Leon Kennedy Cabaret

Cabaret, what is it? A randomly lost guest unaware of the secrets lurking behind closed doors can be very shocking or, conversely, intrigued by a performance that not everyone can see. Bright revealing costumes, passionate looks, movement saturated with the play of facial expressions and gestures, live music are all about cabaret. Men disguised as women and vice versa, moaning, wide-open eyes, close body contact, not everyone will like it anyway.

Sitting at one of the cabaret performances, at a huge table next to the director of this institution, Leon held a glass of expensive red semi-sweet wine in his hand and looked at the stage. He was a successful businessman who always had an extra million in his pocket. Yachts, successful deals, dozens of apartments in the center, the best restaurants, cooperation with global brands, Kennedy was synonymous with the word success. But if everything starts to collapse, then there must be an airbag so as not to plunge your face into the mud. Kennedy always followed this rule, which is why he bought more and more restaurants, cafes, theaters, so that it would bring passive income, and also he would stay afloat.

Now art costs fabulous money, and to go to a cabaret, you need to spend a decent amount. And this realization was spinning in Kennedy's head, the thought of a new income.

"How long have they been working here, Mr. France?"

he asked, looking at the middle-aged, smiling, gray-haired man.

"It's been 5 years for sure. So why did you come to our establishment, Mr. Kennedy?"

A pleasant smile was put on Leon's face, his piercing blue eyes looked at everything with attention, like an X-ray trying to detect all the nuances in communication with this man. Leon needs to be careful with his words if he wants the deal to happen. Adjusting his cufflinks on his shirt sleeves and casually glancing at a wristwatch of some Spanish brand, which probably cost like several apartments, he took a relaxed pose on a comfortable armchair, spreading his legs wider and resting his hands on the armrests of the chair.

"I wanted to educate myself in such a delicate matter as contemporary art.. And I'll tell you, Mr. France, the cabaret.. It's a very interesting genre.."

Although Kennedy's words were flattering, there were no emotions on his face. Sipping some of the red liquid from the glass and savoring it with his tongue, he continued. "Is it hard for you to carry this burden? carrying own personal establishment? Have you ever thought that you need help? Financial assistance?"

And on Mr. Franz's face, unspeakable surprise immediately appeared, as if Kennedy had read his thoughts. Eyebrows shot up, wrinkles stood out even more on the old face, the man began to look ridiculous.

"You have a talent for reading people, Mr. Kennedy. But understand, this institution is my second home, I will not sell it and will not give it to anyone."

To this, the blue-eyed man just laughed a quiet and hoarse laugh that would have given everyone goosebumps. once again looking at the stage where {{user}} was. {{user}} the cabaret star that everyone loved without exception.

"I don't want to take this place away, I'm just offering my help to you.. What's the name of that girl on stage?"