[Chapter 98: True Feelings of America]
Century City, William Morris Agency lobby.
Dwayne Johnson was holding a signing ceremony for S.W.A.T. Leonard Goldberg stood by Johnson at the makeshift signing table, shaking hands and posing for photos.
In an unassuming corner, Caroline held a Hermes bag and asked Hawke, "Country boy, how much commission can you get this time?"
Hawke couldn't resist teasing her, "Call out a couple of times, and I'll tell you."
Caroline wasn't falling for it, "At most ten times mine."
Hawke wouldn't tell her anyway, so he simply said, "If your other clients run into serious trouble, you can call me, and I'll still give you a cut."
"Can you please stop cursing me?" Caroline was unhappy.
Hawke understood, "Almost forgot, you guys get a fixed PR fee every year."
Thinking about how much more Hawke earned on a single deal than her entire year's salary, she felt depressed. She was more upset than losing a hundred grand.
...
The signing ceremony ended, and a cocktail party was about to begin. Hawke decided not to attend and headed straight upstairs to a small conference room. Caroline followed behind.
After a moment's wait, Johnson and Dany walked in together. The latter handed an invitation to Hawke and Caroline, saying, "Dwayne rented a big yacht from the Santa Monica Yacht Company for the weekend, inviting only our friends, no outsiders."
Hawke asked, "Are we staying out on the water overnight?"
Johnson replied, "We set sail Saturday morning and return Sunday afternoon. We're heading to the waters off Southern California, where the water's good and the fish are plenty, plus no one will disturb us. We can have a blast."
Hawke nodded, "I'll definitely be there."
Miss Baa returned the invitation to Dany, saying, "I have to accompany Sarah Jessica Parker to an event for Lancome in Paris this weekend."
She looked a bit frantic, ultimately letting out a resigned sigh.
Hawke carefully stowed the invitation and added, "See, this is the difference between the cattle, horses and the boss."
"Cows and horses?" Caroline didn't understand.
Hawke leisurely explained, "Eating grass, doing the heavy lifting, always on call seven days a week, 24 hours a day."
Caroline felt disheartened; wasn't that exactly her work state?
Dany chimed in, "Dwayne called the accountant before coming in; your pay should be credited soon."
Hearing about the money perked Caroline up.
Money meant shopping.
Hawke didn't want to dampen her spirits further, so he chatted with Johnson for a while before receiving a call from the bank manager.
The manager informed him that $850,000 had just been deposited.
Caroline received a call too.
...
Afterwards, Hawke excused himself. Caroline followed him, holding her head high, saying, "I'm planning to go shopping on Rodeo Drive. Are you coming?"
Hawke slowed his pace a bit to walk alongside her, "Why should I go with you?"
Caroline finally found a way to one-up Hawke, "Because you, country boy, always look so out of place. I'll take you to the brand stores and give you some free guidance..."
"Miss Baa," Hawke interrupted her, "I suggest you save some money."
Caroline was puzzled; had this guy changed his tune? She asked, "Why?"
Hawke pointed at her meticulously done face, "You put on heavy makeup every day; your skin will start showing problems soon enough. Save some money for a Botox treatment."
He had ulterior motives: "Sarah's place for beauty treatments is pretty good; you could ask her about it."
Caroline rolled her eyes, "The Beverly Beauty Center? That's not a place I can afford."
Hawke's playful banter had a purpose. As usual, he appeared to criticize Miss Baa, "Look at your under-eye bags; they're practically visible. When is Sarah going again? I strongly recommend you tag along and check it out before you hit thirty. You don't want to end up a wrinkled hag."
Caroline touched under her eyes, "Is it that obvious? All from this damned job! I need to take an extended leave; November feels too far off. I might just head over there and get it checked out."
Hawke kept going, "You need to ensure you get enough sleep."
Caroline wanted to, but working at a PR firm meant catering to Hollywood stars, those stars who continuously stirred up scandals, leaving no time for sleep.
Once downstairs, Hawke got into his car and called Edward, "Gather some information about the Beverly Beauty Center over the next few days. Be careful and don't alarm them."
...
At his Brentwood villa, Edward leaned against the headboard, stretching out his arm to take the call, "Got it."
Meanwhile, Deborah was roused by the phone ringing, turned over, and pushed Edward down, saying, "Let's hurry up before Indio arrives."
Edward put his phone away and whispered something in Deborah's ear.
Deborah hesitated, "Isn't that a bit inappropriate?"
Edward insisted, "I haven't rested properly since last night. I just need a bit of stimulation."
Deborah, already at odds with Downey, bit her lip but eventually agreed.
She got up and headed to the storage room, soon returning with a large picture frame.
Edward quickly took it from her and hung it on the wall by the bed.
This was a wedding photo of Downey and Deborah.
Stimulated by the wedding picture, the two of them worked tirelessly until noon.
Edward finally drove out of the villa.
Though sore with aching back and cramping legs, he felt completely refreshed.
On his wrist was the Jaeger-LeCoultre that Downey had left at another residence, wearing a tailored suit from Deborah, with the latest gold-trimmed Motorola in his pocket, and he even drove a brand-new Cadillac.
Life couldn't get any better than that.
...
Beverly Hills, Century City shopping mall.
Hawke ordered two business suits at the previous store, along with a few casual outfits.
For cars, his Mondeo was still sufficient for the moment.
He bought several pairs of shoes and watches.
He also picked up a swimsuit and a sun shirt for the weekend.
Once out of the shopping center, he called Erica, "The yacht party is set for Saturday. We leave at 8 AM and return Sunday afternoon."
Erica replied, "Sounds good. I can coordinate my time. I've got a temporary fishing license; we'll have a great time."
Hawke asked, "Should I pick you up?"
Erica said, "Let's meet at the dock."
She was clearly busy: "I'm processing a transfer; see you Saturday."
"See you Saturday." Hawke hung up and drove to his safe house.
...
After changing, he drove a Chevrolet to Melrose Flea Market, buying some climbing gear and makeup items.
Some vendors were selling surveillance equipment and miniature cameras.
However, Hawke didn't take any; he recalled memories from his past life, where the FBI frequently used such devices to fish for trouble, and unlucky souls sometimes fell for it.
Similar equipment could be found more safely on the black market in Tijuana.
There, the threat wasn't the FBI fishing; it was crooks eating each other alive.
...
By the afternoon, Hawke drove back into Beverly Hills, finding the Beverly Beauty Center.
This professional medical beauty facility on Burton Road claimed to have the most advanced cosmetic and surgical techniques in the world today.
Hawke had specifically asked Caroline; most Hollywood actresses had undergone some form of surgery, and many male stars were regulars for cosmetic procedures.
Hollywood silently accepted this fact.
Hawke observed for a while, noticing almost no customers coming in.
Beverly Beauty Center's clientele mainly consisted of Hollywood stars, not accepting ordinary customers.
Hawke switched angles multiple times to photograph, but finding nothing of interest, he eventually left.
...
After changing back into his clothes, he prepared to return to Fountain Street when he received a text from Megan Taylor.
"12 AM tonight, at your place."
Hawke hurriedly drove back to tidy up.
After Edward moved out, Hawke, the kind-hearted boss, had given him a few days off.
The studio hadn't been cleaned and was a bit messy.
After tidying up, with the sun already set, he decided to go out for dinner and pick up some late-night snacks.
Tonight, he expected to burn off a lot of energy.
Around eight, Frank walked over to Fountain Street, hoping to mooch some drinks.
Hawke handed him a case of beer, trying to send him on his way.
Frank leaned against the door, sizing up Hawke, "Honestly, what are you up to tonight? Got something going on?"
Hawke told the truth, "Just people, no trouble."
Frank didn't believe him, "That night you had a scene, you even used a steel wool scrubber and didn't call me. You want to hog it all again?"
"Not like that," Hawke responded, frustrated, "A running buddy is coming over to work out."
Frank grabbed the beer and headed out, looking up at the southern window of the bedroom, and said to Hawke, "Tonight, don't draw the curtains. I want to see your skills."
Hawke shot him a middle finger, "I'd hate for you to feel inadequate."
"I'm serious here," Frank insisted, "I've been with so many actresses and models; I have at least hundreds of them. With my experience and expertise, just teaching you a bit will benefit you immensely."
Hawke restrained himself from physically attacking this pretentious person and verbally countered, "Why not teach Edward? He still longs for your ex-wife. Speaking of, do your ex-wife still keep your wedding photos?"
Frank suffered a devastating blow, the king of pretension fading away, and the depressed version took his place.
The old man looked down, clutching a case of beer, crossing the road alone, casting a long shadow under the streetlights, appearing both pitiful and helpless.
Hawke rushed upstairs and pulled the curtains closed in the master bedroom, ensuring they were thick and opaque before feeling satisfied.
Across the way, Frank climbed onto the roof of the RV, raising binoculars to look, cursing several times at Hawke for being cheap.
...
As midnight approached, a black sedan turned into Fountain Street.
Megan Taylor parked behind the familiar Mondeo and called Hawke.
On the rooftop, Hawke was scanning the area, confirming there were no tails before letting her in.
Once inside, Megan initially wanted to pounce on him but suddenly recalled the videos she had seen, where several unfortunate souls were incapacitated in this house, making her stop suddenly.
She looked around, "Will I get electrocuted?"
Hawke teased, "If you want, I could help out."
Megan cautiously stepped forward.
Hawke reassured her, "I've turned everything off."
Megan lunged at him.
The two of them started on the first floor before moving upstairs.
Megan got a bit wild, wanting to try out the rooftop, but Hawke held her back.
He understood well that, down in the parking lot, the obnoxious jerk might very well be watching with the binoculars.
While playing cards, he took a moment to extend his hand through the curtain slit, giving the parking lot the middle finger.
Steel balls echoed on the pavement of Fountain Street.
That old bastard Frank had taken one of Hawke's regular slingshots.
Megan, curious, asked, "What's happening?"
Hawke whispered in her ear, "There's a jerk across the way trying to spy on us with binoculars, but he can't see a thing."
Megan, perhaps too accustomed to chatting about various leaked videos, felt even more excited hearing from Hawke.
...
The next morning, Megan didn't leave, enjoying fast food breakfast, and told Hawke, "I'm leaving at 10:30, heading straight to Fox Television Center."
Hawke handed her a cup of milk and pointed out the window, "The old man sitting by the road with a begging ashtray? Don't pay any mind to him when you leave."
Megan immediately understood, "The one from last night?"
Hawke simply said, "A loser friend."
Just then, a Cadillac pulled up to the curb.
Edward, freshly spruced up, got out and walked toward the studio entrance.
Hawke opened the door for him, letting him in and shutting the door behind, asking, "Savior, did you just save the universe?"
"I said I didn't want it; I kept declining," Edward seemed somewhat modest but was openly bragging, "But Deborah insisted on buying it for me; I had no choice."
Megan queried, "Deborah? Downey's widow, Deborah?"
Edward finally noticed Megan and greeted her with a smile, "Deborah is now my girlfriend."
Megan felt her brain struggling to keep up for the first time.
Hawke chimed in, "Love between a man and a woman is completely normal."
Edward handed Hawke the collected material, "Boss, here's what you wanted."
Hawke took it.
Megan blurted out, "Are you guys planning to create news?"
Hawke placed the material in the filing cabinet, "Don't ask what it is just yet; it's just some preliminary preparation work."
Now that Edward was there, Megan had no intention of sticking around.
She finished the milk Hawke had prepared for her, rinsed her mouth, donned her gear, and left for the Fox Television Center.
...
Hawke took out the documents and began reviewing them.
Most of what Edward gathered was public information.
After flipping through for a while, he opened his laptop to check yesterday's photos.
He told Edward, "I'm giving you a long-term task. Whenever we aren't working, head to the Beverly Beauty Center, watch where their customers leave, and what areas are good for shooting. If our target comes out, how can we capture her true self?"
Edward scratched his head, "Most of those tasks seem fine, but that last one sounds tricky. It's too mentally demanding; I can't handle it."
Hawke urged, "Just do what you can."
Edward asked, "Boss, who are we targeting?"
"Sarah Jessica Parker," Hawke simply stated, "She's a regular at Beverly Beauty Center and will be going for treatment in a few months."
Edward raised two fingers, "We've sold news about Sarah twice already; is this for the third time? Are we going to end up over-extracting her?"
Hawke wouldn't reveal that the real target was Broderick, only inquiring, "I want you to keep an eye on the Parker's relationship. How are they doing lately?"
Edward said, "They still look very much in love in public; it's a bit extreme."
What Hawke aimed to exploit was precisely this extreme love.
Hollywood had its fair share of weirdos, and for Broderick, the affection for Sarah was truly a grand love story.
The TRUE feelings of America.
After reading through the materials, Hawke instructed Edward to continue gathering information, adding, "I'll be out at sea this weekend. I'll leave a satellite phone contact for you; if there's an urgent matter, give me a call."
Edward acknowledged, suddenly hit with an idea: should he buy a bouquet of flowers this weekend and bring Deborah and Indio to visit Downey's grave?
At least say thank you for the villa and the inheritance on Downey's headstone, right?
...
Santa Monica Yacht Club dock, already bustling in the early morning.
A massive white yacht was fueling up, with a fuel truck parked alongside.
Two cargo trucks rolled up on the other side, as crew members operated a crane to load a large amount of food and fine wine onto the boat.
The catering team hired by Johnson was loading provisions onto the vessel.
A fishing gear company delivered fishing rods.
The fuel truck driver, who was of Mexican descent, leaned against the dock railing.
Another Mexican second mate approached him to chat.
The driver gazed at the yacht in the distance, saying, "This trip is just like the last. They're heading south, right?"
The second mate replied, "This is the club's most popular charter route, and it's also our safest cargo route."
The driver fully agreed, "Safer than the mules on land."
"Because a star's boat won't get checked, even if the Coast Guard or DEA patrols the waters. They basically just ask some questions over the radio," the second mate, who had considerable experience, shared. "Are we certain about the action this time?"
The driver confirmed, "The goods have been prepared, still in the supply ship offshore, to be sent on board when fueling at night. You're to personally escort the crew."
The second mate downplayed, "I've always been responsible for night fueling. Every night fueling is supervised by me. Almost half the people on board, including the first mate, have been paid by me; people are greedy, and they'll cooperate if there's money to be made."
In the past, they had taken advantage of Hollywood stars chartering yachts to smuggle goods to Los Angeles while never encountering issues.
The driver stated, "Your cut will be deposited into your account at Credit Suisse tomorrow."
"Alright, time for me to head back." The second mate walked towards the yacht.
He felt particularly upbeat; after a few more gigs, he'd achieve financial freedom and leave America for a life in Switzerland.
As long as he could sneak out of North America, the mule gang wouldn't be able to touch him.
Once the fuel was fully loaded, the driver drove off first.
The second mate talked with a few others for a moment before boarding, inspecting things, calling over his trusted subordinates to help carry the prepared Evian mineral water onto the boat.
He arrived at the bridge, waiting to hand over responsibilities to the captain and first mate when daylight broke.
He managed all the nighttime work on the boat.
As dawn broke, the captain and first mate rushed over to start up the engines.
Once the sun rose, luxury cars gradually arrived in the dock parking lot. Johnson and Dany were the first to board.
Dany chatted a bit with the captain, reconfirming the itinerary.
A little past 7:30, Hawke drove into the dock parking lot, and less than two minutes later, Erica's Cherokee turned in as well.
They each pulled a suitcase and boarded the yacht rented by Johnson.
*****
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