The thought that Quincy Jones might be sitting in his Beverly Hills mansion right now, checking in on a young, pretty nanny while laughing at his opponent's stupidity made Leon grind his back molars.
He had to counterattack with equally dirty means.
He immediately had Bonnie book a flight to Los Angeles.
The next day, in the main hall of Los Angeles International Airport.
"Damn it... none of these nggas are ever on time." Leon was wrapped up tight, sitting on a chair and spitting lightly.
He had called 50 Cent last night, and the guy had patted his chest, guaranteeing he would pick him up on time.
Billy had brought a second spring to 50 Cent's rap career, and Leon's current status in his heart was comparable to Eminem.
He was practically the second reborn parent of his rap career.
After waiting for more than ten minutes, there was still no sign of 50 Cent. Thinking back to the loud music noise in the background of the call last night...
It was hard for him not to suspect that this ngga had partied too hard at an orgy and passed out.
"Let's get something to eat first." Leon took Jorge and three underlings on a search through the airport, finally walking into a Subway.
"Footlong Italian Herbs & Cheese, roast beef and bacon, black pepper and onions for toppings, thanks."
Because Leon was covered up tight, plus he was followed by several Mexican toughs...
When the female clerk first saw this getup, she mistook them for robbers. It wasn't until she realized she was working in an airport that she relaxed.
With the relaxation of the Democratic Party's immigration policy, the crime rate in Los Angeles had soared.
Impoverished, red-eyed nggas and illegal immigrants used to only rob grocery stores, but now even fast-food joints like McDonald's often fell victim.
Little girls working in these places all had some degree of PTSD.
"What are you guys eating? My treat." Leon said to Jorge behind him.
"I think we'll pass." Jorge shook his head, his eyes full of disdain. "You've made so much money, yet every time we go out with you, it's either McDonald's or Subway..."
"Time is money. Only fools spend hours on eating." Leon spread his hands and said, "Want to try my combo? I learned it online; it's President Barack's favorite way to eat."
"Since following you, you miser, I've lost almost ten pounds." Jorge shook his head with a bitter smile, and the underlings behind him nodded repeatedly.
"Obsessing over these things is utterly stupid." Leon curled his lips. "Think about it from another angle. Even if you eat Caspian caviar and Japanese Wagyu every day, after passing through the digestive system, what ends up in the toilet is the same. The dopamine pleasure your tongue gives you usually doesn't last more than five minutes."
"You guy..." Jorge was amused and exasperated by this weird speech, secretly cursing Leon as the scariest miser he had ever seen.
Back in the airport lobby, the hottest pop star who sparked the Drill music craze in the music industry was gnawing on a sandwich with a group of bodyguards.
Just a couple of bites in, Leon heard 50 Cent's voice.
"Hey Leon Bro~"
"Shxt, why is this ngga so loud!" Leon was startled, quickly putting down the sandwich and pulling up his collar.
Since the release of Billy, already crazy fan behavior had escalated even further.
Generally speaking, an idol's controversial nature and the madness of their fans were highly positively correlated.
Leon received weird gifts from fans every day.
Lipsticks and underwear were things of the past.
Fanatical fans sometimes sent razor blades and strange homemade explicit discs.
There were also quite a few rebellious middle-class girls who, in order to see their idol's style with their own eyes...
Disregarded their parents' opposition and got tattoos on private parts of their bodies, or even engaged in self-harm.
50 Cent first gave Leon a hug as usual, then shook hands with Jorge.
After the last MV shoot, they were no longer strangers.
"Look at you, man. Your entourage when going out looks like the real Al Capone." 50 Cent quipped.
Leon rolled his eyes. "I advise you to hire more bodyguards. Don't forget you are also a key figure in this Beef."
"Fxxk~ I don't care." 50 Cent said, "If Diddy wants to get real, let him come. I also want to let him taste what bullets feel like."
Leon couldn't be bothered to talk to him anymore. The group took 50 Cent's business van to his mansion in Beverly Hills.
The poolside of the mansion was a mess.
Cigarette butts, wine bottles, used condoms, and strange liquids were scattered all over the ground.
Just as he thought, after 50 Cent made a comeback with Billy, his dissolute life had escalated.
"I should remind you not to spend all your energy on women. Haven't seen you for a few days, and your muscles have visibly shrunk." Leon stood by the pool, looking out at the residential complex in the distance, as if searching for something.
"Haha~ Speaking of women, I should thank you, Bro~" 50 Cent said.
"Thank me for what?"
"Before, I had to pay to sleep with those bxxches. Now, can you believe it? These Beverly Hills bxxches are willing to sleep with me for free, just to exchange for bragging rights on social media!" 50 Cent looked proud, his eyebrows almost flying into the sky.
Since 2005, he rarely had influential works released, forcing him to focus on movies.
The significance of Billy to him was no less than Crack A Bottle, his collaboration with Dre and Eminem in 2009.
"Let's talk business. Do you know that old guy Quincy Jones?" Leon asked.
"Jones? Bro, that guy is almost in the coffin. I have absolutely no intersection with him."
"Jones also lives in Beverly Hills; his house isn't far from here." Leon pointed to a group of mansions in the distance. "Do you know what that old bastard likes to do usually?"
"Bro, do you take me for a CIA agent?" 50 Cent laughed out loud. "How could I spy on an old ngga's private life? I have zero interest in that kind of thing."
Leon frowned, falling into deep thought.
An old man who lived a reclusive life all year round seemed to have no weaknesses.
But according to Old Mike, the aging and frail Jones was now only obsessed with two things—charity and women.
Young women.
For this, he often attended Diddy's parties in a wheelchair, risking a stroke at any time.
Celebrities hanging out in Beverly Hills, even if hosting orgies, couldn't just choose streetwalkers randomly.
They usually had their own exclusive agents—to put it simply, pimps.
These agents were responsible for arranging beauties for celebrities and protecting the clients' privacy to the greatest extent.
"Where does Old Jones usually find girls? You have experience in this area; maybe you can give me an answer." Leon asked.
"Bro, you're getting more ridiculous." 50 Cent shook his head. "Do you know how many people are in this business in all of Los Angeles? Finding the person you're looking for among this group of bxxches is harder than finding Bin Laden."
Just as Leon expected, asking this wouldn't yield any results.
Old Jones lived a secluded life and paid extreme attention to his reputation, so naturally, he wouldn't make mistakes in this kind of thing.
He had his own dedicated pimp.
"Looks like I have to think of another way..." Leon thought to himself.
Last night, he came up with many ways to force Old Jones to submit.
Some of the vicious means would even ruin the benevolent image the other party had painstakingly built.
Since Jones played dirty on the Vibe deal, Leon would be even dirtier than him.
Lust and hypocrisy were both the opponent's weaknesses.
"Bro, although I don't know why you're asking about Old Jones..." 50 Cent said after a moment of silence, "Maybe you can ask Robinson."
"Robinson?" Leon's eyes lit up. "He's in the pimping business too?"
Pimping sounded like a humble small business, but in the city of desire, Los Angeles, it was an out-and-out big business.
Every year, countless wealthy celebrities from all over the world came here to seek pleasure. Those famous pimps earned no less than casino agents in Las Vegas.
"I don't know if he touches this business." 50 Cent shook his head. "But those bxxches on the roadside in Compton can't open their legs for business without his permission. Those pimps look at him like mice seeing a cat."
"You're right..." Leon felt he should have thought of this earlier. Since its birth, this industry had been inseparable from gang violence.
Without thinking too much, he quickly called Robinson.
After understanding the purpose of the call, the other party was silent for a full half-minute. "Man, where did I act unseemly enough for you to mistake me for a damn pimp?"
"It's not that... I just heard that those streetwalkers in Compton are very obedient to you." Leon explained hurriedly.
"That's because I'm afraid they'll spread those damn viruses throughout our community!" Robinson rarely lost his composure, raising his volume by three degrees.
Leon explained for a full minute before calming the other party's anger.
"Alright man, I know what you want to do... I can help you ask around, but there may not be results."
"Thank you very much, I will repay you, man."
Dealing with a gang leader like Robinson, one must not owe anything, especially favors.
Leon understood this very well.
He was ready to give Robinson more shares in the next movie.
"No need for repayment; this is a small matter to me." Robinson paused and continued, "You must urge the movie to wrap up quickly. I can't stand that stupid kid Davis under you for another day!"
"Davis? What's wrong with him?" Leon was full of question marks.
Ever since throwing this ngga into the crew to play Ice Cube, he hadn't received any news from him.
Not even a phone call.
He thought the guy had forgotten about Apocalypse Music.
Robinson snorted coldly. "This kid is obviously getting carried away because you are his boss. He battles with others on the street every day..."
Hearing this seemed normal. Leon explained, "He is a Battle MC. Freestyle rap is his way of earning respect."
"Is that so?" Robinson said. "But this kid did everything he bragged about in his lyrics."
Leon looked confused. The high-frequency phrases in Davis's lyrics were basically "slept with your girl," "slept with your mama"...
He immediately realized the seriousness of the matter. "I'm sorry, man. What exactly did he do?"
"That bastard sleeps with different girls every day. He's almost slept with all the girls in the community." Robinson stuttered for a moment, then said through gritted teeth:
"This bastard slept with my cousin!"
"WTF..." Leon slapped his forehead. He knew perfectly well that if not for him, Davis would have eaten bullets long ago.
"I'm very sorry, man. I will teach this ngga a good lesson."
"Now my cousin is completely fascinated by that kid's flexible fast mouth..." Robinson said. "If the movie doesn't meet expectations because of this kid's messing around, I will kick his ass hard!"
"Shxt..." After hanging up the phone, Leon shook his head with a bitter smile.
He finally understood why he hadn't received a call from Davis for so long.
This ngga had achieved a life leap in Compton.
Not only did he play an important role in the movie, but he also poached the gang leader's cousin in passing.
---
After leaving 50 Cent's house, Leon went directly to Robbie's apartment.
She had recently finished filming the TV series Pan Am and her tour in Australia, finally getting a chance to rest.
"Honey~" As soon as he entered the door, Robbie threw herself into Leon's arms, hurriedly releasing the seal on her body. "Hurry up! Today you can do whatever you want to me."
"Why are you so happy today?" Leon asked.
"The premiere date for Pan Am is set!" Robbie was immersed in happiness, looking proud. "It will premiere on ABC in September!"
"Really? That's great." Leon rubbed her blonde hair.
This show hadn't officially aired yet, but Leon already knew the general plot from chatting with her.
Although it carried eye-catching tags like history and espionage, this show was essentially a bland soap opera attracting viewers with flower-vase actors (eye candy) and stewardess themes.
Without watching the actual show, Leon had already given his evaluation—flop!
But in any case, this was Robbie's first work formally debuting in Hollywood.
The Wolf of Wall Street kept deleting and changing due to the interference of investor Jho Low. The budget kept increasing, and the shooting progress was slow.
There was no hope of wrapping up in the short term.
Robbie was in a great mood today, specially putting on crotchless shiny black silk stockings to reward Leon.
After half an hour of battle, the two lay on the sofa, leaning against each other.
While playing with Robbie's fair calf, Leon asked, "How is the talk about the new 007 movie going?"
"Not very smoothly..." Robbie's expression instantly turned from sunny to cloudy. "But Maggie is still trying her best to fight for me!"
"Why?" Leon looked puzzled. "Didn't Sony Pictures executives strongly recommend you?"
After investing in Straight Outta Compton, he was considered half a movie insider.
He knew very well about the behind-the-scenes of movie making.
The director wasn't the emperor whose word was law on set; the investor was!
If the investor daddy was unhappy, the director could be replaced at any time.
Because of his ex-wife Kate, Sam Mendes naturally had a certain dislike for Robbie.
But he wouldn't dare to go against Sony Pictures, which held the dual identity of investor and distributor, just for this reason.
"It's not about the role, it's about the screen time," Robbie explained.
"Screen time issue?" Leon looked confused. "I don't quite understand what you mean."
"Director Sam intends to cut the female lead's scenes in this movie." Robbie sighed. "According to the script he gave, my screen time in this movie is even less than M's. He proposed the concept of 'Bond Woman' instead of 'Bond Girl'."
"He said previous 007 movies used female bodies as a selling point, which is very disrespectful to women and doesn't fit the current trend..."
"What? Is this leftist crazy?!" This was Leon's first reaction.
Bond Girls were an indispensable key factor in all 007 movies. The main theme of this series was creating dreams for men all over the world.
Gunfights, suits, espionage, beauties, adventures to save the world, weird gadgets...
Beauty was a key link. Sophie Marceau and Michelle Yeoh had all shone brilliantly in the role of "Bond Girl."
The rhetoric of "disrespecting women" was simply too ridiculous.
In Leon's view, Sam Mendes was either brainwashed by white leftist organizations...
Or he had developed misogyny, hallucinating from being cuckolded by Kate Winslet.