"In 1996, I was in a bit of trouble. The Mexicans and the DEA were looking for me everywhere." Robinson's eyes showed no trace of sadness; he spoke of the past as if it were a feather.
"So you still hold a grudge against Old Jones?" Leon asked.
"Grudge? Not really," Robinson smiled contemptuously. "Actually, Kidada did fall in love with Tupac later. That ngga made more money rapping than I did risking bullets. No woman wasn't crazy about him."
Hearing this, Leon thoroughly pieced together what kind of story this was.
Relationships in the Black community were often chaotic; the situation where today's babe is tomorrow's stepmom wasn't uncommon.
The reason Robinson still held some resentment towards Old Jones was purely out of a man's pride, nothing more.
On the sofa, Old Jones was still seriously studying the script. It was clear that he was treating the role of artistic director as a serious job now.
He had already obtained everything a man could want in a lifetime. At this age, close to the grave, he only wanted a good reputation.
Leon glanced at Old Jones and whispered to Robinson, "Man, I'm going to discuss a business deal with Jones later. This is very important to me."
"I knew you had some purpose bringing this old guy here." Robinson smirked, his expression playful.
"I want to buy Vibe magazine from Jones."
"You're telling me this easily?" Robinson was a bit surprised. He didn't expect the usually shrewd Leon to be so candid.
"Nothing to hide, we are good homies." Leon spread his hands.
Acquiring Vibe magazine was a gamble; it was a product eliminated by the times.
Even with a price tag of $10 million, less than a third of its peak market value, no buyer was willing to make a move.
Even the wealthy Time Warner wasn't willing to take over this mess, which showed how poorly this project was regarded.
But to build his own media network, this was a step Leon had to take.
Although traditional print media was at a dead end, the track wasn't crowded, and the entry barrier was low, making it suitable for a novice player like him.
He had envisioned multiple development paths for Vibe, such as releasing electronic magazines taking advantage of the internet boom;
Recording a rap podcast under the name of Vibe;
Or even naming or producing a rap talent TV show.
But even if all these ideas were put into action, whether they could guarantee no loss was still a question mark.
So, he decided to be honest with Robinson: "I hope to negotiate this deal at the most suitable price, but Old Jones holds this dying magazine in his hand like a treasure."
"I get what you mean, friend. I'll speak for you." Robinson's brain worked fast, understanding almost instantly.
"Great! If this deal really goes through, I'd be willing to transfer some shares of the magazine to you..."
"No no no!" Before Leon could finish, Robinson waved his hands repeatedly. "I'm not interested in the magazine business!"
Cunning bastard... Leon muttered in his heart. Robinson was sharp-minded, completely unlike a typical ngga.
Even though he was eager to launder the dirty money earned from drug dealing, he was unwilling to invest in a magazine.
This showed how despised this industry was.
After the Great Recession following the millennium, the tide of the newspaper industry gradually receded, and the blossoming scene no longer existed.
Those who survived were old magazines backed by big sponsors like Time, Fortune, Sports Illustrated, etc.
Selling massive amounts of ad space every year barely maintained a break-even point.
After thinking for a moment, Robinson almost said, "I can help you with this, it's just a matter of talking."
"No, I must do something for you!" Leon refused without thinking.
Free things are the most expensive, especially when dealing with a dangerous gang leader like Robinson.
Talking to smart people didn't take much effort, which was why Robinson liked Leon.
He smiled and said, "Whether this movie succeeds or fails, if you want to make movies in the future, I'm still happy to invest..."
If calculated based on the final cost of Straight Outta Compton being $10 million, Robinson's 30% share would be $3 million.
After a decade of criminal life, no one knew how much dirty money he had. Just one movie definitely couldn't digest it all.
Although accepting black money into the production carried certain risks, Leon agreed without much thought.
Old movie companies like Warner, Universal, and Paramount had been doing this for a hundred years, almost equivalent to the entire history of cinema.
Since the Prohibition era, making movies had been an important money-laundering method for the Italian Mafia and Jewish gangs. This had long been an unspoken rule in Hollywood.
The food on the dining table consisted entirely of fast food like pizza and fried chicken.
Robinson, like a professional bartender, placed a cocktail in front of everyone.
According to him, this cocktail was called "The Godfather," made of Scotch whisky and Italian Amaretto, with a unique flavor.
Serving this particular drink had his unique intention.
In gangster movies, restaurants are dangerous places.
They chatted from Straight Outta Compton all the way to Black music. Before long, Old Jones had three drinks down and looked very happy.
With the alcohol kicking in, he started using MJ as a talking point again. "Leon, congratulations on winning the Grammy, but I have to say the quality of the Grammys is degenerating."
"Whether it's Beyoncé or Rihanna, their dominance is less than half of Michael's."
To make the old man happy, Leon responded repeatedly, "MJ's achievements are unreplicable; he was a global superstar in the true sense."
"Neither Jay-Z nor Dre, the music kingdoms they built cannot be compared with Michael." Old Jones looked disdainful when mentioning these names, continuing:
"At his peak, Michael held the copyrights of a large number of songs including his own, Elvis Presley's, and the Beatles'. Do you know what proportion these copyrights occupy in the entire Sony Music copyright library?"
"I don't know much about this," Leon answered truthfully.
"Fifty percent! By the year Michael passed away, Sony's music copyright income accounted for 11% of the global music copyright! These copyrights are conservatively worth $300 million now!"
Old Jones's eyes were full of greedy light when he said this number.
This number really shocked Leon. No one in the current music scene could earn so much money relying solely on copyrights.
But he always felt it sounded strange coming from Jones's mouth.
MJ didn't live well in the two years before his death, mainly due to the impact of negative news; everyone around him betrayed him.
Including Old Jones.
After chatting with him about the glorious years for more than an hour, Leon peeked at his watch and felt it was about time.
He continued along the other party's topic, "MJ's spirit influenced a whole generation. The era when he became popular was almost the best era for Black people."
"That's right..." Old Jones nodded repeatedly.
In that era, Black people were absolute rulers of the entertainment industry. Besides MJ, Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey both had Black blood.
"Although there are figures like Beyoncé, Jay-Z, and Usher, the grand occasion of Black music is no longer what it used to be."
"I also want to do something for the Black community. This honest and diligent race deserves more. This is also why I invested in a Black movie."
The more emotional Leon sounded, the less Old Jones trusted him.
Honest and diligent?
Having lived for nearly eighty years, he knew too well the nature of his Black compatriots.
"As you can see, my good homies around me are all Black." Saying this, Leon kicked Robinson under the table.
The other party understood instantly and delivered an assist. "That's right. Although Leon is white, he has a Black heart."
"He not only loves and understands our lifestyle but especially loves sleeping with Black girls."
As soon as the words fell, the guilty Leon quickly took a big gulp of alcohol to stop himself from laughing.
This bragging was obviously a bit too much.
"White skin, Black heart? You are truly a rare young man..." Jones narrowed his eyes. This praise was obviously not sincere.
The emotional groundwork was laid; now it was time to get to the point.
Dealing with an old fox who had been in the music industry for over 60 years, too many detours were superfluous.
"Mr. Jones, you have made outstanding contributions to the development of Black music... The Vibe magazine you founded is the most weighty Black magazine in history." Leon revealed the dagger.
"Thank you for your praise, but Vibe has suspended publication for more than a year." Jones's cloudy eyes flashed a trace of light. "Maybe I'm old and don't understand young people nowadays. They prefer to buy XXL magazine full of beef and gossip, rather than Vibe which focuses on music itself."
"Maybe after I die, this magazine will also become history."
Bang—
Leon slammed the table heavily, catching even Robinson by surprise.
"We must prevent such a thing from happening! This great magazine is an important promotional channel for Black music!"
Old Jones was stunned for a moment, then reacted and shook his head. "I tried laying off half the staff, but even so, I couldn't maintain the operation of the magazine."
According to him, Vibe still had 40 employees after large-scale layoffs.
Their ordinary employees had an annual salary of $60,000, column editors $100,000, and the editor-in-chief as high as $150,000. Just the personnel cost exceeded $3.5 million a year.
Vibe was once published as a semi-monthly magazine in its peak century, later changed to a monthly, and after layoffs, had to be changed to a bimonthly.
Priced at $13 per issue, the circulation volume per issue fluctuated only around tens of thousands.
Although newspapers and periodicals mainly relied on advertising revenue, after deducting logistics, printing, labor, and other costs, they still lost millions of dollars a year.
Suspending publication was the only choice to reduce losses.
After listening to Old Jones's lament, Leon said with a face full of indignation, "Although it is losing money, this is a great cause. I hope you must keep it going!"
Old Jones secretly rolled his eyes: Losing millions a year, why don't you persist?
At the same time, he saw through Leon's trick. Regardless of whether the other party genuinely started from ideals or had other purposes...
He was definitely interested in this magazine!
"These losses are nothing to me, but I'm getting old." Jones's eyeballs rolled in their sockets. "Time Warner was willing to pay a big price to buy this magazine, but I never agreed..."
"Those white trash who don't understand Black music at all will ruin my life's work!"
Leon was full of lies, and Old Jones lied just as naturally.
Vibe experienced three price reductions during negotiations, but ultimately failed to move Time Warner.
Old Jones locked his gaze on Leon, baring his fangs: "Young man, if you are interested in this magazine, you can take over. Just need..."
"Me? No no no!" Leon waved his hands repeatedly before hearing the other party's quote.
Showing a desire to acquire at this time was jumping into the pit dug by this old fox.
"Although I am very eager to extend the life of this magazine, I haven't been in the industry for long. Such losses are unbearable for me."
No money?
Apocalypse Music sold so many records, and he has no money?
Jones's enthusiasm cooled down quickly. He began to speculate whether Leon sincerely wanted to acquire this magazine.
He tried to take a step back and asked tentatively, "You can make a new label popular all over America. Maybe Vibe can reverse the decline in the hands of a young man like you."
"Although I really want to contribute to Black music, after investing in a movie, I don't have much liquidity to use."
"It doesn't matter, you can pay in installments."
"Forget it. It sounds like a debt, and I don't like debt."
The two fell into a strange game.
One side wanted to cash out at a high price;
The other side tried hard to show an attitude of refusing while welcoming, confusing the other party.
In the end, it was Old Jones who gave in first. He gritted his teeth and said a number: "9.5 million dollars, how about it?"
Hearing this, Leon mentally called the old man greedy by nature.
After so much effort, it was only $500,000 lower than the market price.
"This is still too much for me... Maybe in a few years I will have the strength to take over this cause."
In a few years?
Whether I'll still be here in a few years is a question, Old Jones muttered in his heart.
"Young man, this is the biggest concession I can make."
Seeing Leon delay speaking, Old Jones simply showed his bottom card: "Name a number, young man. As long as this cause can continue, I'd rather suffer some losses."
"5 million dollars."
When hearing this number, Old Jones was so angry that even his wrinkles were trembling.
Chopping half with one knife, this was obviously not the trading method Americans were familiar with.
He waved his hand and said, "Forget it, I think you are not very sincere."
"Listen, Mr. Jones, I have absolute enthusiasm for this cause!" Leon lit a cigarette, his tone sincere. "Otherwise, I wouldn't invest in a Black biopic that no one is optimistic about, let alone make an offer for a magazine that loses money every year."
Although this rhetoric sounded honest and flawless, it was impossible to move Jones with this.
As a shrewd businessman, he only believed in the final number he got.
"Dad, I think Mr. Leon's offer is very sincere. Even at this price, Time Warner might not be interested."
Kidada suddenly appeared behind Jones, her face flushed.
During the negotiation just now, Robinson had long disappeared with the excuse of going to the bathroom, and Kidada disappeared not long after.
It seemed Robinson had already paid Kidada an "advance payment."
"You can shut up, Kidada." For his daughter revealing his bottom card privately, Jones's face showed a trace of annoyance. "I think I should leave. Thank you both for your warm hospitality."