confident stride towards the counter.
“Hi there! What can I help you with today?”
And here was another thing the Mile High Club was missing: charm! Maybe they’d get more walk-ins and return customers if they had someone this cute and friendly at the counter. Shang Qinghua didn’t possess a fraction of the grown-up moe factor this woman emanated with that seemingly effortless smile. It was the girl-next-door look that really seemed to—anyway. Shang Qinghua cleared her throat.
“I’m looking for Tsukishima Marina,” she said, holding up the business card and hoping it looked more like a power pose than it felt. The woman brightened and came out from behind the counter to offer a polite bow.
“Well, you’re in luck, because that’s me! Is that my card?”
Shen Yuan, you need to warn someone when you’re introducing them to someone this cute! The girl-next-door vibe is even more potent up close!
Shang Qinghua cut a jerky bow in response, discreetly tugging at the hem of her rumpled shirt. It wasn’t that she was opposed to doing laundry before meeting with industry rivals, but she’d kind of used the last of her cash on Shen Yuan’s drink last night. Whatever, this was from the clean pile. At least, it had been clean a few weeks ago.
“Ah, yeah, a friend—” Shang Qinghua decided she didn’t want to find out just now if Shen Yuan’s magnetism extended to adult women, too. “She said you might be able to help me out. I mean, she didn’t say how. She just kind of gave me your business card and said ‘go talk to her’.”
With every word, Shang Qinghua was feeling less and less sure about this strategy. Who walks up to their competition and asks to be cut in on a little of their business! Who in their right mind would actually do that! But she was here and already committed and without any other options, so she plowed on without giving Marina a chance to say anything.
“The thing is, ownership of this live house kind of got dumped on me without warning and it’s in terrible shape—seriously, aside from the staggering debt, the whole space looks like the inside of a garbage dumpster compared to this place—and if I don’t get bands playing on our stage soon, the whole thing is going to fold and I’ll have to fire all of the staff and then myself, and our last live show was a hot flaming disaster and I’m out of bands to tap for performances, so if you could please maybe give me a lead on some bands with flexible standards even though I’m technically your competition I would owe you my totally worthless life okay please thank you!”
By the time she was finished, she was on her hands and knees in the middle of the lobby. It was embarrassing—it was pathetic, yes, but pity could be very powerful! And pity was the emotion that Shang Qinghua was best at evoking in other people!
Marina stared down at her helplessly for a beat, but then let out a little laugh, one hand to her head. “Oh, you’re the new owner of the Mile High Club, aren’t you?”
Shang Qinghua looked up, startled. That…wasn’t a response of total ridicule?
“Oh, uh…we haven’t met, have we?” Shang Qinghua was pretty sure she would remember that josei manga smile.
Marina shook her head. “No, but word gets around, you know? Besides, it…was kind of an open secret that something fishy was up with the management there, ahaha.”
Shang Qinghua choked back a noise. Why was this the first she was hearing of it, then? Marina let out another laugh, this one a little awkward, and waved her hand at Shang Qinghua.
“Come on, no need for you to be on the floor. If you need some kind of help, why don’t we go sit down and talk about it? We can start with your name.”
Hm, yeah, she probably should’ve led with that. She scrambled to her feet, tugging at her collar, and cleared her throat. “Ah, yeah—I’m Shang Qinghua, nice to meet you. But—I’m like, your business rival, aren’t I? Why would you want to help?”
“Oh, you’re not my business rival.” Marina said it with a smile on her face, but the words landed on Shang Qinghua like a pile of bricks. “Besides, while we might both be vying for audiences, it doesn’t really benefit us to start dwindling in number. Shang-san, let me just ask you one thing—do you care about the music here?”
“Yes,” Shang Qinghua answered automatically, but then actually considered it. “I mean—yeah, of course I do. Music is my passion! It’s why I found a job at a live house in the first place. I just didn’t expect to end up owning one, haha…”
Seriously, it was slowly sucking the life out of her—physically, creatively, financially. If there was anything left of Shang Qinghua but a withered husk by the end of the year, it would be a miracle. Marina offered her a sympathetic smile, guiding her over to a table tucked away in a corner.
“I can’t say I know what it’s like to own a live house,” she admitted. “I’m just a manager here. But I do know that it’s a labor of love for all of us here. You know live houses aren’t just businesses—they’re a place for music to grow, for musicians to find and hone their sound. And the atmosphere of every live house here is just a little bit different, offering its own energy and support to the bands that play there, influencing their music in unique ways. We want the music scene here to keep growing, but if there’s nowhere to play, then that growth is stifled, even strangled. So losing a live house would really just hurt the scene. I’d hate to see that happen.”
Shang Qinghua blinked. That was…a really sincere and earnest answer? Maybe Shen Yuan actually was trying to do her a favor by pointing her here? She retracted all unfavorable thoughts about Shen Yuan for now.
“Aah, really? You’re really willing to help me out?”
Shang Qinghua was nearly in tears with relief. Three cheers for pity! Marina patted her arm and gave her an encouraging smile.
“I’ll see what I can do. I’m guessing you need a band to headline?” She tapped a finger to her chin in thought. “We’re still in music festival season, so a lot of the bands are pretty busy, and I can’t say I know all their schedules, but…hm…the Mile High Club has kind of a basement grunge vibe, doesn’t it?”
You can just say “dank and dirty,” really, it’d be a lot more honest!
“Sure,” Shang Qinghua said, “let’s go with that. You know a band that wants to play in a grungy basement?”
“Mm…well, there are a few bands that fit that image, yeah. I think I might know one or two to recommend for an audition.”
Shang Qinghua threw her hands up. “They don’t need to audition, they just have to be willing to show up and bring in a few customers!”
Marina gave her a little frown that actually did make Shang Qinghua feel a hot flash of embarrassment, and she shrunk back with a helpless shrug.
“You have to audition bands before you let them play on your stage,” Marina said. “It shows that you have standards and gives them something to strive for, so you’ll get their best possible performance.”
“But I don’t have standards,” whined Shang Qinghua.
“Ahaha…then at least pretend you do, for the sake of your live house’s reputation. I mean, think about it. Why would an aspiring band want to play at a live house that doesn’t take pride in its stage?”
Hmm. Okay, she had a good point. After all, Shang Qinghua took pride in her own music, and that had to be part of Airplane’s appeal, right? She still wanted to make the live house someone else’s problem as soon as it was no longer on the verge of collapse, but in the meantime…
“I’ll forward your information to a couple of bands and encourage them to contact you,” Marina said, tucking Shang Qinghua’s business card into her wallet. “Let me know how it goes, hm? I’d like to come see the show, if I’m able to.”
Shang Qinghua kept on thanking Marina right up until she backed her way out the front doors. As soon as she was on a train back to her apartment, she ran a little mental victory lap. Things had really started to look bad for a minute there, and while she wasn’t in the clear yet, there was still hope for recovery. If infusing the Mile High Club with a sense of pride was the way to bring bands in and save it from the brink, then Shang Qinghua would fake it till she made it. Not today, debt collectors!