To actually target Jackson's estate, Braun's greed far exceeded Leon's imagination.
This young Jewish speculator didn't seem satisfied with the status quo and yearned to further expand his influence in the entertainment industry.
Phil smiled and said, "That old ngga won't succeed. The executors of the Jackson Foundation are as shrewd as two monkeys. Sony Music has been trying hard for so many years and hasn't been able to persuade Jackson's mother and three children to agree on the sale of the estate."
The current status of the Jackson Foundation is also the status quo of most American private foundations, mainly charitable foundations.
Branca and McClain are not direct beneficiaries of the estate on the surface, but as long as the estate remains in the foundation, they can continuously get benefits.
How much management fees and administrative wages should be paid is not subject to supervision. These people are fat with greed in the name of charity.
"Since this Jewish fool can think of hooking up with old Joe, things might not be that simple..." Leon murmured. Anyone could figure it out just by moving their toes; Jewish businessmen aren't even willing to waste time accompanying friends and family.
Companionship is a negative-yield behavior that only affects the speed of accumulating wealth.
The shrewd Braun naturally wouldn't waste time on an old ngga who could see God at any moment.
The only possibility Leon could think of was the Jewish financial group behind him. Otherwise, relying solely on the other party's financial resources, even if there was an opportunity, it would be difficult to leverage Jackson's copyright treasury worth billions of dollars.
The reason why the "Squid Gang" (Jewish clique) can accumulate wealth rapidly and take whatever they want in the global business world is not relying on the talent theory of "high IQ."
They rely on greed unmixed with a trace of sensibility and the cohesion of grouping together for invasion.
As long as one of them is determined to interfere in an industry, the wealthy and powerful in other industries will continuously send financial support.
Through cross-shareholding, they lay out their tentacles in every corner, forming a monopoly, standing in the dark and sucking the marrow out of ordinary people.
This unbreakable control is hard to break unless a madman appears.
"Next to be announced is the Best Male Video..." Host Selena Gomez opened the envelope.
Everyone, including Leon, stopped chatting, eyes fixed on the center of the stage.
The expectation in their eyes was no less than when the host announced their own nominations because Mars was on the shortlist.
Best Male Video is an important award second only to Video of the Year. If Mars's Grenade can win, the gold content of the copyright will soar further.
At present, there is a great hope. In the nomination list, whether Eminem or Justin Bieber, they have started to sweep major music awards across the US since last year.
Just like the "mean reversion" in the stock market, the jury generally won't allow a singer to dominate across years.
Excluding these two biggest competitors, the remaining CeeLo Green or Kanye West have a smaller chance of winning than Mars.
"Don't be nervous, buddy. This is in the bag..." Leon got up and came to Mars, patting his shoulder.
"Hopefully. Fck, I feel terrible today. I haven't won anything until now." Mars cursed. "If I knew this result in advance, I wouldn't have come to this stupid party. Might as well..."
What he wanted to say was "Might as well fly to Las Vegas and go all in for a few rounds."
But considering the "sincere friendship" anti-gambling promise between him and Leon, he swallowed the words back.
Obviously, he didn't know the real thoughts of his "good homie."
Leon wished Mars could weld his butt to the poker table so that he could become a tireless money-printing machine.
The output of his career works would be eaten clean by Leon; such efficiency is comparable to inspiration exploitation.
"The winner is... Congratulations to Justin Bieber! U Smile!"
The audience thundered with cheers. More than half of the guests present had attended Diddy's parties; no one disliked this handsome Canadian boy with a pure and shy appearance.
"What the hell?" Leon and Mars looked at each other, puzzled by the result.
"I said long ago this is a waste of time. The black box operation of the MTV awards is the most outrageous..."
It's understandable that Baby showed dominance last year. Although it has no nutritional value, it has a mass base and is extremely catchy.
It's outrageous that U Smile can beat masterpieces like Love the Way You Lie and Grenade.
The reason given by the jury was: This MV shows the simple and upward spirit of North American teenagers.
"Bullsht!" Phil, as a firm Bieber supporter, ignored the eyes of people around him and scolded loudly: "This kid probably sold his ass."
Disappointments came one after another. In the most important Video of the Year award that followed, both Mars and Adele were defeated by Katy Perry.
At this moment, let alone Leon, even the always steady Stringer couldn't sit still, whispering: "I find it hard to believe this result."
Katy Perry was a Columbia reject personally terminated by him. Today's result was like a slap on his old face.
The gap in gold content between Adele's Rolling in the Deep and Katy Perry's Firework is visible even to laymen, let alone senior musicians.
"Obviously, Universal Music spent more on PR fees," Leon said.
Stringer spread his hands helplessly. "Look on the bright side; we remain the big winners today."
In tonight's award ceremony, Columbia Records' three generals harvested five trophies, with Adele winning three, and Leon and Beyoncé each winning one.
Indeed worthy of being called the biggest winner.
After the award ceremony, Stringer held a grand celebration banquet in Beverly Hills.
Leon originally wanted to refuse as he had to fly to London, UK early the next morning for an exclusive BBC interview, but he chose to accept under the other party's warm invitation.
"No, you must take me!"
"It will be at least half a month before we meet again..."
Taylor crossed her arms with a proud face, her tone both pleading and commanding.
"This..." Considering Beyoncé would also be present, and usually a lot of alcohol is consumed on such occasions, Leon was in a dilemma to avoid accidents.
"Listen, baby, Mr. Stringer is the host of the banquet. This is an internal gathering of Columbia Records..."
As soon as the voice fell, the puffing Taylor turned to find Stringer. "Mr. Stringer, can I attend your banquet with Leon later? I've heard that you are the best party host in the US, always taking good care of everyone."
"Of course, it's my honor!" Stringer agreed in a rush-to-answer posture. He couldn't ask for more when the new era sales queen took the initiative to stick to him.
When Taylor turned and left, he pushed his gold-rimmed glasses and secretly gave Leon a thumbs up.
Having said this much, Leon really couldn't refuse anymore.
As soon as the convoy arrived at the Beverly Hills Four Seasons Hotel, the reporters lying in ambush raised their cameras and shot non-stop.
"Wow... didn't expect Miss Taylor to appear here too. What a surprise." The reporters' eyes lit up. "Miss Taylor, can you get closer to Mr. Leon?"
"Of course!" Taylor put her hand on Leon's shoulder, acting like a hostess.
Because she was wearing high heels, she intentionally stepped one leg forward a large section to make their heights look consistent, avoiding embarrassment.
This pose would further magnify the feature of her long legs under the camera angle, exposing a large section of white thigh from the slit of the dress.
Reporters praised while taking photos, witnessing with their own eyes what "legs longer than life" meant.
After a burst of crackling shooting came to an end, Beyoncé came over.
She changed into a white long dress. The tight design highlighted her advantage of curves even more.
Contrasted with Leon's white suit, the two looked like they were rushing to get married.
"Congratulations, Leon~ You not only won an award tonight but your performance was also the best of the night."
"Congratulations to you too, Ms. Beyoncé. You made all the men unable to take their eyes off you."
The two exchanged pleasantries and cheek kisses.
Taking advantage of the gap when face-to-face which was hard for cameras to capture, Leon whispered: "You look a bit fuller than before."
"Really?!" Beyoncé changed her face instantly, a trace of imperceptible pink climbing up. "But you said you liked it this way..."
To avoid detection by others, Leon nodded repeatedly to stop the topic.
One black and one white, two divas surrounding the most controversial male singer of the new era. Reporters couldn't miss this rare opportunity and booed:
"Miss Beyoncé, you look stunning~ Can you get closer to Mr. Leon? I want to take a perfect commemorative photo for the three of you!"
"No problem!" Before Leon could react, Beyoncé had already leaned over.
Gently hooking his arm, curving the corners of her mouth to reveal a brilliant and sweet smile.
"Yes... awesome!" The photographer seized this rare opportunity and pressed the shutter continuously. "Look at you guys, the three of you standing together look so harmonious..."
Sensing something in the photographer's words, Leon quickly greeted others: "Mr. Stringer! Miss Adele! Mike! Everyone come over quickly; let's take a group photo~"
Leon, Adele, and Beyoncé pushed Stringer to the center C position. Dozens of Columbia Records staff clustered around them as the core, the scene very harmonious.
In the subsequent cocktail party segment, Leon was busy dealing with toasts from staff while guarding against Beyoncé's occasional flirting.
After clinking glasses with every important guest, Stringer walked towards him and said: "Tomorrow morning's interview is very important to you. The UK is the largest music market in Europe. You seem to have never paid attention to overseas markets before."
"That's right." Let alone overseas markets, Leon hadn't even been to Europe before.
In fact, his experience of performing abroad was pitifully small, currently only having had a few shows in Canada.
This was due to Roc Nation not paying much attention to overseas markets. Their main business was hip-hop music, and the audience for this type of music outside the US was much smaller.
Currently, only British hip-hop shows signs of rising; other European countries are not interested in this music genre. "You know, Sony is a multinational enterprise, and the parent company values overseas markets very much." Stringer pointed not far away. "You know Adele's record sales performance in the UK very well. This is an excellent opportunity to expand your global influence."
Speaking of this, he suddenly paused, revealing a mysterious smile. "Be careful of the Brits; their questions are often very tricky."
Leon nodded thoughtfully. He had long heard of the British media giant BBC.
Unlike the straightforward sarcasm and humiliation of Americans, the British prefer to bury mines in questions, secretly mocking the other party to enhance their sense of superiority.
Their arrogance is carved into their bones, continuing the proud bloodline of the Victorian Empire on which the sun never sets.
Americans? In their eyes, they are uncultured hillbillies.
French? Just a bunch of softies who love pretentious elegance.
BBC TV filming any country other than the UK carries a filter, or rather prejudice.
Even though it has declined to the world's sixth-largest economy and only ranks third in Europe, the Brits still regard themselves as the beacon of world civilization.
The birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, the cradle of modern science, the preacher of empiricism philosophy...
A gangsta singer like Leon, wrapped in scandals, would naturally be ridiculed by the self-proclaimed gentlemanly British media. Scandals about him have never stopped in the UK.
But miraculously, the harder the media smears, the faster the number of fans grows.
Leon has a large group of loyal fans in this island country he has never set foot on.
"I understand. These are small scenes for you; you are already familiar with the road." Stringer took a sip of champagne. "I talked to Tim. After returning from the UK, reduce your commercial performance schedule to make time for creating the second album."
"Thank you very much."
Leon breathed a long sigh of relief. If he strictly followed Tim's commercial performance plan, he would really be worked like a dog/horse. Probably for a long time to come, he wouldn't even have the strength to show his prowess in bed.
"Then when you come back from the UK, the company will immediately arrange the recording of Heathens for you," Stringer said. "Hope your new album can be released within half a year."
Leon could only helplessly express he would do his best. He wanted to tell the other party that although he had a cheat, it was locked by God, and he couldn't grind out enough works to support an album in half a year.
The next day, on the flight to London, UK, Leon sat in the first-class seat yawning non-stop.
At the end of the celebration banquet last night, some small episodes occurred unsurprisingly.
The drunken Beyoncé always took advantage of the gap when Taylor was chatting with others to flirt with Leon. Her delicate and smooth thighs like black pearls climbed onto his thighs under the table several times.
Coincidentally, Taylor also drank a lot that night and never noticed these details in her drunken blur.
Leon was in a dilemma for the destination of tonight. The mansions of the two divas in Beverly Hills were not far apart.
He even came up with the genius idea of going back and forth, which would satisfy everyone.
But in the end, he gave up this overly outrageous idea and chose a conservative strategy, picking the "Queen" Taylor.
Perhaps influenced by him, the other party's acceptance level improved a lot, getting used to fighting in some strange scenes.
Last night, as soon as the two opened the main door of the mansion with the key, Taylor hugged him. They fought hastily together without even having time to close the door.
Looking at Leon's puffy dark circles, Phil teased: "I told you long ago, German women are top-notch tough. Do you know the legend of the 'Shield-maiden'? In the era of Germanic barbarians, even women had to take spears to the battlefield."
Leon shook his head without responding, turned his head, and asked the stewardess for a third cup of coffee.
Bonnie played with her laptop and said excitedly: "Look at the outfit I chose for you in the show. This suits you perfectly~"
On the computer screen was a typical British retro outfit: a decent suit, a meticulous tie, and thick-soled leather shoes polished shiny, as if every step could cause vibration.
The highlight was that black flat cap (newsboy cap). Lowering the brim could just cover half of the face, full of oppression.
But Leon wasn't interested. "It's just an interview show. Don't you think Cosplaying a so-called British gentleman is stupid?"
"No, not stupid at all!" Bonnie shook her slender finger. As a fashion blogger, she didn't allow anyone to question her aesthetics.
Even if that person was her boss.
"This is not some British gentleman outfit. Have you heard of the Birmingham gangs in the UK in the early 20th century? They would hide razor blades in the brim of their newsboy caps."
"Never heard of it."
"Trust me, this image suits you very much. British fans will love this!"