Phil's words struck a chord with Leon. In some ways, he and Phil were cut from the same cloth—two scumbags recognizing each other's scent.
He stared at the older man and said in a low voice, "Maybe this is no big deal to you. If sht hits the fan, you can just hide out here in Brooklyn Heights... the cops actually do their jobs here."
Betrayal was one thing, but what Leon was truly worried about was who stood behind T-Ray: Magnum George of the Bloods.
That guy had nothing but violence in his head. He had carved out his territory in Brownsville purely through ruthless brutality.
Back in the 90s, when the fledgling Notorious B.I.G. didn't even know P. Diddy or Jay-Z, his biggest backing in the hood was George.
Offend a maniac like that and expect to live happily ever after in Brooklyn?
Unexpectedly, Phil burst out laughing.
"Is it really that funny?" Leon asked, puzzled.
"It's hilarious... You still don't get that times have changed, do you?"
"When ns in the ghetto kill each other, the cops don't bat an eye. But if one of those guys in suits in Manhattan even loses a fingernail, it's headline news."
"As long as you have money and fame, nobody can touch you."
There was truth in Phil's words. Jay-Z, the biggest mogul in New York entertainment, started as a legitimate drug dealer.
In his own interviews, he admitted to moving serious weight and hinted at having blood on his hands.
Yet, this near-confession didn't bring him any trouble. The DEA and NYPD never came knocking.
Because Jay-Z was now a billionaire spanning multiple industries. Money really did let you do whatever you wanted.
After a brief silence, Leon said, "I have one more question."
"Ask away. I'll tell you everything I know without holding back."
"Why did you leave your position at Epic Records at the peak of your career?"
Leon phrased it politely, but the subtext was clear: How did you end up in this shthole?
This was his biggest doubt. He couldn't trust his future to a washed-up manager without knowing the full story.
Phil stood up silently, pulled a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's from his desk drawer. "Want a drink?"
"No thanks. I don't drink during the day."
Phil didn't press him. He poured himself a full glass of whiskey and downed a huge gulp.
"I told you before... I got divorced."
Ah, so that's it.
In this country, divorce and bankruptcy were practically synonyms.
Millions of homeless men were on the streets because they lost divorce lawsuits. Not only did they lose most of their assets, but they also had to pay monthly alimony that was wildly disproportionate to their income.
Since the new millennium, with the rise of feminist ideology, the liberal bias in American society had become increasingly obvious.
Under the Democratic administration, the scales of justice in divorce courts tilted infinitely toward women.
Many men were stuck paying high alimony and mortgage payments every month.
Meanwhile, living in that "love nest" was their ex-wife and her new boy toy.
But even so, Leon felt there was more to the story. An average Joe might go broke from a divorce, but Phil?
This guy was pulling in a seven-figure salary at Epic Records. Unless he lost his job, alimony shouldn't have been enough to bankrupt him completely.
"Are you sure it was just the divorce?"
Phil stared at Leon for a long moment, seemingly impressed by the young man's sharpness.
He wasn't old, but he had more twists in his brain than a bag of pretzels.
Resigned, Phil spilled the truth. "I told you, my career was highly tied to Miss Avril Lavigne..."
"If she went down, I went down with her."
Leon was confused. Avril flopped?
How did I miss that?
Although Avril's career peaked in 2007 with hits like Girlfriend and Innocence and then declined quickly...
Times changed fast. Under the impact of new divas like Rihanna and Lady Gaga, Avril's transition to a darker, gothic style met with a lukewarm reception.
But she still maintained A-list status. The word "flop" didn't apply to her.
Thinking this, Leon said, "I don't understand..."
Phil smiled contemptuously, pacing the office with his glass. "What would an outsider like you know?"
"I can tell you frankly... after her divorce from Deryck, Avril's mental state wasn't right."
Not right?
You mean she went crazy?
Phil pulled a yellowing photo from the drawer. It was him and Avril in 2000.
Back then, a newly debuted Avril looked as innocent as an angel, a stark contrast to the gothic witch image she adopted later.
Phil's eyes reddened slightly. "She made me... and I made her."
"You have to understand, at her peak, Avril's status at Epic was higher than the CEO's. It's no exaggeration to say she was feeding the entire company..."
"I swear I tried everything, but I couldn't save her."
"By 2009, she was on the verge of a breakdown at any moment, showing clear signs of bipolar disorder."
"Managers are just accessories to the artist. As you can see... the company blamed Avril's decline entirely on me."
According to Phil, shortly after he was fired, a disheartened Avril left Epic for RCA Records.
And Epic, having lost its cash cow, was quickly acquired by the industry giant Sony Music.
"I won't lie to you, kid. I've been holding a grudge..."
"In this muddled year, I've interviewed countless rookies, but they were all garbage who could only copy and imitate."
"But you and Cardi B... you showed me a turning point."
"We can use this opportunity to make each other great!"
Leon didn't take any of this grand narrative to heart. He quickly peeled back the layers and deduced Phil's true intention.
Phil had the ability to spot talent and had deep connections in the industry, but he didn't have the money to produce a record!
So, Leon—who hadn't signed a binding contract yet and was about to release a record funded by someone else—became his prime target!
In this complex relationship, T-Ray was reduced to a tool. The moment Leon blew up, Phil would do everything in his power to kick T-Ray out of the picture!
It was like spending a fortune and years raising a kid, only for him to get into Harvard and immediately start calling the neighbor "Dad."
And the neighbor wouldn't forget to ruthlessly mock you: "Stupid cuckold."