Chapter 22 The first order of entrepreneurship

As night fell, Hawk started his car and turned onto Sunset Boulevard.

His stakeout at the gym and in Brentwood had been fruitless during the day. He decided to try his luck at the Viper Room.

He parked his Mondeo on the side of the road, stowing away his camera and camcorder since they were too bulky to carry. Instead, he pulled out a small voice recorder and slipped it into his pocket. Then, he took out his newly purchased Nokia 7650 and snapped a photo with its 300,000-pixel camera, unimpressed with the quality. Back then, there weren’t many phones with cameras to choose from anyway.

Hawk entered the bar alone. It was still early, and the place wasn’t crowded. He circled both levels but didn’t spot Robert Downey Jr. anywhere. He found a seat near the entrance, ordered a drink, and waited patiently.

Suddenly, there was a commotion at the door, like someone important had arrived. Hawk craned his neck and saw David Beckham smiling at the entrance. Even in America, where soccer wasn’t as popular, Beckham’s charm had won over many fans.

In recent years, under Victoria’s careful management, his public image had become more and more popular. As Beckham stepped into the bar, the noise outside died down. Celebrities gathered here regularly, and it was rare for anyone to approach them for autographs.

A younger Beckham still carried the typical habits of British footballers; he ordered a large glass of beer at the bar. Hawk took a sip from his own drink, glancing over at Beckham. While others saw a celebrity and icon, Hawk saw an opportunity for business and money.

Many tabloids had run similar stories—if Beckham’s side hustle was cheating, Victoria’s main job was forgiving him again and again.

Later, another sports star Hawk didn’t recognize joined Beckham at the bar, and the two quickly struck up a lively conversation. Hawk wanted to eavesdrop, so he left through the fire escape and re-entered the bar through the front, this time sitting closer to Beckham at an empty spot. He perked up his ears and caught snippets of their conversation. Beckham mentioned that he had missed a national team game due to injury and had come to L.A. at Tom Cruise’s invitation for a series of events.

The other guy introduced himself as Miller Collins, a baseball star for the Dodgers. The two men drank glass after glass, and their conversation naturally drifted to a common topic for men—women.

With good looks, wealth, and athletic prowess, it was no surprise Beckham wouldn’t stay loyal to just Victoria. Beckham brought up a model, piquing Hawk’s curiosity, but he never mentioned her name.

As the bar got busier and noisier, their conversation was soon drowned out. Around 8:00 p.m., Robert Downey Jr. finally arrived, accompanied by a few friends. The bar manager personally brought over a bottle of fine liquor for them.

Hawk immediately shifted his attention from Beckham to Downey. He kept his distance but watched closely. The next move would depend on what Downey did—if he openly carried a big stash of the "stuff," everything would be easier to deal with.

The drinking session didn’t last an hour before Downey stepped aside to take a phone call, and the group soon left the bar. Hawk followed them at a relaxed pace. They split into two cars, heading east on Sunset Boulevard.

Downey lived in Brentwood, which was to the west. Hawk started his car and followed. Soon, he noticed another car and two motorcyclists also tailing them. They were probably freelancers from the media.

Downey’s two cars didn’t travel far before they entered the underground parking lot of an apartment building. The others couldn’t follow inside and had to wait outside.

Hawk parked at a distance, taking out binoculars to watch.

L.A. was full of stars, actors everywhere, and plenty of news to dig up. After a while, the others, not finding anything worthwhile, gave up and left. Strictly speaking, Hawk was in the same line of work, but his goal was different—his main target was Downey.

He stayed back, keeping an eye on the underground parking lot's exit through his binoculars.

Upstairs, one of Downey’s chubby friends closed the curtains and said, “Those guys are gone.”

Downey, now dressed in different clothes and wearing a hat, replied, “It’s time for me to go.”

One of his friends asked, “Why not have her come over here? Who is she, anyway? You’ve been so secretive about it, and you still won’t tell us. You think we’re going to sell you out?”

“I’m a married man, can’t tell you big-mouthed idiots,” Downey said, checking himself out in the mirror and grinning with satisfaction. “You guys stay here and keep drinking. I’ll be back by tomorrow morning.”

The chubby friend warned him, “Pick a small, low-profile hotel. Don’t go to any fancy ones, or you’ll get caught.”

Downey chuckled confidently, left the apartment, and got into a Lexus.

At the parking lot exit, the bright lights illuminated the car as it turned onto the road.

Hawk, watching through his binoculars, saw Downey in the driver’s seat. He immediately started his car and followed.

The Lexus merged into traffic on Sunset Boulevard, heading northeast. No one noticed the black Mondeo trailing behind.

While driving, Downey received a phone call. “You’re there already? Give me a few minutes. I’ll be there in ten tops. I’ll take care of the room. That’s a man’s job—it has to be done with a sense of ceremony.”

A woman’s voice came through on the other end. “My romantic Downey, my sweetheart.”

Downey laughed. “I’ve got a special gift for you. Just wait for me.”

Her laughter echoed before she hung up.

Downey, filled with excitement, sped up. He had a wife, and she had a husband. The illicit thrill of the affair was too tempting to resist.

From a distance, Hawk continued to follow the Lexus, keeping a steady pace.

The Lexus left Sunset Boulevard and headed north for a while before stopping in front of a small hotel.

There was a line of cars at the entrance, so Downey had to wait briefly. The hotel was only seven stories tall and didn’t have a dedicated parking lot. Hawk parked on the street, keeping an eye on the hotel entrance while pulling a bag from the backseat.

With swift precision, he changed out of his casual clothes and into a business suit and dress shoes. He put on a pair of large, rimless glasses and a golden wig, grabbing a black briefcase to complete his disguise.

Downey got out of his car, handed the valet his keys and a tip, and entered the hotel’s revolving doors. He glanced around and spotted the woman waiting for him, flashing her a smile before heading to the front desk to check in.

The woman waited by the elevator.

Hawk entered through the revolving doors, noticed Downey in line, and calmly walked toward the seating area near the elevators. As he walked, he quickly surveyed the surroundings. His eyes lingered briefly before moving on.

He recognized her: Sarah Parker!

The wife of Bro Derek—Sarah Parker.

Hawk had been gathering information all week, and there was no way he was mistaken. Even more intriguing, he noticed Sarah Parker kept glancing toward Downey.

Things were getting interesting now.

Hawk remembered that these two had been involved in the past.

He had a feeling his first business deal in L.A. was about to land in his lap—a big, profitable one!