[Chapter 103: I Would Pay Any Price]
Century City, Beverly Business Club.
Hawke, dressed in a sharp suit, arrived at the door with his aide Edward and asked the receptionist a question.
The pretty receptionist led the two to a private room.
Caroline was sitting outside the room with an Hermes bag, sporting a strange look on her face.
Hawke noticed her expression and asked, "What's up? Did you accidentally eat some shit?"
"Hey, you country bumpkin!" Caroline snapped, "I'm trying to introduce business for you; can you be a bit respectful?"
Hawke feigned respect, asking, "What's the deal? Who's the client? You didn't say when I called."
Caroline was deliberately withholding, taking the lead, "You'll know when you get inside."
...
Hawke followed her into the room and, to his surprise, found himself facing Josh Hartnett.
What a small world.
Caroline, trying to stifle her laughter, introduced the two, clearly pleased with herself.
They shook hands and took their seats.
Will jumped straight to the point, "Hawke, I don't know if you've been following the news about Josh. He's in a lot of trouble; he's been cut from three projects in a row."
He detailed the situation Josh had faced that morning, alongside some recent trouble including issues with his Black girlfriend.
After Johnson signed his contract, Hawke had finished that business and tossed it aside.
Who would've thought that the failed party would seek him out for help, not to cause trouble but rather for crisis PR?
What a mess!
Hawke quickly adjusted himself and remarked, "Getting a Black girlfriend isn't a bad way to go, but it needs to be long-term. A short-term relationship could lead to public backlash, where critics deride you for merely having a Black girlfriend."
Josh sighed, "That's right." He added with a hint of disappointment, "The other side has publicly stated we're just friends."
Hawke said directly, "Actually, your PR manager's method wasn't wrong. If you keep at it, even if all else fails, a staged marriage could help deflect this incident from public attention, and then you could gradually make your return."
"That would take too long," Josh said impatiently. "Hollywood is too competitive. Hundreds or thousands of people compete for each spot; many have better acting skills than me. My past luck was just coincidence, and it'd be hard to strike lightning twice."
He had seen countless stars rise and fall: "It's too hard to get famous again."
Hawke understood now, "You want to shake off the negatives in a short time and create some buzz to re-enter the public and media's eye, right?"
"Exactly," Josh replied, but having seen Steve Nutt earlier, he wished for more. "If I could be a unique symbol like Steve Nutt and become synonymous with discussions, that would be perfect."
Will looked at Josh, doubting that request's feasibility.
Even at his peak, when Pearl Harbor was released, Josh's media impact was average, primarily focused on negative perceptions like lacking skills and the vacant look in his eyes.
Hawke was deep in thought.
If time were extended, this wouldn't be difficult at all, but the closer Josh got to the issues related to his race, the more backlash he would face.
After a moment's contemplation, Hawke couldn't help but curse internally: what a mess!
Wasn't he digging his own grave?
Hawke stated, "Becoming a unique symbol like Steve Nutt won't be that easy."
Josh's star dream ignited once more with Will's encouragement: "I'm willing to pay any price!"
Hawke shook his head. "It won't get that serious."
Will chimed in, "Fans and audiences are forgetful -- if we take it slow, one day they'll forget about Josh's trouble and forget about him, especially since he's just a new star, not an A-lister."
Hawke pondered for a moment before saying, "Here's the deal: you provide me with comprehensive material on Josh, including his personal background, past films, connections in the industry, and dating history, the more detailed the better."
On their way here, Will had asked Caroline, and he learned that Hawke himself had catapulted Steve Nutt to his current status.
Without hesitation, he said, "Give me some time to prepare."
Josh felt a sense of hope: "Can you really do that?"
Hawke laid out his conditions, "I'll review your materials and think of a solution. If I can create a plan, I'll reach out to discuss signing a contract; otherwise, I'll return the materials without any charge."
Josh found that very reliable: "Okay."
Hawke exchanged contact information with both of them before leaving the Beverly Club.
Josh and Will left first in their cars.
...
After they'd left, Hawke turned to Caroline and said, "Miss Baa, come with me."
Caroline clutched her Hermes handbag to her chest, "What do you want?"
Hawke pulled out a $5 bill, handing it to her, "Let's chat about a $5 topic."
Caroline took the money, following him to a shaded area where she stated, "Don't misunderstand; I'm just trying to introduce business for you."
Her eyes sparkled with dollar signs, "If you land this deal, don't forget my commission."
"I'll deliver," Hawke replied as he glanced at her red heels. "I'll chop off your red hooves and make a soup for you."
Caroline bristled, "I'm genuinely trying to help you grab clients..."
Hawke cut her off: "Oh really? You seem more interested in watching the show."
Caroline laughed, enjoying herself: "I just want to see how you dig your own hole and then climb back out."
Hawke wasn't joking: "Do you have any ideas?"
Out of nowhere, Edward chimed in, "Take him to Compton to streetwalk, specifically catering to Black clients, then film it..."
"You can shut up," Caroline interjected. "Time is the best remedy, but he's too impatient."
Hawke stated, "He's a star; right now, he's a fallen star. Seeing Steve's presence and charisma, being envious and jealous could lead to a warped mindset -- that's normal."
With Steve drawn into the conversation, Caroline sought to add her thoughts: "Since becoming a champion for rights, Steve's performance has declined on the field."
Hawke shrugged, "That's beyond my control; my contract with Steve has ended."
Caroline pivoted back to Josh: "What've you thought of?"
Hawke shook his head, "Not yet; don't worry; if I think of something, I won't give you a commission. This is a business introduced by Steve."
Money meant everything to her. "I only want five percent."
Hawke successfully maneuvered his leverage, saying, "If I use your skills, I'll personally pay your stakes."
Caroline quickly avowed, "I'm on call for anything."
...
Hawke sent her away before getting into the Mondeo, instructing Edward to drive back while sitting in the passenger seat, deep in thought.
Without debating difficulty or ease, a client had come to the door, and with anything possible, he must work to strike a significant deal.
Once the two returned to the studio, Edward received a call from a news tipster, asking him to head out and shoot some photos.
Hawke conducted an internet search on Josh Hartnett, the Irish-American star had debuted in 1997, gaining true fame from Sofia Coppola's The Virgin Suicides.
He later starred in Michael Bay's war blockbuster Pearl Harbor.
That cheesy love triangle film had one of its main characters, but Hawke recognized it did well for Ben Affleck since he had a well-connected network.
Josh Hartnett and Kate Beckinsale's careers only progressed moderately.
Suddenly, Hawke's Nokia ringtone played; it was Johnson calling.
Hawke answered, jokingly teasing, "The great hero -- looking for me about something?"
Johnson, busy rehearsing, revealed, "It's not me looking for you; it's Joanna Faith."
Hawke remembered her: "Allison's mother."
"Right; she chatted with you on the boat, didn't she?" Johnson quickly responded. "You promised to review Allison's materials."
Hawke said, "Have her come find me at Fountain Street."
Johnson replied, "I told her to head straight over, but she insisted on getting me to call you first. She'll be on her way now."
After hanging up, Hawke waited no more than half an hour before someone knocked at the door.
He opened it to find Joanna, carrying a briefcase, standing outside.
...
Hawke invited her in and grabbed a bottle of water.
"Thanks," she replied, opening the case and presenting a large stack of materials. "I've been gathering information about Allison since we got off the boat. It was too much to sort through until today."
Hawke asked, "I remember you mentioned Allison was taking a sexy route with her new album?"
Joanna confirmed, "Yes, the song style is fierce, and the MV will push some boundaries, but you know... the best songwriting resources won't land into hands like Allison's."
Hawke wasn't surprised by that; if Allison could easily regain a foothold, Joanna wouldn't need him.
Recalling Allison's provocative behavior on the yacht, Hawke, to avoid a hellish launch, warily reminded, "Jo, with the new album set to drop, you should really reign Allison in."
"She hit her rebellious phase a bit late, and frankly, I don't know why she's so keen on casual encounters," Joanna lamented. "I'm trying my best to keep her in check."
Hawke glanced at her deeply toned skin and asked, "One more thing, does your situation resemble Dwayne's, having some Black blood?"
Joanna readily admitted, "Allison and I are both biracial Black."
"I see," Hawke accepted the materials she offered. "I'll study these closely, and I'll reach out when I have ideas."
Joanna stood up, saying, "I won't disturb you further; Allison is set to shoot her first single's MV soon, and I need to oversee her to keep her grounded for a few days."
Hawke walked her out and returned to reviewing the stack of information.
...
Joanna got into her car, and when her phone rang, she answered, "What's up?"
It was the bank: "Miss Faith, your mortgage and commercial loan extensions are due to expire in 30 days; please ensure payment is made on time."
"I know," Joanna hung up and banged on the steering wheel, overwhelmed by the pressure like a madwoman.
After a long interval, she regained her composure and called a friend at the bank, seeking a second extension.
The response there was merely, "Try this form."
Joanna started her car and went to Beverly Hills, returning home.
...
It was a grand villa with a garden; alongside her Porsche in the garage, two luxury cars stood still.
Maintaining a lavish lifestyle was no easy feat, and the mortgage was intimidatingly high.
Joanna didn't wish for a downgrade; she made several calls to request more loans.
She fully understood, as long as Allison regained fame, her daughter would become a cash cow, rendering the current difficulties negligible.
Prior to the divorce litigation, Joanna had invested heavily in acquiring luxury houses and cars, building a lifestyle to rival the top echelons while seizing her daughter in the process.
She was a mother, sure, but she thought about the returns Allison would yield.
The person Joanna envied most was Jamie Spears, for he had a daughter named Britney.
Suddenly, noise came from upstairs.
Joanna rushed up, noticing her daughter's door ajar and two older boys going wild dancing inside.
"Get out! Get out of here!" Joanna's head spun as she threw something at them.
The stoned boys, though not completely out of it, hopped up, grabbed their clothes, and fled.
Joanna entered the room and nearly died from frustration.
Allison was crouched on the floor, her face covered in cum.
Joanna picked up a towel and threw it upon her head, "Can't you show a little self-respect?"
"You used to do this, too," Allison nonchalantly wiped her face, "I learned it from you."
Joanna was at a loss for words; her actions had evidently influenced a young Allison.
Allison's words cut deeply, "Mom, you always told me to learn from you and never from Dad. I've been trying to emulate you."
Joanna's vision went dark, clutching the door frame, imploring, "Before the album launches, please stop acting out this way, this is my only plea."
"But I become bored after two days -- what then?" Allison reflected, appearing almost addicted.
Joanna gritted her teeth, returning to her room to fetch a vibrator before tossing it to Allison, "Use this."
Allison pointed at the item, laughing.
Joanna went downstairs, sulking on the couch, wishing Allison would behave like Britney.
...
The boys hastily threw on clothes and exited Joanna's home ready to hop in a roadside vehicle.
One pulled out the latest camera phone, scrolling through their gallery, telling the other, "Check it out; my shots turned out pretty decent."
The other leaned in closer, viewing close-ups of Allison covered in cum.
The first one flipped the pages, filled with close-ups of her face.
Some even included their antics together.
After putting away his phone, he started the engine, "Alright, let's go and take our time enjoying these."
"Yeah, let's savor this, our washed-up star is still something special."
...
Fountain Street, West Coast Studio.
After hours of reading the files, Hawke grew disoriented and walked to the window to gaze at the neighboring pasture park.
That used business van rolled back in just then, and Edward got out juggling his work bag, returning to the studio.
"Did you get some exclusives?" Hawke inquired.
Edward sighed, "When I got there, everyone had left."
Hawke considered, "In the future, unless you encounter significant news, skip the celebrities' shopping sprees and fights."
Thinking long-term, he added, "Use this time to learn other skills, like video editing, photo processing, and writing."
Edward was shocked, "Boss, I'll stick to fieldwork; that's what I'm best at."
Hawke shook his head, "You're good at running away."
Edward chuckled, scratching his head, "I'll always be at the forefront of strenuous and risky work."
Speaking of danger, Hawke recalled, "So, did you pass that shooting range test?"
"Uh..." Edward hurriedly replied, "Once I have time, I'll go."
Hawke insisted, "Like the yacht incident, these scenarios could arise again. When the time comes, will I be running ahead or you?"
Edward promised, "Boss, I assure you, I'll finish this month."
Just then, a ringtone chimed; Edward answered, conversing with the caller for a moment.
After hanging up, he said, "DaShawn called; he mentioned the Mexican man Campos's condition isn't good; he's been suffering from a high fever."
Hawke recalled him, at the back door of the Ackerman Community Shelter, giving that warning to watch out for the Mule Gang.
Edward turned to Hawke, "Should we help?"
Hawke recalled the long-gone signs of using a gun likely left on Campos's hands and responded, "Visit the Ackerman shelter to check on him; if he has legal status, take him to a hospital. If not, head over to Koreatown; I'll be waiting at the intersection from Beverly Boulevard to Koreatown. There's a clinic there; as long as you pay, they'll treat him."
"I'm on it," Edward replied enthusiastically, packing up to head out.
...
Hawke grabbed essential items and cash before he exited as well, driving straight to Koreatown.
Soon, he arrived at Beverly Boulevard, finding a parking spot.
Not long after waiting, he got a call from Edward: "Campos doesn't have legal status."
Hawke wasted no time, "Come to Koreatown."
On the other end, Edward hung up, instructing the big and small guys to lift Campos into a vehicle, bringing both of them along to drive to Koreatown.
Their progress was smooth, and they met up at Beverly Boulevard.
"Follow me," Hawke signaled toward the business vehicle as they drove into Koreatown, turning into a nearby community with their car stopping behind a clinic.
Hawke stepped out to knock, and an Asian mixed boy opened the door.
Hawke didn't waste his breath, handing over two $100 bills: "There's a patient -- he's homeless."
The mixed-race boy opened the door, eyed Campos tightly, checking his forehead before lifting his eyelids and gesturing, "There's a wheelchair behind the door; just roll him inside."
Hawke positioned the wheelchair beside the van.
The big and small men assisted in lifting Campos onto the wheelchair.
The Asian pointed at the first two men, adding, "They look too scary; wait outside."
Hawke had them wait in their car as he accompanied Edward into the clinic.
On Campos's leg, a wound was badly infected from a lack of treatment, which had recently worsened with hot weather inducing a fever.
Fortunately, it wasn't a critical situation.
*****
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