Margot Robbie's exquisite face flushed deeper and deeper under the influence of alcohol, and her actions grew bolder by the second.
Taking advantage of a drunk person is low, but holding back when a stunner like this throws herself at you? That takes a saint... or a eunuch.
Leon was clearly no saint, but the setting was a bit inappropriate.
They weren't alone in the VIP booth. Not far away, T-Ray had his head cocked, watching Leon with a sleazy grin.
"Bro, pretend I'm not here. I did the same thing back in my day... one girl wasn't nearly enough for my appetite back then~"
Despite T-Ray's encouragement, Leon knew there had to be some distinction between man and beast.
He turned to Robbie. "Please calm down, Miss Robbie..."
Robbie's face, usually pale enough to glow, was now rosy, and her eyes sparkled like stars. "I think I have a fever... it's getting hot..."
As she spoke, her "provocations" escalated.
It wasn't just her fair feet anymore; her hands started to wander, sliding down from Leon's waist, inch by inch, heading straight for the danger zone.
Leon never imagined such good fortune would fall into the lap of a rookie who had just crawled out of the mud of poverty—especially not with a rising Hollywood star.
I can't let her keep going wild like this. I need to get out of here!
His real concern wasn't moral; it was practical. Even if he wanted to engage in some "friendly grappling" with Robbie, he couldn't do it here, giving T-Ray a free show.
After weighing his options, Leon draped Robbie's arm over his shoulder, wrapped his right arm around her soft waist, and stumbled out of the club with her.
Robbie was wasted. Leon asked her address multiple times, but he couldn't get a coherent answer out of her.
Whether she didn't want to tell him or was genuinely blacked out, he couldn't say.
With no other choice, he hailed a cab and took her to Phil's studio to crash for the night.
Luckily, Sheepshead Bay was safe. If a gorgeous white girl like this walked the streets of Brownsville at midnight, her fate wouldn't be much better than in the worst parts of the third world.
She'd lose her money and her dignity.
Leon knocked on the office door. Phil cautiously peeked out, only to see Robbie leaning against Leon's chest, eyes unfocused and murmuring nonsense.
"WTF? Leon, what do you think this place is? If you want a hooker, go downstairs. They're professionals..."
As he spoke, Phil looked Robbie up and down, marveling at her Barbie-like beauty. Even a man who had seen the world like him was impressed.
No man on earth can resist a blonde bombshell.
Robbie looked tall and slim, but you only realized her true weight when you had to carry her.
It took Leon a significant amount of effort to dump the drunken Robbie onto the sofa. "This girl is solid."
Watching her chest rise and fall rapidly from the alcohol, and seeing those toned, athletic thighs, it all made sense.
Phil's shabby office was lively tonight. The guests weren't just Leon and Robbie; the fiery little spitfire Cardi B was there too.
She was on the phone, seemingly engaged in a marathon call, spouting nothing but vulgarity.
"Cousin, stop crying! If that scumbag lays a hand on you again, I'll blow his dck off with a double-barreled shotgun... I told you Mexican men are unreliable."
"Those Mexican dudes are small, and they always try to gank from the rear... I dated a Mexican, I know their game."
"My inspiration has been exploding lately! When my record drops, I'm gonna blow up! Then all my hundreds of scumbag ex-boyfriends can go to hell... fk those trash men!"
Leon, guarding Robbie, listened with interest. Cardi B was basically the American version of a "Spirit Girl" (a type of rebellious, loud youth subculture).
Phil had played Leon some of Cardi B's demos before, and the lyrics were pretty much exactly like her phone conversation.
Male rappers bragged about wealth, gang life, sports cars, and ass.
Female rappers did something similar, but Cardi B took it to the extreme—utterly shameless.
She rarely bragged about money, but she loved bragging about her promiscuity.
For instance, she often referred to herself as the nastiest btch in her lyrics, seemingly proud of the title, and described her sexual exploits in graphic detail.
But this kind of content, clearly crossing the line of decency, was exactly what the American public loved to hear.
In a society entertaining itself to death, anything that challenged traditional values and moral baselines was seen as embodying the true spirit of hip-hop.
Leon had to admit, Phil was a veteran. His eye for talent was sharp.
When inspiration struck, Cardi B could fiddle with a toy in one hand and furiously write ten songs with the other.
Those filthy ideas were like crude oil gushing from a well, spewing endlessly from her brain (and her tunnel).
That efficiency was way higher than his "Inspiration Refresh" mechanic.
If Cardi B hadn't been blind enough to follow a broke guy like Phil, she probably would have released an album and blown up already.
Phil shoved the chattering Cardi aside, leaned against the wall with a glass of Jack Daniel's, and asked Leon, "How did the first show go?"
"You'll find out tomorrow. The CD sales will say everything."
Phil looked excited. "I knew you were a rare gem..."
Leon wanted to lean back on the sofa to relax, but Robbie was taking up almost all the space. He had to lift her toned calves and rest them on his own lap to sit down.
"You need to handle the T-Ray situation carefully. I don't want any trouble in our future cooperation."
"Especially that mad dog George. He likes to solve problems with bullets."
Facing Leon's concerns, Phil seemed confident. "Relax, man. I've thought of all that."
"George's power is limited to small ponds like Brownsville. In New York, there are countless big shots who could crush him."
Leon nodded and didn't say more. Communicating with an old fox like Phil didn't require spelling everything out.
Seeing it was almost 2:00 AM, he got up to leave Phil's office, instructing Phil to call him when Robbie woke up.
---
The next morning, a hungover Leon was woken up by incessant ringing.
Davis, Phil, T-Ray...
Almost everyone Leon knew was calling him.
"What is going on?"
Just then, the phone rang again. It was T-Ray's third call.
"Fk! I thought you died in that white girl's tunnel last night! Pull up your pants and get your ass to the office!"
T-Ray sounded frantic on the other end. Leon was still confused. "What happened, man... I wake up and feel like the whole world is looking for me?"
"You've completely blown up, bro! Your performance last night conquered everyone there, and a lot of them were industry pros."