71-75

Chapter 71: Destroying Careers, Destroying Families

*Hollywood Division*, under the management of the Los Angeles West Division, took four suspects into custody after they received emergency medical attention. Hawk, Edward, Eric, and Frank, as involved parties, also headed to the station.

The police obtained copies of internal and external surveillance footage. Hawk, well-known at the West Division, and Frank even made a call, so everything proceeded smoothly. An internal affairs officer recognized Hawk and secretly phoned Erica.

After finishing his statement, Hawk exited the office to find Erica waiting outside.

“Aren't you on patrol?” Hawk asked, noticing her fully geared-up uniform and a promotion insignia.

Erica explained, “A colleague who knows you saw you were brought in and called me. I was worried something happened to you, so I hurried back to check.”

She asked with concern, “What happened?”

“It’s probably due to my recent news story,” Hawk said casually. “A few gang members broke into my studio, attempting to steal.”

Erica raised an eyebrow. “Did you wire up your safe?”

Frank chimed in, “Not just that—he also feared the thieves might wear gloves, so he installed steel spikes in the safe.”

Erica was at a loss for words.

Hawk shrugged. “Who puts valuables in a safe? Having a safe just invites people to steal, so of course, you need to take necessary precautions.”

Frank chuckled, “You’re a genius. The safe company should hire you as a designer.”

Ignoring the old man, Hawk turned to Erica. “Those four burglars were likely acting under someone’s orders. Could you keep an eye out and help trace the mastermind?”

“I’ll ask around.” Erica walked away quickly, returning shortly to share, “All four have criminal records, but they’re tight-lipped about who sent them. It might take some time.”

“I told the officer during my statement that I suspect Miller Collins is involved,” Hawk said directly.

Erica noted, “The gang they belong to is the ‘Shorties’—all white members. Be careful.”

“I will,” Hawk replied.

Seeing her partner, Julian, appear, Erica checked her watch. “I have to go back on patrol,” she said.

“Take care,” Hawk told her.

Erica flashed a smile before leaving.

Once she was gone, Frank leaned in and commented quietly, “That watch of hers seems pretty pricey.”

“If you don’t keep your eyes open, I won’t assume you’re blind,” Hawk retorted, then waited a moment until Edward finally came out.

The officer in charge had a brief chat with the group, emphasizing that they’d handle the matter quickly and strictly. He also had Hawk list his damages for later compensation.

Thinking Hawk lacked experience, Frank took over, filling out the form with exaggerated values—like changing a toy camera to a high-end digital camera.

Those thugs were going to jail.

It was past 8 p.m. when they left the West Division. Getting into the car, Hawk told Edward, “Head to the Fox Television Center.”

Frank immediately guessed, “You’re planning to sell the surveillance footage?”

“They broke into my studio, damaged my camera model, and used up my electricity. I need to make up for my losses,” Hawk replied.

Frank suspected that one day, this guy would sell his own story to the news.

At the Fox building, Hawk took his laptop upstairs alone. He entered the Midnight Entertainment office, where he saw Megan Taylor in a heated argument.

“This news story has to be pulled.” The short-haired woman’s tone was serious. “Miller Collins is a spokesperson for three of our advertisers, and airing this could cause substantial financial loss for the company.”

Megan, however, was calm. “An hour ago, I followed protocol and contacted all three companies via email and phone.”

She knew why the woman was here and kept her cool. “Director Cynthia approved the publication.”

“Don’t use Director Cynthia as a shield,” the woman retorted.

Megan cut her off, “Jessica, we’re Channel 11 of the Fox Network. Do you think Fox would bow down to a few advertisers?”

Jessica realized her efforts had failed and, without further argument, walked off, calling someone as she reached a deserted corridor. “Sorry, I couldn’t stop it. Fox has already queued it for release unless you can get to Cynthia Rosenberg or Al Rogers.”

In the newsroom, Megan noticed Hawk, slightly surprised. “You’re here again? Or did something come up?”

Hawk raised his laptop. “Private chat?”

Megan led him to her office.

“A little over an hour ago, my studio was attacked,” Hawk explained as he sat on the guest sofa, showing Megan the footage while recounting the incident.

Megan watched intently as the surveillance video played, with the studio’s sign blurred but everything else in full view. When two intruders collapsed, Megan was baffled. “What happened?”

“I electrified the safe and the shelves,” Hawk explained simply.

“Did you anticipate their break-in?” Megan asked.

“You’re in the news business. You know better than I do how far high-end business deals and elite PR tactics can go,” Hawk replied thoughtfully.

Megan was genuinely impressed. “You even turned your own studio into news material.”

“They’re infringing on press freedom!” Hawk argued passionately. “Journalists get footage of Miller Collins, then gang members storm the journalist’s studio. If that’s not linked to Miller, no one would believe it.”

“I need celebrity crime news, and here it is!” he added.

Megan shared his mindset. After watching the footage, she said, “There’s no proof tying the two events, but I can frame it to suggest a connection. The audience will likely connect the dots.”

“So,” Hawk leaned in, “$30,000 for this celebrity crime news footage—fair?”

“I’ll give you $10,000 tops,” Megan countered without hesitation.

“Deal,” Hawk replied.

As Megan made a call for a storage drive and the contract, Hawk asked, “Did you notify the advertisers?”

“It’s standard protocol,” she answered. “A bit of pushback, but I can handle it. Go home and watch the news.”

With the contract signed and a $10,000 check in hand, Hawk rode the elevator down.

Upon reaching the first floor, he ran into Caroline Jones. “Long time no see, Miss Lamb,” he greeted.

“Hillbilly,” Caroline replied.

Suddenly, Hawk wondered if she might be handling Miller Collins’ PR. “What brings you here?”

“Escorting a client to a late-night show,” she replied, pausing to hold the elevator door as people arrived.

“Goodbye,” Hawk said, spotting a couple walking in. The man was tall and handsome, the woman was stunning and visibly pregnant, looking ready to deliver.

Caroline glared back at Hawk, who mouthed “baaa,” making her face darken.

Hawk, now in high spirits, exited the Fox building lightly.

---

*Santa Monica, Palisades*

The fax machine hummed, unsettling Miller Collins. Downing a glass of whiskey, he poured himself another.

Finally, the noise stopped. His agent picked up the faxes, skimming them with a grim expression before handing them over. “The four brands you endorsed—razors, condoms, sports drinks, and men’s underwear—all sent termination notices via your agency.”

They had put in considerable effort, but the damage was done. If Miller were the victim, it’d be manageable. Unfortunately, he was the one actively courting trouble.

Rapidly flipping through the pages, Miller demanded, “How could this happen?”

The agent explained, “We tried our best, but that jerk immediately sold the footage to Fox. They notified the brands per protocol.”

Having made countless calls, the agent raised his voice, “It’s Fox! Your agency and PR firm can’t take on Fox.”

Feeling like a death row inmate awaiting execution, Miller muttered, “Fox… Fox…”

Outside, a car pulled up, and Henry quickly came in, telling Miller, “The men I sent lost contact. I found out they were arrested by the West Division, which has strong ties to that West Coast studio.”

Desperate, Miller grabbed Henry’s arm. “The footage is at Fox. Get it back! I need it!”

Henry chuckled. “That’s Fox! What do you want me to do? Storm in with guns?”

The PR advisor reminded Miller, “From the moment the footage went to Fox, this went out of our control. I suggest you focus on managing the fallout.”

His agent added, “The sponsors know, so the team will soon find out. You should speak to them before the story airs.”

Miller was distraught. “What about my $10 million contract?”

The agent further advised, “A legal team is essential. The brands will likely shift their losses onto you and file breach-of-contract lawsuits.”

It hit Miller that he might actually go bankrupt.

He grabbed the whiskey bottle, downing a few swigs, but Henry stopped him.

“Think of Maria and Dorothy,” he urged. “If they find out, what will they do?”

The bottle slipped from Miller’s grasp, shattering.

He rushed out in a frenzy, ignoring the shouts behind him as he sped away, gripping the wheel.

Those bastards were set to destroy his career, his family.

Chapter 72: Ability and Ambition

In the region where West Los Angeles borders Santa Monica, on Wilshire Boulevard, a sudden heated argument broke out in a street-facing single-family home. Shouts from both a man and a woman echoed through the neighborhood. Amid the sounds of breaking objects, Miller Collins found himself thrown out of his home by his wife, Maria, who yelled about divorcing him and told him to drop dead.

With his daughter still inside the house, Miller had no choice but to drive off. Frustrated, he headed to a nearby bar to drink. When life’s rough, it just gets rougher. Inside the bar, a big-screen TV was playing Midnight Entertainment, and suddenly, Miller became the center of attention. A round of mocking laughter from the crowd filled the air, and someone loudly asked how he felt.

Covering his face, Miller dashed out, jumped in his car, and drove off recklessly. He was speeding, unsteady behind the wheel, and quickly attracted an LAPD patrol car. When one door closes, the universe makes sure to slam the window too. Miller was pulled over, breathalyzed, charged with DUI, and temporarily detained.

***

“From the video footage, the person standing by the pool is indeed the San Diego team’s wide receiver, Miller Collins.” On TV, Midnight Entertainment was showing video footage shot by Eric himself, and the host, Megan Taylor, narrated from offscreen. When the downcast Miller lifted his head and wiped his mouth, Megan seemed surprised: “Did he…eat the whole thing?”

The West Coast studio burst into laughter. Hawk raised a can in his hand, saying, “Congrats on making headlines again.” Edward, Eric, and Frank clinked their cans with him and all drank together. Eric watched the close-up of Miller Collins on the screen, feeling a surge of satisfaction as ideas burst from him like a volcano. “Guys, listen up!” he exclaimed, waving his arms, “I’ve already got the inspiration for my next project! This real-life experience has sparked my entire creative being.”

Frank asked, “You’re not thinking of making a movie out of this, are you?”

Pointing to Hawk and Edward, Eric said, “Their work is simple yet thrilling—born movie material. It’s my duty as a director to adapt a film based on Hawk!”

Hawk burst out laughing. “Fine by me, as long as you don’t use my name in it.”

“Don’t you want royalties?” Eric asked.

“By the time you make that movie, I probably won’t need the cash,” Hawk replied.

Eric shrugged, “It’s your call.”

Edward nudged him, “News is back on.”

The TV replayed security footage. “Our special reporter who shot this video had their studio broken into,” Megan narrated. “Four thieves were apprehended by LAPD while rifling through disks and tapes of little value. Witnesses overheard one of them saying the studio crossed a big shot from the sports world.”

With the video of Miller drinking milk, and Megan’s narration, any viewer could connect the dots to Miller Collins. When the security footage ended, the screen switched back to the studio. Megan introduced Captain Lucio from LAPD West Los Angeles, who said, “All four suspects had priors. During questioning, they confirmed their gang affiliations; they’re all part of the White gang, the Midget Gang.”

Afterward, a series of clippings appeared on-screen, showing prior reports linking Miller Collins to the Midget Gang. Miller had once explained to the press that the reason he was seen with gang members was due to a long-standing friendship from childhood—a personal, platonic bond.

As Midnight Entertainment neared its end, Megan Taylor focused on the topic of celebrity crime. She even resurrected Robert Downey Jr.’s old scandals, milking every possible angle for effect.

“This woman knows her stuff,” Frank noted, setting down his can. “She’s ambitious.”

“She’s bold too,” Hawk added. “I think she’s aiming for serious current affairs.”

When the show ended, Frank prepared to leave, gathered empty cans into a bag, and said, “She may want to climb up, but with Roger Ailes around, that might be a big problem.”

Hawk got the implication.

Edward, never one to miss a chance to roast Frank, finished his can and tossed it to him. “Take this to the recycler. Don’t thank me.”

Frank, speechless, bagged the can and left. Hawk turned off the TV, handed a newly reloaded taser to Edward, and said, “You’re on the couch tonight. You know how to use this?”

“Yeah, I do.” Edward looked over at Eric, grumbling, “Why am I on the couch?”

“Because in dark clothes on a dark mat, no one will see you coming if there’s trouble.”

Edward, practically in tears, muttered, “Just because I’m black, I have to be in the line of fire?”

Hawk then took out a Glock, grabbed a magazine, and headed upstairs to bed. Eric, riding high on his creativity, was drunk, so Edward helped him up to the guest room before changing into black clothes.

***

At Fox Television Center, Midnight Entertainment had just wrapped up. Megan Taylor, removing her makeup, heard cheering and quickened her pace, turning a corner to find the entire office applauding. Claire approached with the latest ratings. “We’ve just hit the top five across all national prime-time programs for the first time!”

Stunned with joy, Megan covered her mouth, nearly speechless, as the team cheered for her. “Thank you all,” she said, quieting them. “End-of-month party’s on me!”

Cheers turned to excited whoops. Megan returned to her office, and shortly after, her phone rang. It was Cynthia, the channel director. “Congratulations, Megan—excellent work.”

“Thank you,” Megan replied. “I promised you I’d bring back that lost ad revenue, and I’m delivering with ratings.”

“You’ve done it,” Cynthia confirmed.

Hanging up, Megan felt a sense of relief. She’d faced a lot of pressure for this episode. With compelling material, she knew her work wasn’t done. She dialed Hawk’s number. When he picked up, she said, “Our show made the top five nationally.”

“Does that mean I get a bonus?” he asked.

Megan laughed, genuinely. “I’m hosting a party for the team. You’re invited.”

“Just text me the details,” he replied, then added, “And be careful. That idiot’s linked to the Midget Gang—watch yourself.”

Megan took the advice, arranging to walk to her car with several male colleagues for added safety.

***

The next day, entertainment, sports, and even national news were plastered with stories about Miller Collins. Giant headlines and posters featured images of him and the incriminating footage.

Five sponsors had severed all ties with him, citing contract violations. The San Diego Chargers had even paused their contract renewal talks. Hawk had Eric call a tabloid, which broke the story across the nation, earning Miller the new nickname: “The Milk Drinker.”

Several threads remained unresolved. The four arrested gang members were still holding their tongues, and there were rumors of internal LAPD resistance. Any gang with real pull always had backing from somewhere.

Maria Collins, after a tearful public appearance, vanished without a trace.

Chapter 73: The Executioner

In West Hollywood, Eric Ethan’s personal studio was about to open. Hawk and Edward arrived early to lend a hand.

The house, already rented when they began casting, was a small, two-story place with a yard. Hawk and Edward were setting up the largest meeting room for a small celebration once the studio’s sign was officially put up.

Eric had gone out to get supplies and parked his car by the gate upon returning. As he opened the trunk, a beautiful woman approached quickly. Maria Collins, with a fierce look, stormed over and loudly declared, “Eric Ethan, you’ve ruined my life!”

Eric instinctively stepped back, recognizing her as the wife of Miller Collins. Maria looked furious, almost crazed, and demanded, “Why did you do it? Why?!”

People nearby started to glance over. Not wanting the public to know about any harassment situation, Eric gestured toward the gate and, forcing himself to remain calm, said, “Let’s go inside and talk.”

Maria followed him into the yard, her eyes red. Her husband’s career had suffered a severe blow, and now she too was facing ridicule from the media and neighbors alike, humiliated in front of the entire nation. From Henry, she had learned Eric Ethan’s name, found the job posting with his address, and tracked down the studio.

Not even halfway to the house door, Maria couldn’t hold back any longer and cried out, “Executioner! You’re a butcher! I once had a loving husband, a happy, lively child, a wonderful family—and you destroyed it all!”

Hearing the commotion from the yard, Hawk and Edward quickly came out of the meeting room and approached. Maria, standing firm on her perceived moral high ground, continued accusing Eric: “You’re a homewrecker! You’re about to ruin a woman and a child under ten!”

“It’s not—it’s not like that,” Eric tried to explain. “It’s not what you think…”

But Maria was quicker and more impassioned. “Do you know how my daughter feels at school? All her classmates mock her; she’s forced to hide in the bathroom—she’s not even ten years old!”

She shouted, “And it’s all because of you!”

“No, it’s all because of your husband!” Hawk interjected, stepping forward. “If he’d been faithful to his marriage and family instead of messing around with men, none of this would’ve happened.”

Hawk’s words came rapid-fire, each hitting the mark. “In all these years, haven’t you ever noticed certain men around your husband—tall, brown-haired, and narrow-faced? Didn’t it ever cross your mind that they might’ve shared a video-worthy moment with him? Never thought your husband might’ve… indulged?”

Maria’s confidence wavered as she recalled the male friends her husband occasionally associated with. “No… it can’t be. He promised me—it was only a one-time mistake, a moment of curiosity…”

Hawk sneered, “It’s easy to confirm. Go home, grab a stick, and check if your husband is as ‘tight-lipped’ down there as he is with his secrets.”

Maria looked sickened and started dry-heaving. Hawk, his tone now casual, continued, “You and your daughter are the victims? That’s rich. Where were you when my friend was being harassed and slandered by your husband? When your husband called the police to have him arrested?”

Maria suddenly remembered meeting Eric before and her husband’s odd, lingering gaze. She recalled the time Miller had kicked the back of Eric’s seat at The Scorpion King premiere.

Feeling overwhelmed, Maria crouched down, unable to stand. Hawk, recalling the four thugs Miller had sent after them, offered advice: “Get a lawyer and file for divorce quickly. Miller Collins’s brand deals are dropping him, and he’s facing breach-of-contract lawsuits. If he loses, what’s left of your finances?”

He pointedly added, “Remember, you still have a daughter. Without money, she won’t get an elite education. Do you want her living on the streets?”

Maria, as a mother, seemed to have a sudden revelation. She stood up abruptly, looked at Hawk, and walked away without another word. This time, she wasn’t just talking about divorce—she was ready to go through with it.

In the yard, Eric looked embarrassed and admitted to Hawk, “I’m not very good at arguing with people.”

Hawk chuckled, “We all have our strengths and weaknesses.”

Meanwhile, Edward was typing quickly on his phone, commenting with a smirk, “Like our boss here—good at prepping, but not so much with real-time action.”

Hawk turned to kick him playfully, but seeing him focused on his phone, asked, “What are you doing?”

Edward pointed toward Maria’s retreating figure. “She has a daughter, is about to be divorced, and could get a hefty settlement—gotta keep her in the backup list.”

Hawk rolled his eyes, “You’re unbelievable. And Deborah?”

“I’m currently steady with Nicole; no double-timing here,” Edward replied proudly. “Once things are done with Nicole, I’ll pursue Deborah. Until then, Maria’s just on the bench.”

Eric was about to ask Edward for dating advice when Catherine arrived, so he straightened up and greeted her warmly. They shared an enthusiastic hug and kiss.

The launch of Ethan Films went off right on schedule. Alongside Hawk, Edward, and Catherine, Eric invited Dwayne Johnson and his wife Dany Garcia, who brought along Caroline Jones. The ceremony was straightforward, and afterward, everyone gathered in the meeting room for food, drinks, and conversation.

During a brief call, Eric approached Hawk and quietly mentioned, “Kevin Lee’s asking about the role. I feel I should keep my word.”

Hawk, who knew little about film production, gave his blessing, “If you think he’s right for it, keep him on.”

At that moment, Johnson came over to toast Hawk. “Congrats on The Scorpion King—it’s about to pass the hundred-million mark in North America!”

“Thank you! Your help made a huge difference,” Johnson beamed, feeling great about his Hollywood debut.

As they chatted, Hawk noticed Caroline leaving and, after a short wait, followed her out.

He caught up with her in the hall near the restroom. Wanting to inquire about Sarah Parker and Brooke Derry’s recent updates, he said, “Got a minute?”

Caroline, gesturing to her Chanel bag and then to Hawk’s casual attire, teased, “A refined lady like me should charge to talk with a rancher.”

Hawk took out his wallet, handed her a five-dollar bill, and grinned, “Five dollars’ worth.”

He opened the nearby office door and stepped inside first. Caroline rolled her eyes, folded the bill, tucked it into her purse, and followed him in, closing the door behind her. “The recent dairy scandal—your handiwork?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Everyone at Fox is talking about it. Megan Taylor’s rise is largely thanks to backing from West Coast Entertainment.”

Hawk recalled, “How’s your duo’s Fox talk show going?”

“With me? Flawlessly,” Caroline smirked, lifting her chin. “I’ve secured a People magazine deal for them—once their baby’s born, People will pay $1.5 million for exclusive baby photos.”

Hawk had seen this play before, remembering the hefty sum paid for Jolie and Pitt’s baby’s first photos. Curious, he asked, “Who are these clients of yours?”

Caroline gave him a look as if he were an alien, “You don’t know Dodgers star Steve Nutt? His wife, Daisy Nutt, is a renowned model—America’s answer to Beckham and Victoria.”

Hawk shrugged, “I don’t follow baseball.”

Seizing the moment to rib him, Caroline teased, “I nearly forgot; you’re just a sheep-herding rancher from Wyoming.”

Hawk replied simply and effectively. He pulled out his phone, played a recording Edward had sent him, and let a sheep’s “baaa” sound fill the room, echoing like a woman’s voice.

Caroline’s face went dark as she fumed, “You’re such a jerk! I’ll kill you!”

Hawk poured her a glass of water, “Drink some cold water. Cool down.”

“Delete that recording!” Caroline demanded.

Hawk pretended to delete it with some random taps on his phone, “Gone.”

Returning to business, he said, “Set aside the sarcasm. How did Sarah take to my proposal?”

Caroline’s mood lightened. “She’s using parts of it. I helped her connect with Estée Lauder and Lancôme. She’s close to landing endorsements for skincare products; the odds are good.”

---

Chapter 74: The Angel Is About to Arrive

Hearing that Sarah Parker had accepted the suggestion, Hawk felt more secure—step one was a success.

He asked, “Which specific brand is still under negotiation? Are the prices off?”

“It’s not just the price; it’s also about the brand image.” Carolyn spoke with a confident air, almost like a teacher instructing a student. “Sarah is a top-tier TV star now—not quite an A-list movie star, but she has a huge following and influence. Mid- to low-end brands aren’t an option for us, no matter how much they pay.”

Hawk showed a humble demeanor. “I’ve been hearing about that big news—the lawsuit Miller Collins is facing from their endorsed brand. Will this affect cosmetics endorsements, too?”

Carolyn, pleased with his respect, replied, “Of course. When a brand invests money, they expect accountability. If personal issues lead to problems, the brand has every right to hold them liable.”

Hawk asked casually, “If Bro abuses Sarah and damages her face, would that count as a breach?”

“No.” Carolyn thought he was being absurd. “You’ve seen it yourself—Bro has a complicated, almost twisted love for Sarah. In my opinion, Bro would rather harm himself than let Sarah suffer.”

Hawk said plainly, “I can’t understand that.”

Carolyn smirked, “Me neither, which is why we’ll never be celebrities or part of their world.”

Hawk concluded, “Because we’re not crazy enough.”

Carolyn agreed, “Exactly. We’re normal people, while Hollywood is filled with eccentrics. For example, celebrity couples who act like they’re single in public as long as it doesn’t get exposed.”

“This kind of love is... unique.” Hawk didn’t want to appear too curious, so he shifted the conversation to Carolyn. “Sealing this big deal must mean a hefty commission for you.”

“Not bad,” Carolyn said with a touch of pride. “Better than what you’re scraping together.”

“I’m building a business, hustling for my own career.” Hawk wasn’t about to let this slide. “If you have any suitable leads, you could refer them to me. You know me—I handle the tough cases.”

Carolyn scoffed, “You’re too unpredictable. Going off-script will backfire on you sooner or later.”

Hawk ignored this. “If you refer a successful deal, I’ll give you a commission.”

Carolyn’s expression brightened instantly, like a delighted lamb. “Deal.”

At that moment, her phone rang. She stepped to the window to answer briefly and returned, grabbing her Hermès bag. “Something urgent has come up; I need to go. Apologize to them for me, will you?”

Hawk stood and walked her to the door, asking casually, “What happened?”

She quickly explained, “Steve Natt, the baseball star I mentioned—his model wife Daisy went into labor and was taken to an Orange County hospital. Reporters are swarming there, so I need to get over fast.”

Hawk nodded, “Good luck with everything.”

Carolyn’s heels clicked rapidly as she disappeared. Hawk returned to the meeting room and gave a brief explanation; no one seemed to mind.

As the party ended, Hawk and Edward drove back to the office. Nicole called Edward, asking for help at the shelter where they were short-staffed. Hawk gave Edward the rest of the day off, then grabbed some beers and his taser, heading across the street to the parking lot with the fountain. Under a sunshade, he found Frank lounging in a recliner.

The old guy was casual about it, taking the taser and the beer Hawk handed him. He cracked one open, taking a sip before gesturing to a folding chair nearby. “Take a seat.”

Hawk opened his own beer. “You’ve got it made—peacefully retired like this every day.”

“You could do it too,” Frank suggested, nodding to an empty spot nearby. “A few thousand bucks and you could get yourself an old RV, park it here, and we’d be neighbors.”

He handed Hawk the ashtray he’d given him earlier. “Bring this and leave it by the road—easy money.”

Hawk chuckled, “I don’t have as many old friends to help out. Trying to claim a spot on the street would get me beat up.”

There’s territory even in panhandling.

“No problem,” Frank said. “I’ll cover you.”

Hawk changed the subject, clinking his can with Frank’s. “Thanks for that phone call.”

But Frank replied, “To others, that’s a little favor. When it’s something big, do you think they’d help?”

Hawk saw the value. “To me, it’s not minor—it spares me a lot of trouble. If anyone from the Dwarf Gang has half a brain, they’ll find out I’ve got an LAPD immunity card and some connections to a big name there.”

Frank added, “And ties to that rich LAPD girl who took down Robert Downey Jr. in the street, got promoted, and came out unscathed. If she’d been an ordinary cop, I’d take my head off and give it to you as a football.”

Hawk continued, “For days, I’ve been sleeping with a gun, but no one from the Dwarf Gang has come after me.”

“Means they’re not stupid.” Frank laughed, then glanced at the studio across the street. “Your place is too scary—they wouldn’t dare.”

Hawk replied, “I even set up a few traps, though it looks like they won’t be needed.”

Frank offered some blunt advice, “At the rate you stir things up, you’ll need them soon. I suggest you add more; what you’ve got now won’t be enough.”

“Good point,” Hawk agreed. “I’ll head to the hardware store.”

“Get out of here,” Frank joked, waving him off. “I’m old and worn out. There’s nothing left for you to squeeze out, and I can’t get you the connections you want.”

The shrewd old man wasn’t wrong. Hawk didn’t linger. “I’ll treat you to a drink next time.”

Frank said, “Leave all the beer here.”

Hawk returned to his studio, glanced out the window at the RV across the street.

A network is built step by step, expanding outward from one person.

Frank, Eric, Katherine, The Rock, Ms. Bleat, Erica, Megan Taylor, even Edward—each could serve as an outstretched hand.

Thinking of Megan Taylor, Hawk found a new bottle of pepper spray in his cabinet and tucked it in his pocket.

This anchor from Fox 11 was currently his biggest client. News was only part of the sale.

From what he’d observed with The Rock, as long as the news was real, Megan would use it. That meant she could also be useful for operations and PR efforts. It was worthwhile to show some care and maintain a good relationship.

And Ms. Bleat, who maintained her lifestyle thanks to dollars, hopefully motivated by profit.

Hawk didn’t mind her being greedy—he was worried she wouldn’t be. Greed would mean she’d push harder for Sarah Parker’s endorsement deals.

Hawk recalled today’s conversation and searched for Steve and Daisy Natt online. Steve was a star player for the LA Dodgers, hitting 47 home runs last season, while Daisy was a model who had walked for big names like Valentino. Since marrying Steve, her fame had skyrocketed. Together, they were like a baseball version of Beckham and Victoria.

This celebrity couple created a synergy greater than the sum of its parts. Still, their influence was largely limited to North America.

Hawk found their blog, which had high traffic, with recent content featuring Daisy’s pregnancy photos. They’d been building anticipation for their baby’s arrival—perhaps part of a photo rights deal. Today’s post featured six photos of Steve standing beside Daisy’s hospital bed, clearly in a hospital room, with the caption: “Waiting for our angel to arrive.”

Celebrity personal lives could be monetized when managed properly.

Closing the blog, Hawk locked the security system and headed to Century City, where a large store offered a range of hardware.

He bought additional tools and supplies to reinforce studio security.

West Coast Studio didn’t entertain clients on-site. Any unexpected visitor was bound to be trouble.

After shopping, Hawk went to a boutique on Rodeo Drive, ordering two custom suits with matching shirts and shoes.

For fieldwork, the clothes needed to be sturdy and durable, but he also needed something that could hold up in business settings.

He paid the deposit and left Rodeo Drive for Fox Television Center.

Chapter 75: The Black Child

*Fox Television Center, Channel 11.*

Times had changed; Claire took Hawk straight to the producer’s office.

Megan Taylor saw Hawk, surprised not to see his notebook bag. "You’re not here with news?"

Hawk walked over to her desk and said, "I was just at the supermarket, picked up some things, and thought I'd drop something off for you."

Megan looked surprised. "You got me a gift?"

Hawk pulled out a can of pepper spray and placed it on her desk. "Watch out for the Shorty Gang."

"Thanks." Megan put it away and said, "Make yourself comfortable."

Once Hawk pulled up a chair and sat down, she asked, "Is the Shorty Gang bothering you again?"

Hawk chuckled. "No, I think they remember my house a bit too well."

Megan thought of the rigged safe and the needles, smiling. "One of these days when I’m off, come by and help me upgrade my safe at home."

Hawk was happy to oblige. "Anytime."

In the middle of her hectic and stressful work, Megan relaxed a bit, joking, "You could start a home security business."

Hawk responded in a serious tone, "Maybe I should patent this."

Megan fiddled with the pepper spray in her hand. "Do you think the Shorty Gang would be bold enough to retaliate against a Fox anchor?"

"They wouldn’t dare. They know better than to mess with Fox." Hawk knew gangs couldn’t stand up to big companies. "Cockroaches can’t harm you, but they can make you sick."

"I’ll be careful." Megan wanted to say more, but the office door knocked from outside.

An assistant came in and said, "The script is ready. We need your final approval."

Hawk decided to take his leave.

Megan headed to the editing room.

Hawk returned to East Hollywood and made a few more upgrades to his workshop.

---

*The Next Day*

After Edward arrived, Hawk went over new safety instructions with him, to make sure his equipment wouldn’t end up a mess.

Edward took careful notes, then commented, "Boss, I’m realizing something… you’re actually more of a defensive conservative."

Hawk, busy taking apart a Glock 19 for routine maintenance, responded casually, "Do you even know what a conservative is?"

Edward said, "Aren't they just old-fashioned?"

Hawk shook his head. "A real conservative thinks radicals are too conservative."

Edward was confused.

Hawk finished reassembling the gun and asked, "Savior, do you even know how to use a gun?"

Edward said, "I’m from Compton. Which Black man from there doesn’t know how to use a gun?"

Hawk packed up his gear and said, "Let’s hit the shooting range. I’ll help you get registered for a gun license."

Edward waved his hands nervously. "Boss, I’m better off unarmed," he said, pointing at his face. "People like me, license or not, always end up facing a full clip."

"Let’s go; you’re driving," Hawk replied. "We’re going to Saddleback Mountain Range."

Edward had no choice but to follow.

At the range, Hawk signed Edward up, though there was some trouble with the background check, given Edward’s background in Compton.

Luckily, Edward had no criminal or arrest records, so he finally passed the background check for firearm ownership.

The class and test requirements, however, left Edward close to despair.

Handing Hawk his newly purchased handgun, he begged, "Boss, please just empty a clip on me."

Hawk ignored him and said, "Fine. Starting this week, I’m cutting your bonus in half."

Edward quickly changed his tune. "No problem, boss. I’ll go to class, no worries."

Uncertain of his skills, Edward’s confidence wavered. "I might not pass the test..."

Hawk was already walking toward the range. "Another half-cut on the bonus."

Edward felt like the world was crumbling and assured him, "I swear I’ll pass!"

At the shooting range, Hawk noticed the instructor from last time was messing with a slingshot, so he went over to chat.

As a kid, slingshots had been one of his favorite toys.

Curious, Hawk discovered the range had some for sale. He bought two, along with a big bag of steel balls for practice.

---

*Orange County, St. Joseph Hospital*

In the hallway, Carolyn Jones sat on a bench, watching Steve Nutt pace anxiously. She felt a bit dizzy.

The Los Angeles Dodgers star was about to become a father.

"Go get me a bouquet of flowers," she told her assistant, Amanda.

Amanda hurried off.

The door to the hospital room opened, and a doctor came out, saying, "Mr. Nutt, congratulations! You’re a father. Daisy and the baby are doing well."

Steve stopped pacing and beamed. "Thank you! Thank you!" He looked toward the room. "Can I go in now?"

He’d been too nervous, so the doctor had asked him to wait outside.

"Not yet," the doctor replied. "We’re just finishing up a few things."

Steve smiled. "I’ll wait right here."

The doctor went back inside.

Carolyn approached him, smiling. "Congratulations, Steve."

Steve said, "Once I see the baby, you can announce it to the press."

Carolyn nodded. "The statement is all ready."

A nurse shyly approached Steve. "Steve, could we take a picture? Pretty please?"

Steve, in a great mood, agreed. "Sure."

The nurse pulled out a Polaroid, asking Carolyn to take the photo. When the image developed, she asked Steve to sign it.

A while later, the door opened again. A nurse came out first, pushing a cart with medical waste, followed by others.

The doctor gave Steve the go-ahead, and he rushed into the room.

Carolyn followed, pulling out her camera to capture some photos of Steve and Daisy for the blog.

As for the baby, a People magazine photographer would be coming for those pictures.

They’d sold the rights for $1.5 million.

Inside, Steve rushed past the living area of the suite and straight to Daisy’s bedside.

He looked at his wife lying in bed and kissed her on the forehead. "Honey, you went through so much."

Daisy smiled weakly. "Go see our little angel."

Their newborn was sleeping in a crib nearby, his skin still a bit flushed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Carolyn opened it, and Amanda came in with Steve’s agent, Byers, and a baby nurse.

Carolyn and Byers placed flowers on a table far from the baby.

The nurse went to check on the newborn.

The four adults chatted for a while when the baby suddenly began to cry.

Turning to the crib, Daisy’s face fell as she took in the sight of the baby.

Steve came over and froze.

As the newborn’s red tint faded, his skin revealed a deep, unmistakable brown.

A Black baby.

Steve instinctively touched his own face, then glanced at a mirror, certain he was, indeed, white.

Then he looked at his wife, Daisy, who was even paler than he was.

Steve backed up and sank onto the couch.

Daisy murmured in disbelief, "This can’t be… this can’t be happening…"

Caroline noticed the baby’s skin color too and reacted quickly. She immediately told Amanda, “Go guard the door. Don’t let anyone in without my permission.”

She stepped quickly to the nurse. “I’ll increase the agreed salary by 50%. Please hand me your phone.”

The nurse glanced at the parents, then at the baby, before handing her phone to Caroline.

Caroline turned to the manager, Byers, and said, “Draft a new confidentiality agreement immediately. Get in touch with the hospital and stress again that they must not reveal any information about the Nat couple or their baby.”

Byers left the room.

“This isn’t my child!” Steve had finally recovered and glared at Daisy. “We’re both white! How could we have a black baby?”

Daisy tried to explain, “Well… maybe there’s some mutation.”

Flustered, she grasped at any reason. “Remember that Korean soy sauce you bought in Koreatown? And then, well, when we, you know… maybe it affected the baby’s skin.”

Caroline signaled to the nurse to take the baby outside.

Steve grew even angrier. “Insult my integrity all you want, but don’t insult my intelligence!”

Daisy was shocked too. “Couldn’t it be that there’s a black ancestor in your family?”

“Your family’s the one with black ancestors!” Steve shot back.

Daisy had an epiphany. “Oh right, my family does have black ancestry… that must be it.”

Steve stood at the bedside, pointing at himself. “Do you take me for an idiot?”

He shouted, “You cheated on me and betrayed me!”

Daisy opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say.

Steve yelled, “I’m divorcing you! You and your child can go to hell!”

Daisy was furious too. “Is all this my fault? How many times have you cheated? Think I don’t know? You didn’t just go for white women—you even went for Black women!”

Her voice became sharp. “You even hooked up with Wilson’s wife—one of your Black teammates! That’s why we have a Black child now!”

Steve yelled back, “Fine, I’ll admit my mess-ups, but you were pregnant and lied, saying this was our baby!”

Daisy, exhausted and in pain, was on the verge of breaking down. “It was right after that time in the pool… I thought it was yours. Unless it was the day before, when Wilson and I were at the hotel…”

Steve remembered in fury. “Wilson?! You slept with Wilson—he’s my teammate!”

Standing nearby, Caroline felt a headache coming on, thinking, Can any of these celebrities be normal? Or does fame just drive people to wild extremes?

Finally, as the shouting subsided, Caroline stepped in as their publicist and reminded them, “Daisy, Steve, we still need to send out the regular press release and photos. People magazine is still waiting for the call. We can control the news about the baby for a while, but at most three or four days before it’s bound to leak out.”

Steve slumped into a chair. “You’re the publicist. What do you suggest?”

Caroline said, “Please, don’t speak for a moment. Each of you have some sugar water and cool down. I’ll ask again in five minutes.”

They fumed in silence.

After five minutes, Caroline spoke, “You’re about to face a huge media crisis. I need you both to cooperate with me. If you go rogue, you’ve seen what happened to Miller Collins…”

She asked directly, “Think it over before answering—are you planning to divorce?”

Steve opened his mouth to say “divorce” but stopped, realizing their shared brand and the fallout a divorce might cause.

Daisy, keenly aware she was a fading model and only had what she had because of Steve, quickly responded, “No, I won’t divorce.”

Caroline looked at Steve, who gave a slight shake of his head.

“All right then,” she continued, “Here are the major issues ahead. If the baby’s existence is exposed, your crisis will become public, which will affect your careers and brand. Sponsors may cut ties.”

Daisy ventured, “What if the baby isn’t exposed? Or if there’s a ‘medical accident,’ and the baby is stillborn?”

Caroline replied, “The hospital won’t cooperate. That would ruin their reputation. As for exposure, I need to remind you about the exclusive contract with People magazine. You were paid $1.5 million. A breach would mean not only a refund but also an equal amount in penalties. And an angry People would capitalize on this media storm to come after you both.”

Steve buried his head in his hands, then after a long pause, asked, “What’s the solution?”

Caroline considered. “I’ve put together a preliminary plan. Daisy admits to a drunken one-night stand, and Steve, you publicly forgive her, promising to be a father to the child. We’ll work with People. They care about sensationalism, not technical breaches.”

Daisy protested, “But our reputations will suffer. We’ll lose endorsements.”

Steve asked, “Isn’t there a better solution?”

“This is the best PR solution to minimize the fallout,” Caroline explained. Suddenly, someone’s image flashed in her mind. Typically, her PR agency was all about stability, but that guy was known for his wild approach.

And, importantly, Steve and Daisy’s PR fees went to the agency, not to her personally. This guy had promised her a cut.

“There’s one person who might have a way,” Caroline said.

Steve urged, “Who? Bring them over!”

“West Coast Media Entertainment Studio. Hawk Osman.”