Over the next two days, social media was flooded with photos and short videos of the mysterious men in trench coats at the Majestic Theatre.
Various versions of rumors were flying everywhere.
Some witnesses claimed that a Black man was lying on the ground that night, his face covered in blood, in a deep coma, his life hanging by a thread.
The most exaggerated version claimed that a fierce shootout occurred there that day, and the group of trench coat men opened fire in public, leaving people dead on the spot.
Many believed the leader of this gang of thugs was the currently hot rock singer Leon, but others firmly refuted this rumor.
The photos taken by witnesses at the Majestic Theatre were very blurry, causing endless arguments between the two sides.
In short, very few people knew what really happened that day.
At 8:00 AM sharp, Leon sat in his office, feet propped up, enjoying his coffee while scrolling through social media with a grin he couldn't hide.
This was exactly the effect he wanted to achieve: deterring his opponents without attracting trouble from the police.
Lenny called, pretending to be concerned. "Leon... you didn't go to the Majestic Theatre two days ago, right?"
Leon could figure it out with his toes; this was Jay-Z asking Lenny to test the waters.
The relationship between the two sides was now in a delicate balance. As long as the renewal contract wasn't signed, there was a risk of falling out.
"Apart from the promotional plans the company arranged for me... where I go is my freedom." After speaking, Leon hung up directly, leaving infinite room for imagination.
"God damn it! This company is getting more and more abnormal!"
"Shxt, do the idiots here still live in the nineties?"
"Damn Mexicans, stop staring at me like that, I'm your boss's manager!"
Just as Leon wanted some peace and quiet, Phil's cursing came from downstairs.
The old geezer was exceptionally emotional today. usually, he avoided Jorge's gang like the plague, but today he suddenly grew a spine.
He pushed the door open, waving a newspaper in his hand, and questioned, "Look what you've done, you made the news, you bastard!"
Phil slammed a copy of The New York Sun on the table.
This newspaper was cheap and mainly published negative news like suicides, crimes, trials, and fires, profiting mainly by satisfying the audience's morbid curiosity.
A photo of Leon and his group was published in a prominent position in the newspaper.
The photographer chose an excellent angle; against the black-and-white layout, it looked even more like Chicago mobsters.
Leon looked up and glanced at Phil. "Are you so sure this person is me?"
"Hmph, even if you were nailed to a cross and burned to a crisp, I'd recognize you." Phil snorted coldly. "Those disgusting mustaches on those Mexicans, who are they trying to fool?"
Seeing that the cat was out of the bag, Leon spread his hands directly, indicating he wouldn't pretend anymore. There was no need to keep pretending with Phil.
"Your reaction seems a bit too big. Competitors are using all kinds of dirty tricks against me; I have to make some effective counterattacks."
"This is self-defense."
Leon deliberately enunciated "self-defense" very clearly.
"I understand your current situation... A label established half a year ago launching three phenomenal female singers in a row—those old record companies have long been jealous to the point of going crazy."
"But you shouldn't have taken this bunch of old Mexicans and used some damn street methods to solve the problem!"
Phil got more and more agitated as he spoke, finally covering his head and shouting, "There's less than a week before you step onto the Grammy stage. Do you want to go to prison before that?"
Hearing this, Leon showed a puzzled look.
He could understand Phil's worry about losing his biggest cash cow, but this reaction seemed a bit too extreme.
A keen sense told him that Phil must know something he didn't.
"Tell me, why would I go to prison? I didn't leave any evidence... one or two blurry photos prove nothing."
Phil gritted his teeth and responded, "NYPD Commissioner McMahon, that damn corrupt element, a scumbag who rose to power by kissing senators' asses... he's a regular at Diddy's parties!"
"Diddy isn't the ngga who only knew how to use violence to solve problems anymore... The purpose of his parties is to maintain a huge network of relationships!"
The old geezer's words did make some sense, and Leon fell into deep thought.
He did see many political figures who didn't belong to the entertainment circle at Diddy's party, but he didn't think much of it at the time.
Thinking about it now, Diddy's parties had so many tender young men and women, and enough illegal substances to fill a room...
Although orgies aren't illegal in America, the content of Diddy's parties obviously touched the law.
And 100% felonies!
Such large-scale criminal behavior would be impossible without a protective umbrella behind it.
Otherwise, this kind of blatant criminal activity wouldn't have gone on for more than ten years.
"Listen, Phil, you don't understand the situation at the time. I had no better choice." Leon lit a cigarette and said in a deep voice.
Violence was indeed an efficient means.
Since the incident at the Majestic Theatre, although the smearing against him hadn't stopped, the trolls' wording was obviously much more polite.
Leonard also paused contact with Robbie and Ariana's agents.
"Shxt! The water here is deep! Whether success or failure, in the final analysis, it's just business. It's really not worth risking your life and freedom!"
Phil downed half a glass of whiskey in one go before his emotions eased. Leon couldn't be bothered to pay attention to him.
At 2:00 PM, it was time for him and Ariana to appear on The Joe Rogan Experience.
Leon had participated in many interviews and podcasts, and he was already experienced in facing sharp questions from hosts.
But this time, facing Joe Rogan, the preparation he made in advance was hardly used.
Joe Rogan didn't care about scandals; even if he occasionally mentioned them, he just touched on them briefly.
When asked about his ambiguous relationship with Ariana, Leon quickly denied it.
But Ariana's answer was very ambiguous: "Any girl would have the urge to marry him!"
Leon didn't know whether to laugh or cry, wondering how this sentence would be twisted by fake news, and what Robbie would think after seeing it.
Next, the discussion went from albums to rock history, and then to views on the future trends of pop music.
Finally, they even talked about the rapidly rising sport of Mixed Martial Arts (MMA).
Leon was quite interested in a medium-sized fighting event called the UFC, and Joe Rogan happened to be the host and promoter of this program.
"Brock Lesnar is my good friend; he's a barbarian as strong as a beast! Losing to Cain was an accident; he was suffering from diverticulitis at the time..." Joe Rogan said excitedly.
"That guy is indeed strong as an ox, but I appreciate martial artists like Anderson 'The Spider' Silva more..." Leon responded.
"After acquiring WEC, the UFC's financial situation isn't very good now. UFC boss Dana White told me maybe one day we won't see such wonderful fights anymore."
"I don't want such a thing to happen." Leon leaned back in his chair and joked, "Maybe one day I'll buy this event."
Joe Rogan laughed loudly. "I have no doubt about that. Everyone says you're an investment genius. The streetwalkers all over Florida are wearing the clothing brand you invested in."
The two chatted more and more agreeably, even making Leon forget about clearing Ariana's name for a moment.
When the topic came up, Leon first righteously denied all the media rumors about Ariana.
"Smearing! Naked smearing!"
"Ariana is standing right in front of you. She's the same off-camera as she is on-camera!"
"Look at her innocent appearance, which man would believe she lusts after big dicks!"
Leon looked solemn, while Ariana blushed unknowingly. "Hey... you're being too blunt!"
To increase credibility, Leon brought out his trump card at the end of the show.
"I want to invite a special guest."
Leon clapped his hands, and Dean walked out from backstage like a dog with broken bones, looking lost.
Despite emergency medical treatment, his cheeks were still swollen like balls, an inflammatory reaction after having teeth pulled.
To make his state look more natural, two makeup artists worked on him for over an hour just to cover up the traces of injury.
Thick foundation on his charcoal-black face made him look like he was cosplaying a white person, very comical.
"Dean, sit down quickly." Leon just patted Dean's shoulder, and the other party trembled uncontrollably, obviously having a PTSD reaction. "Tell everyone what you know..."
Dean held his head in annoyance and poured out everything about how he was bought by money to smear Ariana, interspersed with some paragraphs designed by Leon.
Due to missing eight teeth and swollen gums, many syllables were lost during pronunciation.
But fortunately, he still narrated the whole process completely.
Ariana showed an expression of amazement when seeing this scene.
In the gaze she directed at Leon, admiration and gratitude were about to overflow the screen.
Joe Rogan frowned and asked, "Mr. Dean, are you saying someone found you, gave you a sum of money to lie and smear Ariana? And they beat you?"
"Yes... that group of beasts tortured me inhumanely!" Speaking of this, Dean almost burst into tears.
No one could understand the grievance in his heart. It was foreseeable that after this episode aired, Apocalypse Music's reputation would turn around.
And the evil and cunning mastermind behind the scenes would be condemned by fans.
"See that, everyone? Dean is such an honest and simple Black guy; he just did a stupid thing because he was tempted..."
Speaking of this, Leon changed his tone and fired shots at the mastermind. "And those guys hiding behind and using him are the truly shameless ones. You idiots are provoking my bottom line!"
He patted Dean's shoulder, revealing a mysterious smile. That smile was chilling, and Dean's expression instantly distorted as if experiencing atavism.
"Tell us, Dean, what usually happens to guys who do stupid things."
Every cell in Dean's body was trembling. He widened his eyes and said word by word to the camera: "You will go to hell..."
"Right, exactly! Guys who do bad things will go to hell!" Leon looked righteous and waved his hand to let Dean return backstage.
After the clarification segment ended, the recording of the show also entered the countdown.
Joe Rogan wished Apocalypse Music a full load of awards at the Grammys in a week at the end of the show, and the handshake between the two sides marked the official end of the recording.
The three-hour marathon recording exhausted Leon, but fortunately, all immediate crises were temporarily resolved.
Sitting in the car, he yawned while holding the steering wheel. "Fxxk, I just want to take a good bath now, preferably a sauna or something."
Vague memories gradually surged; he suddenly thought of those warm bath centers in the East. America didn't have these good things.
"Maybe you can come to my house... my bathtub is huge, and there's a beautiful Nordic sauna..." Ariana held Leon's arm, stars in her eyes.
After this incident, even if Warner or Sony threw a huge contract with astronomical figures in her face, it was unlikely they could poach her successfully.
"Really?" Leon raised his eyebrows.
"Of course... my landlord is a Finn; he can't tolerate life without a sauna." Ariana showed a playful smile. "This is absolutely the best sauna you can find in Brooklyn!"
With a try-it-out mentality, Leon finally accepted Ariana's invitation.
He kept telling himself in his heart that it was just a sauna, but some dirty thoughts kept popping up.
He suddenly realized something.
It was already 2011; Ariana was already a big girl who could stand on her own.
Ariana's bathroom was just as she said before, very large. Inside, there was not only a huge triangular bathtub but also a seemingly luxurious wooden sauna room.
Leon wrapped himself in a bath towel and splashed water on the rocks of the carbon stove. Steam rose instantly.
He narrowed his eyes in enjoyment. "Fxxk, those Nordics really know how to enjoy life."
Click—
The sound of the door opening woke Leon up. He squinted and took a look.
Ariana walked in shyly, wearing silk pajamas.
"What? Little A, what are you doing?"
"I thought..." Ariana lowered her head, cheeks flushed. "Can we do this together? I've been so tense lately, haven't relaxed in a long time..."
Leon wanted to refuse, but thinking carefully, it was just taking a sauna together; it was nothing.
After Ariana entered the steam room, although not a single drop of water was added to the carbon stove, the temperature rose sharply.
And a faint girlish fragrance wafted in the humid and hot air.
After staying for only two minutes, Leon cried out that he couldn't handle it. Clutching his bath towel, he rushed out. Staying any longer would sooner or later lead to trouble.
---
February 11th
For the upcoming Grammy Awards ceremony, Leon flew to Los Angeles in advance.
Although he didn't receive an official invitation to perform at the awards ceremony, and there was absolutely no need to advance the schedule by two days.
But today there was another important matter: the movie Straight Outta Compton officially started filming in Compton, Los Angeles.
Leon followed the crew to the shooting location.
Due to the existence of "Saint" Robinson, this city known as the most dangerous area in the US became the safest place for Leon.
The nggas on both sides of the street were very respectful to the crew and took on the security work for the crew.
After James Wan simply briefed the entire crew for twenty minutes...
The set design team and props team started their preparations before shooting one after another.
Fixed cameras were also arranged in place under James Wan's layout, not missing any angle.
The main cinematographer and other cameramen shouldered their equipment, waiting in full array.
"Action!"
With James Wan's order, Eazy-E, played by Kendrick, slowly walked out from the end of the dilapidated and dim street.
All cameras quickly locked onto him as the focal point.