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Pat*eon : ilham20
"I'd advise you not to get your hopes up too high. That South African hybrid might have a magic brain, but he's constantly teetering on the edge of bankruptcy," Phil warned. "Is the MV shoot wrapped? We'd better talk in person."
"I'm at the office waiting for you." Leon turned the car around and headed toward the company.
Elon Musk. The man cashed out $20 million from Zip2 stocks, becoming a Silicon Valley upstart driving a flashy McLaren around the Bay Area. His second venture launched PayPal, revolutionizing human payment methods. As the founder and largest shareholder, he walked away with $165 million.
But that exit wasn't voluntary. Peter Thiel and Reid Hoffman had joined forces to completely sideline him, forcing him to take the cash and leave.
He became a billionaire in his early thirties—another self-made Silicon Valley myth.
Yet, by 2008, he had suddenly plunged into a financial crisis. He had to borrow money from everyone he knew just to make payroll for Tesla employees. Google co-founder Sergey Brin threw him $500,000, which, compared to Brin's net worth, felt more like a contemptuous mockery than a lifeline.
Now, Musk was dropping another bombshell, attempting to overturn a century of human transportation habits. New energy vehicles were a completely disruptive product, and no one could guarantee the safety or performance of such a novelty.
If Leon became the face of Tesla, he would be facing massive potential legal risks.
Leon leaned back in his swivel chair, lit a cigarette, and after mulling it over, said to Phil, who had just rushed in, "Tell Tesla I'm willing to talk to Musk face-to-face."
"Alright... I knew I couldn't talk you out of it." Phil shrugged, looking helpless. "But I don't understand why you always like dealing with lunatics and weirdos."
Leon pursed his lips and didn't reply.
Lunatic?
How does a "lunatic" secure a massive $1.6 billion contract from NASA?
Musk's opponent was Boeing, for God's sake.
As an extreme utilitarian, Leon didn't care about the process; he only cared about the results. He didn't need to personally evaluate Musk's potential—NASA had already done it for him.
Ever since the Red Giant collapsed in 1991, NASA lost its competitor in the "Star Wars" race. Its budget had been slashed repeatedly, turning it from a darling of financial appropriation into an abandoned child. The fact that they handed a $1.6 billion contract to a private aerospace company founded by a South African said everything that needed to be said.
Phil seemed to think Leon's logic was simply unreasonable. He waved his hand helplessly, acting like he was leaving, his mind already drifting to which girl he'd be spending the night with.
But just as he reached the door, he stopped and whipped his head around. "There's something I almost forgot. The Las Vegas Sands Corporation plans to hold a charity poker tournament at the end of the month. They've sent invitations to a lot of celebrities who love poker."
"Charity poker tournament?" Leon let out two cold, contemptuous laughs.
Tying gambling and charity together was as absurd as a hooker singing hymns in a church.
"Not going."
He stated his position without a second thought.
"I suggest you reconsider. A lot of famous people are racking their brains just to get a seat. Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods, and Robert Downey Jr. are already confirmed to participate," Phil persuaded. "Spending a little money to buy some exposure is a great deal, plus it comes with the good reputation of being keen on charity. You really need to clean up your image a bit, or you might end up becoming the second Frank Sinatra."
The Celebrity Poker Tournament was hosted by the Las Vegas legend himself, Sheldon Adelson, who was worth $23 billion. This event was considered the largest celebrity charity tournament in history.
The 78-year-old legend came from a poor Jewish family. His rise was closely linked to the founder of Las Vegas, the New York Mafia leader Lucky Luciano. But while the latter had disappeared into the dust of history, Adelson rose from a street corner newspaper boy to become the absolute ruler of Sin City.
"I'm not interested in charity. Adelson has so much money; if he really wanted to do something good, he wouldn't need to rob celebrities." Leon rolled his eyes and joked, "Compared to him, I'm as poor as an undocumented immigrant washing dishes."
"You're right, but this charity tournament isn't just about Adelson," Phil said. "This event has strong support from the Democratic Party. They want to win over this super-donor to their camp. Do you understand what I mean?"
Adelson had always been a major donor behind the Republicans (the Elephant Party). Since the late 90s, he had provided over $500 million in political contributions, helping both Bush presidents ascend to the presidency.
Now, riding the east wind of "progressive thought" and climbing toward the peak, the Democrats (the Donkey Party) were desperate to pull this King of Las Vegas to their side.
Thinking about so many celebrities fighting to join this losing proposition—many of whom had probably never even touched Texas Hold'em—Leon found it hard not to link this to Senator Charlie.
Ever since the Henry incident, both parties had gotten what they wanted, tacitly reaching a weird equilibrium. But that balance would collapse sooner or later.
"Dammit..." Leon tilted his head back and took a deep breath.
A public figure trying to gamble with tycoons and politicians?
Michael Jackson's fate had already provided the standard ending for that story.
"The minimum buy-in is $1 million, with blinds at $500/$1000. After the night ends, all winning players will donate half of their earnings to charity," Phil explained.
"Isn't that just fcking robbery?"
"That's exactly what it is, but it's legal robbery." Phil glanced down at his watch. "You've made so much money; it's time to give back to society. Even if you owned all the gold in the world, you can't take it with you when you die. Want to make a decision? The tournament schedule happens to not conflict with your Tokyo performance."
"Bullsht logic." Leon snorted coldly. Even though he was a thousand percent unwilling, he had to accept this legal robbery.
He'd just treat the $1 million buy-in as protection money. When he thought about Jay-Z's $10 million in annual political contributions, he inexplicably felt a little more balanced.
---
Four days later, on the eve of The Rap of America finale live broadcast, the final rehearsal was underway inside Yankee Stadium in New York.
Kendrick Lamar and the backup dancers were doing the C-Walk on stage, trying their best to synchronize everyone's steps.
Eminem honored his promise, joining the finale live broadcast for a fee of $500,000. He would perform two classic tracks, Lose Yourself and Not Afraid.
At an average of $250,000 per song, that was only half his usual commercial quote.
Dre also threw in Kendrick as a free bonus to build hype for his new album, good kid, m.A.A.d city.
"M-fckers! The King of Compton is back! Look who I'm rolling with!" According to the script, he would shout out to his old rival Drake during the live broadcast, responding to the provocations from the past few months.
Leon was happy to see such a good show. Every dirty word spat from Kendrick's mouth would become a growth point for views.
"Don't let me catch you in Los Angeles! Even if I run into you at the Grammys, I won't hesitate to smack the sht out of you!"
"Bang bang!"
Kendrick made a shooting motion, mimicking the sound with his mouth.
The dancers fell to the ground in response, leaving him standing alone in the center of the stage.
Clap clap clap—
The directing team offstage applauded one after another. Sean pinched his throat and shouted, "Great job! That's a Grammy-level performance!"
The moment Kendrick walked off stage, he rushed over to hug Leon. "How was it, Bro? Did my shout-out have enough aggression?"
"I can already picture what's gonna happen when Drake sees that clip," Leon said with a laugh. "He'll definitely smash his computer screen like a little bitch who got her feelings hurt."
"Hahaha~" Kendrick started fantasizing about it too. The anger accumulated from being slapped by Will Smith and mocked by Drake finally found an outlet.
"Hi, Leon!"
Kanye West walked toward Leon, bobbing his head, with Kim Kardashian glued tightly to his side.
She was wearing a long, gold sequined dress that exposed a large expanse of her back, with a deep cleavage that grabbed the eye. But even more eye-catching than the scenery on her chest were her signature curves—her massive backside, which seemed even more lifted after being "watered" by Kanye for a while.
They interlocked fingers tightly, looking like a couple deeply in love.
"Long time no see, Kanye~" Leon bumped fists with him. "You two are truly an enviable match made in heaven, a real power couple..."
Even Kim was made to blush by this over-the-top flattery, lowering her head unconsciously.
Jade Girl? Innocent?
Her mind couldn't help but flash back to the scene at Diddy's party where she served Leon. Being praised like this by him in front of her current boyfriend felt incredibly weird.
Kanye, however, didn't seem to notice anything amiss. He grabbed Kim's hand, placed a gentle kiss on it, and said with eyes full of deep affection, "Right now, I am the happiest man on this planet."
Leon stared at Kanye's thick lips and almost laughed out loud.
The two were planning a massive stunt during the finale live broadcast—announcing their engagement in front of fans worldwide.
From Kim breaking off her engagement with basketball player Humphries, to officially announcing her relationship with Kanye, and now getting engaged again tomorrow...
The whole process took only a few months. For this "veteran artist" who had displayed her body to men globally, this speed seemed a bit too rushed.
Leon had spared no effort to facilitate their engagement. A single phone call with Kim's mother, Kris Jenner, easily settled the matter.
Kris would never miss an opportunity to expand the Kardashian family's influence. The first-ever streaming live broadcast in talent show history offered such high-quality exposure that she didn't hesitate for a second.
On the phone, she couldn't hide her appreciation for Leon, even expressing that she once thought about making Leon a son-in-law of the Kardashian family.
A burst of noise erupted from the backstage tunnel. Scott Stuber (Scooper) walked over, surrounded by a group of Netflix executives.
The Rap of America was a project he single-handedly facilitated. Because of the show's success, he was currently in the limelight at the company.
Netflix founder Hastings had long harbored thoughts of retreating behind the scenes, and Stuber was currently a strong contender for the CEO throne.
Pushing through the objections to invest in The Rap of America, stopping the downward trend of Netflix's stock price...
Adding all these credits together, Stuber felt the CEO seat was already in the bag.
And all of this was thanks to the man in front of him.
"Buddy, you wouldn't believe what we've achieved. We sold $12 million in ads just for the live broadcast period. Who would believe this is an achievement reached by a streaming variety show?" The two hugged tightly.
"Congratulations..." Leon curled his lips, giving a perfunctory response.
He had racked his brains to create this live program, yet he only sold less than $3 million in product placement ads, while Netflix recovered $12 million.
Counting the ad revenue from the recorded episodes, Netflix had already recouped more than half of the $50 million they spent to buy out the show.
"Since American Idol started airing on FOX in 2002, they've maintained dominance over talent shows. Their ratings have topped the charts for eight years. Now, it's time to start a new era. Those stubborn old guys need to move their asses," Stuber patted Leon on the shoulder. "Mr. Hastings looks forward to more cooperation with you. You are the leader of the new era!"
"I look forward to it too."
According to the contract signed at the time, Netflix renewed the contract for the next two seasons for a total price of $100 million.
It looked like a high price, but in reality, Netflix was the one making a killing.
If Leon licensed the show to a traditional media giant like CBS now, he could get a big contract of at least $70 million per single season.
But the ink was dry; it was a done deal. No matter what ideas he had now, it was too late.
---
By the time the rehearsal ended and Leon got home, it was already 11 PM.
Dragging his exhausted body, he jumped into the bathtub, a cigarette in his left hand and a half-glass of red wine in his right, looking out over the Manhattan nightscape.
The only regret was the lack of a girl by his side; otherwise, this would be the ultimate enjoyment for a man.
Just as he wrapped a towel around himself, his phone rang. It was Margot Robbie.
"Is it a bit presumptuous to call you at this time?" Robbie's lazy voice came from the other end. "Taylor should be asleep, right? You two aren't doing anything important, are you?"
She intentionally emphasized the word "important," mixing jealousy with a hint of teasing.
"No, she's busy with the tour in the South. I'm a lone wolf right now."
"Impossible. You're never short of girls around you." Robbie lowered her voice, revealing a trace of slyness. "You big liar."
"I really don't have time to chat with girls; I've been busy as hell lately." Leon realized he might have said something wrong and quickly salvaged it. "But I always have time to chat with you."
"Liar." Robbie was both angry and amused. "It seems that compared to girls, money is still more attractive to you."
After settling the female lead role for The Great Gatsby, the relationship between the two wasn't as tense as before.
Robbie occasionally shared interesting things from the set and her life with Leon via social apps.
This atmosphere made her fantasize about getting back together, but she didn't know it was just an illusion.
Leon's mind was full of record profits and how to poach her from CAA agency.
"You helped me get the lead in The Great Gatsby. I don't think I've officially said thank you yet."
"Given our relationship, that doesn't seem necessary," Leon said. "How's Baz treating you? Leonardo isn't giving you a hard time on set, is he?"
"They treat me very well." Robbie chuckled. "You definitely did something to Leonardo. Other than acting, he barely says a word to me on set. Even when I try to talk to him, he acts really nervous."
"What could I do to Leonardo? We're friends."
Leon could perfectly imagine the awkward scene of Leo retreating three steps when faced with Robbie.
"It's definitely not that simple. A few months ago, he was chirping around me non-stop, wanting to get coffee, go to the gym, go for night runs. Now, he's trembling even when he holds my hand in a scene."
"He's actually a pretty good guy."
"Are you in New York for the next few days? I want to see you," Robbie suddenly changed the subject.
"See me?"
Since they broke up, Robbie had been avoiding being in the same frame as him in public, let alone actively proposing a date.
Except for that unforgettable "breakup sex," which only happened because both of them were drunk and in the heat of the moment.
"What? You don't want to?" Robbie said in a teasing tone. "I think Taylor should understand. You are my boss, after all; I have some work matters to discuss with you."
"Of course, no problem. Except for tomorrow, I have time all next week." Leon hesitated for two seconds and asked, "Is it something you can't say over the phone?"
Robbie hesitated for two seconds before saying, "Scooter Braun, the boss of SB Projects, has been getting very close to Maggie recently."
"What does that Jewish bastard want?" Leon sat up straight, instantly alert.
"Maggie talked to me privately about renewing my agency contract. I can see what she's thinking." Robbie sighed. "You're my boss; I think you need to know about this."
"Fck that damn stupid bitch. I already warned her not to do anything stupid..."
A burst of anger ignited in Leon's heart. This wasn't the first time Braun had set his sights on Robbie.
He had sternly warned Maggie that if she dared to pull any stunts behind his back, he would leave her with nothing. Now it was obvious—she had ignored his warning.
"This matter doesn't just involve Maggie. Anyway, let's talk when we meet."
After saying that, the two said goodnight and hung up.