36-40

Chapter 36, "Hawk Doesn't Like Being Passive

Back in the car, Hawk pulled out a special press pass and tossed it to Edward, who was in the driver’s seat. "Here’s what you wanted."

Edward grabbed the pass and kissed it repeatedly. “Boss, you’ve saved my future happiness! With this, I’ll have all the confidence I need on my dates. I’ll seal the deal with that woman and her two kids in no time, and move into a new home.”

After their second test run, Hawk realized Edward was quite useful and said, “When we get back, I’ll give you a $200 bonus. You’ll need money for your date…”

Edward was surprised. “Isn’t the woman supposed to pay? What kind of man pays?”

His disdain was impossible to hide as he added, “Boss, your thinking is outdated. How about I take you out and show you how it’s done? You’ll never get a girl like this. Do you want me to find you some San Fernando Valley tapes to watch? Don’t worry, they’re free.”

Hawk replied, “Shut up.”

Edward had been hanging around Hawk for a few days and was getting bolder. “Every time we talk about this, and you can't win the argument, you tell me to shut up. It just makes you look even weaker in this area. Don’t tell me… you’re still a virgin?”

Hawk thought to himself, I reset to virgin mode every day at midnight.

Out loud, he casually said, “The average ones don’t catch my eye. The kind I like? They’ve got to be on the level of young Brooke Shields or Jennifer Connelly.”

Edward frowned, “That’s going to be tough.”

Hawk drove back to Fountain Street and parked in front of the house. Once inside, Edward followed, carrying beer and snacks.

Hawk put away his equipment bag, pulled out $200 in cash, wrote out a bonus slip, and handed them both to Edward for him to sign.

The West Coast Media and Entertainment Studio only existed in name at the moment. The formal registration process still wasn’t complete.

Edward signed for the money, set the beer and snacks on the table, popped open a can, and handed it to Hawk. “It’s late. Mind if I crash here for the night? I swear I’ll find a new place soon.”

Hawk replied, “There are two bedrooms upstairs. You can take the spare one.”

Edward quickly clinked his beer can with Hawk’s. “Boss, no man has ever treated me this well.”

Hawk followed up with a question. “What about your father?”

“Only God knows where he is,” Edward said simply. “You know the biggest thing about Black men? They don’t take responsibility for their women or families. As soon as a woman gets pregnant, the man’s out the door.”

It was almost 11 PM. Hawk glanced at the time, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV to Channel 11.

“A lot of women like men like that,” he said. “Responsible men aren’t popular.”

Edward tested the waters with a question: “Boss, are you a responsible man?”

Hawk dodged the question, saying, “Who knows?”

At 11 PM sharp, Midnight Entertainment came on.

The top story was the video Hawk had sold.

Midnight Entertainment gave it a heavy focus. It started exactly how Hawk expected, with the attention on The Lord of the Rings crew attacking media reporters and obstructing the freedom of the press.

But then, they unexpectedly brought on a linguistics expert.

The host, Megan, mentioned there were allegations that Ian McKellen had used discriminatory language when attacking a Black reporter who was running. She asked the expert if he could identify anything.

The expert said the nighttime footage wasn’t clear enough to tell.

The segment ended without any conclusion, but it planted a seed in viewers’ minds. Seeing Ian McKellen’s angry face, people would surely start wondering if he had said something.

“He didn’t insult me,” Edward said, putting down his beer can. “I can guarantee that.”

Hawk replied, “The show’s about ratings and getting attention, not the truth.”

Edward sneered, “TV stations have no morals. We’re more honorable than they are. At least we don’t make up lies!”

Feeling a sense of superiority, he added, “We’re the ones chasing the truth, reporting the truth.”

Hawk, shameless as ever, fully agreed. “And to achieve that, we don’t mind using entertainment to engage the public. Heroes and villains can switch places.”

Edward raised his can. “Boss, you’re educated and know a lot. I’ll drink to that!”

They clinked cans and took a swig. Hawk reminded him, “Listen, Savior, we’re still small. When you’re gathering news, you have to be careful. Always take photos or videos, or we could get sued.”

Edward, a little slow on the uptake, asked, “Aren’t scandals the source of all gossip?”

Hawk shook his head. “With photos or videos, it’s a scandal. Without them, it’s slander.”

Edward nodded. “Got it. Slander gets you sued, and you have to pay up.”

They continued watching the show, which later announced the Oscar results. The rest of the program was mostly gossip, including a review of Eddie Murphy’s solicitation scandal, revisiting his notorious dating history.

Midnight Entertainment was pure tabloid-style entertainment, leaning heavily toward the sensational.

In terms of style, the show seemed determined to strip every celebrity bare.

It was perfect for what Hawk needed right now. He saved Claire’s contact info from the show for future video sales.

Los Angeles Channel 11, backed by Fox, not only had deep pockets but a wild side, too.

Hawk pocketed the $15,000 check and headed upstairs to rest.

The next morning, he dragged Edward out for a workout, and afterward, they stopped to buy a copy of The World News’ Oscar special edition.

The front-page headline, of course, was the Oscars, but the third-page feature was the photo of Ian McKellen that Hawk had sold.

Even in the chaos of last night, Ian McKellen’s outburst at McDonald’s was still juicy enough gossip to make headlines.

After breakfast, Hawk returned to his workspace, clipped the third-page article, and stored it along with the earlier stories about infidelity and solicitation scandals in a file cabinet.

These were all part of the studio’s track record, useful for future reference, or even as capital.

Just as he finished organizing, the phone rang. It was the agency calling to inform him that the studio’s registration process was almost complete, and he needed to come in to sign off.

“I’ve got something to do today,” Edward said sheepishly. “Would you mind if…”

Since Edward was his go-to guy for risky work, Hawk waved him off generously. “Go to your date.”

Another reason was that Edward had snored so loudly the previous night that he couldn’t let him stay again.

Edward grabbed his press pass and headed off to meet the divorced woman.

Hawk, meanwhile, went out alone, driving to Highland Street. He signed the final paperwork for the business license and tax registration at the agency office, completing the last steps.

The West Coast Media and Entertainment Studio was now officially established.

Afterwards, Hawk cashed his check and found a payphone to call a private investigator, asking in an East Coast accent about the investigation’s progress.

The detective reported some findings: one of Donnie’s guys often attended private poker games, but more specifics would take a few more days.

Hawk hung up and, while driving back, started planning where his next story—and paycheck—would come from.

He could passively wait by printing more business cards and hiring temps to distribute them, but Hawk didn’t like waiting.

Being new in the business made it hard to land the right story. He needed to create one.

His thoughts drifted to Robert Downey Jr., and the idea became clearer.

Make something happen, capture it on video, and turn it into the money he needed to grow stronger.

---

Chapter 37: Taking Down the Trouble to Clear the Mind

*Fountain Street, across from Ranch Park.*

A ladder was propped up in front of the door as Hawk took the brass plaque Edward handed him and hung it on the wall.

*West Coast Media Entertainment Studio* was officially open for business.

Edward and Frank, who had nothing better to do, grabbed some confetti cannons and fired them toward the door. With two loud pops, streamers and glitter flew up and rained down on Hawk.

Passersby glanced briefly as they walked by, some in a hurry, and some just uninterested.

Hawk opened the door and said, "I’ve got a little party ready. Come on in."

Frank followed, shaking his head at the modest spread on the desk—beer, pizza, and some barbecue. "This is your grand opening party? You really kept it simple."

Hawk, looking nonchalant, replied, "Once the studio takes off, I’ll bring in dozens of Hollywood starlets. I guarantee you’ll feel like you’re back in the good old days."

Frank scoffed, his words cutting, "No thanks. To you guys, they might be unreachable muses, but I’ve already had more than enough of that scene."

Edward closed the door, acting like Hawk's sidekick, handed Frank a beer, and, with a cheeky smile, asked, "Your ex-wife must’ve been a Hollywood starlet, right?"

Frank stood tall with pride, "Of course!"

Edward, pressing on, said, "Which one specifically? Come on, give us a name if you want us to be impressed. If you can’t name one, we’ll just assume you’re making it all up."

Hawk, sipping his beer and enjoying the banter, joined in, "Yeah, are you sure you're not just full of it?"

Frank, too sharp to be caught off guard, eyed both Hawk and Edward suspiciously. "What are you guys up to? You think you’re going to squeeze some old gossip out of me and sell it for cash?"

With mock indignation, he added, "I thought we were friends, but you’d sell me out?"

Hawk, looking serious, said, "Relax. I swear on my professional integrity, I’d never sell your story."

Frank snorted, "Integrity? In your line of work?"

"Of course!" Hawk replied without missing a beat. "We’re all about the truth and justice."

Frank shook his head and said, "Have you picked out your cemetery plot yet? Let me know the address; I’ll make sure to bring flowers every year."

Hawk flipped him off.

Edward chimed in, "Forget the trash talk. Where’s the name? No name, no proof!" He grinned, his wits sharp when it came to women. "Earlier, you said your ex-wives took your money and alimony to spend on other men. I can’t stand by and let my friend get treated like that! Give me their names, and I’ll help you get even!"

Frank sneered, seeing right through Edward. "And how exactly are you going to help? With your 'connections'? When your ancestors came over from Africa, they must’ve left all their brains with the chimps and baboons. After all these generations, you still haven’t grown them back?"

"F*ck off!" Edward snapped. "Let’s see whose brains are bigger, then!"

Hawk, cutting off their back-and-forth insults, changed the topic forcefully. "I visited that Channel 11 you mentioned. Their approach seems pretty aggressive."

Frank took a sip of his beer and said, "Channel 11 wasn’t always like this. But ever since Fox bought them, the style changed. You’ve heard of Fox News, right? Bold and wild. They supposedly use unconventional methods to gather news. All their outlets are influenced by that."

He pulled up a chair and sat down. "As for celebrity gossip, most of it Channel 11 can handle on their own. And they pay well."

Hawk, thinking of the $10,000 he’d just made, asked, "Anything I should be careful about when dealing with them?"

Frank thought for a moment. "Never mess with Fox News’ boss, Roger Ailes. That guy’s got a reputation for being ruthless. But honestly, you’re probably never going to cross paths with someone at that level."

Hawk made a mental note of the name.

After eating and drinking his fill, Frank left for a walk around town.

Hawk pulled out a box of business cards and handed it to Edward. "These are all for distribution. Get your crew together and hand them out all over L.A. I’ll pay minimum wage."

Edward, thinking of his last payday, confidently said, "Leave it to me, boss. I’ll get it done right."

Hawk waved him off, and Edward happily grabbed the box and left the studio, ready to call up his friends.

Soon enough, a dozen guys took the subway and arrived at Ranch Park to pick up their assignments for the day.

Edward handed out the cards, saying, "Pay attention, if you come across single, divorced women with kids living in big houses, make sure to note them down and report back to me. Got it?"

The others had no idea what he was up to but, eager for their pay, replied, "Got it."

Edward, hands on his hips, said, "If you take my money and don’t do the job right, I’ll kick your asses."

With that, the group scattered.

Edward himself headed to the affluent area of Santa Monica, looking for targets while distributing cards.

…………

While Edward handled the task of chasing down news, Hawk focused on creating it.

His main target was Robert Downey Jr., with the goal of stirring up trouble and making money at the same time.

Hawk gathered up the newspapers he’d been collecting, then opened bookmarked websites, all with the latest updates on Robert Downey Jr.

The Oscar-nominated, BAFTA-winning actor hadn’t been derailed by scandal. Everyone knew that as long as a celebrity didn’t cross a certain line, Hollywood scandals didn’t do much damage.

Though he’d been dropped from the Gothika cast, Downey’s connections in the industry were still keeping him afloat.

Online sources confirmed that his father, through his relationship with Steven Soderbergh, had gotten him a recommendation for a role in Eros. Mel Gibson, who had worked with Downey in The Singing Detective, had also put in a word for him to audition for Game 6, directed by Michael Hoffman.

These connections were helping Robert Downey Jr. stage a comeback, a classic Hollywood redemption story that never seemed to get old.

Today’s Hollywood Life reported that Downey’s current wife, Deborah Falconer, was planning to move back to Brentwood, signaling a reconciliation.

Watching his rival thrive while he struggled drove Hawk crazy, like he’d lost a fortune.

A Western psychologist might call it depression. In Eastern terms, he had to get rid of a "small man" to clear his path.

Hawk wrote Robert Downey Jr.’s name on the whiteboard and pinned up a poster of The Singing Detective, deep in thought.

After a while, the door knocked, and Edward came back.

Grabbing a bottle of water, Edward glanced at the whiteboard, curious. "Boss, haven’t we already worked on a story about Robert Downey Jr.? Why are you still fixated on him?"

Hawk casually replied, "I promised I’d help you find a rich, divorced woman with kids."

Edward was touched by the gesture and quickly said, "Boss, if you’re going this far for my little problem, I’ll always have your back, no matter what comes our way."

Hawk said, "Don’t worry. I’ll have you charging ahead soon enough."

Chapter 38: The Gambler

*Brentwood, inside a luxury mansion.*

To show his determination to get back on track, Robert Downey Jr. spent a large sum of money and brought in a therapist, Judy Havenly. Judy had studied under the famous American psychic, astrologer, and prophet Jeane Dixon.

"I've been really unlucky lately..." Downey recounted his recent troubles, including being photographed during an affair and being fired from a film crew. He then asked, "How can I get back on track?"

Judy asked him for a few strands of hair and began performing a ritual. Downey and his two sidekicks were silent, too afraid to interrupt. After a while, Judy finished the ritual and said, "I found the problem."

Cole, the heavyset sidekick, whispered curiously to the bald companion, Heiman, "Is this for real?"

Downey glanced over, and they both shut their mouths.

Judy then asked, "Since the start of the year, have you had something you really wanted to do but failed to accomplish?"

Downey thought for a moment and said, "I didn't get the lead role in Ghost Shadow."

Judy had done her research before the session, so she shook her head, "Think earlier than that."

Downey pondered for a few minutes and then remembered something. "I once wanted someone to jump off a building, but he didn't do it, and I was pretty upset about it. Does that count?"

Judy seized on this and paused for dramatic effect before mysteriously replying, "That's it."

To avoid legal issues, she added, "You must get this person to willingly jump, no forcing."

Downey nodded, "Got it."

After receiving payment, Judy left.

Back inside, Downey sat in the lounge, deep in thought, unable to remember the guy’s name. He called the director. Once the name was confirmed, he ordered Heiman, "You go to Provo, Utah, and find some guy named Downing Ward. He's into extreme sports and has worked as a stuntman; shouldn't be too hard to track down."

Heiman responded, "I'll pack my stuff and head out immediately."

Downey then turned to Cole, "You’re more connected. Get some reliable guys ready. As soon as Heiman locates the guy, have him secured."

He added, "Don’t hurt him just yet. I want to watch him jump."

Cole nodded, "I’ll need some cash to get this done."

Downey strode into another room, saying, "Follow me." He opened a cabinet. "There's some cash in here. Take it."

Cole promised, "I’ll handle this smoothly."

After Downey left, Cole grabbed over a thousand dollars in cash and, on his way out, noticed a dusty Rolex lying forgotten in the cabinet corner. Downey had so many watches that even he probably couldn’t keep track of them all. Cole, who knew the mansion well, casually slipped the Rolex into his pocket. It was clear from his smooth actions that this wasn’t his first time.

Meanwhile, Downey went to another room, where Deborah was packing their son's clothes. He asked, "How about we go out for dinner tonight?"

Deborah, still upset, coldly replied, "I’m not interested."

Downey raised his hand and swore, "I’ll never touch that stuff again. Tomorrow, I’m going to the gym. Rehab and fitness, I swear!"

"I’ll give you one last chance," Deborah said, still uninterested in dinner. "Just hope you mean it this time."

Frustrated by her refusal, Downey returned to his game room, pulled a plastic bag out of a pool cue case, and thought, I’ll start quitting tomorrow, but tonight, just one last time.

Elsewhere, Cole drove out of Brentwood and headed to Big Daddy’s Art Shop in Westwood. After parking, he walked toward the entrance. Across the street, Hawk, disguised with a wig, glasses, and a fake mustache, watched him closely.

In an East Coast accent, Hawk said, "That’s the guy, the fat one."

A man sitting nearby on a bench, reading a newspaper, looked utterly ordinary, the perfect undercover private investigator. "This guy’s a gambler. He frequently attends a private poker game. He’s not very bright, and every time he steals something valuable, he comes here to sell it. This is the third time since I started tailing him."

"A gambler? That’s good," Hawk replied, handing the man an envelope. "I’ll handle this. Keep an eye on him from outside, but don’t forget the other target."

The investigator nodded, "No problem, my assistant’s got eyes on him."

Hawk pushed up his fake glasses and, carrying a modified briefcase, crossed the street and entered the art shop.

Yesterday, after receiving photos from the private investigator, he’d already scouted the place. As he entered, a shop assistant greeted him, "Hello, how can I help you today?"

Hawk noticed the fat man in the watch section and said, "I’m looking to buy a used Rolex or Omega."

The assistant sized up Hawk’s attire and briefcase, quickly realizing he wasn’t someone who could afford new merchandise and led him to the used section, "Right this way."

Hawk kept his briefcase under his arm, angling it toward the fat man, especially the watch being examined by the appraiser. Pretending to show interest in some watches, he began haggling over prices with the assistant, allowing his hidden camera to capture everything.

The art shop also rented out items for those who couldn’t afford to buy outright.

Soon, Cole received a check for the Rolex and left the store. Hawk, feigning dissatisfaction with the prices, left too, got into a Chevy, and began tailing Cole’s car.

Cole drove west along Santa Monica Boulevard, eventually turning into a vast parking lot in Santa Monica. He glanced at his digital watch, noting he still had time to play cards before finding the target.

A Chevy pulled in and parked nearby.

As Cole got out of his car, he saw the Chevy’s passenger-side window roll down, revealing a large photo of him with the female appraiser, a Cartier necklace in his hand.

Hawk pointed to the passenger seat, "Get in."

Cole felt paralyzed, unable to run, and reluctantly climbed into the Chevy’s passenger seat.

Hawk handed him a stack of photos. As Cole flipped through them, he realized they were all of him selling stolen items at Big Daddy’s Art Shop.

Hawk shattered any remaining hope, "I’ve investigated you. Besides what you make working for Downey, you have no other income. These items aren’t yours. If I’m right, they belong to your employer and friend."

"Oh, and by the way," he added, "you just sold a Rolex."

Cole slumped, the photos slipping from his hands. He opened his mouth several times but couldn’t speak.

After a while, Hawk said, "You’re a regular at this poker game, right? Downey doesn’t know about it, does he?"

Cole, still struggling to breathe, asked, "What do you want?"

Hawk, now resembling a movie villain, picked up a few photos from the center console. "You don’t want these showing up in front of Downey and his wife, right? Don’t worry, I’m not asking for much. I’ve got a partner holding onto the negatives."

"I’d never betray Downey!" Cole said desperately.

"I’m not asking you to," Hawk replied calmly. "Just keep me posted on where Downey and Deborah are, like who they’re meeting up with."

Cole looked puzzled, "You’re a journalist?"

Hawk pulled out a fake business card he’d prepared earlier, "Anthony Murphy, freelance journalist."

Cole sighed in relief, "You just want this?"

"Buddy, it’s the age of law and order! Downey’s a celebrity. If I did anything more than this, I’d ruin myself."

Cole, a gambler at heart, needed only a plausible excuse, "You swear?"

Hawk replied, "I swear on the Murphy family name, by God!"

Cole then set a condition, "No more than a week. I don’t want this hanging over me. After ten days, you give me the negatives and the photos."

"Deal, but ten days," Hawk responded.

After asking some more questions about the stolen items, Hawk noted Cole’s phone number and gave him his backup phone number.

Cole got out of the car, and Hawk drove away from Santa Monica. Halfway, he called the private investigator. "You can pull out now."

"Got it," the investigator replied. "My assistant followed Heiman to the airport. He’s flying to Provo, Utah."

"I figured as much," Hawk said calmly, then hung up.

He frowned slightly. What’s Downey’s lackey doing in Provo? Is this related to Downing Ward?

He pulled out his regular phone and called Edward, "Did you get in touch with Jacqueline?"

Edward replied, "I called her. She hasn’t gotten up yet. We agreed to meet in an hour at Hobart Hill."

Chapter 39: Big Guy and Little Cutie

At Hobart Hill Park, Jacqueline, wearing jeans and sneakers, spotted Hawk and Edward from a distance and quickened her pace.

When she got closer, she opened her arms and gave Hawk a strong hug. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," she said.

Hawk stepped back and replied, "I should be the one thanking you for the news tip."

Jacqueline sat on a stone bench. "I saw the National Enquirer. Her agent's pissed at that little witch and ordered her to leave L.A. If she's seen in L.A. again, she'll be tossed into Compton."

"That’s way too harsh!" Edward, who was from Compton, couldn’t help but comment. "A young, pretty white girl ending up in Compton? That's straight out of a Valley flick."

Hawk got to the point. "I need your help with something."

Having just had the backstabber who betrayed her dealt with, Jacqueline was feeling grateful to Hawk. "If I can do it, I will."

Hawk waved his hand. "It's simple. I need you to pose as a pregnant woman and meet someone."

Jacqueline rubbed her belly. "I don't really know much about pregnant women."

Edward handed her a DVD that Hawk had prepared in advance. "Everything you need to know is on this. Take it home and watch it carefully."

Hawk then asked, "How much is your daily rate? I'll pay market price."

Edward, wide-eyed, asked, "Boss, did you suddenly get enlightened? Since when did you know about daily rates?"

Jacqueline, somewhat hesitant, said, "I’m on my period and taking a break right now... $200 a day should be fine."

Hawk handed her $200 right away. "It might take more than one day, so watch the DVD first."

He signaled Edward, who handed Jacqueline a backpack they had brought.

Hawk said, "Inside is all the gear you'll need to disguise yourself as pregnant. Take it home, practice, and keep your phone on. I'll call."

Jacqueline accepted everything.

After she left, Edward scratched his head and frowned. "Boss, why do I feel like we're the shady villains from some Hollywood movie?"

Hawk asked, "Who do you think is tougher, us or Downey?"

"Downey, of course," Edward said after thinking for a moment. "He's probably a millionaire at the very least. Compared to him, we're both broke. The only edge we have is staying in the shadows."

Hawk countered, "We’re not afraid of being broke, so why would we be afraid to stay hidden and strike like a snake?"

Suddenly, Edward understood. "You're right! Why should us broke guys be scared of anyone?"

The two left Hobart Hill Park to make other preparations.

The next day, Hawk called Fatty Cole to inquire about Robert Downey Jr.’s whereabouts.

He had already pushed Cole’s limits yesterday, using one inquiry to keep nudging Cole's boundaries.

Cole told Hawk that Downey would be at Tracy's Gym that day.

Hawk then called Eric and asked, "Old friend, have you gotten any leads on the gym?"

Eric, a little embarrassed, said, "Catherine found someone, but I’ve been busy writing my screenplay and forgot to update you. Wait a bit, I’ll give Catherine a call."

A few minutes later, Hawk received a call from Eric, telling him to get to the gym by three o’clock. Eric would accompany Catherine’s contact.

This wasn’t the kind of thing you could leave Eric waiting for.

Hawk immediately set off, driving to Westwood and waiting near the gym.

Around 10 AM, Eric called, and Hawk waited at the gym's entrance.

Before long, a Ford Bronco pulled up. In the passenger seat was Eric, and the driver was a big guy Hawk recognized: Dwayne Johnson.

At that time, Johnson was still early in his Hollywood career, not yet the dominating star he'd become. After Eric introduced them, Johnson stepped forward, shaking Hawk's hand with a friendly grin. "Eric’s been talking you up, saying you’re a genius at film marketing. You sold his dying film for a fortune at Sundance."

Hawk, eager to maintain the good rapport, responded, "Well, it was really because his film was great. No amount of marketing could help if it wasn’t."

Eric, who greatly admired Hawk, quickly added, "No, no, no. I chose the wrong subject. It was Hawk who brought it back to life."

Johnson grew more curious about Hawk.

He’d known Catherine for a while, and she highly praised Eric’s directing talents. She was currently seeking funding to help Eric shoot his second feature film.

Johnson was here today, accompanying Eric, to build a better relationship. More friends in the industry meant more opportunities.

Johnson said, "Let’s chat inside."

With Johnson, a member of the gym, leading the way, Hawk and Eric followed him into Tracy's Gym.

Even Eric signed up for a gym membership before leaving to work on his screenplay.

Johnson took Hawk to the locker room.

As a VIP member, Johnson even had his own private locker.

Hawk, however, had to change in the communal area.

When Johnson emerged from his private locker room, he saw Hawk, now in workout gear, and whistled. "Man, you can’t tell with clothes on, but you’ve got quite the muscle build yourself."

Hawk looked over Johnson and said, "You’re a bit smaller than I expected."

"Never tell a guy he’s small!" Johnson joked as he looked down at himself, then slapped his forehead. "Damn, I forgot the most important thing."

He quickly grabbed a pair of brand-new cotton socks from his bag, rolled them into a ball, and stuffed them into his waistband.

What had been unremarkable before now bulged prominently.

Hawk wondered, Is that really necessary?

Johnson grinned, showing his easygoing nature. "My publicist keeps reminding me: as a star, I always need to maintain my image. And the image I’m selling is all about masculinity."

He flexed his arms and added, somewhat resigned, "But to keep up these exaggerated muscles, I have to take certain meds. The side effect is... well, let’s just say some functions decline. Guys like me—big, but not much else."

Hawk replied, "Not many people are as upfront about it as you."

Maybe before reaching stardom, every celebrity has a genuine side. Johnson, with a towel draped around his neck, continued, "As long as it works, right? Who cares about size or duration? All we want is that moment of happiness."

Hawk nodded. "You’ve hit the nail on the head."

They entered the gym floor, where several personal trainers were giving one-on-one sessions.

There were even celebrity clients around. Hawk spotted Jennifer Lopez and Hugh Jackman.

He hadn’t seen Robert Downey Jr. yet, so he followed Johnson’s lead, doing some warm-ups and then lifting weights together.

During a break, Johnson said, "Eric told me about your unique marketing strategy. It sounds pretty special."

Hawk didn’t need to be humble. "The key thing is that it works."

Johnson was intrigued. "Sundance lasts for days. Did you only work on that one film?"

Hawk paused briefly before answering. "There was another one—The Intruder, directed by Brazilian filmmaker Beto Bront. Foreign films usually struggle for attention, but I helped boost its visibility, and it blew up in the media."

To his surprise, Johnson recognized the film. "The Intruder won the Latin American Film Award at Sundance."

That was proof enough. Hawk smiled slightly, no need to elaborate.

With two success stories in front of him, Johnson thought for a while before saying, "My first starring movie is coming out next month. Do you have any suggestions?"

Hawk had read some online news and recalled the film. "You mean The Scorpion King?"

Johnson nodded gravely. "That’s the one. It’s my first leading role. If it flops, I’ll have to go back to wrestling."

Hawk was upfront. "My studio handles this kind of work too."

Johnson, who wasn’t short on cash, understood immediately. "The studio has its own marketing team working on my promotion, but I’ve set aside some personal budget to invest in myself as well."

Hawk thought, Your first time is always the hardest. Once you break in, connections open up, and getting new business becomes much easier.

"Your personal promotion?" Hawk asked. When Johnson nodded, Hawk said, "I’ll need some material from you, including footage from your wrestling days."

Johnson immediately called someone to send it over.

Hawk, seeing the potential in this opportunity and not wanting to lose the connection with Johnson, added, "I’ll go over the material and come up with a proposal. Once I have a solid plan, we’ll sign a contract."

To Johnson, this sounded responsible.

Not long after, Robert Downey Jr. showed up at the gym.

Hawk discreetly chose a spot far from him, pretending to be uninterested while observing.

Downey’s wife, Deborah, was with him, and the couple looked perfectly happy together, as if nothing had happened. It was unsettling to watch.

Once they left, Hawk received Johnson’s materials. Claiming he needed time to study them, he left the gym first.

As he got into his car, he noticed Downey’s lackey lingering nearby.

Hawk pulled out his backup phone and called Cole, asking him to provide any information about Deborah going out alone.

Chapter 40: Divorce

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*Beverly Center parking lot.*

Hawk lowered the car window and looked at the Samantha Beauty Salon in the distance. “It’s been 40 minutes now. According to my information, Deborah should be coming out in about 50 minutes,” he said.

Edward admired him, “Boss, your intel is spot on.”

In the passenger seat, Jacqueline, who was visibly pregnant, asked, “Should I go now?”

Hawk had already said everything that needed to be said. He pulled out a Cartier necklace and handed it to Jacqueline, “This is the evidence.”

The necklace was rented from Big Daddy’s Art Shop.

Jacqueline took the necklace, opened the car door, and said, “I’ll go now.”

Hawk reminded her, “If something’s off, pull back. Edward and I will be right behind you.”

Edward chimed in, “I’m pretty good at dealing with women with kids.”

Jacqueline gave Edward a surprised look, then walked toward the beauty salon.

Hawk put on a Dodgers baseball cap, the kind you see everywhere, and signaled Edward to follow Jacqueline at a safe distance.

Edward asked, “Aren’t we going to take pictures?”

“No need,” Hawk responded quickly. “Jacqueline’s just here to provoke Deborah. If her picture gets in the papers, it’ll cause problems.”

Edward didn’t understand, “Why handle it this way?”

Hawk explained briefly, “No matter how much Donnie messes around or does drugs, it’s standard Hollywood behavior. Deborah can tolerate that, but a child? That’s a threat to her inheritance.”

This was Edward’s area of expertise, and it clicked for him. “Having a child means hefty child support, which directly hurts Deborah’s interests.”

Hawk didn’t say more, instead scanning the surroundings. No other paparazzi were around.

The speed of scandal turnover in the entertainment industry is fast, and for now, the Donnie couple wasn’t the hot topic.

Jacqueline reached the entrance of the beauty salon and waited near Deborah’s car.

After a few minutes, Deborah emerged from the frosted glass doors, wearing sunglasses. She immediately noticed Jacqueline.

Jacqueline’s pregnant belly couldn’t hide her youth and beauty.

As a high-end escort, Jacqueline wasn’t just stunning in appearance, but she also had an impressive presence.

She took a couple of steps forward and said, “Deborah, can we talk for a minute?”

Deborah shot her a cold look and headed straight for her car.

Jacqueline called after her, “Do you know who the father of my baby is?”

Deborah wasn’t fazed. This type of scam had happened plenty of times in Hollywood.

Jacqueline followed, pulling out Hawk’s trump card from her pocket—a Cartier necklace, which dangled in front of Deborah.

Deborah stopped. She recognized that necklace. It was the wedding anniversary gift Donnie had given her.

She didn’t like the style and had put it away after wearing it once.

When it later went missing, she had even asked Donnie about it. He told her it would turn up when they stopped looking for it.

And now, here it was.

Jacqueline spoke softly, “He gave it to me.”

Deborah’s resentment flared instantly. She didn’t even question it—Donnie had told too many lies.

Whether it was cheating or rehab, Donnie had promised countless times, but never kept a single one.

Drugs had made his brain foggy, and he’d behave recklessly, like an animal.

Jacqueline cradled her belly and asked, “Can we talk privately now?”

Deborah glanced toward the nearby Starbucks, “This way.”

They walked together to the coffee shop.

As soon as they sat down, Deborah suppressed her fury and tried to take control of the conversation. “You have two choices: take some money and get an abortion, or I’ll have someone accompany you to get one.”

Jacqueline, handling this just as she would a male client, acted very naturally. She followed Hawk’s instructions, “That night, he had eight or nine people over. I don’t know what happened with the others...”

Deborah’s face grew darker.

Jacqueline gently rubbed her belly, “I’m not getting rid of this baby. As long as I have him, I’ll never need to work again.”

Deborah was still holding back, “You came to me just to wreck my family...”

“I don’t want to wreck your family,” Jacqueline interrupted, her tone dripping with insincerity. “I’m here to tell you, as a favor, that you should get tested soon. Someone in my circle got AIDS. I’m lucky I’m fine, but as for the others that night, I can’t vouch for them.”

Deborah’s mind exploded. Her hands started trembling involuntarily.

At that moment, all she could think about was Donnie’s endless betrayals, and her countless acts of forgiveness.

She thought of the pictures on the cover of the National Enquirer, and how that bastard even slept with a producer’s wife.

If Donnie kept spiraling into drugs and chaos, it could only end one way—the same way it had for countless Hollywood stars: bankruptcy.

If her husband were an ordinary man, Deborah would have left long ago.

But Robert Downey Jr.’s millions made her endure.

Now, though, that long-considered thought surfaced again: *Divorce!*

Donnie was the one at fault, and he earned more. She could walk away with most of the assets.

After years of hesitation, the decision was made in an instant.

Deborah exchanged a few more words and left the café, heading back to her car.

Once inside, she called her lawyer, “Sophia, I want a divorce. Activate all the evidence you’ve been holding.”

The lawyer responded, “Honey, you should’ve done this ages ago. It’s time to protect your rights.”

Big clients meant big fees for her. “I promise, you’ll walk away with most of the estate.”

Deborah then called her personal doctor to schedule a check-up. Afterward, she started the car and headed back to Brentwood to pack up and leave with her son.

Jacqueline got back into the car, returning the necklace to Hawk. “At first, she lost her mind, but then she regained her composure. I’m not sure what she’s thinking now.”

Hawk told Edward, “Follow her.”

Edward drove, tailing Sophia’s car straight to Brentwood.

Hawk pulled out his camera, snapping shots of Deborah’s car.

Jacqueline watched Hawk and Edward with interest. For a moment, she thought this job was kind of fun.

But then she remembered all the things Hawk had her do—thinking on her feet, running all over town, and the money might not even be that great.

She realized that her current line of work was still easier and more lucrative.

After all, it’s a guaranteed profit, personal business venture.

Deborah’s car pulled into the driveway and stopped. She rushed inside the house.

Robert Downey Jr. was drinking when he saw her and smiled, “Hey, honey, you’re back already?”

Deborah was about to explode. She marched over, grabbed the wine glass, and threw the drink in Donnie’s face.

Before Donnie could react, she picked up the whole bottle and poured it over his head.

Donnie snapped. He shoved her arm away and pushed her.

That was exactly the reaction Deborah wanted. She stumbled backward, crashing into the shelf with a loud thud.

Donnie yelled, “Are you crazy?”

“I’m officially telling you, I want a divorce,” Deborah said, then stormed off to her room to take photos.

If she waited, the bruises would fade.

Donnie wiped his face and shouted, “Divorce? Fine, let’s get a divorce!”

Cole rushed over with tissues, trying to clean up Donnie’s mess.

Before he could say anything, Donnie snapped, “That crazy woman wants a divorce, so I’ll give her one!”

Cole didn’t dare say more, focusing on helping Donnie change clothes.

Donnie, in a fit of frustration, lost his last shred of control. Once dressed, he told Cole to go get him some product. He needed to drown out all his troubles.

At that moment, the addict in him could only think about one thing.

As for divorce and the financial loss, those concerns could wait.

From the street in Brentwood, Hawk peered through binoculars at Donnie’s mansion.

There was movement—the car pulled out of the driveway and headed their way.

Hawk observed closely through the windows. He saw Deborah and a young boy inside.

“Let’s go,” he told Edward.

Jacqueline curiously asked, “Did I just destroy a family that easily?”

Hawk replied, “You saved a woman and a child.”

Edward dropped Jacqueline off first, and along the way, Hawk got out and called Cole, arranging a meeting.

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