Leon felt a massive headache coming on. He originally thought this crazy rich kid was just a fanatical stan.
He didn't expect the guy's ambition to be breaking into the entertainment industry.
The problem was, in this industry, you couldn't do anything without talent. Whether it was a talent for writing, singing, or sleeping with producers.
Second-generation stars rarely succeeded in this business. In his memory, the last successful "nepo baby" was Will Smith's son, Jaden.
Let alone a political princeling who had absolutely nothing to do with the arts.
But since Henry's father was a Senator, Leon couldn't exactly voice his true thoughts.
"No problem, Henry~ I knew you had talent the moment I saw you!"
"Really?"
"Of course! You radiate a superstar aura from the inside out!" Leon, equipped with his [Liar] trait, lied without blinking an eye. "You're practically glowing. I can see the shadows of rock legends in you!"
This sugar-coated shellacking went straight to Henry's head, making him dizzy with delight.
"Did you hear that, Dad?!" Henry shook Charlie's shoulders excitedly. "Leon said I'm a genius! Your son is a genius!"
Although Charlie tried his best to control his expression, a trace of awkwardness still leaked through.
As an old fox who had navigated the political arena for years, he knew perfectly well that not a single syllable of Leon's speech was true.
He knew better than anyone what kind of material his son was made of.
Aside from drugs, orgies, and causing trouble...
This arrogant waste of space couldn't do a damn thing.
He calmed Henry down and pulled Leon aside, whispering, "Then... I'll leave Henry to you."
"No trouble! It's no trouble at all! It's my pleasure to work with a genius like Henry!"
It was a match made in heaven.
Charlie successfully dumped the youngest son—whom he viewed as a liability—onto someone else.
For a man of his immense power, he would rather this useless son go work quietly in a factory turning screws than watch him run around causing trouble all day.
If things continued as they were, sooner or later, his political enemies would grab hold of his son's scandals to use against him.
By playing the role of a garbage collector, Leon successfully boarded the Senator's ship.
It was foreseeable that an arrogant, good-for-nothing second-generation kid like Henry would drain a lot of his money and energy in the future.
But he firmly believed this trade was worth it.
No matter how much he put in, he would eventually collect the debt from old Charlie.
Leon Smith never took a loss.
The two chatted while the iron was hot for about ten minutes, mostly consisting of Leon painting big pictures and offering creative flattery.
Finally, Charlie received a call and had to fly to Washington immediately to handle urgent business.
By this time, Leon had already scripted a fantasy for Henry where he would dominate the Billboard charts and sweep the Grammys within a year.
They exchanged contact information, and Leon told him to reach out anytime.
As soon as he got into the car, Leon slumped into the back seat.
Although he had only sung one song, the mental pollution he endured here was far more exhausting than a high-intensity tour.
Not only that, but he also had to deal with a political old fox like Charlie.
Dealing with people like that was brain-draining; every word he spat out had to be carefully weighed.
"Fxxk... I just want to take a bath right now."
God seemed to know everything in advance because the moment this thought popped up, Leon received a call from Ariana.
He immediately thought of the luxurious Finnish sauna in her home.
He secretly made up his mind that when he bought his own house, he would design a Finnish sauna even bigger than hers.
Big enough to host an orgy.
"Hello? What's up, Little A?" Leon answered the phone, asking casually.
Ever since he resolved the Dean trouble for her, Ariana had become even more enthusiastic and proactive.
She resumed her habit of calling Leon every day, and she was even more obsessive than before.
Now, Ariana would tell Leon everything she did over the phone.
What she ate today;
What inspiration she had;
What funny movie she watched;
What dates her period cycle fell on...
If it were any other woman annoying him like this, Leon would have lost it long ago.
But for some reason, he just couldn't get angry at this girl.
"Leon! I wrote a super awesome DISS track!" Ariana's tone was incredibly excited. "You have to come over and listen to it right now!"
"You know how to write a Diss?"
Leon's head was filled with giant question marks. He couldn't imagine how a typical American sweetheart could write a Diss track.
For a Diss to stand out, it needed to be vicious, sarcastic, or dirty—at least one of those.
And Ariana didn't seem to possess the capability for any of them.
Despite his stomach full of doubts, Leon eventually agreed.
"Alright... I'll head to your apartment right now."
Jorge changed the route, driving toward Ariana's apartment.
On the way, Leon kept his eyes glued to his phone, scrolling incessantly through social media.
The trending topic about the "Second East Coast vs. West Coast War" was rising, and in his eyes, those numbers were just strings of cash.
Just as Leon had predicted, under the pressure of his continuous leaks, someone on Diddy's side couldn't sit still.
Pitbull posted a photo of himself in Miami with a group of Cuban gang members.
The threat was obvious.
"Shxt... the guys at immigration are a bunch of useless trash!" Leon cursed as he read. "They let these criminals and hookers bypass the strict visa process and come into this country effortlessly to commit crimes."
Although it was just an offhand comment, Jorge, who was driving, couldn't help but take it personally.
He was also the descendant of illegal immigrants.
He coughed dryly twice and said, "Man, you can't paint everyone with the same brush..."
"I wasn't talking about Mexicans. You guys are hardworking; you're the best laborers in this country." Leon glanced up at him.
Hardworking was true. When Leon first heard that someone could out-hustle others in dishwashing, he thought it was a joke.
But brutality was the other side of that coin. Mexican cartels had elevated the rules of the street game to another dimension.
Whether it was white biker gangs or black street gangs, in front of the cartel's organized crime systems, they looked like kids playing house.
Jorge shook his head and said, "I told you before, give me a sum of money, and I can solve all your troubles."
"Those Cubans are a bit tricky, but as long as the number is right, I can guarantee you'll never hear those noises again."
Leon fully understood what Jorge meant. Violence was, in most cases, the most efficient way to resolve disputes.
But he wanted traffic (clout). Violence wasn't the goal; it was just a means.
Making money was the ultimate goal!
Chatting along the way, the business van unknowingly arrived at Ariana's luxury apartment building.
Knock knock—
Leon had barely knocked for three seconds before the door opened.
"Leon!" Ariana dove headfirst into Leon's arms.
All signs pointed to her standing guard at the door, waiting eagerly ever since the call ended.
"Alright, Little A, let me hear your work first."
"Mhm! You're going to love it!" Ariana let go of Leon's neck, looking proud.
Only then did Leon notice her outfit.
She was wearing a pink, sheer tulle nightgown. Although the March weather was still cold, the heating in this luxury apartment was excellent.
It allowed her to walk barefoot on the floor, and through the sheer fabric, faint shadows were visible.
She seemed to be in a "vacuum" state (going commando).
Before Leon could carefully admire the view, he was dragged into the living room by Ariana.
She sat at the piano, chest held high. Just as she was about to play, Leon couldn't hold it back.
He covered his mouth and laughed out loud.
"Hey! Even if you want to crush my spirit, at least listen to the work first!" Ariana frowned, pouting her lips.
"I don't think I need to listen."
"Why?!" Waves of grievance surged up, and stars twinkled in Ariana's eyes. "I wrote this song to defend you!"
Leon curled his lips helplessly. He could feel her sincerity.
But the problem was, who performs a Diss track on a piano?
No matter how vicious the lyrics were, it would be useless. It was like firing marshmallows out of an AK-47.
When Leon pointed this out, Ariana sat frozen on the stool for a full minute.
"What you said... seems to make a lot of sense..."
Leon patted her shoulder to comfort her. "Just write some tweets in your spare time. Leave the rest to me to handle."
"So you mean... I should just be a cheerleader on the sidelines?"
"Yes, and you must remember to post at least one tweet a day. This is very good for your record sales!"
"Okay." Ariana batted her long eyelashes. "But there are so many people attacking you, and the words they use are just filthy and disgusting!"
"You're clearly not the kind of person they say you are. You're the best boss in the world!"
Facing Ariana's heartfelt praise, Leon didn't know what to say.
This girl obviously didn't know the real side of her boss.
Diddy was scumbag, but compared to him, Leon wasn't much better—he was a devil.
"Alright, don't obsess over the Beef anymore. This thing will have a result soon." Leon's gaze inadvertently swept over Ariana's chest, and he couldn't help but swallow.
Looking down from above offered a magical perspective.
He shook his head, pulling himself out of the eyeful of spring scenery. "The results for Señorita are excellent. Since launching on streaming platforms over two months ago, downloads have exceeded 1.5 million. The physical records launched a bit later, but they've also sold over 700,000 copies."
"Tomorrow, I'll have Aisha transfer your share of the sales from this period into your account."
The CD for Señorita was priced at $4, and the vinyl was $13.50.
According to the contract—10% sales share and 20% copyright royalties—Ariana would net over $400,000 from physical record sales alone.
Since the prime sales period for the Demons album and Robbie's Faded had passed, the biggest replenishment for Leon's wallet recently came from the physical sales of Señorita.
Black-hearted Boss Leon, naturally, took the lion's share of the profits.
Counting the sales revenue from Demons and Faded, his assets, which had shrunk due to the movie investment, were replenished.
He was a multimillionaire once again.
In reality, the income situation was far more than that. Royalty calculations in the US music market were extremely complex.
They typically consisted of mechanical royalties, performance royalties, and synchronization royalties.
The heaviest portion was synchronization royalties—as long as it was used for commercial purposes, fees had to be paid to the copyright owner.
For a global electronic hit like Faded, the sync royalties were not to be ignored.
Because of this, Leon felt that the company's finance department needed to expand again, or he needed to sign with an accounting firm.
Otherwise, calculating earnings would be a massive headache.
When Ariana learned a huge sum would be wired to her account, she showed no surprise.
She even seemed a little disappointed.
"So, according to our agreement, if the physical records sell another 1.3 million copies, I can produce my own album, right?"
Leon smiled with relief. He knew exactly what this girl was thinking.
For a wealthy girl like her who never had to worry about food or clothing, money wasn't the only goal in entering the entertainment industry.
In Ariana's view, although Señorita had excellent results, it wasn't her original work.
She wanted to prove herself too badly!
Leon patted Ariana's head. "Don't rush. It won't take long, a few months at most."
"Really?"
Leon answered, " judging by the current sales momentum, yes."
"That's great!" Ariana immediately stood up, hugging Leon's arm and swaying back and forth.
"I think I should get going." Leon looked down at his watch.
"Huh? You're leaving so soon?" Ariana couldn't hide her disappointment, speaking shyly, "Don't you want to take a sauna? You can't find such a good Finnish bath anywhere else in New York..."
This sentence hit the bullseye in Leon's mind.
He was truly too tired today.
Without thinking about anything else, he accepted Ariana's offer, completely forgetting about Jorge waiting downstairs.
Walking into the bathroom, he first lay down in the luxurious triangular bathtub to soak.
In the rising steam, the fatigue of the past few days was swept away.
Before he could enjoy it for two minutes, his phone rang again. The caller was 50 Cent.
"Damn it!" Leon cursed as he picked up the phone.
"Bro! Where are you right now!"
"In New York."
"Shxt, how is your DISS coming along? Kendrick just wrote a song, but I think it's too sissy. It lacks lethality!" 50 Cent asked anxiously.
Facing the questioning, the anxiety Leon had just suppressed surged back up.
The opponent's attacks were coming wave after wave, while his camp was still clueless about the DISS track.
He could only pin his hopes on the extremely unstable inspiration refresh mechanism.
"I'm still writing. It needs some time," Leon replied perfunctorily.
"Fxxk bro! We don't have time! Except for spewing trash talk, we haven't taken any real action. The fans are calling us soft!" 50 Cent sounded like he was rapping with every sentence due to his excitement.
This tough guy who took 9 bullets valued his "hard" street reputation more than anything.
"Relax, man. Let the rumors fly for a while..."
"Fxxk..."
Beep beep—
50 Cent wanted to say more, but Leon gave him no chance and hung up directly.
He stood up from the bathtub, but just as he took a step out, a new situation arose.
The bathroom door was pushed open.
"Leon, can we do it together? I still have a lot of questions I want to ask you..."
Ariana walked in wearing her sheer nightgown, not yet realizing what was happening.
Until Leon quickly ran toward the rack where the towel hung.
"Woah..." Ariana seemed to see something incredible and was petrified on the spot.
She covered her mouth with both hands, and two burning clouds instantly rose on her pretty face.
Under the effect of the water vapor, the sheer nightgown became even more clinging and transparent.
The entire bathroom seemed to heat up again due to the burning blush on her face.
"Oh my God..."
"Ariana, I told you to knock before entering..." Leon tied the towel around his waist unhurriedly, looking helpless.
"Sorry... I'm just used to it..."
"Oh my God... what did I just see?"
"The rumors about the 'White Ngga' are actually true!"