Exploiting all remaining musical inspiration from another person's life?
This certainly sounded inhumane, but it was undoubtedly a game-breaking skill. If Leon encountered a powerful rival on the Billboard charts, this skill was enough to sentence their career to death.
The problem was, only God knew who had a steady stream of inspiration to sustain long-term fame.
If he used it on a mediocre rapper like Davis, the Inspiration Exploitation would be wasted.
---
Early the next morning, Leon arrived at Phil's office.
The old man was pinning Cardi B down, performing his daily "clock-in" routine.
Leon shook his head helplessly at the scene. "Every single day... does your body even hold up?"
Phil jumped up in fright, hurriedly pulling up his pants.
Cardi B, on the other hand, acted like she didn't care at all, displaying the same straightforward vulgarity found in her lyrics. "Want to join in, superstar?"
Leon waved his hands quickly. "I'll pass."
At the same time, his sharp eyes noticed that Phil looked different than usual.
The worn-out secondhand suit had been replaced by a decent Tom Ford bespoke suit, and his leather shoes were polished spotless.
Haircuts in New York were expensive. Most people either cut their own hair or went to the barbershop very infrequently.
Yesterday, Phil had stubble and greasy long hair; today, he looked much cleaner and sharper.
If you didn't know how insidious and cunning he was, anyone would think he was a distinguished old gentleman from New York high society.
"Cunning bastard..."
Leon spat lightly. Needless to say, Phil must have taken a kickback from the deal with Jay-Z.
Given Jay-Z's generosity, the old geezer conservatively pocketed tens of thousands of dollars.
In this deal, T-Ray and George got $500,000, and Phil tasted the sweetness too. Only Leon, the protagonist of the deal, didn't get a single drop of oil.
The entertainment industry's waters run deep; almost everyone has eight hundred schemes up their sleeve.
Phil patted Cardi B's butt. "You did great, baby~ Mr. Leon and I need to leave for a while."
"Keep that creative fire burning! You're gonna be the next big thing!"
How could a naive young girl be a match for a cunning old scumbag? A dazed Cardi muttered to herself, "Don't lie to me, asshole... remember, you're running out of time!"
---
Phil's Camaro stopped in front of a waffle house near the New York Transit Museum.
"You're going to be living around here from now on. You have to try the best waffles in New York!" He seemed to be in a great mood, dragging Leon into the waffle house without waiting for an answer.
"Hi sweetie~ Two waffles, with fried eggs and Belgian sausage." Phil chatted up the waitress like an old gentleman. "I hope those two fried eggs look as charming as your chest."
The waitress blushed, hugged the menu to her chest, and ran away shyly.
"Hahaha~ What a pure girl."
Watching Phil getting carried away, Leon knocked on the table. "Alright, I don't understand why we have to eat this damn breakfast... We have a lot to do today."
Phil's laughter slowly faded. "Listen, Leon. Although you signed with Roc Nation, I must warn you... it's not an easy place to stay."
"Jay-Z is rich, sure, but he doesn't waste time on mediocrity! Every year he signs dozens of rookies like you who have achieved a little success, but very few actually gain a foothold in the company."
Roc Nation implemented a cruel "survival of the fittest" mechanism. Leon knew this beforehand.
Typically, for small-time artists, the company only offered a one-year contract. If they didn't produce a complete album within that period, the contract wouldn't be renewed.
Just like T-Ray said, they'd be tossed to the curb like a stray dog.
Phil continued with a worried look, "The performance of your first record is excellent for a newcomer... but it's not top-tier!"
"Superstars like Avril, Lady Gaga, Rihanna... their debut albums established their status in the music world immediately!"
"I'm not sure if you can..."
Before Phil could finish, Leon interrupted him. "Not sure if I can write another hit like that?"
Phil was silent for a moment, then nodded.
The corners of Leon's mouth tilted up 45 degrees. He still had Sucker for Pain in his pocket, plus the massive bug skill "Inspiration Exploitation."
Even in the worst-case scenario, his inspiration refreshed once a month. Even if he occasionally rolled garbage, piecing together a mini-album of about five songs over a year wouldn't be a problem.
"That's not something you should worry about. Your job is to serve me well!"
"Get me valuable variety shows, commercial performances, radio interviews... instead of messing around with that Black girl every day!"
When Leon raised his volume slightly, Phil looked a bit flustered.
He realized he had underestimated this young man. Trying to manipulate Leon like other green rookies was going to be very difficult.
"I'm full." Leon picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. "Pay the bill, asshole. We better settle the housing issue before meeting Jay-Z this afternoon!"
Under Leon's tough stance, Phil moved noticeably faster. He threw down $17 for the meal and a $2 tip, then hurriedly followed Leon out.
---
New York has the highest average real estate prices in the world, so the real estate service industry here is extremely developed.
Just on Fulton Street, not far from the Transit Museum, there were a dozen real estate agencies of various sizes.
Leon chose the one that looked the most legitimate. Although US rental procedures are notoriously cumbersome and rigorous, that doesn't mean shady agents don't exist.
Especially agencies run by certain demographics known for cutting corners—smiling while serving you, but once they get the commission fee, you find all sorts of hidden problems.
"Fk, this is ridiculously expensive."
Leon took the stack of rental listings from the consultant and was instantly speechless at the numbers.
In the Rust Belt cities of the Midwest, $1,500 could rent a fully furnished apartment of over 1,000 square feet, or a detached house of about 2,000 square feet with a small garden.
But in Brooklyn Heights, that only got you a one-bedroom tenement.
Looking at the picture where the toilet was practically hugging the kitchen stove, Leon felt physically ill just thinking about it.
"Fk, this is a coffin..."
Phil teased from the side, "Don't look at those cheap ones. Those are for the damn illegal immigrants."
"Those dirty, despicable rats leave decent lives in their own countries and would rather come to New York to wash dishes."
"There is gold everywhere here, indeed, but it's not for them."