Joan blinked, seemingly trying to digest the information just now.
The words "talent show" kept spinning in her head. She subconsciously took a sip of coffee, almost forgetting how much she despised this stuff before.
"You mean... let Ariana go on a talent show?" She stared at Leon, her eyes shining with prudence.
"That's right, but this is not a small-time show. Netflix invested, globally distributed, and may derive movies, talk shows, and even fashion brands in the future." Leon smiled slightly: "Of course, I'm not asking her to participate in the competition. With her status, there is no need at all. My idea is to let her serve as a guest mentor (flying mentor) in this show."
"That sounds like a good idea." Joan slowly leaned back in her chair and lit another cigarette, the corners of her mouth curving up uncontrollably. "I have to say you are a remarkable young man... So when do you think a successful man should consider settling down?"
Leon smiled and shook his head. "I'm only 21; I haven't considered this issue yet."
"I think you should consider it..." Joan spoke more and more explicitly, disregarding her daughter's embarrassed expression.
Although Ariana never told her about the special relationship between her and Leon, out of a mother's intuition, she knew very well that her daughter had long been secretly in love with Leon.
And her daughter was completely in the posture of an ignorant little girl, not yet understanding the importance of taking the initiative.
As a mother, she must teach her a lesson—"If you don't fight for it, you won't get anything."
Just as Leon was pondering how to deal with this tricky question, Joan suddenly changed the subject at the right time. "I think I have some understanding of you now... Leon, just like your name, you are a young lion."
"Thank you for your compliment."
Joan continued: "Ariana has shown excellent talent for singing and dancing since she was a child. Dozens of vocal teachers who taught her evaluated her as a genius."
"No one can deny this." Leon said, "And she is very talented in creation; she wrote many excellent works."
"No one would dislike this girl." Even Phil couldn't help interrupting to chime in, drinking whiskey heavily, his eyes shining when speaking.
The old geezer's evaluation of all women can be summarized in one word—"Btch," and his own mother was no exception.
This is highly related to his upbringing environment. His parents were both fanatical hippies of the originator level in the 1960s.
When his mother gave birth in a caravan, his father acted as if nothing happened nearby, busy rolling leaves (joints) with photocopies of the Declaration of Independence.
While puffing clouds, he joked with friends about whether to let the newborn Phil take a hit too, which might open the third eye for the newborn.
At the age of ten, his parents abandoned him.
Driving a caravan all over the country to participate in the hippie movement, giving birth to eight children along the way.
As an adult, Phil lived by pimping and entered the record industry because he accidentally discovered that a streetwalker had singing talent.
Soon after, that streetwalker became his first wife.
This marriage lasted only eight months. The streetwalker who turned into a singer soon became more depraved by the extravagant life and dumped Phil without hesitation.
In 1985, she died backstage at a music festival due to cardiac arrest caused by a drug overdose.
At that time, she was sleeping with a rock singer.
With the first lesson, Phil's second wife came from a middle-class family, well-educated, and had a simple life circle.
At this time, he already had some weight in the record industry, busy making money outside, while his wife took care of the children at home.
This seemed like a happy family story until one day a black man moved next door.
A retired basketball player, single, with a ring finger much longer than his index finger.
Soon after, this marriage declared bankruptcy, but this was just the beginning of Phil's miserable life.
He not only lost most of his wealth in the internet financial bubble in the early millennium but also lost the divorce lawsuit due to records of contracting STDs multiple times.
Even his only son transformed into a daughter under his wife's years of leftist education.
A series of events made Phil hate women deeply.
Every time Leon reminisced about the old geezer's story, he couldn't help laughing. If this were adapted into a movie script, it would definitely be a great comedy.
Joan was silent for a moment and then revealed her fangs. "So, you will definitely invest the best resources in her first album, right? Mr. Leon."
"Of course, Ariana deserves the best. I will personally serve as the producer of her first album."
"I hope you can keep your word."
"I am a man of my word."
At this point in the chat, Joan's brows completely relaxed, and her joy needed no words to summarize.
Her daughter is not the kind of ambitious girl. Simple and kind sounds beautiful, but in the entertainment industry, it is a fatal weakness.
To stand out in this cruel circle, one must learn to write desire on one's face.
"I'm a little tired; I haven't closed my eyes all the way flying from Miami." Joan glanced at her arm and then stood up.
The mission of this trip to New York had been successfully completed.
She pushed open the door, looked back one last time, and casually added: "I admire you very much, Mr. Leon. An excellent young man like you must find a good girl to walk side by side with you..."
After speaking, she strode away.
The moment the door closed, Ariana finally couldn't hold back, burying her face and exhaling a long breath, her voice muffled. "Oh my God... this is more awkward than bringing parents to see the teacher..."
"It's nothing; your mom just cares about you." Leon couldn't help laughing, reaching out to ruffle her hair, and said with a smile: "I've seen many women more difficult than your mom."
Ariana glared at him, her face redder. "My mom is not usually like that; she is actually a very gentle woman. Next time we meet, I'll let you taste the pasta she made herself. I promise it will be the most delicious pasta you have ever eaten!"
"I have no doubt about that." Leon glanced at his watch, preparing to leave the office.
News came from the hospital that King Von's condition had stabilized after two blood transfusions.
Just as he walked to the door, he was stopped by Ariana.
"Leon!"
"What's wrong?"
Ariana's face was flushed, taking deep breaths to adjust her emotions, her eyes glancing at Phil on the sofa from time to time.
During the chat just now, for some reason, the old geezer drank alone and was now drunk and unconscious.
Confirming that no one here would disturb them, she summoned up the courage to ask Leon: "I want to know what you think now..."
"Think about what?" Leon scratched his head, pretending not to understand.
Ariana bit her lip, her eyes firm. "I mean, what exactly do you think of me?"
"You are of course an excellent girl." Leon pointed to the direction of the sofa. "Even that bastard says so."
He had realized what the other party was going to say next and immediately wanted to find an excuse to slip away.
But seeing the tears swirling in Ariana's eyes, he still stopped.
"Damn..." He muttered in his heart. Was it a mistake to have a relationship with this girl when lust rushed to his brain?
Compared to a little girl full of romance cells, he prefers to sleep with women in the entertainment industry who only care about fame and fortune.
At least the latter only talk about fame and fortune, not the future.
"I will do better than Robbie..." Ariana's voice was as faint as silk, but her eyes were still firm.
After struggling for two seconds, Leon pulled her into his arms. Her small stature just fit to lean on his chest.
After organizing language in his brain for a while, he opened his mouth to PUA: "Listen, everyone knows you are a good girl. Look, everyone here likes you very much, but you have to understand that you are a singer, and you are only 18 now."
"You should devote your focus entirely to your career. As long as you reach the peak in your career, everything else will just be a matter of time."
Ariana was fooled and couldn't find her direction: Is this acceptance or rejection?
She stared at Leon seriously: "I will work hard! I..."
Leon didn't give her time to speak again. He glanced at his watch and left in a hurry. "Sorry, I really have something urgent. A ngga is lying in the hospital and may go to see God at any time..."
---
Inside Brooklyn Methodist Hospital, King Von's cursing could be heard in the corridor.
"Those cowardly cowards in the New York camp, they don't dare to stand in front of me for a fair duel!"
"Listen, I was ambushed, otherwise that bastard wouldn't have hit me at all."
"I will definitely find him and take my O-block brothers to fxxk his woman."
When he sprayed these trash talks, he also brought rhymes and a very distinctive tone.
Does this sound like someone who just suffered massive bleeding from a gunshot wound?
As soon as Leon appeared, the cursing stopped abruptly.
Ignoring the shot thigh, King Von hurriedly got up, almost jumping off the hospital bed. "Boss! Did you drag those two bastards out!"
Leon shook his head. At this time, the gunmen must have been hidden by JAY-Z long ago.
Even finding them would be meaningless. JAY-Z achieved both goals of hype and disgusting Leon. Killing those two mediocre rappers would be no loss to him.
"I warned you not to get too excited." Leon comforted: "Taking a shot is not necessarily a bad thing for you."
"WTF?" King Von pouted his thick lips, his face full of confusion: "I don't quite understand what you mean, Boss."
"This matter is very hot on the internet." Leon said, "Now you don't have to think about anything. Just lie in the hospital for two days, tweet according to the copy prepared by Sean... and then, appear with full health in the next show."
Sean was discussing something with a group of staff, and suddenly turned his head to hug King Von on the hospital bed and screamed: "We have to thank that bastard who shot. The bullet you took saved us millions of dollars in promotion costs..."
"What? Let go of me, you damn gay." King Von struggled with severe pain. "I don't understand what you are talking about at all..."
Three days later, Leon lay on the new sofa in the Tribeca mansion, staring at the phone screen and laughing non-stop.
He took a cigar from the humidor built for $100,000, puffing clouds while praising:
"These guys are really geniuses..."
This praise was given to Sean and his script team.
They perfectly used the shooting incident to hype a wave of traffic from the three aspects of sociology, economics, and magical realism.
King Von sprayed trash talk wildly on Twitter according to their copy:
"I have to thank these soft eggs for sending 9mm bullets. Now my playback volume on Spotify is rising faster than the numbers on the hospital bill. I suggest printing the sponsor logo—NRA (National Rifle Association)—directly on my bulletproof vest next time, asking if they want to be my personal sponsor?"
"When I was eight years old, I was chased by cops for eight blocks just for stealing a Snickers bar in a store. Now I got shot, but no cop paid attention to me. Black lives are only valuable in plantations."
"Those damn white doctors holding my X-rays look like they are playing a game of finding differences. Black compatriots, if you encounter trouble, never come to the hospital~ Because bullets are cheaper than medical insurance, ambulances are blacker (more expensive) than taxis, and morgue freezers are newer than public school classrooms!"
"O-block never forgets. I fxxked Diddy before, and now JAY-Z is also on the death list!"
The shooting incident had already caused quite a stir on the internet, and with King Von forcibly elevating the level, it resonated with many bottom-level blacks.
Before the program aired, his popularity was already far ahead among the contestants.
At eleven o'clock in the evening, bursts of powerful drum beats suddenly vibrated in Leon's brain, and inspiration refreshed.
In the picture in his mind, a white BMW X6 and a black BMW X6 were speeding on the dim streets of Atlanta at midnight.
RRRRAAAH!!!!
The strange scream didn't sound like it could be made by a human throat, but it was extremely brainwashing and catchy.
"Typical Atlanta Trap style..." Leon muttered to himself.
Atlanta rap loves to use similar strange screams or ad-libs to increase the atmosphere, creating a crazy, exciting, and even intoxicating vibe.
After a few strange screams, there was a murmur like chanting sutras.
Panda, Panda, Panda, Panda, Panda, Panda, Panda
I got broads in Atlanta
Twisting dope, lean, and the Fanta
Credit cards and the scammers
Hitting off licks in the bando
Black X6, Phantom
White X6 looks like a panda
Going out like I'm Montana
Hundred killers, hundred hammers
At the end of the MV picture, a young black man stood on an empty street.
The song title appeared—Panda.
"Another rap song..." Leon shook his head. Inspiration refreshed a pure rap track without any melodic elements.
Panda is a pun in the lyrics. Besides describing the black and white BMW X6 as looking like a panda, there is actually another meme.
Some black rappers squander lavishly after making money, buying an amazing amount of coke spread on the table.
Plunging their head down, the white powder pasted on the black face looks like a panda.
Therefore, "panda" in slang refers to street nouveau riche.
What surprised Leon was that although the rhythm and lyrics of this song were simple, it was unusually brainwashing.
The BPM of this song is around 145, slightly higher than general Trap music, but it doesn't make people feel impatient.
The 808 drum beat is extremely solid, and the kick drum is heavy as if loaded with lead blocks.
Plus that weird piano loop, a feeling of underground car racing and ghostly drifting immediately surges up.
The original singer performed it in a half-roaring, half-grumbling way, but it seemed extremely aggressive.
Listeners might not know what he is reading at all, but they just can't help wanting to shout "Panda Panda..." along with it.
This song has the potential to explode; Leon is very sure of this.
Rough, simple, brainwashing...
These places that were regarded as drawbacks of songs in the past are precisely the three major factors determining whether a work can become popular in the streaming era.
Taking advantage of the heat of the shooting case now, if King Von debuts such a work in The Rap of America, becoming famous overnight is almost a certainty.