[Chapter 111: Rules Are Meant to Be Trampled]
West Los Angeles, Artel Mountain Shooting Range.
With a brand-new AR-15 resting against his shoulder, Hawke took a moment to aim before squeezing the trigger. The semi-automatic rifle spat out a shell, and bullets flew from the muzzle, hitting the static target fifty meters away.
Soon, his magazine was empty.
Hawke ejected the empty clip and took off his earmuffs, asking Erica, who had also removed her earmuffs, "How did I do?"
Erica gave him a thumbs-up, "Perfect score!"
Hawke loaded another magazine, stating, "I was in Wyoming recently. I went up into the mountains to try it out. I only took five shots and killed four coyotes."
"I heard Wyoming is vast and sparsely populated, overrun by wildlife," Erica replied, putting on her earmuffs and loading her own AR magazine as she approached the shooting line. "Is your ranch being disturbed? I can help you out."
She raised her rifle, butt resting on her shoulder, and fired off the magazine faster than Hawke.
After checking the electronic scoreboard, Hawke noted, "Perfect score, and you did it two seconds faster than me."
Erica set down her rifle and, seeing no one around, whispered, "I prefer hunting live targets over stationary ones."
"Too bad you can't help out at my ranch," Hawke said, fully aware of Erica's intentions. He replied, "The last time I went back, I just bought back the little ranch that got seized by the bank after my parents passed. I'm having a management company handle it for now."
Erica grabbed a new magazine, slotted it into her rifle, and smiled at Hawke. "No worries, as long as I can hunt."
Hawke continued, "I heard there are grizzly bears around the mountains."
Erica's interest piqued. "I'll see if I can get a hunting permit."
Gunfire echoed once more.
As noon approached, the two had each fired over 100 rounds.
Erica was packing up her equipment when she said to Hawke, "With you so busy lately and not practicing, your rate of fire is definitely not as fast as mine."
Hawke agreed, "You have to keep practicing to stay sharp."
Erica eagerly suggested, "If you have the time, let's come here to practice shooting two or three times a week? It feels great to shoot with you."
"Sounds good," Hawke replied. "I just closed a big deal, so lunch is on me. What do you want to eat?"
Erica said, "I have to stop by the district attorney's office in the afternoon, so let's keep it light."
...
The two changed out of their workout gear and drove to a nearby Mexican restaurant, ordering some dishes while chatting.
Erica mentioned, "I still need to thank you for the computer repair guy case. It put me back in the spotlight."
"Don't mention it. We help each other out," Hawke said, having warned her ahead of time. "I needed some publicity on my end, and you took the time to let him do the media interview."
Erica thought about the month's most talked-about entertainment news in Los Angeles and lowered her voice to say, "How did you even come up with that PR strategy? I was shocked when you had Brian pass on that the repairman was thinking of turning himself in! I didn't know media coverage could work like that."
Hawke explained, "Both parties were in such a bad position that we had to take a different route and think of some unique solutions."
"It worked great! That Allison is one of the hottest singers this month," Erica laughed, "Brian couldn't praise you enough, saying you're the only one in all of Los Angeles who could turn a major scandal into a talking point."
She leaned in slightly, appearing closer to Hawke, as if sharing a secret. "He knew I would tell you, deliberately using this method to build a connection so you'd help him out."
Hawke moved closer too. "No worries, when he comes to me, I'll make sure to ask for a hefty sum -- at least seven figures."
Erica began to joke, "That works out perfectly; we'd have the funds to go on a wild hunting trip."
"Wild hunting still needs to wait until Mule Gang is out of the picture," Hawke naturally shifted the topic to the gang. "How's LAPD handling it?"
Erica could only give a vague answer: "We've cleaned out three major strongholds and five smaller stash houses. We've arrested dozens, but the Mexican drug gangs are tough to deal with. They're particularly vicious, and a few of my colleagues got hurt in the operations."
She leaned back, taking a sip of water, and continued, "There are just way too many Mexicans in Los Angeles and southern California, making it hard to root the gang all out."
Hawke nodded slightly, saying, "I might have a lead, but it's not confirmed yet."
Upon hearing that, Erica warned, "You're a businessman. Don't get entangled with the Mule Gang; that's LAPD's job."
"After the yacht incident, we're already sworn enemies with the Mule Gang," Hawke replied, his expression firm. "We need to kick them out of Los Angeles as much as we can to be safe."
He briefly mentioned Campos and then showed Erica a photo. "Look into him."
Erica snapped a picture and shot off a text message, then made a call.
Just as their lunch was wrapping up, Erica answered the returned call and said to Hawke, "The situation is real -- similar incidents have happened over in Mexico. There have been incidents of mayors who pushed for anti-drug campaigns being shot dead by drug dealers."
Hawke cautioned, "Be careful."
"I'm always cautious," Erica said again. "Practicing weekly is just to keep my skills sharp."
Hawke went to settle the bill.
...
As they left the restaurant, Erica got into Hawke's car to head back to the shooting range to retrieve her vehicle.
On the way, she remarked, "Now that you found that lead, we shouldn't focus on reporting it up the chain just yet. We're figuring out how to make it work in your favor."
Hawke replied, "Our favor."
"Right, our favor," Erica felt particularly pleased. "I won't report this up just yet. Once you have clear information, you're good at operations. We can think about how to both benefit if we find leads."
"I'll have to think it over," Hawke fully agreed.
As for the lives of those guys, Erica didn't care much.
She focused solely on Hawke, saying, "Just stay out of it and don't go to that parking lot."
Hawke recognized her good intentions and said, "Campos knows his stuff. Me going would just complicate things."
Erica's upbringing taught her how to motivate people effectively. "You tell Campos if there's any gain; LAPD will help him with his identity issues."
They retrieved their long rifle bags from the shooting range and left separately.
...
On his way back, Hawke remembered the call he received the previous day from Caroline, and notified the accountant to transfer money to Miss Baa's bank account.
Miss Baa soon called to express her gratitude.
As he entered East Hollywood, his phone rang. It was Brian Ferguson.
He asked, "Got time? Let's grab a drink."
Hawke inquired, "Where? What's the bar called?"
"Covina," Brian gave him an address. "Citrus Bar."
It was a bit far out, and Hawke said, "You're way in the southeast, can't you come to West Los Angeles?"
Brian had his reasons. "Come check out the little town where I live."
Hawke drove east along Santa Monica Boulevard, turning onto the San Bernardino Freeway. He continued east, leaving Los Angeles city limits and arriving at a small town in the far east of Los Angeles County.
...
Covina was famous for its citrus industry.
The Citrus Bar sat on the town's widest main street, marked by a huge citrus sign on the roof -- quite eye-catching.
After parking, Hawke went inside the bar.
In the early afternoon, the bar wasn't busy, and he spotted Brian seated at the bar. He pulled out a stool and sat beside him.
Brian asked, "What do you want to drink?"
The middle-aged bartender chimed in, "How about trying the citrus liquor? It's hand-crafted, a specialty of the Citrus Bar, guaranteed to leave a lasting impression."
"I'll take one," Hawke replied, accepting the drink. He looked at the orange liquid, took a small sip, and remarked politely, "Great, a unique flavor."
Brian said, "This liquor is more like a dessert drink; they added too much sugar during the brewing process."
The bartender, annoyed, replied, "Do you always have to put me down?"
Hawke laughed, "That's just how he is."
The bartender smiled and moved on to serve someone else.
Hawke raised his glass and asked, "What made you suddenly invite me out for drinks?"
Brian toasted and replied, "I've been reviewing your entire operational process these days. The more I think about it, the more impressive it is. I've never seen this kind of operation in my life."
"No need to butter me up," Hawke replied straightforwardly. "You want me to clean up your mess -- we both know the drill, so just pay up."
Brian took a sip and said, "I'll help you pursue Erica. She's tough to handle. No one has ever managed to win her over in all these years."
Hawke shook his head, "No need, I can manage."
But Brian chuckled, "Maybe I can't help you win her over, but it's easy to mess things up."
Hawke scoffed, "Would you do that? All your initial investment in me would go to waste! Come on, think about it. You've been through a lot of mess with me, was it worth it?"
"A whole month, a whole month!" Brian raised a finger and emphasized, "I followed you around and even shot a fucking pornographic film. I'm just short of getting paid to work."
Hawke clapped him on the shoulder, "Okay, buddy, tell me why you called me out."
Neither of them was easy to deal with. Brian said, "Let's finish our drinks and then take a walk."
...
After finishing their drinks, Hawke followed Brian out of the bar. Without driving, they walked along the town's main road and soon reached the highest hill in the town center.
From up high, looking over the town, Brian said, "These small towns are so peaceful compared to the big city. Covina's biggest features are the citrus plantations and their processing industry. This place resembles Orange County more than Orange County itself."
The little square featured citrus trees, and by September, oranges had already grown big.
Hawke, pretending not to know, asked, "You planning to invest in the citrus industry?"
"I'm not interested in business," Brian stopped in front of an orange tree, plucked a leaf, and sniffed it. "Next year, the mayor's term ends here, and I'm planning to run."
He looked at Hawke, "So what do you say? You interested in helping me out then?"
Hawke didn't respond, jumping up a nearby step to survey the whole town.
All the houses were standalone, and the tallest building was the church.
He asked, "With your family resources, why choose here?"
Brian jumped up beside him, saying, "With a big family, no one gets to waste resources. Those who can't deliver should step aside. If you want resources, you've got to prove you've got the skills."
He chuckled. "You don't have to prove how smart you are, but you have to show them you're not an idiot."
Hawke asked seriously, "You have no resources at all?"
Brian replied, "Well, there'll be some, but don't expect too much. I've been living too lavishly before, so I can't count on them to invest heavily in me."
He provided an example, "Erica's proven her skills and will definitely get promoted again this year -- she'll be a 22-year-old sheriff."
Hawke knew Erica and Brian were close, so he said deliberately, "That's something she fought for with her life on that yacht."
Brian pointed toward the town. "I need to show I'm not just a party boy to obtain more resources."
Hawke needed to be upfront about something: "Brian, we just collaborated a month ago. You know my style. If you want to play by the rules, you shouldn't come to me; we won't be able to collaborate."
"Rules? Aren't they meant to restrain the poor while the rich trample on them?" Brian chuckled. "In American elections these years, aside from personal attacks, what rules are left?"
Hawke replied, "It can go further than what's happening now, far more without limits."
Brian showed no hesitation. "As long as we're not doing personal attacks, I'm good."
Hawke added, "Another piece of advice: keep yourself in check. Don't involve yourself with just anyone. Even if you do, make sure you can wrap things up properly. It's not worth it."
"No problem," Brian stated confidently. "As for Hollywood starlets, as long as the money's right, everything else won't be an issue. They're tight-lipped -- when talking about how they got to the top, they'll always say it's through hard work, never mentioning the real grind isn't done on set."
Hawke deliberately said, "Since it doesn't wrap up until next year, my friend, you still have plenty of time to scrape together money. I charge quite a lot."
Brian hopped down a step. "Let's go back and have more drinks. Tonight, I'll take you to a great place."
Hawke asked, "Where?"
"There's a club in nearby El Monte," Brian said while walking. "A few girls will be performing as Dita Von Teese's imitators tonight."
Hawke became interested. "The one they call the Queen of Burlesque?"
Brian nodded. "That's right... actually, no. It'll be a few actresses imitating her. While their names may not be as large as Dita's, they might have even better looks and figures."
...
After dinner in Covina, they drove to a much larger town to the west, bought tickets, and entered the club.
The place was bustling -- many of the patrons were women, all appearing very prim and proper, as if appreciating an artistic performance.
That night, two actresses took the stage, performing feather dances and champagne baths.
The former was a bit lackluster, but the latter provided quite a show.
One actress, with an incredible figure and looks, bathed in a large, clear crystal bathtub shaped like a champagne glass.
While seated in their booth, Brian lowered his voice to Hawke. "For just $10,000, you can take one of them home."
Hawke replied, "Just looking is enough. I'm not interested in shared goods; AIDS is too rampant." He mischievously asked Brian, "Buddy, you're not a frequent flyer in shared goods, are you? I'd strongly recommend getting checked. Seems like someone in Hollywood is hiding their HIV status, but I haven't dug into who it is yet."
"Are you kidding me?" Brian felt a pang of panic, initially wanting to spend money to take one home, but now he felt no enthusiasm at all.
Though Hawke was intentionally trying to scare him, he was not making things up. "Get yourself checked, you'll feel better. If you don't do it, how will you eat and sleep?"
Brian fished out his phone to send a text message. Forget about later; tonight he was bound to be sleepless.
After the performance, Hawke bid Brian goodbye and drove back to Los Angeles.
...
Brian, restless, called a 24-hour hospital, driving through the night toward Irvine in Orange County.
During the blood draw for his check-up, Brian cursed Hawke a thousand times in his mind.
That bastard always liked to bring him down.
But for some reason, he found this interaction quite amusing.
Damn it! He slapped himself -- was he so hooked on being PUA'd?
...
On the other hand, Hawke returned to East Hollywood, parking along a roadside next to Fountain Street, feeling equally antsy.
Though he spoke lightly, the performance he had just seen was clearly choreographed by professionals who knew how to play into men's weaknesses.
Coupled with the actresses' astonishing physiques, he checked the time and pulled out his phone to send a text.
"Tonight, at your place."
After a slight wait, Megan Taylor responded, "Meet me at Fox Tower."
Hawke started the car, drove into Beverly Hills, and arrived at the side entrance of Fox Tower.
This entrance was less noticeable, far from the parking lot and underground parking exit.
Not long after 11:30, Megan emerged from the building, glancing around before walking to the Mondeo and getting in the passenger seat.
...
Hawke drove straight to Westwood, turned onto West Olympic Boulevard, and entered Megan's home.
As the electric gate closed, his hand dropped onto Megan's leg.
The two were locked in a frenzied kiss inside the car.
Yet space was limited, and both Hawke and Megan were tall, making it hard to maneuver.
Megan pushed back slightly, breathlessly asking, "What's got you so worked up?"
Hawke pulled her out of the car and went to close the curtains once they entered the room. "I was provoked this morning, had some social obligations tonight, and went to see a show. After watching the performance, I'm fired up all over."
Megan, curious, asked, "What kind of performance?"
"The kind similar to Dita Von Teese -- looks artistic but is actually quite seductive." Hawke drew all the curtains tight.
Turning back around, he noticed music had begun to play, and Megan unbuttoned her fitted jacket.
As pulsating music filled the room, Megan showcased her dancing skills.
Hawke found that the club performances were nothing compared to the moment he was currently sharing with Megan.
Tonight, she was particularly enthusiastic and proactive.
Physically, they seemed incredibly in sync.
*****
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