When a man's wallet is empty, all he thinks about is making money. Once he has money, all he thinks about is women.
Having just received a huge sum and tasted the sweet life of a liberated serf, Leon really couldn't think of a reason to turn down an invitation from a beautiful woman.
In an avant-garde bar in Brooklyn Heights, Robbie was drinking alone, looking a bit sullen.
"Drinking by yourself?"
Leon watched her from afar, four words popping into his head: Weak tolerance, big addiction.
"Good evening, Miss Robbie~"
"You're finally here. I was about to die of boredom all by myself~" Robbie blinked her big eyes, looking pitiful.
In fact, Leon had already noticed that the men in the bar were constantly stealing glances at Robbie while pretending not to care. A beauty like her would become the center of attention anywhere.
Especially dressed as she was: a skimpy black spaghetti-strap top paired with denim shorts so short they looked like underwear.
This outfit, combined with her blonde hair and killer curves... if this were a bar in Brownsville, things might have turned into a Bollywood-style drama real quick.
Leon teased, "Isn't the AC a bit cold in here?"
Feeling his gaze travel up and down her body like a knife, Robbie burst out laughing. "I'm Australian. Back home in Queensland, this is standard summer wear."
"By the way, staring at a lady like that isn't very gentlemanly."
As she spoke, Robbie intentionally lifted her leg. Her full, pale thigh looked even more seductive under the bar lights.
Leon shrugged helplessly at her teasing. "It's a man's nature to appreciate beauty... To be a gentleman, you have to be a man first, right?"
The subtext was clear: You dressed like this because you wanted me to look, didn't you? Since you want me to look, why not look openly?
It was the first time Robbie had met such a direct man.
In Hollywood, those well-dressed directors and producers always acted so sanctimonious, but behind the scenes, they were constantly plotting how to trick actresses into bed.
She snapped her fingers like a guy to call the waiter and ordered two double whiskeys on the rocks.
As the liquor went down, the atmosphere heated up, and their conversation flowed.
"My impression of Hollywood is just terrible. The actresses there are always thinking about using their bodies and money to climb the ladder."
"Fk! They'll even sleep with sixty or seventy-year-old men for it!"
Robbie's eyes were unfocused, clearly tipsy, as she ranted about the darkness beneath Hollywood's shiny exterior.
Leon played with his glass, listening silently. He agreed with a lot of what Robbie was saying.
Film is the art of creating dreams, and Hollywood is a factory for idols. These idols people worshipped were manufactured.
The sweet girl next door on the surface is actually a promiscuous btch behind the scenes.
The tough guy on screen doesn't even dare whisper "Fk" when he gets robbed by a kid in the hood.
The model couple everyone envies? Their marriage exists in name only; they're both playing the field.
What puzzled Leon was that there were always fools who mistook the on-screen image for the star's real self.
Since Robbie had opened the door, Leon tentatively asked, "Did someone harass you on set?"
That question opened the floodgates. Robbie started exposing all kinds of celebrity dirt.
"I told you last time, Leonardo is a playboy. In our new movie, most of my scenes are very... revealing."
"That dirty idiot tries to turn the fake scenes into real ones every time."
Revealing?
Leon swallowed hard. "What movie is it? I'll definitely buy a ticket to support you when it comes out."
Robbie rolled her eyes at him playfully. "Shouldn't you book out the whole theater? Your song is on the Billboard charts now~"
"Actually, my original dream was to be a singer. The acting world is just too complicated; it doesn't suit me."
Leon found that hard to comment on. Although this girl was hustling in Hollywood, she was clearly still a naive rookie.
The music industry is cleaner than Hollywood?
Phil was broke as a joke and still didn't forget to gaslight Cardi B into giving him "mouth magic" every day.
T-Ray, with his 300-pound frame, threw orgies daily.
Similar examples in the music world were countless. Leon didn't even dare imagine what kind of lives moguls like Jay-Z and P. Diddy led.
"You have that dream? Maybe we can collaborate someday."
"Really?!" Robbie was overjoyed, excitedly wrapping her arms around Leon's neck, her eyes shining.
"Of course. Being a multi-hyphenate is the future trend..." Leon's breathing became a bit erratic. Robbie was leaning too close; he could feel her hot breath.
In the American entertainment industry, the music and acting circles were distinct. Unlike in Asian countries, crossover success wasn't the norm.
So-called "Superstars" usually had to achieve massive success in film, TV, and music.
The reason was that the US market was very demanding of singers. First off, singers were expected to write their own material.
Buying songs and performing them was okay once or twice, but doing it for every track was looked down upon by the market—especially in hip-hop and rock.
As they chatted, the vibe got increasingly intimate.
Leon's heart skipped a beat when he saw Robbie extending those pale, bare feet again.
Does this woman have a foot fetish or something?
Cupping her chin, Robbie drunkenly told Leon the name of her new movie. "The Wolf of Wall Street... Just like it sounds, the men in this movie are all wolves."
"Not just Leonardo. I never thought Director Martin Scorsese would be like that too. No wonder he and Leonardo are such good friends despite the age gap."
"The most disgusting one is our investor, Jho Low... He's the creepiest guy I've ever met. Basically a fat version of Gollum."
"But he's a rich bastard. I can't believe a beauty like Miranda Kerr actually dated him... Rumor has it he burns cash in his fireplace."
Leon was getting more confused. Hollywood was definitely decadent, but burning cash in a fireplace?
That was clearly beyond his comprehension. He instinctively filed it under "urban legend."
Their conversation lasted until 2:00 AM. Only when Robbie couldn't fit another drop of alcohol in her stomach did she reluctantly agree to leave.
"Can you take me home, Leon? My hotel is just nearby."
Having witnessed Robbie's "sexy offensive" the last time she was drunk, Leon subconsciously imagined what might happen next.
Before he could respond, Robbie added, "There are more and more illegal immigrants these days... I'm scared to walk alone at night."
With her putting it like that, Leon had no choice.
To keep Robbie balanced, he had to put his hand on her waist.
But clearly, she wasn't satisfied with this gentlemanly behavior. She kept using her hand to guide Leon's hand lower, toward that magnificent, coveted "tail light."
"This is the hotel, right? I think I should go now, Miss Robbie."
Outside the St. Regis Hotel, Robbie looked at Leon reluctantly. "We'll see each other again soon, right? Maybe next time in Los Angeles."
"Of course, I..."
Mmph—
Leon wanted to say something, but the words were stopped by something soft blocking his mouth.
Then, something slipped inside.
Under the influence of warmth and sweetness, his mind went a little hazy.