America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Bruce caught the account book and moved behind the bar, "You piece of shit, be a human for once!"

Martin took a drink and put on a serious face, "Buddy, if one day I become a star, I'll hire you, this piece of shit, to be my road sweeper."

Bruce pulled out a white bottle from his pocket and placed it in front of Martin, "Here, it's yours."

Martin looked down and saw a bottle of Vaseline, "What do I need this for?"

Bruce delivered the knockout blow, "One day you might get fucked by a producer, or you might want to fuck a producer, you'll find it useful."

Martin gave him the middle finger.

From the club's entrance, a man and a woman turned the corner.

The woman was wearing a tight tracksuit, her body rippling with muscle, making Bruce shrink back upon seeing her.

The man walked with his legs split wide apart, like a humanoid crab with legs not quite together.

Sophia and her beloved little plaything, Scott.

"Hi, Old Cloth," Sophia called out to the bar, "We should have a one-on-one chat sometime; I miss you a lot."

Bruce didn't dare respond, managing only a forced smile as he watched Sophia head upstairs.

Scott, with his feet pointed outward, wobbled over, "Get me a beer."

Martin patted the chair beside him, "Sit."

Scott glared at him, "You doing this on purpose?"

Martin had forgotten, "Sorry." Remembering that Lily and Hol couldn't be without a guardian, he cautioned, "Pull out when you've made enough money, don't end up earning just enough for medical bills."

"I was planning on pulling out," Scott said with a tearful laugh.

Bruce asked, "Are you just passively taking hits?"

Scott took a big swig of beer, "I've got some initiative, but whenever I see her muscles, all I can think of is Mike Tyson."

Without thinking much, Martin said, "You could be Holyfield."

Scott retorted, "I don't bite people's ears!"

Martin remembered something and made a point to mention it, "Harris applied for college."

"What's the use of going to college? Better to start working early," Scott shook his head in resignation, "I know, these wastes of space never give me peace."

......

Up in the office on the second floor, Sophia stood by the glass door, looking down at the lobby and said, "I had the Freedom Association ask around especially, he's closely connected with Kelly Gray."

Vincent flipped his laptop around, "I looked into it specifically, and even asked some friends in Los Angeles, money laundering in the showbiz is the norm."

Sophia waved her hand dismissively, "It's not just that; you're too focused on the club and the laundering itself; you're missing the most important point. The Gray family has some clout in Georgia, and our underground casino business has some protection. Maybe we can even get a legitimate import-export permit and move our smuggling business onto the right track."

She continued, "Don't underestimate the avocado, its market and profit potential are so vast it's driving the Mexican smugglers insane. I think it won't be long before an avocado war breaks out between the Mexican traffickers and the plantations. If we move from the shadows into the light, maybe..."

"Stop, stop," Vincent couldn't keep up with Sophia's thoughts, "The key question now is, do we go for it or not?"

Sophia said, "I think we should make contact; this is an opportunity, and I will communicate with your father about it."

Vincent made up his mind, "I'll go talk to Gray Company first, see what the specifics are."

Sophia got ready to leave, "Call me after you're done – I'm taking my sweetheart to play some games."

She headed downstairs, passing the bar, with Scott obediently following her.

"Old Cloth." Sophia beckoned to Bruce with curled fingers, "Come on, join us."

Bruce dared not to even let out a fart.

When everyone had left, Martin looked at Bruce with sympathy, "Old Cloth, no need to say more or shed tears, I understand."

Bruce turned away, swearing never to speak to these rotten people again.

Martin went upstairs again, and when he left, he felt absolutely refreshed. Being a lead actor was tough—he had done the work of an independent producer this time.

Running back and forth between the production company and the investors, using one to entice the other to come together for a deal.

Martin returned to Kelly's apartment, dragged the sleeping Kelly Gray out of bed, gave her a good scolding, and then holding her, stepped into the warm bathtub, soaking in the hot water bath while explaining the situation.

Kelly Gray, of course, would not get involved personally, "I'll send someone to talk, you and I shouldn't get involved specifically."

Martin understood what she meant, "I'm just normally pulling investments. Out of gratitude to a former boss, I'm telling him about an investment opportunity. The rest, I don't know." He rested on Kelly's body, "I'm dead tired, a male lead, so much work to do."

Kelly Gray reminded him, "You are still a production manager, it's part of the job."

Martin remembered something else, "The hot guys from House of Beast are already strippers. I propose to bring them in and hint at inflating their salaries through accounting so that their salaries will definitely be exaggerated. My salary as the male lead can't be lower than theirs, right?"

Kelly, now completely comfortable, responded, "If the deal really goes through, you'll get the credit; nobody will question your salary."

The two took a comfortable hot bath, washed up and came out, and chatted for a while.

Martin fished out the BMW car keys from his clothes, preparing to give them back.

Kelly waved her hand, "They're yours now."

"Rich lady, you really want to keep me?" Martin unabashedly pocketed the keys, "How much allowance per week? Where's the house?"

Kelly wasn't joking with him, "So much has happened recently. A lot of it, we did together."

"I understand," Martin zipped his lips, "My mouth is always sealed. Tighter than a dead man's when it comes to keeping secrets."

Kelly went to change into a dress, "Let's go; accompany me to dinner."

Martin exclaimed with admiration, "Finally, the good life of being kept has begun."

They had steak for dinner and after that, Kelly Gray made a call. Martin took her to the company to meet with the Gray Company's vice president and late-night film producer, Dave.

Dave would handle the specifics of the matter.

After dropping Kelly off, Martin sat in the car alone for a while, enjoying the silence.

From a poor background artist who'd just arrived, to the verge of becoming the lead actor in a multimillion-dollar cinema production, it had taken him just over three months.

The difficulties, calculations, and struggles along the way, Martin felt, were all parts of the road to success.

It was tiring, sure, but it beat making money by simply lying around.

He started the BMW 7 Series and exited the apartment's underground car park, and before getting on the freeway, received a call from Bruce.

"Key members of the South City Gang are all screwed; Boyette's probably gonna spend a dozen years picking up soap in prison." Bruce forgot the oath he'd sworn before, "You all can go back now; there shouldn't be any problems."

Martin replied, "Thanks, Old Cloth; I'll treat you to a meal another day."

Out of the blue, Bruce said, "I've got something to tell you, Monica broke up with me."

Martin was surprised, "Why?"

Bruce, this rotten guy, immediately threw the blame on Martin, "It's all your fault; you gave me the picture of Kate Winslet, and I couldn't help adding it. She saw it several times in a row, and tonight she called me a pervert on the phone."

Martin rubbed salt into the wound, "You are a pervert."

The line went dead immediately.