What transpires when a bartender temporarily takes on the role of a club manager? Well, Martin would insist that if he wasn't a bit eccentric, he'd be considered ancient!
In the club's staff lounge, Martin received a text message from Elena, prompting him to open the locker room door and step inside.
Meanwhile, the athletes led by Hart were gearing up for their evening performance.
With a hearty slam of the door, Martin exclaimed, "All right, big stars, are you ready? I've got some fantastic news. We're expecting a massive influx of customers tonight. If you put on a killer show, this club's future will be brighter than ever. Your tips will be off the charts!"
Hart inquired, "Is it really going to be like that?"
Martin exuded confidence, stating, "We'll have at least double the usual crowd, and your earnings will skyrocket!"
Another handsome fellow named Carrington let out a mischievous whistle and chimed in, "Man, you'd better keep your word, or we'll drag you up on stage to perform."
Martin responded earnestly, "You can question my character, but never my integrity! Carrington, if I fail, you can throw me into the Atlantic Ocean."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Martin raised his voice once more, declaring, "Guys, you've trained for so long, and tonight, you're going all out to show everyone what Popeye is all about! If you can't do that, I'll have Bruce announce to everyone on Clayton Street that the boy band at Hulk Mansion is nothing but a bunch of weaklings."
Hart smiled and reassured, "Don't worry, we won't give you that chance."
Martin playfully flashed a middle finger over his head, exited the backstage area, walked into the hall, and found Monica at the bar.
Monica, a plump Latin girl and Elena's friend, was there. Martin inquired, "How's it going?"
Monica responded promptly, "With such a fantastic free opportunity, the folks I brought won't miss it for the world. It's free, after all."
Martin checked the clock on the wall and said, "Give it ten more minutes."
Before Monica departed, she blew a kiss to Bruce.
Martin caught Bruce gazing after Monica and teased, "Are you smitten with her?"
Bruce maintained his composure, lifting a cold beer and downing it. "I'm a civilized man."
Martin emphasized, "I know, you're quite the civilized fellow."
...
More than ten minutes later, Elena and Jennifer purchased two tickets and entered the Hulk Mansion together.
Upon seeing Elena, Martin signaled the athlete group to take the stage. With pulsating music as their backdrop, the athletes delivered an electrifying performance, showcasing their spinach dance to the enthralled crowd.
The entire audience was swept up in excitement.
Jennifer noticed that many people were setting aside family responsibilities and financial prudence, showering the stage with money as if possessed.
The decadent and libertine atmosphere in Atlanta's social scene seemed to be descending into an abyss.
Jennifer and her like-minded companions had been striving to hold the line and prevent further moral decline.
The moral dilemmas facing American society were becoming increasingly grave.
After a brief stay of less than half an hour, Jennifer told Elena, "Let's leave."
Elena followed her out of the House of Beasts.
Jennifer instructed, "You go back first; I have something to attend to at the Atlanta headquarters."
Elena nodded and waited for Jennifer to drive away before getting into Martin's Ford.
Not long after, Martin emerged from the club and joined her in the car.
Elena commented, "She seemed quite upset and headed to headquarters."
Martin patted Elena on the shoulder and advised, "Keep in touch with her."
On a Saturday afternoon, Martin was engrossed in practicing facial muscle control in front of the mirror at home. Suddenly, his phone rang, and it was Ivan calling to report that people were gathering across from the strip club.
Martin swiftly grabbed his car keys and departed, first checking with Elena and then alerting Bruce and the little golden retriever.
Upon reaching Saijo Street, Martin observed a steady stream of individuals of all ages converging along both sides of the road. They were gathering on the broad sidewalk opposite the club, many of them carrying posters and various items.
Core Methodist staff like Jennifer were seasoned in handling such situations.
As Martin stepped onto the porch of the Beast House, he shed his coat and flung it onto a chair, asking, "What's the situation?"
Bruce craned his neck to get a better view and reported, "People are still arriving. I estimate there'll be around 200 of them."
"Who are they? Does anyone have a call recording feature on their phone?" Martin inquired.
Ivan replied, "I do, and so do Golden Retriever, Hart, and Carrington."
Without hesitation, Martin made a swift decision, saying, "Alright, folks, gather up all the hotline numbers we've collected. Contact the media reporters and inform them that something big is happening here. Make sure to record the calls, and we won't leave our informants unrewarded!"
Ivan was thrilled, his eyes wide as if he had just stumbled upon a treasure trove. "I'd be honored to call you Boss Martin!"
Bruce grasped Martin's shoulders and offered a reminder, "Remember, there are no rewards for fake news."
Undeterred, Martin retrieved his mobile phone and declared, "You old-fashioned civilized folks underestimate the savvy of today's civilized people."
He located Fat Andrew's phone number in his contacts and dialed it. The call was promptly answered: "Mr. Andrew, it's Martin. I'm on Clayton Street, and I've noticed a developing situation here, which is why I'm making this call."