Three hours of performing and the clock hit midnight. The subway crowd finally started thinning out.
Leon's hands were stuffed with crumpled bills — mostly singles, but a few lonely fives mixed in. Quick count came to over two hundred bucks. More than Bonnie pulled in shaking her ass on the pole.
First time he'd seen real money since crossing over. He didn't give a shit about the sweat stink — just buried his nose in the stack and inhaled deep.
"I fucking love that copper smell!"
The surprise fame had cashed out in the most ghetto way possible, and Leon was grinning ear to ear.
Two hundred wasn't life-changing, but it meant he could stand on his own two feet for a while. No more taking Bonnie's random side-eye and daily tongue-lashings.
"Leon!"
"Who's there?"
Hearing his name echo in the dim subway station made his spine snap straight. In Brownsville, two hundred dollars was more than enough to get a man killed.
"Davis?"
Davis's silhouette slowly came down the stairs from the entrance, head low, looking straight-up defeated.
That only made Leon more nervous.
A random robber? Easy. Hand over the cash, call it a day's work as fake Jesus.
But Davis? After Leon just stole the man's dream? Who the fuck knew what he'd do.
"Fuck!"
Leon's first instinct was to bolt, but Davis was blocking the only exit. Running deeper into the station would be suicide.
"Relax, man. I thought about what you did to me."
"What?"
Leon kept his distance, eyes locked on the guy. Davis looked dead serious.
"You heard me. I get it now. That opportunity was yours. Even if you hadn't stepped up, T-Ray never would've picked me."
When the hell did this nigga get so enlightened?
Leon stayed cautious. "I didn't mean to do it like that. I thought T-Ray had already left."
"Fuck, stop explaining. We've been around each other long enough — I know it wasn't an accident." Davis paused. "But we're brothers, bro. Brothers forgive. Brothers support each other."
Any other sucker might've teared up. Leon wanted to laugh.
This capitalist world was pure jungle. Only two kinds of animals lived here: wolves wearing sheepskin, and sheep trying real hard to look like wolves.
Even while thinking that, Leon put on the relieved smile. "Man, I'm really glad you see it that way. I—"
Davis cut him off with a wave. "Bro, I know you're gonna blow up. Brownsville's too small for you."
"Just don't forget about me when you make it."
The words hit heavy, sincere. For a second, Leon actually felt something.
The nigga community had a thousand flaws, but one thing you had to respect: when a Black man got rich, he never left his people behind. Even if the money came from slinging, they'd drag their whole crew up with them — and when the chair came, they'd ride together.
Leon played along to keep the peace. "I won't, man. I swear."
Davis didn't say another word. He just turned and walked back up the stairs, silent.
That's when the familiar voice slammed into Leon's head again.
[Shameless Entry "Con Artist" has been weakened. Repeated weakening of the same entry will result in permanent deletion.]
[Once the only entry is lost, inspiration refresh will stop.]
[Stay shameless! Good luck, you piece of shit!]
"WTF?"
Leon froze right there. He hadn't done shit, yet the system dropped that weird-ass warning anyway.
He still didn't know exactly how to gain new entries, but losing his only one — "Con Artist" — would drop him straight back to workhorse status. No doubt.
Next morning Leon was up at dawn. Today was the big day T-Ray had hyped.
Not only was Blood boss George showing up at the session, but some of his old-school music friends — real names who'd already made it in New York.
T-Ray's Escalade was already waiting outside the studio. The fat man leaned against the hood, cigar between his teeth, whistling at every Black girl who walked by.
"You ready, white boy? Today's huge for you."
"I'll bring my A-game."
T-Ray flashed that gold-toothed grin and waved Leon into the car.
The studio was right on Chester Street, walking distance from T-Ray's office. The outside sign looked cheap and sketchy — like one of those pay-by-the-hour spots — but inside, the gear was top-shelf.
The expensive equipment screamed that T-Ray had once been somebody. Back in the '90s he'd made bank during the gangsta-rap golden era. Then the new millennium hit and the whole sound faded. He'd been sliding ever since.
The rap market was tiny. Dr. Dre on the West Coast and JAY-Z on the East basically owned every promising kid. The fact T-Ray was betting on Leon's rock-style track showed he'd finally bent the knee to the market.
A Black guy in shades sat on the couch by the mixing board, laughing with a middle-aged white man. The Black dude radiated pure menace — shaved head shiny, two deep knife scars running across his scalp. The white guy was all class: calm smile, relaxed posture, total gentleman vibe.
The contrast was so wild you'd swear they came from different planets.
"T-Ray, this the talented white kid you been bragging about?" Shades stood up, voice warm but eyes cold.
"Yeah, this is Leon Smith."
Shades gave a mocking little laugh. "Besides being white and still breathing in Brownsville, I don't see anything special."
"Just wait," T-Ray shrugged, then nodded at Leon. "Meet Magnum George. I know you've heard the name."
Leon nodded and stepped forward, shaking the hand of the living legend of Brownsville.
He didn't know every gang detail, but living here you couldn't avoid hearing about "Magnum" George. In a hood where cops didn't even bother, George's word was law — king shit.
This was the same nigga who ran the streets back in the '90s with Biggie himself. Now he was a gangsta myth. Half the rappers out there name-dropped him in their tracks.
"You're that Street Jesus guy, right? I saw the clips online." The classy white man stood up and walked straight over.
"This is—"
"He's a big deal. Old friend, but getting him down here wasn't easy. Make it count." T-Ray started the intro, but the white guy cut him off with a polite smile.
"Phil Bryan. Former General Manager at Epic Records."
Epic Records?
Even Leon knew that name — the label that launched Avril Lavigne and a bunch of other superstars. Even if the "former" part was true, the title still hit like a truck.