91-95

*Chapter 91: Taking Action*

In a small conference room at William Morris, the team gathered around a table.

Hawk sat at the head of the table and started, "Let's summarize everyone's findings."

Dani put her phone down. "Just received word—Paul Walker has signed with Universal Pictures. The filming schedule for Fast & Furious 2 overlaps with this project."

Hawk reminded her, "Keep an eye on their cast updates. Watch out for any new actors joining the auditions."

He turned to Johnson. "Dwayne, what about your side?"

Johnson replied, "Over the past couple of days, I had lunch with producer Leonard Goldenberg and even played a round of golf with him. He doesn’t seem to dislike me, but he’s holding firm on the role because others are doing the same groundwork I am."

Hawk got straight to the point. "What’s Leonard’s preference—men, women, or both?"

Johnson, unfazed, replied, "He’s straight. I’m sure of it. And his taste leans toward strong, athletic women—similar to my build."

Dani added, "Actress Michelle Rodriguez has been visiting Leonard’s hotel room for script discussions and talks about the female lead for several nights. She’s likely to land the role."

Auditions were just the start; the real decisions were made behind closed doors.

Hawk turned to Carolyn. "What’s your update?"

Carolyn handed him a folder of documents. "My assistant, Sasha, had contact with Green, a business manager from the Firefighters' Fund Insurance Company, last night. After some probing, it’s clear that Green sees Steve Nutt as the epitome of an ideal white man and deeply admires his advocacy for Black civil rights."

Hawk flipped through the documents, which contained information about key players in the competition and the production team. After a quick review, he pinned several pre-prepared photos to a whiteboard.

The images included Samuel L. Jackson, Clark Johnson, Spike Lee, and insurance manager Green.

Hawk shared his observations from yesterday and the results of his follow-up research. He concluded, "Samuel, Clark, and Spike are staunch supporters of Hollywood’s equality movement, with Spike being a leader. They’re highly sensitive about Black representation in Hollywood."

He added, "Spike Lee doesn’t usually take on big studios, but when it comes to individual actors or the Oscars, he’s notorious for public outbursts."

Carolyn followed Hawk’s train of thought. "But Colin Farrell and Josh Hartnett haven’t shown any signs of racial prejudice."

Johnson reminded them, "Samuel is only a figurehead producer. He can influence director Clark, but Clark’s say is limited. The final decision lies with Leonard, who’s a white man."

Hawk tapped Green’s photo. "That’s why we need to involve the third-party insurance manager. Apply pressure on both fronts to sway the production team’s decisions."

He looked at Carolyn. "One skill in this job is especially important."

Carolyn tried to keep up with Hawk’s pace.

Edward, observing Miss Meh with skepticism, shook his head. "Conjuring something out of nothing!"

Carolyn immediately thought of her last collaboration with Hawk, when he had fabricated evidence about Steve’s son to turn the tide.

"I came up with a concrete plan yesterday," Hawk revealed. "We’re going to stage a discrimination incident." This choice was informed by the current social context: "The Steve Nutt case has ignited another wave of civil rights activism in California, especially in Los Angeles."

Carolyn stared at Hawk in admiration. He was exploiting a storm he had created himself, and she doubted even top PR director Roonie Chasen could pull off such a feat.

Johnson and Dani exchanged glances. Johnson asked, "Are we taking them all down in one go?"

Hawk shook his head. "This approach only works on one person at a time. We’ll take down the biggest threat first."

Dani chimed in, "Josh Hartnett. He starred in Pearl Harbor. While critics and audiences panned his performance, it’s still a prominent credit. Plus, he collaborated with Sony-Columbia on Black Hawk Down."

Johnson added, "Josh is also close to Leonard’s assistant producer. I suspect their relationship isn’t purely professional."

Hawk knew exactly what that implied, and it didn’t surprise him.

In Hollywood, breaking into the A-list often required as much effort from male actors as female ones.

"What’s Josh Hartnett’s background?" Hawk asked.

Dani provided details. "He comes from a regular family with no entertainment industry connections. He studied acting at SUNY and had a rough start in his career. His greatest asset in Hollywood isn’t his acting skills—it’s his physique."

"Our primary target is Josh Hartnett," Hawk declared, writing Josh’s name below the four photos.

Then he wrote Colin Farrell’s name beside it. "We also need a strategy for dealing with him. Otherwise, everything we do to Josh might just benefit Colin."

Carolyn remarked, "Colin Farrell has close ties to Kevin Spacey. I heard a rumor they became involved while working on The Usual Suspects."

Hawk nodded slightly. "Tell me about Colin Farrell."

Caroline explained in detail, "He's Irish, the son of a football player, and he used to be a footballer himself before switching to drama school. Like many Irish men, he loves drinking and has a fiery temper, especially when dealing with people below him. He often gets angry over small things."

Hawk glanced at the list of Colin Farrell's works. The actor had filmed his first feature-length movie in 2000, and this year, a film titled Phone Booth was set to be released.

Caroline continued, "He's good-looking, has a great physique, and is daring. He’s open-minded and willing to participate in all kinds of activities. A lot of casting directors and producers who swing both ways are fond of him, so the industry sees great potential in his future."

Hawk pinned Colin Farrell's headshot to the whiteboard and said, "If the producer prefers men, Dawn doesn't stand a chance."

Edward quipped, "Thank goodness Leonard is straight."

Hawk asked a key question, "Did Kevin Spacey only call Dawn?"

"No," Dani replied, having done her research. "He called everyone who made it to the final audition, trying to use his fame and influence to intimidate the candidates. He also approached producer Leonard."

Hawk shifted the focus to Leonard. "What does the producer hate the most, both in his personal life and at work?"

"Leonard Goldberg is a veteran producer at Columbia Pictures. He’s been in the business since the '70s," Caroline said. "In his personal life, he hates being rejected by actresses. Every actress who has either turned him down or stood him up has been blacklisted. Professionally, he can't stand lateness. During the Charlie's Angels audition, Cameron Diaz showed up late, and Leonard immediately rejected her, even though Drew Barrymore had secured nearly half the film’s funding and begged him to reconsider. Cameron had to spend an entire evening smoothing things over with Leonard before she got the part."

Edward added, "Wasn’t it Drew Barrymore’s repeated invitations that eventually got Cameron to reluctantly agree to the role?"

"That’s just PR spin," Caroline said. "I’ve written fake behind-the-scenes stories for productions myself for publicity."

Johnson suddenly interjected, "I'm a hero who stopped a robbery!"

The tense atmosphere was abruptly broken, and everyone burst into laughter.

After the laughter died down, Hawk asked, "Any similar cases?"

Caroline nodded. "Yes, during the auditions for The Fugitive and Outbreak, actors who were late were all rejected."

Hawk had what he needed. "Let’s deal with the biggest threat first—Josh Hartnett."

He continued, "We haven’t made any moves yet. Right now, the ones making the biggest splash are Colin Farrell and his backer, Kevin Spacey, who even made threatening calls. If we target Josh Hartnett, who will they suspect first?"

Dani chuckled. "Colin Farrell."

"Of course, they might suspect us too," Hawk added, "but that doesn’t matter. Let’s muddy the waters."

Johnson said, "Whatever you need us to do, just say the word."

To get things done, money is essential. Hawk stated bluntly, "Prepare a budget for operations. Just don’t mess up in the audition room—meet the basic requirements."

Johnson committed as well. "I’ve reached out to the L.A. SWAT team. I’ll join them for training tomorrow."

Hawk turned to Dani and Caroline. "Use your resources to track Josh Hartnett’s recent activities. I want to know the places he frequents—bars, hotels, gyms, wherever."

Caroline said, "Public schedules are easy. For private ones, we can follow him from the public ones."

Hawk looked at Edward. "Be ready at all times."

Edward was an excellent driver and a Los Angeles native familiar with the city’s streets and neighborhoods. He had never made a mistake during tailing missions.

As for how to handle Josh Hartnett, that was Hawk’s responsibility.

Half an hour later, the meeting ended. Hawk took some cash and left with Edward.

Back in the car, Hawk said, "Savior, go find the Ugly Trio."

Edward replied, "Those three have been waiting to make more money."

Hawk dropped Edward off at Fountain Street to retrieve his car and find the Ugly Trio.

The next day, Caroline provided Hawk with a detailed dossier on Josh Hartnett.

Despite receiving heavy criticism for Pearl Harbor, Josh had gained fame. By analyzing media reports, PR details, and other information, it wasn’t hard to identify his usual haunts.

After studying the materials, Hawk visited each location, including Paloma Bar on North Santa Monica Boulevard, a residence in Sherman Oaks, a gym in North Hollywood, and an acting school at Paramount Pictures.

Hawk summoned the Ugly Trio to Ranch Park for some quick training.

Based on the different locations, Hawk devised multiple action plans. However, the specifics depended on the Trio's improvisation.

Caroline also uncovered that Josh Hartnett had no Black friends and held a neutral to unfavorable view of Black people.

Hawk sent Edward to tail Josh Hartnett and identify the best opportunity.

One afternoon, Edward called. Josh Hartnett, in disguise, had gone to the Marriott Hotel in Manhattan Beach.

Hawk immediately led the team into action.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 92: Ugly, Fierce, and Disgusting

Manhattan Beach, Marriott Hotel.

Josh Hartnett sat on the west-facing balcony, gazing at the sunset over the ocean. He couldn’t shake an unpleasant odor clinging to him. He picked up a nearby bottle of cologne and sprayed it on himself several times, but the stench lingered around his nose and mouth, refusing to go away.

This inexplicable smell put him in a bad mood.

Teddy Black came up from behind, placing his hands on Josh’s bare shoulders. “Auditions are next Monday to decide the roles. Are you prepared?” he said.

Josh turned his head to look at him.

Teddy was producer Leonard Goldenberg’s most trusted assistant and served as the associate producer on set.

Leonard liked women, so Josh had no choice but to take an unconventional route with Teddy. “Whether I get the part or not depends on you,” Josh said.

Teddy gave a confident smile. “Over the past few years, Leonard still listens to what I have to say.”

“No matter what it takes, I’m ready at your call,” Josh replied.

Although Teddy seemed agreeable, he still gave Josh a subtle warning. “It’s a shame Dwayne Johnson turned me down. That big guy…”

A sense of unease swept over Josh.

“I’m heading out. Call me if anything comes up,” Teddy said, slipping on his jacket and leaving the room.

Josh stood up, ran into the bathroom, and vomited into the toilet.

He stripped off his clothes and turned on the shower, scrubbing himself vigorously.

No matter how hard he tried, Josh still felt covered in that awful smell.

It was as if he’d been marinated in a septic tank, a stench that no amount of washing could remove.

The nausea triggered rage, and he lashed out at the objects around him in the bathroom.

In the end, he had to compose himself.

During the filming of Pearl Harbor, his co-star Ben Affleck had said that climbing up in Hollywood often meant clinging to powerful people, and sometimes, that meant catering to men too.

After some time, Josh calmed down, dressed, and prepared to check out.

Of course, he’d have to pay for the damages.

In the parking lot outside the Marriott, a newly purchased second-hand American van was parked in a spot with a clear view of the hotel entrance.

A man with a large bald head, in his thirties, emerged from the hotel.

“Look over there,” Edward said, pointing. “That’s him, the guy with the big head and bushy mustache.”

Hawk, who had reviewed the crew’s management files, recognized him as Teddy Black, the associate producer.

Edward added, “Josh Hartnett just checked into this hotel too. They arranged to meet here.”

The familiar-looking Ugly chimed in. “On the streets, some clean-cut guys often…”

He coughed. “It seems Hollywood stars aren’t any cleaner than the homeless.”

Teddy walked with an awkward, bow-legged gait.

Two Ugly, who had seen many such scenes on the streets of L.A., remarked, “That’s the one who got played. The one in the hotel must be the troublemaker.”

Edward scoffed, “It’s wild. The producer using this method to seduce male actors.”

Three Ugly added, “Messy affairs, alcohol addiction, drug abuse, diseases—they’re just like the homeless.”

Teddy’s car pulled away as they spoke.

Hawk turned to the trio of Ugly. “Our target’s coming out soon. Be ready.”

The three, who looked both ugly and intimidating, nodded. “Boss, we’ve dealt with street hustlers before. We know how to provoke them.”

Hawk instructed Big Ugly and Edward, “Get out and take your time. Start by provoking him.”

Big Ugly grinned, making his face look even more grotesque. “I’ve got experience dealing with these types.”

Edward grabbed a briefcase and got out first, positioning himself between Josh Hartnett’s car and the hotel entrance.

Big Ugly, holding a paper cup of coffee, positioned himself according to Hawk’s directions, avoiding the hotel cameras as he waited for their mark.

By the time the sky darkened, Josh Hartnett, wearing a baseball cap pulled low, walked out of the hotel.

He entered the small parking lot and, as he rounded the back of a minibus, encountered a man walking from the other side.

They nearly collided. The man, dressed in black, instinctively jerked back, bumping his arm on a car and spilling the coffee he was sipping.

The coffee splattered on his clothes and even onto Josh.

Before Josh could react, the man grabbed his collar, scowling. “Watch where you’re going, idiot!”

Josh pushed his hand away and looked up slightly to see a face so ugly and fierce it was nightmarish.

A face that could haunt dreams.

Big Ugly stepped back, fanning his nose. “What’s that smell? Oh, it’s a filthy queer.”

He sneered, “Are you the one who takes it? No wonder you reek of sh*t. Running into someone like you ruins my day. Get out of here so I can shower!”

“Shut up!” Josh snapped, not wanting to cause trouble and stepped aside.

His anger simmered, but he stayed cautious of the sudden appearance of this stranger.

With people nearby, a fight would be too much trouble. He held back and walked toward his car.

As Josh drove off, Edward slipped into the vehicle.

Josh’s black car pulled out of the lot.

Hawk, timing it right, followed.

Edward sighed, disappointed. “He didn’t take the bait.” The black car drove northeast, turning onto Santa Monica Boulevard.

Edward glanced at the surroundings. “He lives in Sherman Oaks, but this isn’t the way home.”

Hawk, having done extensive prep work, nodded. “From the direction, he’s likely heading to the Paloma Bar. He goes there alone often.”

Edward confirmed, “That’s right.”

Hawk tailed the car for a while longer to be sure, then said, “We’ll get there ahead of him to set up.”

The van sped up, overtaking Josh’s black car.

Edward, familiar with the area, guided Hawk down a side road to reach Orlando Street, where the Paloma Bar was located.

An old street, like much of L.A., with barely any surveillance.

Hawk chose a spot, parked the van, and quickly changed his appearance. He approached the valet, spoke in an East Coast accent, and slipped him a $100 bill.

The valet grinned and moved some cars around on the curb.

Hawk, carrying a bag, pulled out a hot dog and stood against a wall, eating.

On the sidewalk, Two Ugly and the now dreadlocked, bearded Edward took their positions.

The skinniest and ugliest of the trio, Three Ugly, approached from the direction of the bar holding a prepared paper bag.

Hawk glanced south. “The car’s here.”

Josh parked his black car a little further from the bar, as closer spots were full.

He stepped out, pulled his cap down, and walked toward the bar.

Ahead, two men were arguing over a parking spot.

After the earlier encounter, the sight of another argument involving men made Josh want to avoid it, so he shifted away.

But one thing led to another, and soon, the men started fighting.

The dreadlocked one pushed the shorter, uglier one, who stumbled backward into Josh.

Josh sidestepped just in time, but the contents of the man’s paper bag spilled onto him.

Josh instinctively raised an arm, feeling something sticky on his sleeve.

Before he could process, the man yelled, “Back off, pretty boy!”

Josh looked at the man\u2014so ugly and disgusting it was as if he hadn’t evolved.

Two Ugly shouted, “What are you staring at? Keep looking, and I’ll rip your stick off and shove it up your ass…”

Josh felt nauseated, wanting a drink to steady himself, and turned toward the bar.

A loud banging noise caught his attention.

Josh glanced back. The dreadlocked man was kicking the old van parked in the spot.

It drew onlookers.

Hawk, pretending to be a bystander, ran over with a bag.

Josh tried to walk away but collided with another black man heading toward the van.

The collision wasn’t serious, but the man was holding a paper bag, which burst, releasing the pungent smell of canned herring.

Josh’s stomach churned.

He tried to step away, but the man grabbed him. “Hey, you broke my stuff!”

Josh stared at the man\u2014ugly, disgusting, reeking\u2014the embodiment of repulsion.

It was astonishing how ugly a person could be.

Josh wanted to curse but remembered basic public relations training. He pushed the man away and shouted, “Get lost, you disgusting freak!”

Chapter 93: Teaching the Audience to Watch the News

In the van, Hawk tossed the keys to the van to Big Ugly and pulled out a wad of cash from his bag, splitting it into three equal parts to hand to the Three Uglies.

Second Ugly, with the quickest hands, swiftly counted the money—$500.

The three grinned widely.

Hawk said, “Same rules as always.”

Big Ugly quickly promised, “We’ll keep our mouths shut. Tonight, we were out having fun and didn’t see a thing.”

“Good. Take a trip.” Hawk pointed at the big American van. “It’s yours now. Drive it out of town, sell it, and take a week off before coming back.”

Big Ugly pocketed the cash and asked, “Can we take ten days?”

Hawk said, “Suit yourselves.”

The Three Uglies were ready to leave. Before getting out, Third Ugly remembered something and said to Hawk, “Boss, that Mexican guy you told us to keep an eye on, the one named Campos—he’s pretty quiet, doesn’t cause trouble, but takes good care of his fellow countrymen…”

Hawk had almost forgotten about him. He said, “Just don’t mess with him.”

The three got out, overjoyed, and drove off in the van.

They decided to head north to San Francisco for a bit.

Edward shut the door and took off his dreadlock wig, pulling off the fake beard from his face with a wince.

Hawk resumed his usual appearance. He connected the camera to the laptop, transferred the video, and made a copy.

Edward put away the makeup gear and asked, “Boss, how did it turn out?”

“Not bad.” Hawk clicked on the video. “Even after being provoked repeatedly, he still didn’t say anything overtly discriminatory. Looks like his agency or PR team has coached him well.”

Edward scratched his head. “So, we failed?”

Hawk said, “Not exactly. Just not a full success.”

The video began with the scene of a bearded, dreadlocked man kicking the car. Amidst the commotion, the camera panned to the sidewalk.

At that moment, two people collided—Josh Hartnett and Third Ugly had a brief altercation.

“Get lost, you disgusting jerk!”

The insult was clearly audible.

Despite the handheld, shaky footage, Hawk’s skill ensured Josh Hartnett’s face was recognizable.

Especially at the end, when Josh walked away holding his nose and looking at Third Ugly on the ground with disgust.

Hawk closed the laptop and said to Edward, “Drive to the Fox TV Center.”

Edward started the car immediately and drove out of the parking lot.

After thinking for a while, Hawk took out his phone and called Megan Taylor.

Megan picked up and asked, “Got time tonight? Want to come over?”

Hawk got straight to the point. “I just got some news. I’m on my way to the Fox TV Center now.”

Megan, as usual, replied, “I’ll be in my office waiting for you.”

The van pulled into Century City and soon arrived in front of the Fox building.

Hawk grabbed his laptop and got out.

Edward leaned out the window. “Boss, should I wait for you?”

“Head back,” Hawk said, waving him off.

Security at the entrance had already spotted Hawk and made a call. “Millie, Hawk Osmon is here like you asked me to watch for.”

“Thanks,” Millie said, rushing to inform her boss.

As Hawk entered the building, Gretchen came down in the elevator.

They met at the elevator bay.

“Good evening, Hawk,” Gretchen greeted him and got straight to it. “Is there big news?”

Hawk said, “Caught a Hollywood actor in a street altercation. Interested?”

Gretchen, who anchored the prime-time show Flagship News, was hoping for something hot, like the Steve Horner story.

Her interest dropped when she heard. “This kind of story isn’t a fit for my show.”

Hawk couldn’t sell the video to Gretchen—it would mean losing control of his plan.

Gretchen’s expression didn’t change. She smiled and said, “If you get any major news, let me know.”

Hawk nodded casually and took the elevator up.

At the Midnight Entertainment office, he walked straight into Megan’s room.

Megan, already accustomed to Hawk bringing big stories, jumped right in. “Is it explosive? Headline-worthy?”

Hawk opened his bag, took out his laptop, and said while booting up, “Josh Hartnett, the lead in Pearl Harbor. He had a confrontation on the street.”

Megan said, “Josh Hartnett? He starred in Pearl Harbor, but his reception is so-so, barely second-tier…”

Hawk played the video. “Watch it first.”

Megan sat beside Hawk and watched the clip carefully.

As usual, she watched it once through before going back for a second viewing, pausing often to scrutinize details.

The video was short, and Megan paused repeatedly.

Two Black men appeared in it. The one kicking the car was disguised in dreadlocks and a beard.

The one who collided with Josh Hartnett was only visible from the side and back, his face mostly hidden.

But it was clear he was Black. Josh Hartnett, despite wearing a hat, had his face captured several times by the camera.

Hawk had shot it to appear rushed, giving it an authentic, on-the-spot feel.

Megan finished the second viewing without saying a word and replayed the last part, listening repeatedly to Josh Hartnett’s words and watching his disgusted expression as he walked away.

“Planning to go after him?” Megan, familiar with Hawk’s ways, guessed his intent.

Hawk didn’t deny it; he needed the show’s cooperation. “I took on a job to secure a role for someone. Josh Hartnett is the competition.”

Megan raised a hand. “No need for more details. I didn’t hear that. I’ll report only based on the video.”

Hawk asked directly, “What’s your plan?”

“Technically, it’s not headline material,” Megan said, shutting the video off and pacing. “But his words and expression leave room for a news angle.”

Hawk agreed. “We can frame the narrative, teach the audience what to see.”

Megan stopped, decision made. “The Black Lives Matter movement sparked by Steve Natt is still highly active, especially around L.A. I’ll bring in a civil rights representative and an activist for a video call debate on whether this was racist.”

She paused, then added, “This will stir attention while minimizing risk for the show.”

Hawk suggested, “Invite Steve. He’s become a champion for equality, and since he’s worked with you before, he’ll likely agree.”

Megan liked the idea. “I’ll call him myself.”

Hawk said, “The video is $10,000.”

“This is worth $5,000 at most,” Megan countered and handed him a storage drive. “Copy the footage, then see Claire for the paperwork and check.”

Hawk made the copy.

Megan leaned in, speaking softly. “Business done. Now for the personal side. How do you plan to thank me?”

Hawk was blunt. “Here in the office?”

“You’re insane!” Megan laughed. She was wild but not that reckless. “Wait for me after I’m done, and come to my place.”

“Sure, I won’t sleep tonight,” Hawk said, closing his laptop and heading to Claire to finalize the deal.

Once he had the check, he called Caroline. “Miss Baa, I recall your client needs your approval for media appearances.”

“That’s in the contract,” Caroline confirmed.

“Steve will ask about a Midnight Entertainment segment. Tell him to agree—it’s relevant to our current job.”

Caroline asked, “It won’t hurt him?”

“Not at all,” Hawk assured.

Caroline agreed.

Back at the office, Megan was gathering her team for a meeting.

She told Hawk that Steve had accepted and would be joining the video call tonight.

Caroline then called, saying she was on her way to Fox to coordinate the broadcast details.

Hawk settled into the lounge to wait, plotting the next steps.

During that time, Dani called. “Did it go smoothly?”

“It did,” Hawk replied.

Dani hung up without another word.

After a while, Caroline arrived, setting her new Hermès bag on the table and sitting next to Hawk. “All set.”

Hawk asked, “What did he say?”

Caroline said, “Steve watched the video and believes Josh Hartnett’s words and actions imply hidden racism. He’s ready to debate it on air.”

Hawk handed her a bottle of water. “Take a break.”

Caroline took a sip and said, “I have a feeling Steve’s putting too much energy into this. He’s more driven than some of the activists…”

“It’s sunk cost. He’s invested too much to turn back now,” Hawk said. Steve was an easy tool for his plans. “Get him to organize a new protest with the activist group at one of Josh Hartnett’s appearances.”

Caroline sighed. “You really do use every available resource.”

“That’s the job, isn’t it?” Hawk replied. “Steve won’t say no.”

“With his current mindset, he’ll jump at the chance.” Caroline added.

Chapter 94: "He Doesn’t Belong in Our Crew"

On the TV screen, a video played repeatedly as Megan, the host, guided the discussion between two guests connected via video link.

“This looks like just an ordinary street conflict,” said bald white man Adams, offering his opinion first. “The only reason it made the news and caught attention is that the white guy involved is Hollywood star Josh Hartnett.”

Steve Nutt immediately objected. “I completely disagree. Did you hear what he said? ‘Get out of here, you disgusting jerk.’ He saw the guy was Black and still said that. You might argue it’s just typical cursing, but take a close look at what happens afterward.”

The producer helpfully zoomed in on the clip where Josh Hartnett pinched his nose, freezing the frame for emphasis.

The footage couldn’t capture the smell of fermented herring nor convey its infamous stench, but Steve, now embodying the role of an equality crusader and anti-discrimination advocate, pressed on. “Look into Josh’s eyes as he looks down at the man he pushed. What do you see? I see blatant disgust—undeniable, unconcealed disgust! Then, note his actions: pinching his nose. Does even the man’s scent repulse him?”

Steve then brought out a prepared prop: an image from an old newspaper he held up to the camera. “You know what this reminds me of? Nineteenth-century slave owners. Look at these preserved papers and illustrations—they looked at slaves the same way. It’s a harrowing part of history.”

Adams attempted a rebuttal. “There could’ve been reasons we’re unaware of for their conflict.”

The disdain in Josh’s gaze and actions, however, was too obvious to ignore. Adams opted to concede partially: “Disgust stemming from a clash doesn’t equate to discrimination.”

“That is precisely the most insidious kind of discrimination,” Steve retorted. “If the person lying on the ground had been white, would he have reacted the same way? The terrifying reality is that hidden discrimination like this often goes unnoticed…”

The debate predictably ended without resolution. After all, the show thrived on controversy.

---

In a standalone villa in Santa Monica, Spike Lee lit a cigar and picked up his phone to call his old friend, Samuel L. Jackson. “Check out Channel 11’s Midnight Entertainment. You’ll find it fascinating.”

On the other end, Samuel L. Jackson didn’t watch for long before calling director Clark Johnson. “Clark, switch to Channel 11’s Midnight Entertainment immediately.”

Clark was already watching, his brow furrowed in frustration.

If he had enough clout within the crew, he’d boot Josh Hartnett from auditions on the spot.

To many in the Black community—particularly those vocal about equality—not offering preferential treatment was already discriminatory, let alone actual verbal altercations.

---

When the show ended, Hawk turned off the TV in the waiting room and walked out with Carolyn.

He instructed her, “You leave first, but make sure to call Steve in a few minutes. Tell him to lead the charge tomorrow.”

“Steve’s already enthusiastic,” Carolyn remarked, her Hermes bag swinging as her red heels clicked against the floor.

A short while later, Megan exited the studio and approached Hawk. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.

“I might’ve opened Pandora’s box,” Hawk replied.

Megan assumed he referred to the competition over the role. “Hollywood’s behind-the-scenes battles are fierce. For one actor to succeed, they often have to trample over hundreds or even thousands of others.”

“That doesn’t seem like something you’d worry about,” she added.

Hawk smirked. “I’m thinking about the civil rights movement.”

“That’s unstoppable,” Megan said, gazing at the night sky outside. “Here in California, at least, the momentum is undeniable.”

Hawk eyed Megan’s short skirt, stockings, and heels. “Let’s go to your place. I need to thank you properly for your help.”

“I still need to take off my makeup,” Megan replied.

“No need. You look perfect as is,” Hawk said.

---

Elsewhere, a Toyota sped down Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks.

Inside, agent Will asked the PR manager in the passenger seat, “Julius, still no answer?”

“Josh’s phone keeps going unanswered,” Julius replied, dialing his landline only to get the same result.

Will pressed, “What about Channel 11? What’s going on there?”

Julius sighed, setting down his phone. “I called the production team, but Megan Taylor has already left for the day. Her phone’s also not answering.”

Fuming, Will growled, “That woman! Just because Fox backs her, she thinks she can pull this without even giving us a heads-up!”

Julius, feeling helpless, reminded him, “Fox has always been like this. Don’t take it personally. And a word of caution: focus on the issue, not the person.”

She elaborated, “Remember the Miller Collins incident? Someone connected to Miller tried targeting Megan. They only keyed her car, but Fox took it seriously, involved LAPD, and the gang responsible got wiped out. Their leader was later found with a broken neck—officially ruled a suicide.”

Will understood the subtext. “Fox was sending a message, reinforcing the confidence of everyone under their umbrella.”

---

When they arrived at Josh Hartnett’s small villa, Will rang the doorbell to no response. Using his spare key, he let himself and Julius in.

The sound of deafening snores greeted them.

Josh Hartnett lay sprawled on the couch, reeking of alcohol. Julius opened a window to air out the room.

After much effort, Will managed to rouse Josh and get him to the bathroom to freshen up. Nearly an hour later, Josh was finally coherent enough to talk.

Will quickly briefed him on the Midnight Entertainment report.

“That’s not how it happened at all,” Josh protested. He recounted the incident outside the bar, venting his frustration. “I absolutely despised that jerk, but I didn’t say anything racist.”

Julius cut in sharply. “Remember, you didn’t hate him. It was just a verbal argument with no underlying intent.”

Will frowned. “Something about this feels off. Have you crossed anyone lately?”

Josh shook his head. “No.”

“What about professional rivalries?” Julius suggested.

“There’s the role,” Will recalled. “We even got a call from Kevin Spacey, warning us to drop out of the S.W.A.T. audition.”

Josh was startled. “Could it be him?”

“It’s hard to say,” Will admitted. “If this was orchestrated, any of your competitors—Dwayne Johnson, Colin Farrell, or Jeremy Renner—could be behind it.”

Josh, now sweating profusely, muttered, “Is this really Hollywood?”

Will, an experienced agent, was unfazed. “Commercial competition spares no one. This isn’t just about fame or future opportunities. The lead role in S.W.A.T. comes with a paycheck nearing $10 million.”

Josh, visibly shaken, snapped out of his daze. “First me, now Johnson. This has Colin Farrell’s fingerprints all over it.”

Will agreed. “Jeremy Renner is too green to be a serious contender, and Kevin Spacey explicitly threatened us.”

Josh slammed his fist on the couch. “Bastards!”

“Hold up,” Julius interrupted. “Right now, the priority is clearing Josh’s name of any allegations of racism. Otherwise, the fallout will be endless.”

Will nodded. “We need a press conference tomorrow. Address the accusations and track down the other party involved.”

“Do you remember anything about them?” he asked Josh.

“I think I recall the license plate,” Josh replied.

He reported the license plate, and Will worked overnight to investigate. The result was disappointing: “The license plate is fake.”

Julius commented, “It’s impossible to find the person in the short term, and simply clarifying the situation might not help. While Hollywood is dominated by old white men, overt racism against Black people isn’t tolerated. To appease Black consumers, actors involved in racism often face significant trouble.”

Will agreed: “Josh, you need to resolve this issue quickly.”

Josh looked at the public relations manager and asked, “What should I do? I’m not going to find a Black woman to grovel, am I?”

This gave Julius an idea. She thought of Steve Nat, who had appeared on a recent program, and a brilliant plan came to her.

Grabbing Josh’s shoulders, she said, “Find a Black girlfriend quickly and flaunt your relationship everywhere.”

Will caught on. “Not just any Black girl. Ideally, someone with a bit of fame—a Black actress would work best.”

Josh glanced at his agent, then at the PR manager, and said, “You both know I have a girlfriend. Ellen and I have been together for eight years.”

Julius replied, “I’ll talk to Ellen. She’ll understand.”

Josh understood perfectly: by “understand,” she meant they’d break up.

Will, knowing Josh well, added, “How much have you sacrificed to get where you are today? Are you just going to give up? What does all your effort mean if you quit now?”

Josh ran his hands through his hair and groaned, “Give me some time. I need time.”

Will pulled Julius aside.

The two started making calls—one to the media and the other to find a suitable Black woman.

The next morning, North Hollywood.

A Jeep Wrangler pulled into the parking lot of the NAACP Los Angeles branch.

Steve Nat stepped out, holding a speech draft written by Caroline. As he walked toward the conference room, he scanned the draft one more time.

Spike Lee stood up immediately, offering the lead spot to Steve. Steve was their much-needed figurehead and mascot.

Inside the conference room, a mix of Black and white attendees sat around the table.

Steve picked up a copy of the National Enquirer from the table, pointing to the front-page headline about Josh Hartnett. “I’m sure you’ve all heard about last night. A Hollywood star showed blatant disregard for his influence and acted in a way that reeks of racism. We cannot tolerate this.”

Everyone voiced their agreement:

“This cannot happen!”

“We need to respond!”

Steve raised his hands, exuding leadership: “Brothers, we’re dealing with a movie star—someone with a massive platform in Hollywood, capable of shaping public opinion. We must take a stand and show the world our unity and strength!”

He proclaimed loudly, “We’ll organize people to protest at Josh Hartnett’s events, his agency, and his sets. Let’s make sure everyone knows where we stand!”

Spike Lee chimed in, “I agree.”

The others followed suit.

“Agreed!”

“Agreed!”

In no time, a large group of Black and white activists mobilized with remarkable speed.

Later that morning, Beverly Hilton Hotel.

A group of protesters, including both Black and white participants, gathered at the hotel entrance. Their banners and posters made them an unmistakable presence, immediately catching the attention of reporters arriving for a press conference.

Meanwhile, Caroline’s assistant, Sasha, and firefighter fund manager Green drove by after picking up some specialty desserts in the area.

Sasha glanced at the protest and asked, “What’s going on there? Are they protesting?”

Green noticed a banner with Josh Hartnett’s name linked to racism. It reminded him of a related business matter.

Stopping by a newsstand, Green picked up several newspapers, which all carried negative stories about Josh Hartnett’s alleged racism the night before.

Realizing the situation’s implications, Green drove to Culver City.

Sony Columbia Studio, Outside the "S.W.A.T." Set.

Hawk parked his car in a shaded spot and handed a water bottle to Caroline, sitting in the passenger seat.

She pointed to the studio entrance. “They’re here.”

Hawk saw a bus and two large American vans pull up. Dozens of protesters, both Black and white, stepped out, efficiently setting up banners and materials.

“They’re pros,” Hawk noted.

Caroline answered a phone call and then said, “Green from the third-party insurance firm is on his way.”

Hawk reminded her, “You should treat your assistant to a fancy dinner.”

Caroline laughed. “I’d rather give her a bonus—it’s more reassuring.”

They spotted director Clark Johnson arriving at the studio. He glanced at the protesters outside, his expression serious, and quickly entered the building.

Inside, he headed straight to the producer Leonard Goldenberg’s office.

Leonard was watching the protest from his window. Seeing Clark, he asked, “You’re here because of this?”

Clark nodded. “I strongly recommend canceling Josh Hartnett’s final audition. Associating the show with a racist actor would be disastrous.”

Leonard’s assistant, Teddy, had often vouched for Josh, and Leonard valued his opinion. Raising a hand to quiet Clark, Leonard said, “I’ll seriously consider it.”

Clark, holding only advisory authority, could only add, “Please respect my concerns.”

Leonard nodded faintly, and Clark left the room.

Now alone, Leonard deliberated. From a risk perspective, cutting Josh loose was the safest choice. The show hadn’t invested in him yet, so there was no sunk cost.

But Leonard relied heavily on Teddy for many tasks and wanted to respect his input.

After a long time, as Leonard was about to doze off, a knock came at the door. It was Green, the insurance manager.

Leonard perked up. “What a rare visit.”

Green smiled politely. “The show faces significant potential risks, so I had to come.”

Leonard immediately understood. “Josh Hartnett?”

Green didn’t mince words. “Having a racist actor as the lead could harm the show’s reputation, impact financing, and increase risks for third-party guarantees.”

He pointed toward the protesters. “Insurance companies won’t cover a racist actor either.”

With the director opposed and now the insurance company weighing in, Leonard had to think carefully.

After a moment of silence, he picked up the phone and called his assistant: “Notify Josh Hartnett’s agent. He’s no longer a fit for our project.”

(End of chapter.)

*Chapter 95: The Collision*

*Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, Beverly Hills.*

Hawk walked down the hallway, nodding at Amanda, who stood guard at the door. He opened the door and entered the physical therapy room.

Inside, Johnson was addressing the doctor, "Leave the injury on my face as it is. No treatment needed—it’s better this way."

The doctor hesitated, looking at Dany Garcia for confirmation.

She nodded. "Do as he says."

The doctor packed up and left the room.

As soon as the door closed, Johnson pointed to the mark on his face. "What do you think? I did it myself. Learned from last time—didn’t let anyone touch it. It’s pretty convincing, right?"

Hawk glanced at it and gave a candid assessment. "We need to get you out of the hospital fast. If we delay any longer, the swelling will go down, and the marks won’t be as noticeable in photos."

Johnson quickly started packing his things and urged Dany, "Let’s move!"

Hawk called Edward to bring the car around.

Although Johnson had a few companions and assistants, Hawk had repeatedly exploited them to create vulnerabilities in the past. He firmly refused to let any of them get involved this time.

Even the driver who had collided with Johnson the previous night was one of Dany's stunt performers.

The crash had looked severe, but the risk was minimal.

Edward arrived in a WME company SUV, pulling up below the hospital’s main staircase.

Around twenty reporters had already gathered outside.

Hawk had carefully chosen the hospital. The exit from the medical building led directly to the main entrance, making it ideal for media coverage.

In the story Edward sold to the press, Johnson had narrowly escaped from an out-of-control car. His quick reflexes in the face of danger not only saved his life but reinforced his image as a rugged, unshakable hero.

Hawk was the first to exit the hospital and got into his own car.

Moments later, Johnson, accompanied by Dany, walked out. He paused on the grand staircase, revealing his mildly bruised face to the waiting photographers.

"I’ve undergone a full checkup—no injuries at all," Johnson said, smiling his trademark warm smile during a brief interview. "Thank you all for your concern."

Under the hospital security's protection, he climbed into the SUV.

The group then headed straight to WME.

Once inside a small conference room, Caroline rushed in, heels clicking loudly on the floor.

After shutting the door, she announced, "Good news! The production team just informed Josh Hartnett’s agent that Josh is no longer being considered for the lead role."

Johnson bumped fists with Hawk. "Buddy, I knew you’d pull it off!"

Dany asked, "Should we pop some champagne to celebrate?"

"Not yet," Hawk said, raising his hand to stop her. "Save the champagne for when Dwayne lands the role. For now, we move to the next phase."

Standing at the front of the room, Hawk clapped his hands sharply to get everyone’s attention. "Our target is Colin Farrell."

Everyone sat at the long conference table, listening intently.

On the whiteboard, Hawk wrote the names Colin Farrell and Kevin Spacey. Beside them, he added Producer Leonard Goldenberg.

Dany spoke up, "Kevin Spacey has a lot of clout in the industry. He’s met Leonard Goldenberg three times this month."

Hawk nodded. "Let’s confirm something: Leonard despises actors who show up late to auditions, right?"

"Absolutely," Caroline said. "He sees it as the ultimate form of disrespect."

Dany added, "If the offender happens to be a female actor he likes, she might still have a chance if she charms him afterward. But for male actors? No chance. He’s very traditional."

"Good," Hawk said, writing one bold word on the whiteboard:

*Collision.*

---

*Beverly Hilton Hotel, Third-Floor Lounge.*

Josh Hartnett stood by the window, staring at the protesters below. He’d just received the news—he was out of the running for the role. Furious, he couldn’t even bring himself to take a sip of water.

"These damn protesters," he muttered. "Unbelievable."

His agent, Will, tried to console him. "It’s not the end of the world. Once we ride out this PR crisis, more opportunities will come."

Josh nodded slightly, but his frustration was evident.

Their publicist, Julis, entered the room. "I’ve spoken with several media outlets. Gifts have been sent, and some have agreed to stop linking your name to racism allegations. Others, however, will continue reporting—the protesters outside are too big a story to ignore."

Will leaned in. "The usual methods won’t cut it this time. We need to act fast—get you a Black girlfriend."

Josh hesitated, then sighed in resignation. "Find someone suitable."

Will nodded. "I already have a list. Most of them are lesser-known actresses who’d be thrilled to date you."

Josh closed his eyes, contemplating how to break up with his girlfriend of eight years. Then, a thought struck him.

"What about Dwayne Johnson? What’s the story with his car accident?"

Julis opened her laptop and pulled up pictures on Yahoo Entertainment, showing the collision scene. A Jeep had rammed into the rear of Johnson’s Mustang, leaving both vehicles heavily damaged.

Switching tabs, Julis displayed photos of Johnson leaving the hospital, his facial injuries clearly visible.

Josh stared at the images. "I’ve been sabotaged. Dwayne’s been sabotaged. This can’t be a coincidence."

He turned to his team. "What about Colin Farrell? Is he in the clear?"

Will replied, "Yes, he’s fine. He was spotted having lunch with Kevin Spacey in Beverly Hills today."

"Alright," Josh said, gritting his teeth. "I’ll play along with your plan for the girlfriend. But whoever’s behind this, I won’t let it slide."

Will nodded. "Agreed. We need to hit back. Weakness gets you nowhere in Hollywood."

---

*Culver City, Arts District.*

Kevin Spacey finished his tea with Leonard Goldenberg and stepped into his chauffeured van. Colin Farrell, seated inside, acted like a devoted aide, handing Spacey a cool towel to wipe away sweat.

After tending to him, Colin handed Spacey a bottle of soda.

Spacey leaned back. "The producer’s message is simple: shine in the final audition. If you impress, the role is yours."

Colin sighed, knowing such vague assurances meant little.

Spacey opened a newspaper and passed it to Colin. "Read up on your competition."

The entertainment section detailed Josh Hartnett’s racism scandal and Dwayne Johnson’s car accident.

Colin looked at Spacey. "You didn’t arrange this, did you?"

"Not me," Spacey said, shaking his head. "But whoever did has impeccable timing."

"Jeremy Renner," Colin muttered. "It has to be him. He’s the weakest contender and would do anything to gain an edge."

Spacey smirked. "Stay home before your audition. No risks."

Colin agreed but secretly began planning his own moves, contacting a tabloid editor to spread negative stories about Renner.

The game was far from over.

Hawk envisioned the road conditions: “Peak Avenue is narrow, with some sections being just two lanes for two-way traffic.”

Edward understood what he meant. “One stretch has virtually no intersections, making it impossible to reroute.”

“That section is in West Los Angeles,” Hawk said, recalling it vividly since it was close to where he once helped Johnson with a dramatic rescue.

Edward spoke in a low voice. “Boss, that stretch of road seems to be Erica’s patrol area.”

Hawk replied, “I know.”

He glanced at the time, pulled out his phone, and made a call. “Are you there?”

The person on the other end replied, “Just parked.”

Hawk instructed, “I’m in the gallery district. Enter, turn left, and keep walking straight in.”

Soon, Jacqueline came walking briskly, wearing no makeup.

“It’s been so long since you called, I thought you’d forgotten me,” Jacqueline complained as she sat down.

Hawk replied, “Money’s hard to come by, not enough jobs.”

Jacqueline glanced at his face. “You’ve got a good physique, but your face is too plain. Otherwise, I could introduce you to some clients.”

Hawk quickly changed the subject. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Jacqueline responded, “Perfect, I’ve got something to consult you about too.”

Hawk gestured for her to go first. “You go first.”

“Our previous collaborations went well, didn’t they?” Jacqueline asked tentatively. “Do you think I have a shot at making it in Hollywood?”

Hawk was surprised. “You want to be an actress?”

Jacqueline was confident. “Acting work requires skills I already have, and I’m more professional and better at it.”

Edward interjected, “You can’t make it big with just that. If it were that easy, Hollywood would be overflowing with stars.”

Jacqueline conceded, “You’ve got a point, but some in our line of work have made it. I heard from my peers that Denise Richards, Charlie Sheen’s ex-fiancée—the one who played Carmen, the fleet pilot in Starship Troopers—used to do what I do before meeting him.”

Edward was dumbfounded. “Another selfish jerk turning public goods into private property.”

Hawk, needing Jacqueline’s help, thought for a moment and said, “I can introduce you to a film crew. You can try a small role first.”

He figured he could ask Eric to arrange it.

Jacqueline, having been in LA long enough to know how hard that was, eagerly replied, “Thank you, thank you! How can I repay you? Free nights together?”

Hearing this, Hawk thought of Charlie Sheen but waved her off generously. “Friends help each other. Besides, I need your help too.”

Jacqueline’s enthusiasm peaked. “Tell me.”

Hawk explained, “I need a reliable woman. Next Monday morning, on the West Los Angeles stretch of Peak Avenue, you and another woman will stage a minor car accident to block the road. Then make a scene and drag it out.”

“That’s it?” Jacqueline was expecting something more challenging.

Hawk added, “I’ll pay you $2,000. How you split it is up to you, but keep your mouths shut.”

Jacqueline, familiar with Hawk’s ways, understood and suggested, “I’ve recently met a woman, a few years older than me, with a three-year-old daughter. She’s more driven than we are because of her kid.”

She also noted, “She’s a good mother. To protect her child, she’d never spill anything.”

Hawk stood up. “Come with me. I’ll take you to see the road.”

The three left the art gallery and went to the narrowest section of Peak Avenue in West Los Angeles. They got out of the car to check the area.

Jacqueline carefully noted Hawk’s instructions and called her colleague Renee afterward.

Unlike others driven by vanity, Renee had compelling reasons for her work. Her Black husband abandoned her with a baby who had a congenital illness. Charity aid barely covered any costs, leaving her with no choice but to turn to this line of work.

Upon hearing she could earn extra money, Renee quickly agreed.

Meanwhile, Hawk decided not to involve Erica, simply calling her instead. Erica was still in New York for an NYPD and LAPD joint event, returning to LA the following week.

Hawk then asked Edward to drive to William Morris. By 5 PM, they had a briefing with a few others.

The next day, several California newspapers suddenly published negative news about Jeremy Renner.

“It wasn’t me,” Carolyn declared.

Dani added, “Neither Johnson nor I went after him. He’s not much of a threat.”

Edward glanced at Hawk. “We didn’t do it either.”

Hawk concluded, “The mess we stirred up must have caused some collateral damage.”

He turned to Johnson. “Your audition is scheduled for Monday afternoon. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t go out before then.”

Johnson nodded, understanding the situation. “I’ll notify you before going anywhere.”

Monday, just before 9 AM.

On the rooftop of a three-story building along Peak Avenue, Hawk, dressed as a plumber, looked eastward and called Edward. “Where are you now?”

“About to enter the target area,” Edward replied. “Colin Farrell’s driving, with his agent in the passenger seat—a blue Lexus.”

Hawk pulled out binoculars and spotted the blue car amidst moderate traffic. It hadn’t reached the narrow section yet.

Colin Farrell, mindful of being on time, left early and stuck to his usual route along Peak Avenue without detours. Traffic was heavy, but he didn’t deviate.

As a light turned green, Farrell’s Lexus passed through an intersection into the narrowed section, where he slowed down.

Near a convenience store, a delivery alley served local businesses. A van was parked inside.

Just as the Lexus passed, the van abruptly accelerated out of the alley.

The distance was short, and though the van wasn’t going fast, the Lexus, boxed in by traffic, couldn’t dodge.

With a thud, the van hit the Lexus’s rear, sending it into an oncoming Jeep. Airbags deployed with a bang.

Farrell and his agent were dazed but unharmed.

The van’s driver, seemingly shaken, quickly called 911.

That section of Peak Avenue immediately became a bottleneck.

Trailing behind, Edward was stunned. Wasn’t this supposed to be a minor fender bender staged by Jacqueline? Why did it escalate to an actual crash?

His phone rang. He answered quickly.

From his vantage point, Hawk said, “The collision isn’t our doing. Leave the area as planned.”

He then called Jacqueline on a backup phone. “Cancel the operation. Head back and don’t linger.”

Jacqueline was surprised. “Why cancel?”

Hawk replied, “You’ll still be paid.”

Jacqueline didn’t argue. “I’ll tell Renee to leave now.”

Hawk packed up his tools and went downstairs, waiting in his car for the traffic to clear.

Though he didn’t know who caused the accident, he guessed it was either Josh Hartnett or Jeremy Renner.

The waters were getting muddier by the day.

(End of chapter)