81-85

*Chapter 81: Trending Headlines*

In a newly renovated mansion in Westwood…

Dwayne Johnson sat on the large sofa in the bedroom, watching the TV with intense focus. Dani Garcia came out of the dressing room after drying her hair and joined him to watch the gossip show.

After a while, Johnson couldn’t help but praise, “Steve Nutt is impressive.”

According to the "one-drop" rule, he’s considered Black too: “If that were me, I couldn’t pull this off. The Dodgers’ team unity will definitely be strong in the future.”

Dani, however, just smiled. “What you see might not be real.”

Johnson, who had been watching since the start, responded as soon as he saw Meghan Taylor connect with some Black Dodgers players. He argued, “You missed the beginning. The information wasn’t released by the Dodgers, nor by Nutt and his wife. It was secretly captured by a journalist.”

“Just because a journalist filmed it doesn’t mean it’s true.” Dani reminded him with emphasis, “Remember, we were also photographed last month.”

Johnson was startled and patted his head. “You mean…”

Dani continued, “Steve Nutt’s agent called me earlier to verify if Hawk had ever worked with us. I put in a good word for him since he’s no ordinary guy. Not even a day passed before this big scoop about Nutt was leaked.”

“It’s definitely related to Hawk,” Johnson said, confident. “He’s used unconventional methods before.”

“It’s unconventional, but it’s effective,” Dani replied. “Even you believe it’s true.”

Johnson sighed in admiration, “This guy is slick. Who’d think something secretly filmed could be fake?”

Dani thought for a moment, “He’s using media and public psychology.”

“I’ll give Joanna a call.” Johnson pulled out his phone and dialed a friend. “Turn on Channel 11. Yes, it’s about Steve Nutt and his wife. Remember the friend I introduced you to last time? Yep, it involves him.”

Joanna had long been looking for a way to bring her faded pop-star daughter, Allison, back into the spotlight.

Johnson added, “If you want Allison’s records to sell big and her to make a comeback, working with him might be a great move.”

Joanna was interested, “Thank you. When the time comes, I’ll definitely reach out.”

Johnson said, “Have Allison watch Channel 11 with you.”

“She’s not here,” Joanna replied, a note of frustration in her voice. “She went on a date and hasn’t returned yet.”

Johnson, a close friend, gave her advice, “You should keep an eye on Allison. She’s about to release a new album. Going wild like this could cause issues.”

Joanna replied, “I’ll do my best.”

After Johnson hung up, Dani asked, “Are you hoping for a cut from Hawk?”

Johnson replied, “I’ve known Jo since I was a teenager. If I can help, I will. Allison was a child star who faded away; it’s tough for her to make a comeback. Conventional promotion won’t have much of a chance.”

“All right, enough talk.” Dani sat on his lap. “Big guy, let me see your cute side.”

…

At the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills, a grand Hollywood party had just ended, and People magazine’s Deputy Editor-in-Chief, Vardell, stepped out of the hotel and into his car.

As the car started, his assistant in the passenger seat quickly informed him, “Boss, on the recent Midnight Entertainment episode, there was breaking news about Steve Nutt. The father of Daisy’s child is actually his Black teammate, Wilson…”

“What?” Vardell interrupted in surprise.

“That’s what the show reported…” The assistant detailed the story, concluding, “Megan Taylor even connected via video with several Black Dodgers players. They were all moved to tears by Steve. She also called the NAACP’s leader, Sesco, who praised Steve as a true hero.”

Vardell smelled the scent of a sensational story and instructed the driver, “Take us to the editorial office.” He then told his assistant, “Gather the first editorial team to be there within half an hour.”

He took out his phone and called Steve’s publicist, Caroline. “What’s going on with the Midnight Entertainment scoop?”

Over the sound of car horns, Caroline’s voice came through, “I’m heading to St. Joseph’s Hospital. I just called Steve and his agent, Byers. Wilson did visit the hospital this afternoon, and Steve talked with him.”

Vardell went straight to the point, “What’s the deal with the IVF story?”

Caroline was prepared and dropped a bombshell: “I asked him. Steve said that with repeated incidents of racial discrimination on the field, especially the Boston incident last year where extreme Red Sox fans blatantly acted out in front of the hotel, Boston didn’t react. That convinced him to fight discrimination in his own way.”

Vardell was at a loss for words. Regardless of his personal thoughts, he knew some things were better left unsaid to avoid a huge backlash.

When he arrived at People’s office, he immediately watched the recording of Midnight Entertainment. The show had woven together three years of racial discrimination incidents in sports as a backdrop for Steve Nutt.

Steve Nutt’s image was elevated to near heroism, almost like he belonged in the Lincoln Memorial.

Vardell checked the online response. In less than half an hour since the show aired, Steve Nutt’s story was already trending.

Various sports and entertainment bloggers were resharing the story.

With years in the media industry, Vardell sensed something unusual but knew this story was set to explode—in a positive light.

He called Caroline again, “When can we get a photo of the child? I want it for the next magazine cover.”

…

In the parking lot of St. Joseph’s Hospital, Caroline stepped out of a red Mercedes and looked toward Hawk, standing by the car.

“It’s all set,” she said. “People’s stance is aligned with our expectations. But Vardell wants a photo as soon as possible.”

Hawk began walking toward the hospital, “Coordinate with the Nutts and the hospital.”

They hadn’t walked far before Caroline’s phone started buzzing. “Yes, I just arrived at St. Joseph’s. Check tomorrow’s announcement for specifics.”

“Another call from the media?” Hawk asked.

“Yes.” Caroline answered, as the phone rang again with another media inquiry.

For over an hour, Caroline’s phone rang nonstop as media outlets clamored for details.

Turning to traditional media, Hawk asked for her opinion. “What do you think?”

“Let the story simmer overnight,” Caroline replied. “By tomorrow, Steve will be on the front page of numerous entertainment and sports outlets. That’s when he should respond.”

“Agreed,” said Hawk after a moment’s thought.

When they entered the temporary office, Steve greeted Hawk with a fist bump. He was elated, his earlier anger and frustration replaced with excitement. “Man, you’re incredible. You’ve totally controlled the narrative.”

Hawk reminded him, “It’s a critical time. Watch your words and actions.”

Steve nodded eagerly and added, “My teammates and the team manager just called. They’re coming by tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect.” Hawk responded, “You’ve already moved the whole team. Next, we’ll win over California—and America.”

Steve chuckled.

Hawk turned to Caroline, “Let a news contact know the Dodgers will be visiting Steve and Daisy tomorrow morning.”

Caroline called another assistant in L.A. who’d already gone to bed, who then got up to call media contacts one by one.

That night, journalists from the Los Angeles Times, Sports Illustrated, Sporting News, and National Enquirer all received word that the Dodgers would visit Steve and Daisy at St. Joseph’s Hospital the next morning.

Though it was the middle of the night, media workers in the Los Angeles area knew they’d be pulling an all-nighter.

As others finally rested, Hawk stayed up monitoring the online response.

Steve’s story had hit the top of trending headlines.

With the anti-discrimination angle gaining momentum, the mainstream media’s stance was clear.

Hawk approached Caroline, “Stay up a bit longer and write a statement for Steve.”

Caroline stretched and teased, “It’s 1 a.m., country boy. Not letting me sleep?”

“I’ll stay up with you,” Hawk replied.

Caroline grabbed a pen and paper, “Theme?”

Hawk had been thinking, “Steve and his Black son. Explain the initial motivation for IVF, express his stance against discrimination, and his pride in having a Black son. Call on America to support the Black community.”

Caroline’s lips twitched as she jotted down the title: “My Black Son and Me.”

The draft took two hours, with Hawk reviewing and adjusting it several times, until it was nearly 3 a.m.

Since all other rooms were occupied, Hawk sat on the large sofa, ready to rest for a while.

Too tired to keep her eyes open, Caroline sat beside him and gave his shoulder a squeeze, “Mind if I borrow this?”

“Go ahead, little lamb,” Hawk replied, closing his eyes. “Like I told you before, however you want me, I’ll play along.”

Caroline slumped against him, “I’ll nap a bit. No funny business, country boy, or I’ve got a taser.”

“Don’t worry,” Hawk muttered. “I’m not into lambs.”

Without replying, Caroline quickly drifted off, even muttering “Baa, baa” in her sleep.

The next morning, St. Joseph’s Hospital became a media frenzy.

Hundreds of people nearly blocked the road.

Irvine’s police had to bring in additional officers to maintain order.

A large crowd of fans, holding huge posters of Dodgers players, gathered at the hospital entrance to show their support.

More than a hundred media reporters were packed on either side of the entrance.

Nearby, the number of TV broadcast trucks had increased from two to six.

When the Dodgers’ team vehicles arrived, the media went nearly wild, swarming the cars to take pictures and trying to get the players to step out for interviews.

At the start of summer break, Los Angeles saw its biggest news sensation since 2002.

(End of chapter)

Chapter 82: Fame and Connections

In the fifth-floor hallway, Hawk sat on a bench, watching Steve embrace his teammates one by one. They huddled together, excitedly talking, while Hawk sipped his coffee.

The short sleep last night didn’t bother him much.

The Dodgers' Black manager also showed up, first giving Steve some encouragement, then having a discussion with Caroline.

Edward returned with a coffee, sitting beside Hawk.

He had a unique perspective, saying, “Boss, nobody is paying attention to us. It’s like we’ve been forgotten.”

Hawk took a slow sip of his coffee, speaking softly, “Savior, do you know what a puppet on strings is?”

Edward thought for a moment, then pointed toward Steve and his teammates. “They’re the puppets, and we’re the ones holding the strings?”

As the group calmed down, Steve, Caroline, and Byers approached Hawk.

Byers said, “The team wants Steve to make a public statement with Wilson.”

“That’s fine,” Hawk replied, already having planned with Caroline and discussed it with Steve. “This morning, Steve and Daisy will head to the Agatha Fertility Center to show their gratitude.”

He turned to Caroline, “Have Amanda prepare the wheelchair; the doctor approved limited movement for Daisy.”

Caroline called Daisy over.

Hawk then addressed Byers, “There’s a hotel near the hospital. Rent their largest banquet hall and invite all the media and some fans to attend a press conference at 3 p.m.”

Byers nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

Hawk looked at Steve. “Get familiar with Caroline’s new statement; become a warrior and go fight.”

“I will,” Steve said, taking the statement and heading back to his room.

On a nearby table, newspapers that Byers had bought were scattered everywhere.

The front pages were filled with his images.

This was California, and headlines here were mostly in his favor.

“Steve Nat: A True Champion for Equality in Sports!”

“Facing Injustice, Steve Nat Speaks with Action.”

“Steve Nat Presents the Ideal New American Family for the Future.”

Even the conservative papers refrained from attacking him directly.

While equality hadn’t reached the later fervor of movements like Black Lives Matter, open racial discrimination was already rare in the new century.

Steve’s teammates decided to stay and support him at the press conference that afternoon.

Hawk found a quiet place and called Agatha, “Doctor, we’ll arrive at 10:30 this morning as planned.”

Agatha responded, “Everything is ready here.” She reminded him, “How’s the media coverage?”

Looking out the window, Hawk saw a crowd of reporters with cameras outside the hospital entrance. “I guarantee there will be over thirty outlets.”

Agatha chuckled. “Please send my regards to the Nat family.”

After hanging up, Hawk turned to Edward. “Savior, want to make some extra cash?”

A few minutes later, Edward borrowed a janitor’s uniform from the hospital, sneaked out a side door, and went around to the front.

Before he could even approach anyone, a reporter with a Sports Illustrated badge approached him.

The reporter asked, “Are you with the hospital?”

Edward tugged at his uniform. “I’m a janitor in the patient wing, and I just got some big news about Steve Nat.”

The reporter, looking to build sources, asked quickly, “What news?”

Edward flashed a grin with his bright white teeth.

“$100!” the reporter offered.

Edward held up five fingers.

After a moment’s hesitation, the reporter sighed, “Fine, $500.”

“I want cash,” Edward replied.

The reporter was prepared and handed over $500.

Lowering his voice, Edward said, “While I was cleaning, I overheard Steve Nat’s PR on the phone. He and his wife plan to visit the Agatha Fertility Center.”

Remembering last night’s news about Steve’s child being born through IVF, the reporter trusted the information, leaving Edward with both cash and his card before rushing to the center with his photographer and a car.

Edward quietly returned to the hospital, slipped out a different door, and found another reporter: “I have new information on Steve Nat.”

By 9:30, Edward had sold the story five times, pocketing a total of $2,300.

At 10:00, Hawk drove a van with Steve, Daisy, Caroline, and Amanda, exiting the hospital through the front entrance.

As planned, Steve lowered his window to thank the fans for their support.

Dozens of media vehicles followed the van in a grand procession to the Agatha Fertility Center.

Seeing this, Dr. Agatha was overjoyed, welcoming Steve and Daisy herself.

There wasn’t much to say; she quickly had photos taken with the couple. After only about fifteen minutes, Steve and Daisy said their goodbyes.

As soon as they left, Agatha followed Hawk’s suggestion and ordered the photo to be turned into a large framed portrait to be hung prominently in the lobby.

She instructed security and reception, “If reporters come in to take photos, pretend you didn’t see them.”

Although Steve and Daisy had left, the media stayed, allowing Agatha to give interviews, openly supporting Steve and Daisy while boosting her own reputation.

In just half a day, the Agatha Fertility Center’s name had spread nationwide.

At lunchtime, Hawk received a call from Agatha.

“I’m very pleased with your arrangement, Mr. Hawk Osmond. If you ever want to have an IVF treatment, come to me, free of charge.”

Hawk could only reply with, “Thank you.”

Putting away his phone, he asked Caroline, “Did the news of the press conference get out?”

“It’s out. Over sixty media outlets will be attending,” she confirmed.

“The impact is growing,” Hawk noted.

Caroline, monitoring media trends, said, “It’s the hottest topic right now.”

Hawk asked, “No issues with The Late Night Entertainment show?”

“They agreed.” Caroline then asked, “Why that show? Did Megan Taylor get you into bed?”

Hawk’s face remained unchanged. “Because it has the highest ratings among entertainment shows.”

Around 3 p.m., Edward drove the van with Steve, Wilson, and Caroline to the hotel’s main entrance.

Hundreds of fans awaited nearby, wearing Dodgers caps, holding large posters of Steve, and chanting team slogans.

Steve, Wilson, and Caroline barely made it through the crowd into the hotel entrance.

When the crowd thinned out, Hawk entered alone, accompanied by Byers, finding a spot to sit in the back of the banquet hall.

Inside, over a hundred reporters gathered, including those from Channel 11 and Channel 9, with live broadcast cameras set up.

“This started as a huge crisis,” Byers, who wasn’t the most skilled agent, said with admiration. “Now, not only has it been resolved, but Steve’s popularity has soared.”

Hawk handed him his studio’s business card. “If any other clients on your side need help, they can always call me.”

Whether in entertainment or sports, scandals are always around. Byers took the card with a nod, “We’ll collaborate in the future.”

Cheers erupted in the room.

Steve had entered, accompanied by his teammates.

Facing the media and fan representatives, Steve delivered a speech titled “My Black Son and Me.”

He shared the story of the IVF process, the injustices his Black teammates faced, and passionately declared:

“Black people are as important as white people; they are part of America. Black people are just as much a part of this country’s future. We must not demonize our own... Just yesterday, I became a father to a Black son. My new family will thrive, and countless families like mine will make this country even greater!”

Steve’s teammates clapped vigorously.

The fans and media representatives applauded wildly.

Even at this time, California had plenty of progressive supporters.

Surrounded by applause, Steve’s advocacy for a new type of family made him feel like a hero.

In that moment, Steve resolved to embrace his role as an equality advocate.

As the press conference neared its end, NAACP leader Sesco arrived, embracing Steve on stage. Their hands, one Black and one white, clasped together and raised high.

At that moment, no one cared about the details of how Steve’s Black child had come to be.

The next day, with the doctor’s permission, People magazine’s Deputy Editor-in-Chief, Waddell, led a professional photography team to St. Joseph’s Hospital to shoot a family portrait of Steve, Daisy, and their child.

Normally, newborns aren’t photographed at such a young age.

But Steve Nat and People magazine didn’t want to miss the moment’s momentum.

This family portrait would grace the next issue’s cover.

Privately, Waddell approached Caroline. “This feels different. I don’t know exactly what happened, but this isn’t typical of your full-speed PR firm’s style.”

Caroline forced a smile. “Sorry, I can’t tell you much.”

Unsurprised, Waddell replied, “Introduce me to the man in charge, at least.”

Caroline took out her phone, calling Hawk, then brought Waddell to the temporary office.

She introduced them, “This is Hawk Osmond, founder of the West Coast Media Entertainment Studio. And this is Waddell Bell, Deputy Editor-in-Chief of People magazine.”

Hawk shook Waddell’s hand, handing him his card.

To his surprise, Waddell said, “I’ve heard of you… Oh right, Cynthia from Fox 11.”

Hawk also took Waddell’s card. Through careful media work, he had gained not only money but also fame and connections.

End of Chapter

*Chapter 83: Conflict Everywhere*

*Fox Building, Fox News Channel 11.*

*Producer's Office*

Megan Taylor closed the copy of People in her hand and glanced again at the cover featuring a family of three. She said to Hawk beside her, “The sports world is riding a wave of anti-discrimination. Last week, several MLB games displayed anti-discrimination slogans on-site.”

Hawk stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. “I just wanted to divert attention a bit and gave it a push.”

Megan looked downstairs. Steve, Daisy, and Wilson had already gotten out of the car and were preparing to enter the Fox Building but were blocked by a large crowd.

It wasn't just fans; there were also several zealots from equality organizations, many of whom were white.

In terms of public impact, this incident had a far greater effect on the white community in California than on African Americans.

Once inside the building, Megan said, “Let’s go.”

Hawk followed her out of the office. They waited briefly at the entrance of the production office area, and Caroline and Biles came around with the three others.

Steve quickly stepped forward, lightly patted Hawk, and said, “Good news—I just secured a new endorsement.”

“Congratulations.” Hawk then introduced both sides.

Caroline took the three to discuss the show’s workflow with Megan.

Biles stayed behind.

Hawk led Biles to the reception area. At Midnight Entertainment, it felt just like his own studio.

“I need to ask you something,” Hawk said directly. “When are you going to pay the remaining $400,000?”

Biles looked somewhat surprised. “Haven’t you paid it yet?”

Hawk just smiled at him.

Biles realized things were not looking good. Delaying their payment was definitely not a wise choice.

He had witnessed firsthand how this person manipulated public opinion.

“Hold on a moment.” Biles left the reception area to find Steve.

Hawk waited for about five minutes before Biles returned from outside.

“Steve had the accountant pay you the remaining fees the day after the People photoshoot,” Biles explained as best he could. “But Daisy thought the photoshoot was moved up and insisted on paying according to the original schedule. She privately called the accountant...”

He knew where the problem lay: “Steve called the accountant again.”

Hawk nodded slightly. Before long, the bank manager handling their account called to inform him that a $400,000 deposit had been made to the studio account.

Biles went to the studio to accompany the client.

The reception door was pushed open from the outside, and Caroline walked in briskly, plopping down on the sofa and saying, “This woman is really difficult.”

She asked Hawk, “Every time you release a news story, does she drive the price down badly?”

Hawk put his phone away. “On the contrary, I always ask for a high price.”

Caroline had done similar work before and quickly understood. “You’re getting top headlines each time. This type of news is a seller’s market. There are so many media outlets in Los Angeles; there’s no shortage of buyers.”

Hawk said, “So you’re smarter than a lamb.”

Caroline’s face darkened, but she held back. “Next time there’s a chance, we can create news together.”

“By the way, Steve’s commission has been credited. I’ll transfer you $60,000 tomorrow.” Hawk baited Caroline first, then added, “Collaboration is possible. Opportunities will come to you.”

Thinking of the $60,000, Caroline readily agreed, “No problem.”

Hawk had already figured out Miss Mie's weak point.

………………

*Upstairs, Director's Office of Channel 11.*

Due to the explosive ratings of Midnight Entertainment, there was another big show tonight. Director Cynthia Rosberg chose to take the day off and come to the station in the evening.

Keeping track of time, she turned on the office television.

There was a knock on the office door, and a blonde woman in her thirties entered.

Cynthia looked at the female news anchor on Channel 11 and asked, “Grechyn, what brings you here?”

Grechyn was the producer and anchor of Channel 11’s prime-time show Top News. She pointed to the TV. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Cynthia invited her to sit.

Midnight Entertainment was airing, reviewing the Steve incident.

Grechyn smiled and said, “This kind of news would have a better effect in prime time, don’t you think?”

Cynthia immediately understood what she meant. “The news channel was developed by Megan, not given by me.”

Grechyn was Channel 11’s top female anchor with some influence. “This kind of hot news would perform better in prime time. It would have a more significant impact on the entire channel’s ratings.”

Cynthia, skilled in the art of balance, knew that Megan was also a tool she could use. “We’re in this business by the rules. Even I can’t force Megan to give up her news sources.”

Grechyn internally vented countless times, thinking that when needed, they talk about the rules, but when not, they become the rules.

But having reached this point, she had no power to argue with the director and had to watch Midnight Entertainment with Cynthia.

The three quirky figures who created the “Black Kids” story took the stage, and the show’s ratings skyrocketed like a rocket.

Women, especially those directly competing with anchors, have strong jealousy. Grechyn held back for a while but couldn’t resist watching for long and decided to leave on her own.

Outside the director’s office, she saw Cynthia’s assistant on one side and approached her. “Are you free this weekend? Let’s go shopping; Burberry just released new items.”

The assistant understood. If someone was offering gifts, she wouldn’t refuse. “Sure.”

Grechyn lowered her voice. “Do you know much about the West Coast Studio? Have you seen Hawk Osmon?”

The assistant leaned closer. “All of Megan’s recent hot news has been provided by the West Coast Studio.”

Grechyn was familiar with it.

The assistant whispered, “It seems he’s at the Midnight Entertainment production team tonight.”

“Thanks.” Grechyn walked out, took out her phone, and sent a text message.

Soon, a reply came back: “He’s wearing a gray tailored business suit, has short black hair, and is about six feet tall.”

Grechyn took the elevator down directly to the lobby, found a spot where she could observe the elevator area, and waited patiently.

………………

*The Midnight Entertainment show successfully ended, and the audience erupted in enthusiastic applause.*

Daisy was the first to leave the studio and headed toward the ladies’ makeup room.

Outside the studio, Edward saw her back and said to Hawk, “Boss, wait for me a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Hawk waved casually.

Steve and Wilson came out one after the other.

Hawk waved to them but didn’t approach.

After this show, the contracts between both sides officially ended.

Megan also came out, visibly in a good mood, her face beautifully made up with a smile. She stopped beside Hawk and said, “This incident started with Channel 11 and ended with Channel 11. Perfect.”

Hawk was always straightforward. “Since it’s so perfect, how about the production team gives me an extra $150,000?”

Megan’s smile instantly vanished. “The last party was postponed to this weekend because your news was busy. Do you have time?”

Hawk repeated his usual line. “Confirm the time and place, and call me.”

Megan went to remove her makeup.

Hawk had nothing else to do. He waited until Edward returned and went down to the elevator area.

The two sat in the elevator. Hawk curiously asked, “What did you go do?”

Edward said, “I got Daisy’s contact information. She seems to like black men and gladly gave me a business card.”

Hawk was surprised. “When did you start liking married women?”

“No, I’m not interested in married women,” Edward analyzed for Hawk. “Boss, look, Daisy and Steve are definitely going to divorce in the future. When that happens, Daisy will become a single mother with a child, right?”

Hawk could only admire, “You have a long-term perspective.”

They exited the elevator and were about to leave Fox.

A blonde woman walked briskly from the side alley and appeared in front of Hawk, proactively greeting him, “Hawk Osmon?”

Hawk quickly sized her up. The woman was in her thirties, tall and mature, dressed in a typical Fox female anchor’s short skirt, stockings, and high heels. Perhaps due to her makeup, she had an intellectual beauty about her.

He frequented the Fox News Center and, although he hadn’t met her in person, he knew who she was.

Grechyn smiled and motioned to a lounge area on one side of the lobby. “Can we talk alone for a bit?”

Hawk waved to Edward and followed Grechyn to sit down in the lounge.

Grechyn went straight to the point. “You probably know me. I’m the anchor and producer of Top News. If you have hot news, you can come directly to me.”

Hawk was certainly open to having an additional news outlet for selling stories. “I only handle hot news, so the prices are high.”

“Your news appearing on my show isn’t just about the money,” Grechyn skillfully highlighted her advantage. “Broadcasting news during prime time versus late-night gossip slots has completely different implications for the studio’s development.”

Hawk said, “My news might be more gossip-oriented.”

Grechyn replied, “News like Steve Natt’s can also headline on my show.”

She took out a business card with her name and phone number and handed it to Hawk. “For major news, feel free to contact me. Don’t worry about the price.”

Hawk put it away and gave her a business card in return, promoting his services. “Besides news, my studio also offers PR consulting. If you or anyone you know needs it, feel free to call me.”

This caught Grechyn off guard. She paused for a moment, connecting it with Steve’s news, and vaguely guessed, “I’ll call you if needed.”

Hawk bid farewell, rejoined Edward, and went out to get in the car and leave.

Grechyn stared towards the elevator entrance. Earlier, she had seen Claire escorting Steve and the others out.

She smiled and nodded at Claire, picked up her handbag, and walked toward the main entrance.

Grechyn deliberately chose the busy lobby, wanting Megan to know that she was Channel 11’s top anchor with easily accessible resources.

Claire saw Grechyn meeting with Hawk, turned around, and took the elevator back upstairs.

Over the past month, all the hottest news on Midnight Entertainment had been provided by Hawk.

Claire knocked on the door and entered Megan’s makeup room. She saw that Megan had already removed her makeup and waved to the makeup artist, who quickly left.

She closed the door and said to Megan, “Grechyn just approached Hawk.”

Megan tied her flowing hair back and calmly replied, “I understand.”

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 84: Special Treatment in Prison*

After a few busy days, Hawk finally gave Edward some time off and decided to treat himself to a rare lazy morning. But just as the sun began to rise, someone started pounding on his door downstairs.

Hawk pulled on some shorts, threw on a T-shirt, and looked out the window from the second floor.

Outside stood old man Frank, looking like a beggar with his ashtray full of coins in hand, banging on the door with determination.

"Give me a few minutes!" Hawk shouted down.

Frank responded by flipping him off.

Hawk quickly washed up, went downstairs to open the door, and pulled a dime out of his pocket, dropping it into Frank's ashtray. "Here, there’s your money."

Ignoring him, Frank pushed his way inside, set down the ashtray, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and cracked it open with a satisfied sigh.

Hawk raised an eyebrow. "What’s with the early morning door pounding? Something up?"

"Hadn’t seen you in a few days. No morning jogs, lights off at night," Frank said, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a sausage Hawk had just bought the day before. He plopped down on the couch, tore open the sausage, and continued, "I figured some punk might've offed you. Thought I’d check in case I needed to call a hearse."

Hawk snatched the sausage from him. "Well, thanks for the concern." He pressed a few buttons on the console next to the couch. "How about I activate the electric shock in the sofa?"

Frank sprang up instantly. "I was just trying to be a good friend!"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Thanks," Hawk replied, tossing the sausage back. "I was busy on a job out in Orange County for a bit."

Frank took a bite and said, "Why does everything in your fridge taste better?"

"Because it’s free," Hawk said with a smirk.

"Good point." Frank found a bag, opened the fridge again, and started filling it with beer, sausages, and other food. "Don’t zap the sofa—I’m not abusing your generosity."

Frank changed the topic as he stocked up. "By the way, the four punks who trashed your studio were just sentenced—three to five years each for burglary, property damage, and illegal firearm possession."

Hawk was a bit surprised. "That process went fast."

Frank grinned. "Who do you think’s been keeping an eye on things?"

Hawk had heard that some cases in California could get fast-tracked, but this was even quicker than usual.

"Their assets are also being auctioned off," Frank added. "You’ll probably get around $35,000 in compensation."

Hawk nodded. "When the money comes in, I’ll buy a new RV for you to use."

"Just list it under your studio’s name for tax purposes," Frank said without hesitation. "Can’t have any assets in my name."

Hawk’s phone rang. It was Caroline. "Didn’t you say I’d get my cut today?"

"I remember," Hawk checked the time. "See you at 10 at the Century City Bank."

With the fridge empty again, he had a good reason to go out and restock.

As Frank left with his full bag, he paused at the door. "Haven’t seen that LAPD chick around lately?"

Hawk replied, "Erika’s in New York, attending some event."

Frank finally headed out.

Hawk changed clothes and drove to Century City.

A little before 10, he spotted Caroline outside the bank. She was dressed in a white Chanel skirt, carrying a Hermès bag, and walking confidently in red heels.

She took off her sunglasses as she approached. "Sixty grand," she reminded him.

Hawk invited her inside, where they met with the bank’s business manager, completed the transfer in a VIP room, and left.

"Let me buy you a coffee," Caroline said outside.

"Sure," Hawk agreed.

They headed to a nearby café, each ordering a coffee. Caroline stirred hers slowly. "Had to leave in a rush last night. Steve’s out of commission right now, but he asked me to thank you on his behalf."

Hawk kept it professional. "I’m just doing my job."

Caroline sighed. "No telling when we’ll get another big payday like this."

"That’s on you to find the next opportunity," Hawk reminded her.

Caroline looked frustrated. "When you’re broke, it’s stressful. When you’re loaded, somehow there’s even more to worry about."

"You’re overthinking it," Hawk sipped his coffee. "When you’re hungry, you only have one problem. But once you’re full, a hundred more show up. Just comes with the territory."

"Country bumpkin. You wouldn’t understand finer aspirations," she huffed, leaving cash on the table as she stood up. "My treat, bye."

Hawk watched her leave, then finished his coffee leisurely.

Caroline climbed into her red Mercedes and headed toward Rodeo Drive, parking outside the Hermès store.

With her chin held high, she went in. "Where’s the new limited-edition bags?" she asked the sales associate.

"Miss Jones, you don’t have enough purchase history for those yet," the associate replied with a smile.

Caroline flashed a confident grin. "I’m here to shop.”

The associate became even more enthusiastic. "Right this way."

With the fresh $60,000 in her bank account, Caroline had plenty of spending power.

After nearly an hour, the associate helped her load four shopping bags into her car. Caroline then made stops at Chanel and Cartier, shopping with newfound freedom.

High-end living, after all, requires a lot of cash.

Meanwhile, Hawk left the café and called Johnson. "Got time to hit the Atterhill shooting range?"

"Tomorrow works better," Johnson replied.

"Sounds good, tomorrow." Hawk then called Edward.

"Boss, I need to hold off on the firearms license classes. Got something important going on here."

"No problem. Handle your business," Hawk replied.

...

*Brentwood School, a private elementary school.*

Edward was tailing a Bentley as it pulled up at the school entrance. Deborah parked, got out, and helped her son with his backpack. "Be good, I’ll pick you up after school."

Her son stayed silent, entering the school alone.

Not long after, the boy sneaked out with his backpack and started walking along the sidewalk.

Edward followed at a distance.

The boy reached Brentwood Park, walked down a gravel path to the lake, picked up stones, and began throwing them into the water with obvious frustration. After a while, he took off his shoes, sat on the granite edge, and dipped his feet in the lake.

Seeing his chance, Edward approached. "Hey, hey, don’t play in the water here. It’s dangerous."

The boy struggled against him. "Leave me alone!"

Edward noticed the abandoned backpack. "Where are your parents? You ditching school?"

"It’s none of your business," the boy snapped.

"Tell me your parents’ number," Edward said sternly. "Or I’ll call the school—or the police."

He picked up a flat stone and skipped it across the water. It bounced seven or eight times.

The boy’s eyes widened. "Wow, you’re good at that!"

"Want to learn?" Edward asked.

The boy nodded eagerly.

"Tell me your name and your parent’s number," Edward coaxed.

"I’m Indio Downey. Promise you’ll teach me?"

"I promise."

Edward called the number Indio gave him. "Hello, ma’am, I’m by the lake at Brentwood Park with your son, Indio."

About ten minutes later, Deborah arrived, finding her son happily skipping stones with a friendly stranger. She paused; Indio hadn’t looked this happy since his father’s passing.

Edward noticed her, gave Indio a pat on the shoulder, and nodded in her direction.

Indio’s smile faded as he picked up his backpack and walked toward her.

"Thank you for calling," Deborah said, stopping Edward.

"No problem. I happened to be here and saw him by the water."

Indio tugged her sleeve. "Can I stay a little longer? He promised to teach me, and I haven’t learned yet."

Deborah hadn’t seen her son this happy in a long time and nodded slightly. She looked at Edward. "Sir, would you mind staying a bit?"

Edward agreed. "A promise is a promise."

As they spent time skipping stones, Edward and Deborah grew comfortable, exchanging numbers before they left. Indio asked Edward to come back on the weekend, and Deborah, seeing her son’s joy, agreed.

Edward had taken a promising first step.

...

*Santa Clara County Jail, San Jose.*

Covered in tattoos, Henry exited the visitation area and climbed into a waiting Jeep Cherokee.

"How’s Luis and the guys doing in there?" asked Pedro, his younger companion.

Henry buckled his seatbelt. "They’re getting ‘special treatment.’"

Pedro misinterpreted. "Oh, so they’re fine?"

"The West Coast Studio’s got serious LAPD connections," Henry sighed. "Luis and the others are each sharing cells with Black inmates who don’t take kindly to strangers."

He hit the car door in frustration. "Every night, two of them are getting a ‘special welcome.’"

Pedro’s eyes widened. "Dear God!"

Henry nodded. "Let’s get back to L.A. Also, make sure their families get some cash. Luis and the others took all the blame—kept the gang out of it."

As Pedro started the car, he asked, "Shouldn’t we get them justice?"

"Justice?" Henry scoffed. "West Coast Studio and

*Chapter 85: Sealing the Valve with Glue, Blocking the Exhaust Pipe with a Steel Wool Ball*

At the Sattel Mountain Shooting Range, on the outdoor training grounds.

A red soda can was hanging below a horizontal bar. Hawk stood about 20 meters away, pulled back his recently purchased slingshot, and shot a steel ball without much aim.

With a crisp clink, the empty can dented.

"Nice!" Johnson cheered, grabbing a steel ball and loading it into his own slingshot. He pulled the band back and let it fly, but the can didn’t even move.

Hawk pulled out several steel balls, rapidly firing, tearing the can apart.

Johnson shook his head, then picked up a shotgun nearby. "This one’s more my style."

Hawk stepped aside as Johnson took aim and fired with both hands. Bang! The can was blasted off the bar with a puff of smoke.

Hawk packed up his slingshot and reached for a handgun on the table, aimed at another can, and pulled the trigger.

When the bullets were spent, only the top of the can was left.

Johnson couldn't help but say, "Great shot, great skill. I really want to hire you as a coach. The next role I’m aiming for involves some serious gunplay."

Hawk ejected the magazine, reloaded, and replied, "My fees are high."

"I know." Johnson pointed southeast. "That incident at St. Joseph’s Hospital? That must’ve been worth at least a few hundred thousand, right?"

Having helped Johnson with a covert job before, Hawk wasn’t surprised he could guess. He just smiled.

"You’re really sharp when it comes to managing an image," Johnson said seriously. "Hawk, don’t worry about what others think—just from your own perspective, what do you think suits me best?"

Hawk replied, "I’m an outsider when it comes to filmmaking, so this is just my personal take."

He thought carefully. "Dwayne, you’re a big guy, naturally suited for action roles. But unlike Stallone or Schwarzenegger, you have a genuinely friendly look when you smile. There’s a natural humor there, so I think action-comedy suits you best."

Johnson considered this. "Action-comedy? Like Jackie Chan?"

After a moment of thought, Hawk said, "You can borrow some humor elements from him, but as for action, no—Jackie Chan’s style is unique. You’re better suited for direct confrontations."

Johnson nodded in agreement. "Anything else?"

Hawk was honest: "I wouldn’t know more than that. This isn’t my expertise."

They put away their guns and slingshots and started walking back.

As they walked, Johnson said, "I’ll be competing for a lead role as a gun expert soon. The success of The Scorpion King has given me some leverage, but that’s not enough. Hollywood’s cutthroat. If it comes to it, I might need your help."

Hawk immediately thought of underhanded tactics like ambushing rivals or spiking their drinks.

"Call me anytime," Hawk said, not one to turn down a job. "Can you tell me what film it is?"

Johnson shook his head. "Not yet. I’m under a confidentiality agreement."

He did reveal a little. "It’s a cop action flick."

Later, at an indoor shooting range...

---

West Los Angeles. A BMW 7 Series pulled onto Manning Road and parked along the curb.

Megan stepped out with her handbag and entered a nearby styling studio. A female stylist was already waiting, leading her into the VIP room to do her hair.

Across the street, a young white man, Pedro, emerged from an alley, crossed the narrow street, and headed toward the studio.

After returning from Santa Clara yesterday, he had staked out at the Fox Television Center, waiting for Megan Taylor to appear.

Though he didn't dare attack her, he memorized her car and license plate.

Even if he couldn’t confront her, he could at least get some revenge for his friend. Their exposure on Midnight Entertainment had contributed heavily to the harsh sentences handed down to Luis and the others.

Pedro quickened his pace. As he neared the BMW, he swiftly took out three keys, held them between his fingers, and scraped them along the car's side.

The grating sound cut through the air as he scratched from the rear, across the doors, all the way to the front.

Pedro looked around. No one seemed to notice.

He moved to the other side and repeated the act.

Now, the once-shiny car paint on both sides of the BMW was marred with six deep scratches.

Pocketing the keys, Pedro quickly walked back, whistling happily as he returned to his car in the alley. As he drove off, he laughed, his grin stretching wide.

To Pedro, this act proved he was the loyal friend Luis could rely on.

Back on Manning Road.

A while later, Megan emerged from the studio, feeling great with her freshly styled hair.

Recently, Midnight Entertainment had topped Channel 11’s ratings, even beating prime-time shows like News King.

But Megan's mood soured the moment she saw her car. The BMW she had bought earlier this year was now scarred with deep scratches, revealing the metal beneath the paint.

Megan immediately took out the pepper spray Hawk had given her, backed up to the studio’s entrance, and looked around.

No one suspicious was in sight.

Studio staff rushed over to assist their VIP client, and Megan called the police.

However, with no security cameras nearby, the LAPD couldn’t find any suspects. Megan relayed her suspicions based on what Hawk had told her.

Fox sent representatives immediately to speak with the LAPD, taking the incident seriously. For a network like Fox, addressing this kind of issue was crucial, especially for their reporters' credibility.

---

As night fell, Hawk parked his Mondeo by the roadside, where it would be visible on a security camera he’d discreetly installed.

He grabbed his bags and entered the house.

When he turned on the lights, he saw a figure sitting in the dark.

Hawk instinctively reached for his gun.

Edward, just waking up, dove to the floor, shouting, "Boss, don’t shoot! It’s me!"

Hawk put away the gun. "Why didn’t you make a sound when I opened the door?"

Edward got up quickly. "I was asleep. I just opened my eyes when you came in."

Hawk put down his bags and asked, "Did you find anything today?"

Edward shook his head. "Got three tips, paid $60, but nothing worthwhile."

Recalling a weekend plan, he requested, "Boss, I’m off Saturday. Got plans with Indio Downey over at Brentwood Park..."

Hawk raised an eyebrow. "Robert Downey Jr.'s son?"

"Yep," Edward replied, summarizing yesterday’s events. "I’m making headway."

"Go ahead." Hawk generously gave him the day off.

Edward hesitated, then quietly asked, "Boss... Can I crash here tonight?"

Hawk studied him and asked, "Things with Nicole are already over?"

Edward looked up at the ceiling, feigning heartbreak. "Love comes fast and leaves even faster."

Hawk handed him a beer. "Don’t wallow."

Edward took a sip and perked up. "I won’t. I already have a new goal."

Then, in a knowing tone, he advised, "Boss, take my word for it. Don’t stick to one woman too long. Believe me, the next one’s always better."

Hawk laughed, giving him a thumbs-up. "I believe you."

The conversation and lights attracted Frank, who joined them. Hawk brought out snacks and beer, and the three chatted and joked until 11.

When Frank was satisfied, he took two more beers and staggered out.

Hawk closed the door, activated the nighttime security, and went upstairs to shower.

Edward turned in early, shutting off his light.

Hawk glanced out the window. In the parking lot across the street, Frank’s van was still lit.

Hawk grabbed his slingshot, debating a shot at Frank’s van window, but the distance was too far. The steel ball hit the ground.

Too late for target practice, Hawk set down the slingshot and turned off the lights.

In a beat-up car parked on Fountain Street, Pedro watched as the West Coast Studio went dark. Finally, he had his chance.

Pedro took out superglue and a bag of steel wool balls, which he stuffed in his pocket.

Though he was too scared to mess with the studio itself—his friends had warned him about the place—he figured he could at least target the Mondeo.

After waiting a while, once even the streetlights dimmed, Pedro got out of his car. The street was deserted.

Hunched over, he hurried to the Mondeo, applied superglue to the tire valve, and moved to the back, pulling out the steel wool.

Holding onto the bumper for balance, he shoved the steel wool into the exhaust pipe.

The car shook slightly, and the alarm blared.

Pedro cursed under his breath. This psycho installed an alarm!

He ran.

The blaring alarm instantly woke Hawk. He jumped out of bed and saw a figure running away.

He opened the window, loaded his slingshot with a steel ball, and fired.

The steel ball struck Pedro in the neck. Pedro staggered, turning at the sound of another shot. A fresh pain bloomed on his forehead.

Pedro dropped, dazed and bleeding.

Just then, Edward burst into the room. "Boss?"

Hawk pointed downstairs.

Edward grabbed a bat and ran down.

Hawk took a gun from the bedside and shouted outside, “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.”

Pedro held his head, turned to glance back, and under the moonlight, saw the dark barrel of a gun pointed at him. He immediately raised his hands.

(End of Chapter)