"So what are you going to do after your contract expires next April? Renew with CAA?" Leon asked.
"I probably won't renew with them. Being tossed around like a commodity makes me sick." Robbie sighed lightly.
"Great..." Leon chanted silently in his heart.
To protect the interests of actors to the greatest extent, SAG (Screen Actors Guild) has placed strict restrictions on studios dabbling in agency business.
All studios under the Big Five film companies are strictly audited every year.
The scrutiny on independent studios isn't as severe, but the risk is still there, albeit lower.
Through a nominee shareholding agreement, Leon handed over his shares in Apocalypse Agency to Bonnie to hold on his behalf, temporarily circumventing potential risks.
He had even considered changing the eye-catching name of Apocalypse Agency.
As long as nothing went wrong, and Robbie herself was willing to sign, joining Apocalypse Agency after her contract with CAA expired would be a matter of course.
"If you fail to let Lovett have his way, will CAA downgrade your resources?" Leon thought about it and felt that things might not be that simple.
CAA is an extremely aggressive company in the agency industry.
Its cunning founder, Ovitz, rose to power through "betrayal" and poaching. After graduating from college in 1969, he joined the largest Hollywood agency at the time—William Morris Agency.
After staying in this company for five years, the ambitious Ovitz saw through the essence of the industry: newcomers couldn't rise, senior agents set up their own factions, and being a subordinate meant living a miserable life every day.
If you can't control the overall situation and be a boss, what's the difference between you and a salted fish?
These thoughts reached the ears of the president of William Morris Agency, and unsurprisingly, Ovitz was fired immediately.
Together with four other fired colleagues, he founded CAA, becoming the biggest competitor of William Morris Agency in the future.
When it first started, CAA didn't even have a business license and could only engage in agency business illegally.
The five bosses mortgaged all their assets to get a loan from the bank, rented a friend's office, and borrowed both the telephone and typewriter.
They didn't recruit a single newcomer; the wives of the bosses went into battle personally, wearing tight short skirts and black stockings, taking turns working as the receptionist.
Their main focus was on increasing revenue and reducing expenditure.
Because the founder rose by "betrayal" and poaching, CAA designed special management rules for employees and artists.
Internally, controlling most of Hollywood's top artists meant that "traitors" couldn't gather numerous superstars to package the resources needed for big productions in a short time.
It was also difficult to ask for a high price in front of the six major studios; the cost was too high, and the return too low.
As for artists, their packaging model covered almost all aspects of an actor's commercial activities. Leaving the company inevitably meant going through a long period of pain.
Regarding these potential risks, Robbie looked indifferent, hooking her pink lips and saying, "Resource downgrade? I don't think I got anything from CAA. Although most of the time I don't agree with your methods, if it weren't for you, my scenes in Skyfall would have been drastically reduced, and I wouldn't have even gotten the lead role in The Great Gatsby."
Leon froze for two seconds, his tea-drinking motion paused.
When did this woman become enlightened?
Before the two broke up, Robbie never realized that her rocket-like rise in the film industry relied entirely on Leon's bestowal.
Because she couldn't accept Leon's unscrupulous style of doing things to achieve his goals, this relationship eventually headed towards destruction.
"Don't worry, whenever you need support, I'll stand behind you." Leon glanced down at his watch. "Want to have dinner together? And then go see a newly released movie?"
"Forget the movie," Robbie said. "That's something couples do. Aren't you afraid of being photographed in the cinema? Taylor would definitely go crazy over this."
"Alright." Leon waved his hand helplessly.
Robbie smiled playfully. "How about you accompany me for a night run in Central Park? I gained two pounds this month. In order not to ruin the role of Daisy, Director Baz instructed me to control my diet and exercise every day."
"Night run? Spare me." Leon curled his lips. Why choose such boring and inefficient exercise to lose weight?
He happened to know a kind of exercise where 10 minutes of calorie consumption was equivalent to a two-kilometer jog. The key point was that this exercise wasn't boring at all.
He thought about it, but given their current relationship, it was hard to say such things out loud.
"Fine, it seems you're not interested in night running." Robbie blinked her long eyelashes, her eyes lighting up as if she suddenly thought of something. "By the way, do you play tennis?"
"Of course."
"Really? You never mentioned this to me before." Robbie narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Did Taylor teach you?"
The more it was this kind of moment, the more a man had to play dumb. Leon shrugged and said nothing.
"Hmph, seems that must be it." Robbie's competitive spirit was aroused. "I must tell you, Taylor has never won against me in tennis."
Leon had no doubt about this. Robbie grew up on a farm on the Gold Coast of Australia.
Since childhood, she was a tomboy with short hair and covered in mud, good at various high-difficulty sports that tested physical strength and power, such as surfing, rock climbing...
While serving as a right winger for an amateur ice hockey team, she fought with opposing players on the ice, taking on three at once without falling behind.
Even in bed, this wild girl was the proactive and dominant one; she liked the thrill of reversing positions and controlling the situation.
After hesitating for a moment, Leon agreed. Today was one of the few leisurely times this month; killing time with tennis was better than drinking alone.
Jorge drove the two to the Central Park Tennis Center. Seven o'clock in the evening was the peak time for crowds.
Middle-aged greasy white men plus young girls with curves—such combinations could be seen everywhere on the court.
Most of the time, playing ball was just an excuse. The old white men were mainly there to observe the girls' chests shaking up and down when hitting the ball, warming up for the more intense contact sports to follow.
Robbie changed into a pink crop top and tight yoga pants that accentuated the beautiful curves of her thighs.
Even though the sky had turned completely dark, both of them still put on large sunglasses to avoid being recognized.
"Ready, rookie?" She crouched down, bouncing the ball with one hand and holding the racket with the other, ready to strike at any time.
"Come on!" Leon twirled his racket, swaying left and right near the baseline. Even though he knew his opponent was an athletic expert, he didn't panic at all.
Tennis is a sport that emphasizes strength and endurance. Men and women have different physiological structures, naturally having huge gaps in these two indicators.
But the next second, he was slapped in the face.
Smack—Robbie's body leaped high, her serve power not losing to a man's at all.
Leon completely failed to anticipate the ball speed. Even though he exerted all his strength to chase it, the yellow ball still flew past his face after bouncing off the ground.
The staff flipped the scoreboard—15:0.
"How was that? I told you, you'd get crushed by me, rookie." Robbie laughed broadly, striking a smash pose, incredibly proud.
What followed was still a one-sided beating. She displayed more and more complex serving techniques, not only possessing powerful serve strength but also frequently causing trouble for Leon through spin variations.
Even if the serve was returned, she could use high-quality footwork to adjust her angle in a very short time, ensuring that while the return angle was tricky, it could also create unexpected spin.
The numbers on the scoreboard changed rapidly.
30:0
40:0
Match point.
"Looks like I'm going to take this game." Robbie laughed while bouncing the ball. "Don't be too sad, baby. At least you can learn a lot from your teacher."
"Damn it..." Driven by competitiveness, Leon's focus was exceptionally sharp, sweat dripping continuously from his chiseled jawline.
Losing a game was nothing, but being completely shut out by an ex-girlfriend was a bit hard to swallow.
"Ready?" Robbie flicked her high blonde ponytail, jumped up, and swung the racket, her posture in the air graceful. This time, Leon finally judged the landing point correctly, received the ball near the baseline, and counterattacked with a two-handed grip.
The two continued to rally for over ten shots, attracting the sideways glances of the old white men on the adjacent courts.
The rapid offense-defense transitions finally emptied Robbie's stamina bar. Leon seized the opportunity to rush to the net and score a point, breaking her match point.
"You learn fast; looks like you're a smart student." Robbie bent down to take deep breaths, her face flushed.
"I just got lucky with one point." Leon pretended to be modest, revealing a cheeky smile.
"Don't get too cocky!" Robbie straightened her back, lifting her chin proudly. "Teacher still has a lot of things she hasn't taught you!"
Leon raised his eyebrows and silently returned to the baseline to take his position.
Robbie seemed to have some obsession with the profession of a teacher. He recalled the scene of her giving a lesson in a hotel room once.
In the suite of the Four Seasons Hotel, Robbie wore a "Hot Teacher" outfit that had traveled across the ocean from the East, waving a small leather whip to teach him, the bad student, a lesson.
An hour later, both were too tired to lift their arms, sitting back-to-back in the corner of the court to rest.
Although Leon didn't win a game, he played smoother towards the end and successfully scored some points, so the loss wasn't too ugly.
He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, gulped down two mouthfuls, and threw it to Robbie. Robbie took it and, without thinking, chugged it clean.
"You said before that I don't know you well enough. Seems that statement was correct." Robbie tilted her head back, lost in thought. "When we were together, except for yoga, you never did any sports with me. Your brain was only full of dollars."
"Right, right, right..." Leon responded perfunctorily while fiddling with his phone, the screen flashing with red and green lines.
Because they were back-to-back, Robbie didn't know that while she was affectionately reminiscing about the past, this guy was actually looking at stock trends.
Previously, Phil had suggested repeatedly that Leon put some money into the stock market, but each time he was met with eye-rolls.
He knew nothing about stocks, couldn't even understand K-line charts. Rushing headlong into the stock market would only result in being harvested like leeks.
"Don't earn money beyond your cognition" was his investment principle.
But now, because of the Tesla endorsement, his thoughts had changed somewhat.
Currently, Tesla's stock price was $29.50 per share. Although the heavyweight new car Model S was just released this month, the stock price hadn't risen much.
Over the past year, the moving average price had hardly changed, meaning the capital market still didn't favor the company's prospects.
After meeting Elon Musk in early November, Leon was very confident he could secure the Tesla endorsement contract. Once the news was announced, the stock price would definitely fluctuate.
This was a moderately significant piece of insider information.
2011 was coming to an end, and up to now, Tesla had sold less than 400 cars. Sales were dismal. Leon's fame was at its peak since his debut, with two new songs strongly dominating the top two spots on the Billboard.
Although new energy vehicles were still considered immature products and quite expensive, there were always fanatical fans willing to empty their wallets to charge for their idol.
With his massive fan base, doubling Tesla's sales shouldn't be a problem.
Considering that tax season was approaching next year, he had the idea of buying some stocks to test the waters. Buying Tesla stock now was absolutely the best timing!
By 9 PM, the old white men left one after another with the young girls, heading to the second battlefield.
Leon also wanted to relive the feeling of being a student in bed, but Robbie rejected his invitation for "coffee" without hesitation and returned to her hotel accompanied by her assistant.
For the next week, Leon was busy every day promoting his new songs.
Old Town Road was performed publicly for the first time in major cities like Los Angeles, Chicago, and Boston.
After returning to New York, he went immediately to 7 Wall Street, the headquarters of Merrill Lynch with its 97-year history, to open a stock trading account.
At first, no one paid attention to this mysterious person who was wrapped up tight, looking no different from a bank robber in a movie.
It wasn't until he filled out the account opening form and the receptionist girl saw the name "Leon Smith" in the client name column that she immediately realized this might be the controversial superstar.
After confirming she wasn't seeing things, she immediately reported to her superior.
Two minutes later, the Asset Management Department manager received him enthusiastically in the office and strongly recommended the "Celebrity Investment Advisor" service.
"We provide personalized investment plans and asset management services for clients to help them achieve asset appreciation, letting you understand the latest market trends and providing professional investment advice." The manager rattled on promoting the business while pointing to a balding middle-aged man beside him: "Mr. Font provides investment advice exclusively for celebrities! No one knows celebrity investment preferences better than he does."
The balding middle-aged man wore a fawning smile on his face, bowing slightly and extending his right hand. "Hello, Mr. Leon! It's my honor to meet you; my family and I are super fans of yours!"
Leon raised his eyebrows and sized up the middle-aged man in front of him.
Balding, slightly fat, tall, with a professional fake smile on his face—exactly like the cunning financial scum in movies.
"Hello, Mr. Font." The two shook hands.
"You may not know much about me. Please allow me to introduce myself. I have worked for Merrill Lynch for thirty-three years, customizing the best investment strategies only for the most distinguished clients! Letting your assets achieve long-term stable growth..."
"I specialize in providing investment consulting for celebrities. In the 90s, I was the investment advisor for Mike Tyson and Whitney Houston. Of course, I also have many clients in Hollywood; Mr. George Clooney and Mr. Bruce Willis have both listened to my investment advice!"
Hearing this, Leon couldn't help but frown. Although Tyson and Whitney were both top superstars, their financial situations at the end of their careers were worse than the other.
Both were recognized as "asset management geniuses" (sarcastic) in the entertainment industry.
Tyson's extravagant lifestyle was staggering. To please his ex-wife Givens, he even did something as ridiculous as spending $2.2 million on a custom gold bathtub.
While squandering his $300 million assets, he was also defrauded by agent Don King, losing tens of millions of dollars again. In recent years, he had to rely on filming action porn movies to maintain his livelihood.
Whitney's financial situation wasn't any better. Her ex-husband Bobby Brown not only cheated and committed domestic violence but also led her into drug addiction. Her assets of over a hundred million dollars from her peak were not much left after squandering.
"Tyson and Whitney aren't in a very good situation. Is it because they listened to your professional investment strategies?" Leon mocked.
"I can only provide investment advice, but I have no right to interfere with their crazy private lives." Font shook his head. "Mr. Tyson couldn't listen to anyone's advice most of the time. As for Whitney, fortunately, she listened to my advice and bought a batch of Apple stocks in 2003. Now this stock has risen at least twenty times."
"Alright~"
Leon shook his head. Although he didn't like these eloquent Wall Street elites, there were indeed places where they were useful.
On one hand, he was just a novice entering the securities trading market; on the other hand, his business map was getting bigger and bigger.
When the company continued to expand to a certain scale, he would inevitably need the help of professional financial personnel.
Leon asked, "You said you can provide any information I need?"
"Of course! On Wall Street, not a single coin drops on the ground without escaping my ears!"
"What about insider information?"
He just asked jokingly, but unexpectedly, Font and the asset management manager smiled at each other, leaned closer, and lowered their voices. "Of course... that's what I do."
"No, to be precise, that's what all of Wall Street does!"