Robbie released her arms from around Leon's neck, wiped her lips, flashed a mysterious smirk, and then walked straight into the hotel without looking back.
"Fk that woman."
Leon realized he had just encountered a high-level player. He was ready to drop his pants, and this is what he got?
Getting teased until he was burning up inside and then left hanging? Is there anything more frustrating than that?
Just then, in Leon's vision, Robbie's retreating figure suddenly transformed into a rebellious girl with rainbow-colored pigtails, clown makeup, and a baseball bat.
Immediately after, her silhouette shattered and twisted. Disturbing words like "Devil," "Torture," and "Fire" suddenly invaded Leon's mind.
An unfamiliar melody rang out in his head.
I torture you~ Take my hand through the flames
I torture you~ I'm a slave to your games
I'm just a sucker for pain!
I wanna chain you up
I wanna tie you down
I'm just a sucker for pain!!
After listening just once, he had memorized the lyrics and arrangement completely.
He pulled out his phone. Sure enough, today was the 11th—Inspiration Refresh day.
This song, Sucker for Pain, exuded a rebellious and cult-like aura even stronger than his previous work.
Although such a work was avant-garde, it was exactly where the trend was heading. In the new era, music was becoming increasingly diverse, provocative, and explicit.
Lady Gaga blew up precisely because of her bold, avant-garde music videos and unique electronic style.
When his first record was released, Leon was still at the bottom of society, struggling on the poverty line. Now he had accumulated some fame, and it was foreseeable that this song would perform even better.
But his ambition went beyond this. To become a true star, releasing an album was essential.
Even purely from an economic perspective, the revenue from an album far exceeded that of a single.
A CD with ten songs could easily sell for over ten dollars, and vinyl records were even more expensive.
In other words, if he could reach Platinum status, sales would conservatively be estimated at over ten million dollars.
This was the way to make real money!
Leon wished he could find Phil tomorrow and record the demo for this song, but there was a problem.
The lyrics of Sucker for Pain contained a large amount of rap, much longer than the chorus.
He thought about handling both the chorus and the rap parts himself, doing it all in one go.
After all, rapping isn't that hard—you just need a mouth.
But after just one run-through a cappella, he found the issue. If one person performed the whole song, the chorus followed the rap part too closely. Even if he sang until he ran out of breath, he couldn't keep up with the beat.
"Looks like I have to find someone to feature..."
As of now, this indeed seemed to be the only solution.
Collaborating on tracks had become a trend, especially after hip-hop blew up.
Eminem and Rihanna's collaboration created Love the Way You Lie, a single that dominated the Billboard charts.
Features had benefits, but also drawbacks. The downside was that the artist had to split the revenue with the featured artist.
Leon splitting money with a nr?
For a work he "created" himself?
Don't even think about it.
"Sht. I'll deal with it tomorrow."
---
Although he drank with Robbie until late last night and was still a bit hungover, Leon insisted on getting up early.
After cleaning himself up, he headed to Black Panther Records on Chester Street.
Today was the big day Phil was going to lay his cards on the table with T-Ray. Leon couldn't wait to see what kind of magic Phil would use to snatch the prize from these armed thugs.
At first, the atmosphere was normal. T-Ray chatted about upcoming gig plans as usual, occasionally interjecting a dirty joke with the secretary beside him.
Until Phil said, "Bro, I want to ask you for someone." The scene instantly went cold.
T-Ray paused for a moment, then half-jokingly said, "You can have any girl you want... among us Black folks, sharing is most important. As long as you don't want my wife."
Saying this, T-Ray patted the butt of the girl next to him, signaling her to sit by Phil.
Phil shook his head. "The person I want is Leon."
"Leon? Which little btch is that? Since when do women have that name?" T-Ray laughed foolishly at first, then quickly realized something was wrong. "Bro, stop joking."
"I'm not joking. I'm serious... Leon will have a brighter future working with me."
At this point, even T-Ray wasn't stupid enough to miss the point. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.
Like why Phil had been frequenting Chester Street so often since Leon appeared, offering professional music guidance for free.
Now T-Ray understood his true intentions.
There was no damn "brotherly love"—it was all driven by damn profit.
But T-Ray didn't panic at all. He knew Phil's financial situation very well.
This wasn't the early 2000s when Phil stood beside Avril Lavigne as the GM of Epic Records, collecting manager and producer awards like candy.
In the entertainment industry, power speaks. If not for Phil's talent and extensive experience, in T-Ray's eyes, he would be no different from a homeless bum on the street.
"You? With what?" T-Ray lit a cigar and leaned back.
"Leon hasn't signed any contract with you. Legally, he is free to choose where he wants to develop his career."
"Legally? Are you talking about this?" T-Ray sneered and pulled a shiny Glock from his waistband.
That's not the law; that's the truth!
Leon remained silent on the side, happy to watch the drama unfold.
But deep down, he hoped Phil really had a backup plan. He couldn't work with these gangsters long-term; these guys were running a record label with the mindset of running a gang.
T-Ray and the Bloods behind him didn't realize that the true golden age of gangsta rap hadn't ended in recent years.
Back in 1997, after big shots like Tupac and Biggie died, gangsta rap was already on the decline.
"Bro, I know you... you can't scare me. I'll give you an offer you can't refuse!"
Phil hit the nail on the head. T-Ray was indeed just playing with the gun; he didn't even have the courage to point it at Phil. His soft nature was fully exposed.
Although Phil had barely ever touched a gun, having survived in the brutal entertainment industry for years, a small scene like this couldn't scare him.
The cruelty there was no less than in the ghetto—you just couldn't see the smoke or hear the gunshots.
T-Ray gritted his teeth and said to Big Martin beside him, "Go to the club next door and get George."
"You damn white trash, don't think about walking out of Chester Street today! I'm going to feed your corpse to Charlie (T-Ray's dog) in the yard."
"This is going to be trouble..." Leon muttered in his heart.
George wasn't a softie like T-Ray. He was a Bloods boss who truly grew up on the chaotic streets of the 90s. Even under the impact of rampant Mexican cartels today, he could firmly hold his territory.
In Brownsville, even drug dealers trembled at the mention of George's name.
"Old man, whatever trump card you have, play it now."
Leon was genuinely anxious for Phil. Even if you hold two Jokers and four Aces, what's the point if the other guy plays all his cards before you even make a move?