"Fk, bro, why so agitated? Is she your girlfriend or something?"
"Not exactly. I'm just telling you not to make a move on her."
T-Ray sneered. "Typical selfish white trash... In the Black community, we share everything, women included."
"You white boys are always so damn possessive!"
Leon wanted to argue, but then felt it wasn't worth explaining. The words died in his throat.
T-Ray continued, "Whatever. I've been in this game so long, I'm bored with women anyway."
"I'm going to fast-track the printing process. Your first record could hit the streets in as little as a week!"
The next week was torture for Leon. Putting aside whether the record would make him famous, he could barely contain his hunger for money.
Aside from his reputation spreading through every alley in Brownsville, his life hadn't fundamentally changed.
Well, if you had to point out a change, it was Bonnie's attitude.
In the past, Bonnie only gave him the time of day when she had certain needs. The rest of the time, she was a lioness—demanding and bossy.
But since the music video wrapped, Leon had seemingly flipped the script and become the master of the house.
And "master" wasn't just a figure of speech. Bonnie was practically acting like his pet.
Even though she didn't get off work until 3:00 AM, she insisted on waking up at 8:00 AM to make him breakfast.
Every time Leon watched her frying bacon in an apron and a T-back thong, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Materialistic woman..."
Power, money, fame. Once a man has these, women go crazy for him. Leon was learning this firsthand.
It was another uneventful evening. Bonnie put on her "street-walking outfit," ready to head to work.
Before leaving, she threw a wink at Leon. "I'm heading out~"
"Got it."
"I ordered you a pizza. I might be back late, so don't save any for me if you get hungry."
"I'm starving too. Wouldn't dream of it."
Instead of getting annoyed, Bonnie smiled even more brightly at his answer.
She planted a loud kiss on his cheek. "Your underwear is getting raggedy~ I'll buy you some new pairs after work. I know you like briefs~"
"Fk! When did I ever say that?"
After Bonnie left, Leon lay back on the sofa, head tilted. The moment he relaxed, his phone rang.
He sat up like he'd been electrocuted. Aside from Bonnie and T-Ray, nobody ever called him.
Bonnie just left, so if it wasn't T-Ray, who else could it be?
He looked at the screen. It was Phil Bryan.
"Hello, Mr. Phil. How have you been?"
"I'm good. I heard your record printing is done and the signing event is coming up soon. Congratulations, young man."
"It's all thanks to you. Without your professional guidance, the recording wouldn't have gone so smoothly!"
They exchanged pleasantries, playing conversational tai-chi. Leon knew perfectly well the old fox didn't call just to say congratulations.
Phil was deeper in the game than that.
After a bunch of meaningless small talk, Phil paused, his voice dropping an octave. "I want to see you. Are you free right now?"
Sure enough, that 1,000 dollars wasn't for free. Leon realized Phil wanted something from him.
After thinking for a moment, he agreed. "No problem. I actually have a lot of questions I wanted to ask you."
Whatever Phil's angle was, meeting him shouldn't be dangerous.
Leon had already been to a gang hideout on Chester Street; was he really going to be scared of meeting an old white guy from high society?
Even if Phil's glory days as a GM at Epic Records were behind him, a decade-plus career meant he had a massive network in the entertainment industry.
Those connections were exactly what Leon needed.
Phil's office was in Brooklyn Heights, on the northwest edge of the borough, separated from Manhattan—the center of the empire—by only the East River.
Although it couldn't compare to Manhattan, it was still more prosperous than most cities in America.
Luxury shopping centers, high-end restaurants, and even headquarters for major corporations were located here.
It also had the highest concentration of white and Asian residents in Brooklyn, which meant property prices were insane. In recent years, luxury condos here were selling for over 30 million dollars.
The reason was simple: Manhattan is tiny. It can't hold all the ambitious dreamers from around the world.
If you're born in France, the peak you strive for is Paris.
In the UK, it's London.
In Germany, it's Munich.
Making it in those cities means you've reached the upper echelon of that country.
But New York is different!
The most competitive elites from all over the globe, the super-rich trust fund kids born with silver spoons...
Their ultimate ambition is New York.
"Here we are... this is it."
33 Bond Street. This was on the southern edge of Brooklyn Heights.
Compared to the center of the Heights, this area was definitely a bit rundown, but it was still lightyears ahead of Brownsville.
However, Phil's office didn't look respectable at all. In fact, it looked downright seedy.
A pink and green neon sign flashed an image of a provocatively posing woman.
"This place feels... familiar."
Leon stood at the door, double-checking the address. It looked no different from the club where Bonnie worked—maybe even trashier.
The only difference was that the neon sign was lit up in broad daylight.
Just as Leon hesitated, the door pushed open from the inside.
A voluptuous Latina woman, cigarette dangling from her mouth, asked in a squeaky voice that didn't match her body at all, "Looking for a good time, white boy? Prices are fair."
"No thanks, ma'am. I'm looking for someone."
"Looking for someone? Why not come inside and look? We have girls from every nation in the world here~" The woman puffed out her silicone-filled chest proudly. "Black, white, Mexican, even primitives from the Amazon jungle..."
"I'm looking for a man. About forty, do you know Phi—"
Before Leon could finish, the woman cut him off eagerly. "Men are no problem either. Whether you want a ladyboy or a boylady..."
"You finally made it, Leon!"
Just as the atmosphere was getting awkward, Leon heard Phil's voice.
He looked up to see Phil leaning out of a tiny window above the neon sign, waving at him.
"WTF..."
Leon started to have second thoughts. Phil's situation was... different from what he imagined.
He assumed that even if the guy had stepped down from Epic Records, over a decade of high-level work should have left him with millions in the bank.
But reality had just slapped him in the face.
Even the stingiest millionaire wouldn't set up their office above a "pay-by-the-hour love hotel."