Realizing he was just annoying everyone, T-Ray stopped blabbering to Kendrick and turned to Leon. "The midnight prime time slot belongs to Chris Brown."
"Your performance is the warm-up act for him. Bring your A-game, bro!"
Although the prime slot belonged to a big shot like Chris, this scheduling was actually huge for Leon.
Compared to Chris, Leon was just an appetizer.
But because the audience's anticipation for Chris was at a fever pitch, they would be glued to the stage while waiting for him to come out.
Of course, if Leon could steal the show and outshine Chris in this live performance, that would be the best possible outcome.
Starry Night Club was packed with professional music critics and media figures tonight. If he could catch their eye, the traffic would be insane—perfect fuel for the upcoming release of the 100,000 CDs.
"You ready?" T-Ray patted Leon on the shoulder. "Don't be nervous. When Nas did his first public show, he was so nervous he had to pop a bunch of pills just to find his groove."
"Don't think of this as some fancy club... think of it as your hunting ground!"
"And those rich folks and btches down there in their fancy clothes? They're just your prey!"
Leon nodded, took a deep breath, and prepared to take the stage.
The DJ cut the pounding dance music and introduced Leon: "Next up, we have a white boy straight out of Brownsville—Leon Smith!"
"I used to think a white boy surviving in Brownsville until 18 was a miracle... until I heard his track Take Me to Church. Then I realized the miracle this kid created goes way beyond that."
The club guests, intrigued by the DJ's intro, chuckled with amusement.
Many in the audience who had never heard the song were now curious, craning their necks to look toward the backstage area.
"Fk redemption and judgment! Tonight, we party until the end of the world!"
"Give it up for Brownsville's own Street Jesus, Leon Smith!"
Cheers and applause erupted from the crowd. Suddenly, all the neon lights in the club cut out, leaving the room in near-total darkness save for the scattered glow of smartphone screens.
A single beam of pure white light descended from the ceiling, landing center stage. Leon stood in the spotlight wearing white clerical robes, a massive prop cross looming behind him.
The instrumental started. He looked up at the ceiling and spread his arms:
My lover's got humor
She's the giggle at a funeral
His captivating baritone sounded like a shepherd whispering compassionately to his flock.
By the time he sang the "Amen, amen" chant, many in the audience were already humming along softly.
Then, the stage lights blasted on. Blinding spotlights flooded the scene, making it as bright as day.
Dancers bound in hemp ropes were kneeling on the floor with their backs to the audience, symbolizing sacrificial lambs.
The stage design was the result of long discussions between Leon's team and the club manager.
Even the placement of the knots was meticulous—covering the girls' three critical points perfectly. It was seductive without being explicitly vulgar.
The bondage seemed to excite the dancers even more. Before the chorus even hit, they were already shaking their "tail lights" at the audience.
Raw desire swirled around the stage, teasing the audience's nerves to the breaking point. Whistles and cheers rang out in waves.
From the chorus onward, the emotion Leon had been holding back finally exploded. His manic vocals challenged the eardrums of every person in the room.
Take me to church
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
Offer me that deathless death
Good God, let me give you my life
"Sht, this is amazing!" inside the VIP booth, Kendrick Lamar exclaimed to the blonde girl next to him.
He had only seen Leon's performance online before, but the crappy audio quality of a phone video couldn't compare to the live experience.
The blonde girl stared unblinkingly at the stage, a look of obsession on her face as she muttered, "That is a breathtaking performance..."
If anyone was hyped, it was T-Ray. He dragged his massive body around the room, grabbing anyone he could find and roaring excitedly, "I raised that son of a btch myself! Look at him! He's channeling Freddie Mercury out there!"
The DJ, swept up in the emotion of the moment, grabbed bottles of baby oil and sprayed them over the dancers' rears, adding fuel to the fiery atmosphere!
Neon lights reflected blindingly off the oiled skin. Guided by Leon's voice, everyone felt like they were ascending into a hedonistic heaven.
When the performance ended, the audience rose from their booths, applauding Leon's spectacular show.
"Amazing!"
"Street Jesus!"
"What a show!"
Judging by the crowd's reaction, the upcoming headliner, Chris Brown, suddenly seemed a little less important.
Leon had conquered this crowd of picky rich people with a perfect debut.
---
"Sit down, sit down..."
Leon had just returned to the VIP booth, not even having time to change out of his costume, when T-Ray handed him a glass of whiskey like a servant, greeting him warmly.
"Bro, your performance was incredible... I've been in this business over 20 years, and I've rarely seen a rookie kill their debut like that."
"Just wait until you start counting the money! You're going to have so many gigs you'll have a breakdown!"
Leon glanced at T-Ray expressionlessly: You think I don't know that?
In fact, he had been watching the audience's expressions the whole time. Seeing the fire in the eyes of the beauties in the crowd, he knew exactly how well it had gone.
This time, he was really taking off.
Next up was Chris Brown. The R&B singer, a former American Music Award "Artist of the Year" winner, had disdained hanging out with a small-timer like Leon, so this was the first time Leon actually saw him up close.
As a big star, Chris hadn't taken this gig seriously at first. If it weren't for an invitation from his "big brother" P. Diddy, he wouldn't have even taken the job.
But after seeing Leon's massive success, he felt the pressure. So when he performed his hit Run It!, he went extra hard, trying to bring his best.
But as expected, after the intense audio-visual shock Leon delivered, Chris's energetic performance fell flat.
The scene he imagined—girls twerking for him—didn't happen.
Having rarely faced such a cold reception in his career, Chris made a point to stick his head into the VIP booth as he walked past after his set, glaring viciously at Leon.
"Easy, bro," Leon shrugged, realizing the guy was looking for trouble.
"I'll remember you!"