Early the next morning, Leon didn't even have time for breakfast. He got up, freshened up briefly, and rushed to Columbia Records.
Saturday Night Live was a huge success last night. This old show revived like a withered tree in spring, its ratings approaching the golden age of the 1990s.
Viewers who watched this episode gave high ratings on scoring websites, praising the scene of Leon and Robbie singing We Don't Talk Anymore back-to-back after officially announcing their breakup as a classic comparable to Madonna taking off her bra in public, worthy of being recorded in the history of the TV entertainment industry.
"Good morning, Mr. Tim." Leon came to Tim's office, pulled out a swivel chair, and sat opposite him.
Like in his own territory, he ordered the other party's female secretary to bring coffee.
Tim looked down at his watch and teased in a helpless tone: "You are half an hour late; Stringer said you are a punctual person."
"I didn't want this either." Leon spread his hands helplessly. "Look out the window."
Tim got up from his seat curiously and looked down from the window on the twenty-first floor. Downstairs was a dense crowd of protesters.
"Sht... these fools are like locusts passing through."
Every American is accustomed to protests, especially those living in big cities like Los Angeles or New York.
If they don't see a protest one day, they will feel uncomfortable.
"Since nine o'clock, these people have been marching towards Wall Street one after another. From Lower Manhattan to here, a distance of less than a mile took me almost an hour." Leon said.
"Going to Wall Street? What are these fools doing on Wall Street?" Tim raised his eyebrows, looking confused.
" This is not a common woke organization activity; don't you follow the news? This group of people wants to occupy Wall Street and hang capitalists like you on street lamps." Leon blew on the steam from the coffee and teased.
"Where do I have time to follow the news..." Tim leaned back and touched his bald head. "I don't deserve the title of capitalist; I'm just a high-level wage earner. Such a title is more suitable for you. Look, you are only 21 years old and almost a billionaire. Even if I see you on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list next year, I won't be surprised."
This morning's protest was indeed different from previous activities. A group of unemployed people, veterans, and workers took to the streets.
Holding signs like "We are the 99%, but only own 1% of the wealth," pointing directly at Wall Street bankers.
Some nosy media felt the commotion was not big enough and gave this protest a loud name—"Occupy Wall Street Movement."
Inspired by the "Arab Spring" this year and the Spanish "Indignados" movement last year, it aims to protest social and economic inequality, bank greed, collusion between government and large companies, etc.
Currently, the protesters are confronting riot police on Wall Street.
Including Citibank, JPMorgan Chase, and many other well-known companies announced the suspension of all reception and closed the company buildings.
Unlike weak woke organizations, the "Occupy Wall Street Movement" could evolve into violent conflicts at any time, and the nerves of the New York City government are very tight.
It is not surprising to cause such a situation now. The 2008 financial crisis has never been truly resolved. Currently, only the plight of large enterprises has been resolved, while the lives of ordinary people are still difficult.
Enterprises take a lot of aid from the government with one hand to sustain their lives, and raise the layoff butcher knife with the other hand. The number of people receiving unemployment benefits has been rising.
"What's the point of these fools gathering here? They should go find a job." Tim said casually while taking the promotion plan from the secretary.
"Your words remind me of an allusion; it seems a certain foreign emperor said something similar." Leon said.
"Which emperor?" Tim was flipping through the plan seriously, suddenly looked up, curious.
Fantasizing about which historical hero had the same insight as himself.
"In ancient China, an emperor encountered the same dilemma. Famine forced the people to gather for armed protest. When the emperor learned that the people were starving to death due to lack of food, he immediately came up with a genius solution."
"What solution?"
"Since the people have no grain to eat, why don't they eat meat?" (Referencing "Why not eat minced meat?" attributed to Emperor Hui of Jin)
"Yeah..." Tim didn't realize anything was wrong at first. After savoring it for a few seconds, his smile gradually froze, realizing he was being mocked.
He curled his lips and quickly changed the subject. "Let's stop talking about emperors; that's a product of the old era. Let's talk about your work."
Saying that, a promotion plan was handed to Leon. He couldn't hold back after flipping just two pages.
Within just half a month, he had to travel to more than a dozen states across the US. The most exaggerated was at the end of August.
On that day, he had to hold a signing session in Chicago in the morning, and then immediately fly to London, UK, for an exclusive interview with the BBC.
"Fxxk, do you think I'm a robot? As long as there is enough fuel, I can keep running?" Leon cursed angrily.
Tim disapproved, spreading his hands. "This is nothing. Adele's record is flying to three countries in one day. You are a first-line celebrity; you have to adapt to this rhythm."
Leon finally saw the ugly face of a capitalist. Columbia, the oldest record company in history, not only adopts highly capitalized management and operation methods but also pays extra attention to overseas markets.
The UK is the largest music market in Europe, accounting for more than 30% of record sales in Europe.
The competition among the three major record companies in the strong overseas market of the UK is very fierce.
This is completely different from Roc Nation. JAY-Z is good at using street wisdom to manage the company, and because the main business is hip-hop music, he is not very interested in overseas markets.
Tim continued: "We have assigned tasks to the record printing factory. The first batch of 1 million records is being printed, including 50,000 vinyl records."
1 million copies—if it were at the beginning of the year, Leon would definitely think it was conservative, but he doesn't think so now.
The decline of the traditional record industry is faster than he imagined. As one of the three major sponsors behind Spotify, Sony Columbia Records knows the changes in industry trends best.
Under the impact of Spotify's completely free model and video websites, except for fanatical music fans and collectors, few people are willing to pay for expensive physical records.
Streaming platforms pay copyright owners through advertising sharing, playback sharing, or licensing fees.
In short, content is king.
"You have the final say."
Leon didn't intend to dictate on such issues. Columbia Records' decision on how many records to print has been evaluated by the marketing department.
"Listen, I know you are running many businesses and have many things to deal with, but I hope you can strictly execute the promotion plan set by the company. Filming movies and such can only be a side job for you..." Tim's expression suddenly became serious.
Leon nodded in agreement, but didn't think so in his heart.
Although making movies is a side job, the benefits he gets from it are no less than his main job as a singer.
Except for the long return cycle, high investment, and high risk, movies are the industry that truly makes big money.
Obviously, his plan to shoot Ready Player One is no longer a secret, and it even reached Tim's ears in the record industry.
This sends a signal that he is infinitely close to buying the copyright of Ready Player One.
"Don't worry, I will wind my clockwork fully."
Tim nodded with satisfaction. "Everything will be revealed after the Billboard data of We Don't Talk Anymore comes out. This largely determines how many resources Stringer is willing to invest in your new album, maybe more than invested in Adele..."
Adele's Rolling in the Deep has occupied the top of the Billboard since its release, only briefly dethroned by Bang Bang, but regained it after only a week.
Taking advantage of the heat of the grudge with Leon, Niggas In Paris by JAY-Z and Kanye also achieved this, but only for one week.
Now ruling the chart is another work by Adele, Someone Like You.
Achieving such phenomenal success is inseparable from the quality of the work itself, but Columbia Records' promotion also contributed greatly.
Turn on a music radio station in any country in the world, and you can hear Adele's works.
Record sales exploded, streaming data grew exponentially, and various heavyweight commercial performances and interviews never stopped.
This was all smashed out by Columbia Records spending tens of millions of dollars in promotion fees.
"If you have no objection, the promotion plan is set like this. Starting tomorrow, you will be very busy..." Tim looked down at his watch. "I have to go; I have an important meeting in Los Angeles this afternoon."
"I should go too." Leon stretched and got up from the swivel chair, lighting a cigarette casually.
Tim frowned. No record company would like this behavior of not taking one's singing capital seriously.
If it were a second-tier singer, he would have shouted to stop it long ago, but facing a top-tier big shot like Leon, he could only endure it.
The two walked downstairs together. Tim opened the door of his Mercedes-Benz and reminded before parting: "By the way, don't you have a media company with many radio stations and Vibe magazine? Use all these resources."
"I would do it even if you didn't say so." Leon paused for two seconds and curved the corners of his mouth. "But you have to pay me."
"What?" Tim froze on the spot, but after thinking carefully, he couldn't find any fault.
"I'm kidding..." Leon patted the other party's shoulder, got into the business van, and left.
Back at the Apocalypse Music office, he threw the finger-thick promotion plan on the table.
Seeing the boss's face full of hopelessness, Bonnie immediately understood what was going on.
She said jokingly: "I thought you would never get tired of making money."
"Look at the schedule on the plan, and you'll know. I think even the President isn't this busy."
During the chat, the phone rang; the caller was Bruno Mars.
Leon knew the intention of the other party's call without thinking much. Since becoming poker buddies in the Atlantic City casino, he received calls from the other party every now and then.
Except for occasional chats about music creation and gossip in the circle, most of the time the topic of the call was Texas Hold'em.
Mars invited him to join Jordan's poker game more than once but was refused.
"Hey, Mars." Leon answered the phone, his tone indifferent.
"Bro, you are simply on fire recently; entertainment sections are almost all occupied by you! The Rap of America is really a genius idea. I guess you made hundreds of millions of dollars from this show?"
"Sht, if I had half your brain, I would definitely not make money by singing anymore; you are a real money printing machine..."
Mars flattered him in every way.
Usually, when a gambler is so attentive to a person, that person should be careful.
Especially after just making a big profit, one must guard the money bag at all times.
Leon didn't mean to chat along with the other party's topic at all. "Thank you for your praise, buddy. Heard your new album is also in production. You will definitely be the biggest winner at next year's Grammy Awards; you will crush that British fat girl Adele. I have something to do, hanging up first..."
Hearing that he was going to hang up, Mars raised his pitch as if electrocuted. "Wait buddy... I have something to tell you."
"Another day, I'm really busy..."
"Very urgent matter, please listen to me finish; this is very important to me..."
"Okay." After hesitating for two seconds, Leon finally decided to listen to the other party finish. He was also curious about what big event could make a popular male singer speak in an almost begging posture.
There was a long silence of ten seconds on the other end of the phone, and only the sound of Mars taking a deep breath could be clearly heard.
He lowered the volume, his voice faint as silk. "Bro... I encountered a little trouble recently. Last week at a private poker game in Las Vegas, I lost five million dollars..."
Leon immediately understood the other party's intention, just as he guessed before—borrowing money.
If he received a call to borrow money normally, he would definitely either hang up immediately or find an excuse to put it off.
But today he doesn't plan to do so.
Mars's situation might be more urgent than any accident, otherwise, he couldn't beg so humbly.
Last time in Atlantic City, he would rather sell his car at a loss than mention borrowing money, maintaining the dignity of a star. Thinking with toes, one knows the trouble he encountered is not small.
"My debt with Las Vegas Sands Corp. is due next week. If I can't repay their debt in time, I will lose everything..." Mars completely lost the style of his Grammy performance, his tone crying. "Fxxk, those Jews might bury me in the Nevada desert..."
"Calm down, this kind of thing won't happen."
Hotel giants like Las Vegas Sands generally take legal channels to resolve similar disputes.
This is not because of the progress of the times or that they shed their Mafia coats, but treating a popular singer like this is simply unnecessary.
If Mars is buried, who will pay the money?
Leon comforted: "Listen, you will be fine. If you need any help, just ask..."
"You will help me, right Bro?" Mars's crying stopped abruptly.
"Of course."
"Anything?"
"Anything, because we are good homies."
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone first, and more than ten seconds later, Mars actually cried out on the phone.
"You are truly a great friend, a noble person, a pure person, a person divorced from low-level monetary desires... Look at how those media smear you, saying you are a real-life version of the Merchant of Venice..."
"They are all liars; you are the most upright person I have ever seen! I will write you into my song!"
"I'm not that great; I only help friends." A bombardment of flattery was hard even for Leon to handle.
After praising in different ways for three minutes, Mars finally stated his request.
15 million dollars, this is the minimum number needed to solve his debt crisis.
"Bro... I know this is not a small number, but I have no other way..."
"This is indeed not a small number..." Leon's brain ran fast. "But for our friendship, I can give you this money to tide over the crisis."
"I love you to death, Bro... I will tattoo your face on my arm and kiss it a hundred times a day..."
"But I need a promise."
"What promise? I agree to anything!"
"You can't gamble anymore in the future. As a friend, I can't watch you fall into the abyss."
"Don't worry! I won't play poker again in my life! I won't take any shows in Las Vegas in the future!"
Leon shook his head repeatedly; a gambler's promise is a joke. "I don't know if I should believe you... so I need some guarantees. You must put something in my hands. Rest assured, as long as you pay back the money, I will return the things to you immediately..."
"You mean collateral?"
"That's right, my money didn't come from the wind, and I didn't think about charging you any interest..."
Mars didn't think much. Putting aside collateral, providing interest-free loans in this capitalist world is simply a saintly act.
But he had no decent assets left in his hands; those real estates and artworks had long been mortgaged to the bank.
"Only two Ferraris are still in my hands now; if you want..."
Leon almost laughed out loud; gold-rimmed Ferraris aren't worth 15 million dollars.
After pretending for a long time, he finally revealed his fangs and said in a deep voice: "You can use the copyright of your works as collateral; as a friend, I accept this."