61-65

Chapter 61: The Wolf and the Sheep

*Sherman Oaks, Hillside Mansion*

Caroline Jones finished her phone call in the hallway, pushed open the study door, and said to Sarah Parker and Bro Derek, "We were just talking about him, and then he called."

Bro looked surprised. "You know him?"

Sarah Parker reminded him, "Last time when Donnie and I got papped, Caroline had a run-in with him."

Caroline added, "Not only that, but he also collaborated on image management with Dwayne Johnson." She kept the details vague. "I handled PR for Johnson and met him a few times."

Bro thought for a moment. "Perfect. Go talk to him, get all copies of the videos back, and have him sign a confidentiality agreement. Make it clear—don’t overstep or spread rumors, or the consequences will be serious."

Sarah nodded, knowing the key to a deal. "Money's not an issue."

Bro nodded slightly; he owed a lot of favors to keep this news under wraps. But he was still a careful spender. "Let’s not pay more than necessary, ideally nothing at all."

Understanding her client's needs, Caroline immediately drove to West Hollywood, made a call en route, and got the exact address and room number. She parked outside a pool complex.

From a car nearby, Edward saw Caroline get out alone, scanned the surroundings, and called Hawk, "Boss, only Miss Jones has arrived."

On the other end, Hawk instructed, "Stay alert. If anything seems off, call me immediately."

Edward replied, "Understood."

Inside the pool complex, Caroline changed into a swimsuit in the VIP room, located the designated room, and entered after inputting the door code. The suite was divided into a changing room, lounge, and a small pool. In the pool, a muscular figure was swimming toward her.

Caroline, known for her sharp tongue, remarked, "Did you learn to swim in the Wyoming countryside? Your form’s terrible, like a bald wolf."

Hawk swam to the edge and said, "A skinny little lamb like you would get tossed to the coyotes in Wyoming."

Caroline proudly straightened her posture. "I may be slim, but I'm proud of it."

Her swimsuit barely covered more than a sock. Hawk glanced, thinking it might be a B+. "Get in," he said.

Caroline tied up her long hair, descended into the water, and asked, "Why meet here?"

Hawk swam over. "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, Caroline replied, "No. In our business, trust the opposition? That's a joke."

"Same here. I don’t trust you, either," Hawk replied, reaching to touch her hair. Caroline, not one to back down, reached out to pinch him back, though his short hair left her little to grab.

"To show sincerity, let’s take a lap underwater," he suggested. Caroline shrugged and dived first, with Hawk following.

After swimming a while, they surfaced near the steps and sat in the shallow end. Caroline asked, "Why do you keep bothering my clients?"

Hawk replied as if it were genuine, "An actor from the Sex and the City crew called and tipped me off. I can’t name names, but he had a lot to vent about, even complained that they didn’t invite him to their antics, so he’s probably a bit bitter."

He gestured to her swimsuit. "See? You’re in Chanel, and I’m just in regular stuff. You have money; I'm broke. Would you pass up such a juicy story if you were me?"

Caroline sidestepped the point. "You know the story won’t go anywhere. Channel 11, or any network, would refuse to air it."

Hawk remembered Harvey from his past and acknowledged the truth in her words. "Channel 11 already gave me a heads-up."

Caroline had already looked into this. "You took Channel 11's money, so if you pass the video to another outlet, that’s a breach of contract. Hand over all footage, sign a confidentiality agreement, and it’s over."

Dropping her usual playful tone, she continued, "Everyone likes money, but career prospects matter more. They have powerful connections in this industry. Crossing them could ruin your career."

But Hawk wasn’t about to be outwitted. He replied calmly, "Channel 11 signed a broadcast agreement, but Midnight Entertainment already violated it, so I can reauthorize it elsewhere."

Caroline laughed. "You’re more short-sighted than I thought. Know the difference between a one-time meal and a lasting one?"

Hawk went on, "The media can’t air it, but what about online? If that fails, there’s always Silicon Valley. I’m pretty sure Bro’s Hollywood influence doesn’t reach General Electric, which owns stakes in some of the biggest Valley companies."

Caroline, coming from traditional PR, hadn’t considered this angle. Hawk asked, "How much do you think Silicon Valley would pay for these rights?"

Caroline quickly caught on. "You won’t sell to Silicon Valley, or you wouldn’t have asked to meet."

Borrowing Edward’s phrase, Hawk said, "I'm dirt poor, the kind of poor that fears nothing."

He continued, "No more warnings or threats. I’ll give you the video, and I’ll sign the agreement."

Caroline was skeptical. Hawk was prepared, aiming to minimize risk and even leave room for future gains. "Ms. Sarah Parker invests $500,000, partnering with West Coast Studios, which will design a career development plan."

Caroline splashed water on him. "Playing it safe, I see."

Hawk replied, "You’d sell me out in a heartbeat; isn’t that standard practice?"

Caroline’s priority was resolving this matter; seeing it couldn’t be done for free, she said, "Half a million’s excessive. That amount could hire a whole crew to storm your studio. I’ll persuade the client for $250,000."

Hawk gently tapped the water, mulling over the future. "A $250,000 career development plan—I’ll have to put some thought into it."

Caroline kept her gaze on him.

Noticing, Hawk finally asked, "What?"

Caroline splashed him again. "Don't you know the rules?"

He stretched out, almost reclining, and said, "Go ahead, I won’t resist."

Caroline, seasoned in PR, was quick-witted. "Wolves and lambs don’t breed; the parts don’t fit." Directly, she added, "I landed you this business, and you owe me a cut."

Hawk replied, "I'm sure you left some margin for yourself."

Ignoring him, Caroline got out of the pool, grabbed her towel, and said, "I need to see the video."

Hawk followed, took the towel she tossed him, wiped off casually, and in the lounge, opened his laptop to show her the footage.

Caroline watched, silent.

Realizing standard PR tactics might not work, Hawk considered a different approach. "Sarah’s well-preserved, not looking like she’s in her mid-thirties. Her skin’s no worse than yours."

Women rarely concede on such things. Caroline touched her smooth face and replied, "Thanks to Beverly Hills’ med-spa techniques."

"Botox?" Hawk asked.

She ignored him. "I’ll make sure this deal happens, but Sarah won’t appear directly. She’ll delegate to me."

Hawk, content with the outcome, replied, "I’ll do the same. Edward will represent the studio and coordinate with your legal team."

They shook on it, and Caroline took her leave.

Later, Hawk called Edward and left the pool as well.

By mid-afternoon, Caroline contacted him. Sarah and Bro had agreed to the arrangement. Caroline, along with Sarah’s lawyer, signed with West Coast Media Entertainment Studio, paying $250,000 to develop a career plan. They also signed the confidentiality agreement.

Now, Hawk was set to prepare a proposal to ensure the plan would be ready for the client’s review.

Chapter 62 Endorsement Program

"Recently, renowned producer Bro Derek attended a Walk of Fame ceremony with his wife, Sarah Parker. The couple has been married for five years and has a wonderful family…"

In the West Coast studio, Hawk sat at his desk, watching the entertainment news.

Across the room, Edward scoffed, "Hollywood and Compton are no different. All those heavily made-up actresses are just streetwalkers… except fancier, like Jacqueline."

Hawk was glued to the TV screen, where a close-up of Sarah Parker appeared. "How well has she kept up her looks?"

Edward replied without missing a beat, "She looks at most thirty." Then he widened his eyes in mock horror. "Wait, Boss, have you been single too long, watching too many videos, going psychotic? Thinking of joining them? Even going for that sheep would make more sense…"

Hawk ignored Edward’s ramblings, focused on the career planning agreement he was drafting. "A 37-year-old who looks under 30. Perfect for beauty product endorsements. Given her current fame, she could snag a big contract."

Edward, who’d been working with Hawk for a month, nodded knowingly, "She’s definitely gotten injections."

While searching online, Hawk commented, "These cosmetic injections can have side effects right after, like swelling and muscle stiffness."

Edward picked up on Hawk's intention, "So we’re gonna fleece this one sheep? Won’t we strip her bald?"

Hawk shook his head. "I sense something distorted in the love between Bro and Sarah."

This, he figured, could be useful.

Ms. Lamb was a key figure.

Hawk carefully drafted a simple proposal.

Although the contract was mainly a formality, once he finished, he immediately called Caroline.

The next morning, Caroline arrived at the studio.

Hawk handed her the printed proposal. "Take a look."

"Is it necessary?" Caroline saw this as a $250,000 formality; the other side could’ve just scribbled something down on a napkin.

Hawk replied, "I’m all about professionalism. Since you paid, I’m giving it my best."

He added, "Whether you adopt it or not, I’m treating this as seriously as I did with Dwayne Johnson."

Remembering their last project, Caroline sat down and looked over the plan. It was simple, mostly focused on endorsement suggestions.

She thought of the questions Hawk had asked by the pool, "You already had an idea before?"

"Yep. Sarah has a strength here. Last time, you mentioned she had injections…"

Caroline denied it, "I never said that."

Hawk didn’t argue. "From what I’ve seen, Sarah’s reaction to cosmetic injections is minimal; her face looks quite natural, making her ideal for skincare endorsements. Cosmetic brands often go for actresses in her age range, and endorsement fees are generally high."

Casually, he added, "By the way, when is her next injection scheduled? Make sure it’s planned in advance."

Caroline didn’t respond.

"I’m only offering suggestions. The rest depends on you." Hawk suspected from Caroline’s interest in commission cuts that her finances weren’t exactly smooth.

Maintaining a lifestyle of Hermès and Chanel required cash, and he was slowly discovering Ms. Lamb's Achilles heel. "You’d get a cut if you secured a major deal for your client, right?"

Caroline replied vaguely, "Not much."

She couldn’t wait to leave. "I’m off. Call if you need anything."

Hawk handed her a receipt. "Sign this."

After a quick read-through, Caroline signed it and walked out, heels clicking on the floor.

Edward, who’d been silent, asked, "Boss, are you planning something?"

Hawk pulled an envelope from the drawer and tossed it to him. "This is the bonus from that news segment."

Edward flipped through the thick stack, grinning. "Whatever you’re planning, count me in. You want me in the front line, I won’t back down."

That’s exactly what Hawk wanted.

He put two checks into his bag, ready to hit the bank.

While the media exposure hadn't been ideal, financially, it had been a win.

Hawk’s video sold to Channel 11 for $100,000, and the career plan with Sarah Parker had brought in $250,000.

In his first month in L.A., he’d earned roughly $240,000.

This video alone brought in $350,000.

Besides, he’d planted a new seed, ready to let it grow.

Just as Hawk was about to leave, someone knocked on the door.

Edward opened it to let Frank in, who made a beeline for the fridge. "You guys want a drink? Don’t be shy."

"No thanks," Hawk replied, packing his bag.

Edward teased, "Frank, do beggars pay taxes?"

"Uneducated fool. They wouldn’t even want you picking cotton." After his jab, Frank got serious, "All income is taxable, even begging. But low income often gets ignored."

Once Frank took a swig of beer, Hawk asked, "Why are you here?"

Frank plopped onto the sofa. "The weekend’s coming up. I prepped the area in front of the RV for a party. Are you ready?"

Hawk had been so wrapped up in dealing with Sarah and Bro that he’d nearly forgotten.

Perfect timing. He could use a break this weekend. "I was just about to go shopping."

Frank added, "Get a grill. I’ll show you guys how it’s done."

Americans love their parties, so Hawk told Edward, "You drive Frank to the store this afternoon. Charge it to the studio."

Edward couldn’t resist teasing, "Frank, don’t just bring your mouth; bring all the cash from your begging rounds."

Ignoring Edward, Frank suggested, "Maybe invite some girls to spice things up."

Edward thought for a moment, "Nicole should be free this weekend." Then, testing the waters, "Boss, how about inviting Ms. Lamb?"

Hawk shook his head. "Invite a posh girl to mock us poor guys?"

Grabbing his briefcase, he said, "I’m heading out."

As he got in his car, Hawk noticed the waiver card on the seat.

Hawk found Erica’s number and called.

She answered, "Hawk?"

Hawk tried inviting her, "This weekend, Edward and I, plus a friend, are planning a barbecue in the park. Would you like to join?"

Erica agreed right away, "Sounds great!"

After arranging the time, Hawk drove to the bank.

…

At Full Speed PR’s Director’s office, Caroline sat uncomfortably in a hard chair, shifting frequently.

Across from her, Senior Partner and Director Roni Chasen closed the proposal. "Did you put this together?"

Caroline smirked but didn’t deny it.

Roni commented, "While this overlaps with our work, it’s more an agency’s job."

Caroline knew she needed the company’s backing. "Could we collaborate with Sarah’s agency, pooling more resources to help her secure a major endorsement? Sex and the City is still a huge hit."

She reminded Roni of the profit motive. "If the company closed a big deal, they could earn a percentage on top of the PR fee."

After a moment, Roni replied, "I’ll reach out to Sarah’s agency. You go meet Sarah and start prepping her."

Caroline stood up. "Knowing Sarah, she wouldn’t turn down another endorsement."

Chapter 63 Ackerman Charitable Fund

In Ranch Park, the RV parking area was shaded by trees and sectioned off, with a grill set up in the middle, sizzling with barbecued meat dripping with oil.

Frank held a pair of tongs in one hand to flip the meat, while skillfully brushing sauce with the other. Nearby, a few small folding tables had been set up, and Hawk’s canvas chair creaked as he stood up. He opened a cooler and grabbed cold drinks and beers, asking Erica Ferguson, “Beer or juice?”

“I’ll help you.” Erica walked over, tossing her golden-brown ponytail as she stepped in to assist with the bottles and cans.

The weather was warming up, and a thin layer of condensation quickly formed on the drinks as they were set out. Erica opened a beer can and handed it to Hawk, “Is the ‘savior’ back yet?”

“Thanks,” Hawk nodded towards Fountain Street, pointing at a used van pulling in. “There he is.”

The van turned into the parking lot, stopping by the RV. Edward got out first and then opened a side door, helping out a woman in her early thirties with a young girl, probably under ten, by her side. Edward introduced everyone.

The woman, Nicole, worked at a local aid shelter, and the girl was her daughter, Michaela. Michaela seemed reserved, often deep in thought. After a few words with her, Erica whispered to Hawk, “I’m apparently not great at talking with kids.”

“Then keep your distance,” Hawk suggested, setting down a freshly grilled plate of meat. “Try Frank’s cooking. He always brags about the barbecues he used to throw at his big house in Malibu, claims his grilling is top-notch.”

Erica cut off a small piece, tasted it, and nodded approvingly, “Not bad! Compared to this, my dad’s BBQ shouldn’t even be fed to dogs.”

Hawk tasted a piece, finding it quite exceptional. “Frank wasn’t exaggerating.”

Curious, Erica asked, “Frank seems nice. What’s his story? Why is he living in an RV?”

Hawk shrugged, knowing only so much. “He says he used to be a Hollywood producer. After divorcing several ex-wives and not wanting to pay more alimony, he decided to hit the road. Some old friends bought him the RV and promised to keep him safe.”

Noticing a bit of sauce on Erica’s mouth, he handed her a napkin. “The rest is unclear; I even suspect Frank isn’t his real name.”

Erica wiped her mouth and let it go. “Everyone’s got secrets.”

Hawk decided to keep the conversation going. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how tough is it to get a gun permit in California?”

He was candid. “With this job, I work a lot of nights. L.A. isn’t exactly safe, and I’ve had a few run-ins. Without a weapon for deterrence, it’s too risky.”

Erica, aware of some areas’ nighttime risks, asked directly, “Are you comfortable handling a gun?”

Hawk replied, “I grew up on a bankrupt farm in Wyoming. It’s so spread out that if you don’t know how to handle a gun, coyotes would eat all your sheep.”

Erica nodded, “There’s a background check and some classes.” After thinking it over, she said, “I’m free tomorrow afternoon. I’ll go with you.”

Hawk gladly accepted, “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Erica clinked her beer can with his. “No problem.”

Nearby, Michaela watched Frank at the grill, learning how to barbecue, while Edward and Nicole joined the table. The four of them chatted amicably.

During the conversation, Erica asked Nicole, “I sometimes work with shelters—where do you work?”

Nicole answered, “Ackerman Charity Shelter in Hollywood.”

The name Ackerman caught Hawk’s attention, and he chimed in, “I hear Edward mention it a lot; I thought you were over by Skid Row.”

Nicole turned to kiss Edward, smiling. “We met when he was handing out cards in Hollywood—a romantic encounter.”

Edward kissed her back, “It was fate, a gift from God.”

Hawk couldn’t handle their display of affection. “Homelessness seems to be growing around Hollywood Boulevard.”

“If the government doesn’t take real action, Hollywood will turn into another Skid Row,” Erica remarked, raising the conversation’s intensity. “Shelters alone can’t solve it, and charity work is getting commercialized...”

Realizing Nicole and Edward seemed lost, she knew she’d missed the mark for this gathering.

Hawk quickly took over, asking Nicole, “Is the shelter part of the Ackerman Foundation?”

“Yes,” Nicole said. “I’m employed by the foundation, though at the lowest level.”

Erica shot Hawk a thankful smile, then added, “I saw that the foundation recently donated millions to help children with leukemia find bone marrow matches.”

Nicole nodded, “I’m not involved with that, but my work focuses on helping the homeless. Sometimes the foundation provides them with free medical check-ups, and I pitch in when I can.”

Edward, aware of Hawk’s interest in charity, now praised Nicole, “A lot of people discover their illnesses this way, and Nicole’s work has saved many of them.”

Hawk understood why Edward was so adept at connecting with these lonely, divorced women. Emotional value.

Nicole, pleased, smiled sweetly at Edward. “Some people come back after getting better, and others choose to rejoin society and don’t come back.”

At that moment, Frank glanced over from the grill, then went back to work. He was a homeless man himself—he couldn’t worry about others.

Noticing Frank’s look, Hawk shouted to him and tossed him a beer, “That’s enough cooking; come join us!”

“After I finish these.” Frank looked back at Hawk, amused. This guy was interesting, and he hoped he wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Once the ribs and skewers were ready, Hawk pushed the tables together, and the five of them sat down to eat, drink, and share stories. Some of Frank’s park friends also wandered over to join.

The next afternoon, Hawk and Erica went to the Ahtel Mountain Shooting Range in partnership with the West Police Department. Hawk submitted paperwork, signed up for the necessary classes, and had a quick background check cleared, with Erica making a call to expedite things. Live-fire shooting would be easy for Hawk, and after passing his background check, he could head to the shooting range’s store to buy a gun.

Erica recommended the Glock 17 and 19, commonly used by the LAPD. Hawk chose the easier-to-carry 19.

With Erica working the night shift, Hawk offered to drive her to the West Police Department, parking conspicuously out front—making his presence known.

Gossip spread fast, but Hawk had his reasons. It could come in handy later.

As the evening darkened, he was ready to go home when he received a call from Claire, the assistant of Midnight Entertainment producer Megan Taylor.

Claire hinted, “No new stories lately. We’ve been short on news since you’ve been taking time off.”

Hawk replied, “Just a short break.”

Lately, ratings for Midnight Entertainment had been slipping without enough big headlines. Megan had sent Claire to prompt him.

Claire tried to pressure him. “You’re young; if you’re not pushing hard, how will your studio grow?”

Hawk remained calm. “Headline-worthy news doesn’t happen every day. But I’m always on the lookout, and if you pay well, you’ll be my first call for any breaking stories.”

On the drive home, Hawk thought about what news he could create next. Relying on natural occurrences meant the chances of exclusive stories were slim—competition in LA was fierce, with thousands vying for a scoop.

Back at his studio, his phone buzzed with a picture message. It was Erica, posing in uniform in front of a full-length mirror. He replied, “A beautiful, brave angel of justice has come to L.A.”

Just then, his phone rang. Thinking it was Erica, he answered, only to hear a man’s voice.

“Heading to the gym tomorrow?” asked Eric.

“I’m busy with firearms training tomorrow,” Hawk replied.

Eric was shocked. “Is business so intense it’s come to this?”

Hawk said, “When you reach a certain level, you’ll see it’s normal.”

Eric sighed, “With Johnson off overseas and you busy, I’ll have to hit the gym solo tomorrow.”

Chapter 64: Revenge in person

---

Atter Mountain Shooting Range

As the gunshots echoed through the range, Hawk finished his last ten rounds, removed his earmuffs, and ejected the magazine. The instructor responsible for live ammunition assessments came over, checked the target, and said, “Buddy, it’s another perfect 50 score. You’ve passed the live ammo test; I really don’t have anything left to teach you.”

He signed off on the assessment sheet and wished him luck, “Good luck with everything.”

“Thanks.” Hawk tipped the instructor, took his assessment sheet, and handed it in to the range supervisor. The morning course had ended, but there was an afternoon theory class left. There was no online option, so he had to attend an eight-hour in-person session.

Hawk swapped his jacket, stored his gun properly, and was getting ready for lunch when he received a call from an unknown number. He picked up and exchanged a few quick words with the caller before rushing off to the Western Precinct.

---

### Eric’s Arrest

Eric Isen had been taken into custody by the Western Precinct. He’d called Hawk, requesting a lawyer, specifically instructing him not to tell Catherine. Hawk remembered a lawyer he’d worked with while setting up his studio, so he called them and arranged to meet at the precinct. Half an hour later, they arrived together.

After the lawyer handled the formalities, Hawk was taken to a holding room where he found Eric, looking both hurt and furious, as if ready to explode.

Hawk assessed Eric’s injuries—they weren’t as bad as Johnson’s had been. “What happened?” he asked.

Eric grabbed Hawk’s arm tightly. “Miller Collins! You remember that Miller Collins guy? He harassed me in the locker room, got too close. I fought back, and he beat me up,” Eric said, seething. “I can’t believe it. I couldn’t even fight him off…”

Hawk recalled Collins was a star wide receiver for the San Diego Chargers—NFL players were built like beasts.

Eric continued, “He’s definitely a repeat offender. He ‘accidentally’ spilled water on my pants and bent down to wipe them, grabbing me down there! When I fought him off, he turned it around, calling the police and claiming I harassed him. There was another guy in the locker room who backed up his story when LAPD arrived…”

Hawk knew Eric well—he wasn’t that type, no matter how often he complained about seafood.

“It’s so humiliating,” Eric mumbled, mortified. “My lawyer also represents Catherine, so I couldn’t let her find out. You were the only one I could call.”

Hawk tried to reassure him, “The only one who should be ashamed is him, not you. You’re the victim here.”

“But nobody believes me.” Eric sounded defeated.

“I do,” Hawk said firmly.

Eric nodded, visibly relieved. “I knew you would.”

Just then, the lawyer came in.

Hawk asked, “How’s it looking?”

“Not too bad,” the lawyer replied. “Miller Collins and his lawyer have decided not to press charges. They’ve already left the precinct. We’ll wrap up the paperwork here, and then you can go.”

Eric shot up. “But I’m the victim!”

The lawyer explained, “Unfortunately, the evidence doesn’t favor you. There’s no surveillance in the locker room, and Collins’ clothing has water stains with your handprint. Plus, the sole witness sided with him.”

Hawk held back an enraged Eric and told the lawyer, “Let’s get the paperwork done. We’ll leave and talk outside.”

---

Retaliation Plans

Outside the precinct, Eric sat in Hawk’s car, frustrated. His belongings were still at Tracy’s Gym, so Hawk offered to give him a lift back to Westwood.

On the drive, Eric fumed, “The guy who backed Collins up must know him. If we find him, I could clear my name!”

Hawk reasoned, “If Collins is a habitual offender, that guy’s probably one of his enablers. Finding him might not do any good.”

Eric slumped, deflated.

“Don’t give up just yet,” Hawk encouraged. “There are other ways to handle this.”

Eric considered a former rival, George Hanson, and ideas began forming in his mind. Maybe he could start a high-stakes business battle instead of trying to outmuscle Collins.

When they arrived at Tracy’s Gym, Eric went to the locker room to get his bag while Hawk waited outside. The gym manager approached with an envelope in hand.

“Mr. Isen,” she said to Eric as he emerged, “due to the disruption caused to other patrons, Tracy’s Gym will no longer be extending its services to you.” She handed over the envelope. “Here’s your refund.”

Eric was furious but held back his anger, grabbed the envelope, and walked out. Hawk gave the manager a single look before following him.

---

Making a Plan

Back in the car, Hawk tried to calm Eric down. “Don’t let someone like him get to you. We’ll find a way to make this right.”

“But I don’t even know where to start,” Eric said, eyes red with frustration. He begged Hawk, “Please, don’t tell Catherine about this. It would be humiliating. I’d lose every shred of pride I have.”

Hawk nodded, “This stays between us.”

Eric sat back, still unable to shake off the anger that simmered inside him. He thought of George Hanson again, remembering how Hawk had once helped him out with a rival. Sitting up straight, he looked over at Hawk and asked, “Would your West Coast Media Entertainment Studio be willing to take me on as a client, just like you did for Dwayne Johnson?”

Hawk didn’t need him to finish the thought. “You want me to go after Miller Collins for you, right?”

“Yes! I can’t let him get away with this. Not again.” Eric’s tone was filled with conviction. “Collins might be an NFL star, but that’s within your studio’s realm, isn’t it?”

“All right. But I won’t take your money,” Hawk replied.

Eric opened his mouth to protest but had nothing to say. He slumped back in his seat, feeling as if his entire life had gone dark.

Hawk clarified, “You’re my friend. Seeing a friend mistreated like this? I’m not going to stand by. As for money, don’t even mention it.”

Eric understood. “I can’t let you work for me for free, Hawk.”

“Eric, I got that Dwayne Johnson deal because of your introduction. Did you ever ask me for a cent in return?” Hawk said seriously. “Do you really want me to bill you?”

Eric still wanted to argue, but Hawk continued, “Look, this doesn’t need to weigh on you. I might make some money off Collins once we get started, and whatever expenses come up, they’re on you, okay?”

“Fair enough.”

“But don’t even think of going for things like ‘break his leg’ or ‘start a fight.’ We both have way too much ahead of us to go to jail over someone like him.”

Hawk then asked, “What’s your goal here? I need to know.”

Eric’s face twisted with disgust. “If possible, ruin his reputation.”

Hawk nodded. “Got it.”

He dialed Edward at the studio. “Stop slacking off outside. Get back to the studio—we’ve got a news story to start building.”

Edward, who’d been waiting on standby, perked up immediately. “Boss, we’ve got a new lead?”

“Yes, a solid one. I’m on my way back.”

---

Planning Revenge

On the drive back, Hawk stopped to buy some sports magazines, including one with a poster of Miller Collins. Once they arrived at the studio, and after Edward joined them, Hawk called a team meeting. He pinned Collins’ poster to the whiteboard.

“This is our next target,” Hawk announced. “Miller Collins, star wide receiver for the San Diego Chargers. Before we proceed, we need to do our homework. Let’s dig up his background.”

Eric listened intently, new to this type of work.

“Edward, look through newspapers and magazines from the past three years and find every piece of news on Collins. Eric, talk to Johnson and get info on Collins’ business dealings, endorsements, and his relationship with the Chargers.”

Hawk added, “I’ll investigate his personal life and connections.”

After a round of high-fives, Hawk told them, “Let’s get moving.”

Chapter 65: Finding a Breakthrough

In the Palisades neighborhood of the Santa Monica Mountains, Hawk sat in a rented luxury car, adjusting his camera to take continuous shots of the mansion across the street. The white house was partially hidden behind trees and a black wall, blocking outside views.

A patrol car was approaching from a distance. Hawk put away his camera and said to Edward, "Let's go back."

Edward accelerated the car forward and remarked, "Miller Collins must be hiding something. Besides his own home, he’s renting a place like this. He’s definitely up to something."

Hawk found it plausible—he himself kept a couple of safehouses outside of his studio. Traffic ahead slowed them down a bit as a cherry picker was taking up half the road. In the raised bucket, a worker in a reflective vest was repairing a streetlight. Hawk casually snapped a couple of photos.

Edward commented, “Boss, if we had that last time, you wouldn’t have had to climb the lamppost yourself.”

Hawk put his camera away and replied lightly, “No problem—you can climb it next time.”

Edward glanced at the pole and joked, “Boss, you must be really good at that stuff! Climbing up and sliding down no problem, huh? Bet you’ve done it a thousand times—got some calluses by now?”

A real man doesn’t back down. Hawk said confidently, “Don’t know who’s lucky enough to enjoy those skills…”

Back at the studio, they received a call from Eric, who came in shortly afterward with a backpack. Edward unloaded the newspapers and magazines he’d collected over the past few days and laid them on the table. Hawk sorted through the photos and videos he’d taken, giving a quick rundown.

The three of them got to work, each selecting the materials they thought would be valuable. They worked straight through from morning to evening until Hawk finally turned on the lights, signaling a break.

Edward went out and brought back takeout. After eating quickly, they held another meeting.

Hawk organized his notes and said, “Regarding Miller Collins’s background check, let’s hear what each of you found.”

Eric started, “Miller Collins entered the San Diego Chargers through the draft seven years ago. He’s been traded once but in the past three years, he’s been regarded as one of the best active wide receivers in the NFL. He’s in his contract year now, negotiating a new deal with the Chargers, hoping for one last big contract before retirement, with an annual salary that could exceed $10 million.”

He pinned some photos on the whiteboard. “Maria Collins and Dolores Collins are Miller’s wife and daughter. This family has a stellar public image, and Miller is known as a model husband in the NFL.”

At this point, Eric felt a bit nauseous and almost gagged. Hawk handed him a bottle of water and asked, “Does he have any commercial endorsements?”

Eric took a big gulp of water to settle his stomach and replied, “Miller has five endorsements—four are for men’s products, and the last one is a family-oriented product that he co-endorses with his wife.”

Hawk looked over the endorsements and said, “For the first four, he needs to keep up a strong, manly image, and the last one needs a wholesome family image.”

Eric asked, “Do we expose him directly?”

Hawk shook his head. “Without solid evidence, we’ll not only face Miller’s defamation lawsuit but also his team and sponsors.”

Edward didn’t understand and asked curiously, “What are you guys talking about?”

Eric replied, “I found out this guy is a closeted homosexual.”

Edward was surprised. “He’s gay? Gay and married with kids? That’s just irresponsible!”

He made a gesture with his hands, indicating, “This way or that way?”

Eric thought of the locker room and made a circle with his hand. “Probably this way.”

“No wonder,” Edward muttered, flipping through his files and pinning a stack of clippings to another whiteboard. “I went through all the news and magazines on Miller from the last three years. He’s a high-profile NFL star, and in some real candid shots, he’s often with male friends. I thought they were just celebrity buddies.”

Hawk examined the photos closely and asked Edward, “Have you identified who they are?”

Edward pulled out three photos and said, “I’ve identified them.”

He inserted a USB drive into a laptop and pulled up images, explaining, “This one’s Sean Howard, an ad model who did a commercial with Miller. This one’s Smith Wood, an artist. And this one’s Quinn Dennis, a member of a ballet troupe.”

Eric was surprised. “You even got pictures?”

Hawk explained briefly, “Celebrity friends can sometimes be more revealing than partners. I’ve cracked stories before through these connections.”

Eric nodded in understanding. “Professionals handle professional work. That makes sense.”

Hawk said, “I learned some details from a media contact, especially Channel 11. Miller’s from Southern California, a typical white family background, worked his way up through college sports. His social connections are a bit complicated—he has childhood friends in white gangs who still keep close ties with him.”

Edward asked, “Could we face gang threats?”

Hawk reminded them, “Be mentally prepared.”

Eric, recalling an earlier humiliation, felt no fear. “Bring it on—a little corporate war.”

Hawk nodded and added, “Two months ago, Miller bought a mansion on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica for family residence. A bit later, he rented a smaller house in the Palisades, switching cars when he goes there. Probably for secret meetings.”

Eric speculated, “A rendezvous place?”

“Quite possibly,” Hawk replied. “Miller’s also close with several stars—I can confirm David Beckham and Tom Cruise.”

“Wow, we’ve hit the jackpot!” Edward said excitedly, rubbing his hands together. “If we catch Miller with them, the story would be worth seven figures!”

Hawk added, “Beckham is no big deal; he’s not American. But if it’s Tom Cruise, the Church of Scientology might come after you—they’re rumored to do things like that.”

Edward quickly backtracked. “Money’s no good if you can’t spend it. So many divorced single moms waiting for me to save them.”

Eric suddenly understood, “So that’s why they call you ‘the Savior.’”

Edward laughed proudly.

Hawk said, “Forget Beckham and Tom Cruise. Even if there’s something there, it’d be nearly impossible to get photos. Sitting back isn’t our West Coast Studio style.”

Eric looked puzzled. “So what’s the breakthrough?”

Hawk glanced at Edward. “They don’t call you the Savior for nothing; you’ve already found our way in.”

“Miller has a wife and kid…” Edward thought aloud, “But they’re not divorced.”

Hawk took the mouse and displayed the three men’s photos on the screen. “What do they have in common?”

Eric replied, “Brown hair, lean build, some scruff.”

Edward added, “Looks around 30, long face, with a bit of a melancholic look.”

Hawk added, “And they’re all involved in the arts.”

Eric scratched his stubbled chin. “Hearing that description, it feels oddly familiar.”

Hawk and Edward both looked at him. Edward handed him a mirror. “Take a look.”

Eric examined himself—scruffy beard, melancholy eyes, brown hair, a weathered long face, and a director’s career.

“Fuck!” he cursed softly. “No wonder.”

Edward looked confused.

Since they relied on each other, Eric briefly recounted his own experience.

Edward said, “I can’t stand this gay stuff! Messing with my friend is even worse. We’ve got to get him!”

Eric clarified, “He didn’t get me.”

Hawk quickly pulled the conversation back on track. “Our style is to act. We make the impossible possible.”

“The more complex a plan, the easier it is for something to go wrong. I have a simple, effective plan.” He pointed to the screen, “Find a gay guy with this style to work with us.”

Eric had a concern. “That guy’s got more money than us; things could go wrong easily.”

Hawk had already considered it. “We’ll offer him something Miller can’t. Eric, you’re a director, and Castle Rock Studios is backing your next film. Shouldn’t be hard to find a similar actor with this style.”

Edward remarked, “Plenty of gay guys in Hollywood.”

Eric thought it over. “I could try recruiting an actor under the pretense of casting?”

“That could work,” Hawk said after a moment. “I’m sure plenty of Hollywood folks would be interested.”

Eric nodded. “Since Castle Rock is involved, I can only decide on supporting roles.”

Hawk suggested, “Do an early audition, find someone who fits. Criteria...”

Eric understood, “Plenty of folks would take a chance.”

Hooking up with men or women, or anything in between, is practically a given in the industry.

Edward asked, “Boss, with his team and sponsors, won’t we run into issues like last time?”

Hawk flipped through his notes. “It’s possible, but less likely. In cases like this, sponsors are usually the first to distance themselves.”