By ten in the evening, Taylor's party showed no signs of ending. She was heading to a blues bar in Upper Manhattan with her British friend who had come from afar to continue the revelry.
On the phone, she playfully mentioned she would give Leon a special reward tonight.
Unfortunately, Leon had been running around for charity events all day and had long exhausted his energy. Even the most tempting reward would probably only last five minutes.
He threw himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, the outline of his second album becoming clearer in his mind.
The next morning, Leon took a Bentley to the Columbia Records headquarters. When the company heard from him that the release date for the new album could be officially established, everyone was exhilarated.
"A while ago you said the new album might be postponed to the second half of the year." Tim rubbed his shiny bald head, a few traces of doubt still hanging on his face. "Are you sure about setting it for release at the end of March? If the release plan is postponed at the last minute, that would be very damaging to goodwill..."
"I'm very sure." Even before the inspiration refreshed last night, Leon had already decided not to wait any longer.
Now, even without counting the large number of Imagine Dragons works in his hand, he already had 7 new songs.
Considering this was a transition album integrating many new styles, the number of rock singles had to be controlled, limited to one or two.
So asking Max to write two songs to make up the numbers wasn't unacceptable. An album where every song is a masterpiece only exists in fantasy novels.
"That's great! Mr. Stringer will be very happy to know this news!" Tim snapped his fingers and asked his secretary to bring the best cigars and champagne.
He cut the cigar tail, imitating Stringer's demeanor, squinting as he puffed smoke.
"We Don't Talk Anymore won the Billboard weekly chart four times, Blinding Lights has won three consecutive championships since Christmas, and Shallow's data is still rising steadily... I can't imagine what height your album can reach now. Maybe it can surpass Adele."
Tim first gave a round of flattery, then made multiple commitments regarding promotional resources: "You will see your posters in every city listed in the Global Urban Competitiveness TOP 30. Columbia Records will do its best to spread your gospel to the world."
The grand narrative sounded too empty, so Tim quickly proposed a more detailed concept.
After the new album is released, heavy money will be invested to create a wave of world tours, with venues limited to top-level stadiums with a capacity of over 30,000 people.
"Your girlfriend, Miss Taylor, held 111 concerts in a year. You shouldn't want to fall behind her." Tim stared at Leon, dollar signs flashing in his greedy eyes.
"Fk, do you know what you're talking about?"
"To achieve the best promotional effect..." Tim shrugged. "Being an Iron Man is a necessary attribute for a superstar."
After some back and forth, the tour was preliminarily set at 32 shows, limited to first-tier cities worldwide.
"The company will prepare the top resources for you. What do you think about the Super Bowl halftime show?" Tim continued to paint big pictures. "Unfortunately, that will have to wait until at least next year. This year is Madonna's solo."
"Are you interested in football? I can apply for some top-level VIP tickets from the NFL."
Leon decisively refused. He really couldn't work up any interest in a group of black and tough guys charging around on the field. He tried to watch a few times, but couldn't help changing the channel within two minutes.
"I guess I have nothing more to say. Go for it, superstar!" Tim rolled his eyes and suddenly asked, "Max talked to me about the unity of the album a few days ago. Do you plan to use that new song Rockstar as the title track of the album?"
"That's right."
A great album must have a unified concept. This has been the consensus of the recording industry for almost half a century.
Pink Floyd set the gold standard with the album The Dark Side of the Moon.
10 works used a total of 42 minutes and 49 seconds to explain the whole process from birth to destruction of life.
Babies breathe greedily after leaving the mother's body;
In the years of growth, lost, endlessly lost;
Running like a rabbit in adulthood, tirelessly running;
When life comes to an end, farewell, unavoidable farewell.
The 10 works can be listened to in one go according to the order, without any sense of fragmentation.
However, after the new millennium, almost no singers or record companies cared about this matter because consumers didn't care either. They only cared if there were good songs in the album; traffic became the only standard for measuring music quality.
The only ones still adhering to the album tonality guidelines were music critics. An album cobbled together randomly, no matter how well it sold, would hardly get a high score.
Leon decided to take the rock song Natural from the Imagine Dragons library and put it first on the new album, with the title track Rockstar second.
This represented a farewell to his identity as a rock singer in the past.
Next came the R&B style We Don't Talk Anymore, the folk style Shallow, and the electronic style All Falls Down.
At the end of the album, it concluded with Blinding Lights, which integrated multiple musical elements, representing that Street Jesus's musical style had fully evolved.
This understanding of album unity left Tim with nothing to pick on. He immediately asked his assistant to copy this paragraph into the document as part of the new album promotion plan.
By the time the conversation ended and Leon returned to Apocalypse Music, it was already 1 PM.
As soon as she saw him, Bonnie welcomed him with documents, a playful smile on her lips. "There's a beautiful lady in your office. She has been waiting for you for almost two hours."
"Beautiful lady?"
"That's right." Bonnie gestured with her hands in front of her chest. "Miss Kat Dennings. God, how much did she spend on breast augmentation surgery? It looks simply too natural."
Leon couldn't be bothered to debate whether it was natural or silicone. Only then did he remember that today was the day to shoot the MV.
He pushed the door open and walked into the office, seeing Dennings sitting on his swivel chair, staring at her phone screen with a worried face.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Dennings. I didn't expect you to come so early. Why didn't you call me?"
The scheduled shooting time was 3 PM; she was almost four hours early.
"Miss Bonnie said you had important work. I didn't want to disturb you."
Dennings hurriedly got up from the swivel chair, moving her chest away from the desk, obediently giving up the seat.
The size of the chest is a woman's capital, but when the capital is too abundant, it also becomes a trouble.
Dennings hadn't dared to participate in any sports since her student days, and even standing for a long time would make her back ache.
Therefore, she often needed a table to share the pressure for her body.
"If you like that spot, just sit there." Leon instructed Bonnie to bring hot coffee and sat on the guest sofa. "You looked unhappy just now."
"Did I?" Dennings pretended nothing happened on the surface, but her habit of blushing when nervous betrayed her.
"Did I make you wait too long?" Leon asked.
"Of course not." Seen through, Dennings had a look of despair, holding her forehead and sighing, "Every time I look at my stock holdings returns, I feel like I'm having a heart attack."
Leon's coffee cup froze just as he brought it to his mouth. He blew on the steam rising from the cup. "You understand stocks too? Sorry, I mean I've never seen a girl as young as you interested in this money game."
"My boyfriend Nick suggested I do this. My career just started to pick up, and financial management is a compulsory course for every actor." Dennings forced a smile. "That guy has terrible taste, doesn't he? I bought $1.5 million of HP stock, and now only half remains..."
Leon marveled at Dennings' investment wisdom. Hewlett-Packard was a classic case of the millennium internet bubble.
In 2000, the company's stock price fell from a high of $156 to just $29, and it still hadn't walked out of the gloom. Lack of technological competitiveness and liquidity kept HP's stock price sluggish.
"That's really sad news. I thought engaging in finance was an innate skill for Jews," Leon teased.
"Not every Jewish girl is born with a silver spoon in her mouth." Dennings mentioned her childhood experience.
Like Max in 2 Broke Girls, her family background was also very poor, growing up in a poverty-stricken family.
After she guest-starred in Sex and the City in 2000, her family had to go to someone else's house to watch TV if they wanted to see her performance.
Recalling this part, Dennings' eyes twinkled. "Later, when I was filming 2 Broke Girls, I felt Max and I were a bit alike, that is, we were both poor when we were young."
"But those years shaped you into a strong 'big' girl, didn't they?" Even though she was pouring out a bitter past, Leon maintained a frivolous attitude, intentionally emphasizing the pronunciation of "big."
"Maybe you can give me some investment advice. Many people I know are discussing your wealth."
Saying that, Dennings stood up from the swivel chair, walked to Leon's side, and shook his arm with an ingratiating face. "Your talent in investment is no less than in music. I simply can't imagine what else you can't do?"
A pair of headlights made Leon dizzy. No normal male could withstand this kind of offensive.
"Find a time, I'll teach you a lot of things..."
At this moment, the office door was pushed open. Dennings was still clinging to Leon and hadn't reacted yet.
Old Mike and Bonnie happened to see this scene. "Did I come at a bad time?"
"No, I was explaining the MV script to Miss Dennings..."
After some preparation, Leon led the filming team, a group of more than twenty people, towards the Columbia Records MV studio in Queens.
During the gap for makeup and script reading, King Von also hurried to the scene.
When seeing Dennings after her costume change, all men present held their breath in unison.
She wore a carefully designed kimono, the neckline revealing a large area of fair skin. The curve of the cleavage rose and fell with every breath.
"Damn..." King Von's entire eye sockets were occupied by the white flesh, eliminating his prejudice that white girls weren't voluptuous enough. "This chick is more charming than that Brazzers actress, Angela White?"
"Shut up."
Seeing Dennings' face burning red, Leon glared fiercely at King Von. Although he didn't know who the actress mentioned was, hearing the famous name of Brazzers studio, he could guess a thing or two.
"Don't be nervous, Miss Dennings... This is a tribute from gentlemen based on your beauty." Old Mike directed the staff to adjust the camera positions, his gaze never able to leave Dennings.
After everything was set up, Leon walked into the pure white set room and sat on a solid wood high-back chair.
Wearing a full red suit, with heavy gray fur draped over his shoulders. Tilting his head, squinting, like a high drug lord nouveau riche.
"Yes, keep this state."
"Chin up a little more, think of Tony Montana in Scarface! I want that feeling of unbridled arrogance..."
While directing Leon's movements, Mike mobilized multiple Arri cameras. Combining handheld and track shooting made the picture dynamic, enhancing the visual rhythm.
Leon threw a stack of poker cards at the camera, and the first shot ended.
"Ready?" Mike raised his hand and pointed at the prop master.
"No problem," Leon responded.
Splash—Outside the lens, two prop masters each lifted a large bucket.
Over ten gallons of artificial plasma poured down from above Leon's head.
Made of pigment, starch, and honey, inadvertently swallowed, it was so sweet it stung the throat.
Immediately after, more than ten Japanese killers in suits rushed up.
These people were professional Vietnamese action actors, and every movement was extremely precise—precise enough to stick their necks on Leon's blade.
Strong and weak lights alternated, plasma cooperating to draw dazzling parabolas. Splattering on the shoji windows and tatami mats.
"Cut!" Mike got a satisfactory shot, his state burning hot. "Ready, Miss Dennings!"
"Anytime."
Dennings took a deep breath to adjust her state. After getting the start command, she quickly crossed the white corridor with small Japanese-style steps.
Holding a chilling katana in her hand, she rushed towards Leon like a Boss. Squinting, with fine blood beads splashing onto her eye sockets from time to time.
Drawing the sword—"Cut!"
The moment the blade touched, Mike yelled cut.
In the official MV, this section would be handled with flashing blank space, transitioning directly to the next shot.
The makeup artist busily applied makeup to Dennings' chest to create a sword wound effect. Fair flesh turned out, muscle texture clearly visible, the effect outstanding.
"Prop master, keep up!"
A large amount of plasma flowed out from the wound below Dennings' collarbone, dyeing the entire kimono red along the cleavage.
"Awesome, this is simply a fking piece of art!" Old Mike praised the design of this shot endlessly.
B-grade splatter films have two ultimate pleasures:
One is the repentance when the villain is executed;
The other is the scream when the beauty character is brutally killed.
The former represents the extreme pleasure of justice, while the latter reveals the dark side of human nature.
In the next shot, Leon, covered in blood red, sat back on the chair, carrying the katana on his shoulder, revealing a contemptuous smile again.
And Dennings, who had just been slashed, was crawling at his feet. Covered in blood and filth, her eyes empty, contrasting sharply with the cold and exquisite look when she first appeared.
Looking exactly like the heroine in a movie who had just been ravaged by the villain and completely fallen.
This shot corresponded to Leon's second chorus in Rockstar.
At this point, most of the shots belonging to him had been filmed. Mike directed King Von to prepare to appear.
"Wrap!"
"Thank you everyone for your hard work; we have completed a perfect piece of art again!"
Old Mike was quite satisfied with the shooting result, although he knew clearly that this MV couldn't win an award at MTV. Filled with a large number of bloody shots, it was destined to be labeled with a parental advisory sticker.
"Ended so soon?"
Leon looked at his watch. From makeup to the end, the shooting process only lasted four hours.
Mike shook his head. "Not as simple as you think. There are a lot of shots in this MV that require digital rendering to ensure the blood presents a visual effect of 'slow-motion dancing'."
Mentioning digital rendering, Leon's PTSD almost flared up.
This meant post-production would still take a lot of time. The slow shooting progress of Ready Player One was his biggest trouble recently.
"I don't care what your team has to do; I only give you one month." Not to delay the release of the new album in March, Leon gave Mike a deadly order.
"No problem, Boss!"
After the shooting, Leon walked into the shower room to wash off the sticky plasma on his body.
Coming out, he bumped into Dennings, who had also just taken a shower.
January is the coldest time in New York, and the studio didn't have sophisticated heating equipment. Steam rose from her fair skin.
"I might have been a little nervous just now. Sorry, it's my first time shooting an MV." Dennings held back the urge to complain; she had never seen such a bloody and bizarre script.
The guy who designed the script was simply bad taste to the extreme, actually slashing her chest.
"Your performance was great. If you were to film Kill Bill, the effect would definitely be better than Uma Thurman," Leon perfunctorily said.
The boundless flattery made Dennings so awkward she didn't know what to say.
If Leon wasn't a top superstar currently in the limelight, she would have turned on the toxic tongue mode like Max in 2 Broke Girls long ago.
Dennings squeezed out a smile and asked, "Are you free tonight? We still had many topics unfinished when we met in Buffalo last time."