[Chapter 49: Every Resource and Connection Counts]
Stepping out of the William Morris Agency, Edward loosened his tie, breathing heavily like a drowning man who had just made it to shore.
Hawke requested the car keys and took the driver's seat, waiting for Edward to settle into the passenger side before saying, "You're in charge of finding the talent."
Edward nodded instinctively and then asked, "How many Black guys do we need, and what are the specific requirements?"
Hawke replied, "They need to be tight-lipped, somewhat obedient, and have a tough appearance."
"That last part is easy; there aren't many Black guys who don't look tough," Edward recalled his days of calling on the homeless friends he had made. "If we need three, I can pick them out."
He added a crucial point: "Boss, the prerequisite is that the money is ready."
Hawke directly asked, "What would be an appropriate rate?"
Edward thought for a moment and said, "Two hundred bucks each. I guarantee they'll be as obedient as kittens. Anyone who doesn't follow orders? I'll kick their butts!"
Hawke was surprised. "I remember you saying you weren't involved with gangs, how are you so confident?"
Edward chuckled, "Remember that woman I told you about? The one I met when I was handing out business cards, Nicole? I moved in with her. She works at a shelter, and apparently, there's a lot of shady stuff happening there. I could get her to collar those homeless guys."
Hawke looked at him with fresh respect. "No wonder they call you the savior!"
Edward removed his tie and bragged, "When I was handing out cards, I noted down divorced women with kids who are still in decent shape. I can strike at any time."
Hawke gave him a thumbs up. "Buddy, if I go broke one day, I'm coming to you."
Edward grinned, "You're the real boss."
Hawke nodded slightly, pulled out his cell phone, and prepared to make a call.
Edward asked, "What about the woman?"
"Jacqueline." Hawke had already connected the call and said, "It's me, Hawke. You're not working yet, are you? Let's chat."
On the other end, Jacqueline stretched lazily. "You're not trying to do business with me, are you? You didn't go through an agent, so no commission for them. We're still friends, so how about half price?"
Hawke ignored her comments. "There's a new project that will only take you an afternoon, five hundred bucks."
Such a lucrative side job was not something Jacqueline could pass up. "See you in an hour, old spot."
...
In less than an hour, Hawke met with Jacqueline. The woman hadn't put on any makeup, likely due to her night shift work. Despite her youth, her dark circles revealed the toll of her lifestyle.
Hawke quickly explained the situation and asked, "What do you think?"
"Why wouldn't I do it?" Jacqueline had her reservations. "But it can't be in a too remote area. I absolutely refuse to go to a ghetto; I'm scared of getting jumped. Uh... you also need to guarantee my safety."
Hawke assured her, "I'll be shooting around you."
Jacqueline laughed lightly. "For such a little thing, you're giving me five hundred dollars. What a generous boss you are."
Hawke replied, "Because you're professional."
Jacqueline was flattered. "It's the first time someone's said that to me."
Hawke casually asked, "Interested in a job change?"
Jacqueline shook her head. "Not really."
Edward chimed in, "Starting a business with us has more prospects. I've seen too many people in your line of work age and lose their looks, and their lives don't go well."
Jacqueline had her own mindset: "My work hours mostly happen at night. If you need me during the day, I can do on-call gigs. Why switch jobs? Aging will come eventually; we can deal with that later."
Hawke moved past that topic. "Keep your phone on during the day, don't silence it. I might contact you anytime after noon."
Jacqueline yawned, "Got it, got it."
...
Leaving two hundred dollars as a deposit, Hawke departed, stopping at a coffee shop to buy four iced Americanos before heading straight to West Los Angeles.
Edward was puzzled. "Why are you buying four coffees? Are you going to give one to my dear lady? Her workplace isn't too far from here."
Hawke explained, "We're heading to see Officer Erica Ferguson in West Los Angeles. The coffee is for her and her partner."
"Wow, boss, you've finally come around to wooing someone!" Edward exclaimed excitedly. "Do you need backup? Want me to share some experience? I'm telling you, you need to get in that LAPD cruiser with her for your first date, and she won't ever forget it..."
Hawke interrupted, "Shut it! I'm seeing her because of work. She patrols West Los Angeles, which covers several streets."
Edward grumbled about wasted resources. "It's shameful to waste resources!"
Hawke sneered, "When we're rich, we won't have trouble finding women. We can ask for twenty at once!"
Edward argued, "But you won't enjoy true love."
Hawke dismissed that thought and drove into West Los Angeles.
...
He had already scoped out Erica's patrol area and circled a few blocks until he found 14th Street, which seemed fitting.
There weren't many people around during the day, and it was a little secluded, yet not too chaotic.
As Hawke turned off 14th Street, he spotted the patrol car parked by the roadside.
In dark uniforms were Erica and Julian, dealing with a street dispute.
Hawke parked five meters behind the patrol car, grabbed the iced Americanos from the car, waited for them to wrap up their issue, and strolled over, saying, "Julian, Erica."
Erica paused, adjusted her cap, and replied, "Hawke, what a surprise."
"I thought I'd grab some coffee considering this is your jurisdiction," Hawke handed each of them a cup. "Just regular iced Americanos. I wasn't sure if they'd suit your taste."
Erica took hers first. "I like iced Americanos."
Hawke asked, "The media hasn't bothered you lately, right?"
"My news cycle has cooled off," Erica replied with a playful shrug. "Reporters are like a bunch of sharks, always chasing fresh blood."
Realizing she had misspoken, she corrected herself, "If there were more responsible journalists like you, there would be a lot less trouble in Los Angeles."
"Exactly," Julian said, his demeanor more reserved and quiet.
Hawke seized the moment. "In a couple of days, there's a project I want to do in your jurisdiction. I'm testing some street footage with a director friend. I just scouted around a bit; 14th Street seems pretty suitable."
Erica asked, "Do you need a temporary shutdown? We lack that authority; you'd need to go through City Hall."
Hawke clarified, "No need for a closure; it'll be short, wrapped up in ten minutes. The scene involves a robbery or something, and police vehicles shouldn't be part of it."
Erica feigned concern, "You're not actually planning to rob something, right?"
Hawke pointed to himself. "Do I look like I'm short on cash?"
"Just kidding," Erica said. For patrols, this was small potatoes. After pondering a bit, she replied, "When you're ready, give me a call. If Julian and I are nearby, we can adjust our patrol route and check out another block."
Hawke thanked her, and she added straightforwardly, "No need to be polite. Just treat me to dinner afterward."
Hawke agreed, "Not an issue. Once I finish this job, I'll set a time with you."
Julian and Erica had work to attend to, exchanged a few more words, and then headed back to the patrol car to depart.
...
In the cruiser, Julian asked Erica, "Are you interested in Hawke?"
Erica replied, "Don't you think he's a very responsible person?"
Julian, being older, thought for a moment and reminded her, "He's very goal-oriented in his work."
Erica nodded, "That just shows he's ambitious."
...
Hawke secured the location, dropped Edward off at the shelter to look for temporary actors.
Getting those guys into this line of work wouldn't require much acting.
The next morning, Edward brought three old guys to Griffith Park for a series of training exercises, and afterward, he rented a prop knife.
Using a real one worried Hawke; he feared these guys might get a little too carried away and really stab Johnson.
With the thriving film industry in Los Angeles, it only cost a little to rent convincing fake knives.
*****
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