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After tossing the phone aside, Leon lay on the bed, muttering, "This woman is really hard to deal with... if it doesn't work out, I'll just let Little A take her spot."
The first time he heard Bang Bang during an inspiration refresh, he noticed one of the female voices sounded very familiar.
Sweet and mellow.
That was Ariana's voice.
Later, the scene of Little A dancing hotly in the MV also proved this.
She was one of the original singers of this song. Although handing this song to her wouldn't generate as much buzz as Taylor...
It definitely wouldn't go wrong.
This also indirectly foreshadowed Ariana's future.
Even without Leon's help, she would become famous sooner or later with her own ability.
---
Three days later, inside the recording studio.
Max Martin was discussing arrangement issues with Leon.
"The drum beats you designed remind me of 80s disco. Have you heard Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go?" Max asked while fiddling with various instruments in front of him.
"No." Leon shook his head.
"These lyrics and the way it's performed are a bit like Lady Marmalade performed by Pink, Aguilera, and Lil' Kim." Max quipped, "My understanding is that this is a story about a group of streetwalkers."
"Fxxk, you're over-analyzing." Leon spat lightly.
If someone else said this, he wouldn't care at all, but this was Max Martin.
In the MV refresh screen, Max's name appeared first on the songwriter list.
He was the original creator of this song.
The lyrics of Bang Bang were indeed full of suggestive elements. Maybe Max really got inspiration from streetwalkers.
"Do you really have to collaborate with Taylor?" Max asked.
"Of course. Considering timbre, vocal skills, and popularity, is there anyone more suitable than her?" Leon paused and continued, "Oh right, and her figure."
Taylor's height of over 1.8 meters (5'11"), paired with those long legs comparable to Victoria's Secret supermodels...
Legs that were long but still had meat on them, full of visual impact and power.
The thought of her swinging to the beat with the backing track was intoxicating just to imagine.
And Beyoncé was also a tall lady, with long and voluptuous legs.
One Black and one White, two major Divas shaking their bodies simultaneously in the MV...
Leon felt that if he pulled this off, it would fulfill the dreams of music fans all over the world.
"Wouldn't lyrics of this scale be too much for her?" Max asked.
Leon had considered this question.
Taylor's lyrics and musical style were synonymous with "wholesome" in today's increasingly heavy-flavored music industry.
Under the impact of more and more adult elements, even singers like Avril Lavigne and "Britney Spears," who became famous with a girl-next-door image, had to transform.
The former turned to Gothic style, highlighting her rebellious image with exaggerated smoky makeup.
The latter completely changed from a sweet girl to a streetwalker style, leaning toward the sexy blonde bombshell look.
Yet Taylor's musical style, oscillating between pop, rock, and country, could still dominate the entire market.
Her lyrics were filled with student vibes and witty remarks like elementary school arguments, usually without any explicit content.
Elementary school students didn't have to worry about getting beaten by their moms when listening to her songs.
"It's just a song. Lyrics of this scale are nothing in the current market," Leon joked. "What do you take that woman for? Do you think she dated so many boyfriends without sleeping with them?"
Max laughed and shook his head repeatedly. "Man, I'm just afraid her management team won't agree, especially her boss Scott."
"That guy protects Taylor like a money-printing machine and won't allow anything that affects record sales to happen."
Snap—
Leon snapped his fingers. "Isn't that even better? Scott is a greedy bastard. This song is a collaboration with Beyoncé; it will sell like crazy, 100%."
"That guy won't refuse at all!"
Max thought it made sense and stopped talking.
He continued to focus on fiddling with the instruments to be used in the arrangement.
Ring ring ring—
Leon's phone rang.
Seeing the caller's name, the corners of his mouth rose, revealing a treacherous smile of a successful plot.
Quincy Jones.
Looks like he must have received that special gift. The country's inefficient postal system was surprisingly efficient for once.
"Hello, Mr. Jones." Leon pretended nothing had happened, greeting him warmly.
There was a long silence on the other end.
"Mr. Jones?"
"Why aren't you speaking?"
"Is the signal bad?"
After nearly thirty seconds of silence, Jones finally spoke: "Young man, what did you do to me?"
"What? I don't understand what you mean."
"Stop playing dumb. I know this is all your conspiracy."
"Which matter are you referring to?"
Jones was silent for another ten seconds before continuing, "Do you know what you are doing, young man? If you want to use this method to get Vibe, I must remind you that this is a crime!"
Facing Jones's aggressive questioning, Leon kept his mouth shut.
The other party might be recording. He wouldn't make such a low-level mistake.
He walked quickly back to the office and called Bonnie to bring out the recording equipment.
"I don't understand what you mean... I've always made offers according to normal business procedures. How can that be a crime?" Leon said with a smile.
"Enough! Stop pretending!" Old Jones lost control of his emotions. "Your dirty tricks have crossed the line! I've struggled in this industry for half a century. Even those despicable Italians and dirty Irish bastards wouldn't do such a thing!"
You of all people call others despicable?
Leon snorted coldly.
After Michael Jackson's sexual abuse scandal broke out in 2003, Jones, who had always claimed to be his mentor, was the first to stand up and cut ties.
While making money from the royalties of MJ's works, he kept exposing MJ's black material in the media.
He probably never thought he would one day fall into the trap of a "sex scandal" himself.
"Fxxk, I'm in no mood to play these games with you anymore." Old Jones tried hard to calm himself down. "Delete those damn videos, and I will give you everything you want!"
"Are you in New York now? I think we should meet and talk." The other party had already laid his cards on the table, but Leon still didn't intend to reveal anything over the phone.
"I'll have Kidada buy the nearest flight ticket right now!"
A strange "crack" sound came from the other end of the phone, and the call ended abruptly.
Obviously, Old Jones was so angry he smashed his phone.
---
Eight hours later, at 8 PM.
Two black business vans parked downstairs at Apocalypse Music.
A large group of Black men in suits and leather shoes got out of the cars. It was unclear if they were gunmen hired by Old Jones or bodyguards.
One of the Black men pushed Old Jones's wheelchair, looking grim.
Leon had long been prepared, having Jorge and his gang guard the entrance of the company, fully armed.
"My boss instructed that except for Mr. Jones and his nanny, no one else can enter." Jorge tilted his head, revealing two shiny Glocks at his waist.
"Fxxk, your boss is a complete scumbag!" Old Jones shook his wheelchair. "There's nothing he won't do! Without accompaniment, I might die in there!"
"Calm down, stay cool." Jorge smiled and said, "Except for cardiovascular diseases, no one here will take your life."
"Fxxk..." Old Jones disregarded decency today, continuously exploding with "F-words."
Due to the urgency of meeting Leon, he had no choice but to compromise.
He could only be accompanied by one Black bodyguard pushing his wheelchair.
Before entering Apocalypse Music, Jorge searched them again.
"Is this necessary?" Old Jones snorted coldly.
"My boss is a careful person. He said not to let go of any detail~"
Jorge had dealt with drugs a lot in his long street career.
Body searches were basic operations in drug deals.
Having engaged in work similar to a "cleaner" for years, he was familiar with these tasks.
Soon he found an abnormality in an imperceptible detail—the wheelchair.
Noticing Jorge's gaze, Old Jones was visibly nervous.
Jorge unscrewed the cap on the wheelchair armrest and found a recording pen inside the stainless steel tube.
"Is this a gift for us, Mr. Jones?" Jorge asked with a smile.
"Hmph... can we go in now?"
"Maybe wait a bit longer..."
Soon, more recording equipment was found—a total of four recording pens.
Old Jones was completely dumbfounded. He didn't expect Leon's security team to be so professional.
He once suspected these people were specially trained retired CIA agents.
"Alright, you can go in."
The body search alone took half an hour. Old Jones was already burning with anxiety.
Accompanied by Jorge, they arrived at the innermost office.
Leon was sitting with his legs crossed, tasting coffee.
Aisha, who worked overtime almost every day due to cumbersome accounts, stood beside him.
The mysterious Mariana Trench was bottomless, covered with colorful tattoos.
"Look who's here~ The greatest artist in jazz history, the living fossil of the music world, Mr. Jones!" Leon said with a smile. "Aisha, go pour Mr. Jones a cup of coffee."
"Cut the crap, bastard! I'm tired of your disguise tricks!" Old Jones said in a deep voice. "Let's solve this damn thing immediately!"
After so many rounds of fighting with this old guy, finally not needing to beat around the bush made Leon feel exceptionally happy.
He spread his hands and said, "Give me what I want, and you will get what you want."
Old Jones didn't waste a word, signaling the bodyguard with his eyes.
Watching the Black bodyguard reach into his clothes, Aisha instinctively became alert and took two steps back.
"Relax, they have been strictly searched," Jorge said.
The bodyguard took out a kraft paper folder and handed it over, containing a drafted contract.
"Hurry up and see if this contract meets your wishes. Let's solve this matter as quickly as possible!" Jones raised his volume by three degrees. "I don't want to see you disgusting devil for another second!"
Seeing the amount of 6.5 million dollars on the drafted contract, Leon almost couldn't hold it back.
Even at this time, the other party was still dreaming.
"I'm not very satisfied with the amount."
"This is the bid you promised, and Time Warner also agreed to pay this price." Jones snorted coldly.
"That was before. I have re-evaluated the value of Vibe. It's not worth that much money at all." Leon knocked on the table. "I gave you a chance."
Jones gritted his teeth anxiously, veins popping on his charcoal-black face.
He had the urge to swallow Leon alive now.
Although he had been greedy all his life, he seemed to have no choice now.
Compared to money, he was more afraid of the infamy he would bear after the video was exposed.
"Then how much are you willing to pay now..." Jones asked.
"2.5 million dollars," Leon said with a smile.
"WTF... you bastard are really crazy."
Even if it had declined, Vibe was once the undisputed number one player in the hip-hop magazine market.
Just the value of this name was worth more than 2.5 million dollars.
In fact, Leon knew he had Jones cornered. Even if he didn't pay a cent, the other party would obediently hand over the magazine.
The problem was that an abnormal acquisition price would arouse the vigilance of the Small Business Administration (SBA), the Association of National Advertisers (ANA), as well as the commerce and tax departments.
To avoid unnecessary trouble, under Aisha's suggestion, he locked the final investment amount at 2.5 million dollars.
Leon lit a cigarette and said with a smile, "If you agree to this bid, we can draft a preliminary acquisition agreement."
"Miss Aisha will communicate with your people. We will complete all acquisition procedures within a week."
Old Jones was silent for a full two minutes, staring at Leon with cloudy eyeballs. "I curse you, bastard... Even if you go to hell, Satan will spit in your face when he sees you. Your grave will be spat on."
Leon kept smiling without responding.
Judging by the current situation, as long as he didn't get shot in the back, Jones would definitely enter the coffin first.
"I need a guarantee. After you get Vibe, those damn videos will disappear from this world forever!" Jones said.
"Of course, I swear to God."
"Hearing God from your mouth is truly absurd." Jones said, "How can I trust you?"
Leon said, "Obviously, if I get what I want, those videos are useless to me."
"I never do meaningless things; you should know this."
"Of course, you can only choose to believe me now, right?"
Old Jones's expression was pathetic to the extreme. He almost couldn't catch his breath and went to see God early.
Finally, he agreed to this offer.
Aisha drafted a new acquisition contract on the spot.
This was just a draft contract. The formal acquisition would be completed within a week after approval.
After sending Jones away, Leon lay in his swivel chair, hands behind his head, the corners of his mouth harder to suppress than an AK's recoil.
"I've never understood why you are so interested in a magazine that no one reads." Jorge curled his lips. "You put so much effort into this. In my opinion, except for those magazines with big-breasted women on the cover, no one reads this stuff anymore."
"You don't understand at all..." Leon said with a smile. "This is the first step for the company to enter the media industry..."
Although the magazine industry was no longer glorious, the brand Vibe still had strong influence in the hip-hop circle.
As soon as the acquisition was completed, the first thing he would do was lay off employees.
Reduce the circulation of physical publications and lay out online magazines.
Next, merge the radio business and Vibe magazine to become a media group focusing on rap music.
Leon scrolled the mouse wheel casually, noticing the overwhelming warm-up for American Idol Season 10 on the internet.
This most influential talent show in America would start broadcasting in a month.
Associating it with the upcoming Vibe magazine, Leon stared at the screen and fell into deep thought.
"Why is no one doing a rap talent show?"
The outline of a rap talent show gradually became clear in his mind.