Chapter 832: Hollywood Star Dream

Arriving at the bustling TV station, Olena spotted Martin immediately. With a radiant smile, she opened her arms wide and embraced him tightly. "I've been eagerly waiting for you to come to Kiev," she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy.

Martin returned her smile, warmth radiating from his eyes. "When you and Alexandrovich extend such a heartfelt invitation, how could I resist? I had to come and see for myself."

As Olena released him from her hug, she gestured towards the middle-aged bald man standing beside her. "Martin, I'd like you to meet Rebrov, the director of 1+1 TV station, and our esteemed partner."

Martin extended his hand with a friendly grin. "Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Rebrov, whose English was impressively fluent, responded with genuine enthusiasm. "Martin, it is a great honor for our TV station to welcome you here."

From behind them, Alexandrovich approached with a welcoming wave. "Shall we head inside and continue our conversation?"

The four of them moved as a group into the station, Alexandrovich leading the way. "This way," he instructed, guiding them towards the elevator.

They rode up to the third floor, and as the elevator doors slid open, they were greeted by the sound of music and singing. The familiar melody of "Stop Stop Stop," a classic hit by the Saint Girl Band, filled the air. Martin's eyes lit up with recognition; the song brought back memories of watching vibrant live performances in his earlier years.

Alexandrovich turned to Martin, explaining as they walked. "The Saint girls are known for frequently changing their members. They've had sixteen different line-ups over the years."

Martin nodded, intrigued, as they entered a spacious training room. The fragrant scent of flowers wafted through the air, and the sight that greeted them was dazzling. Fifteen contestants, each wearing hot pants and short T-shirts, stood in a row, awaiting Martin's inspection. Their diverse features and individual beauty set them apart, a refreshing change from the uniformity often seen in such groups.

"Good morning, everyone," Martin greeted warmly.

The contestants bowed in unison, their English surprisingly good. "Hello, Martin," they chorused.

Alexandrovich stepped forward, introducing each contestant with pride. "This is Vera, this is Anastasia, this is Nastya, this is Mia, this is Erica..." Martin shook hands with each one, offering words of encouragement, though he noticed a few discreet notes being passed to him, which he tucked into his pocket.

When Alexandrovich introduced a petite girl with blonde hair and a perfectly proportioned figure, he added, "This is Nikia."

Martin looked at her closely, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "I think we've met before?"

Nikia, having anticipated his visit, smiled nervously. "Could we talk for a moment?"

The other girls exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued and envy barely concealed.

Martin, unfazed by the attention, replied softly, "Find me later."

A girl behind him piped up, "Can I talk to you alone too?"

The room buzzed with the girls' competitive energy, their eyes widening in disbelief.

Martin addressed the growing tension with calm assurance. "I've known Nikia for a while and need to discuss something with her."

Alexandrovich, sensing the need to maintain order, clapped his hands. "Everyone, please focus on your training. The finals are approaching quickly."

Martin, having greeted the contestants, left the practice room with a casual wave to Nikia. He turned to Rebrov. "Is there a private reception room? I'd like to have a word with her."

Rebrov nodded and instructed his assistant. "Prepare the reception room on this floor."

The assistant promptly opened the door, and Martin, followed by Bruce and Nikia, entered the room. "Make yourselves comfortable," Martin said, settling into a single sofa.

Nikia took a seat opposite him, her demeanor cautious. "Before meeting Alexandrovich, I never expected to see you here in Ukraine."

Martin leaned forward, his expression one of genuine interest. "Life has a way of bringing unexpected reunions, doesn't it?"

Martin leaned forward, curiosity etched on his face. "Why did you come to Ukraine, Nikia?"

Nikia forced a smile, her eyes betraying a mixture of apprehension and relief. "I'm Ukrainian, Martin. I ran back to Ukraine because I couldn't stay in North America any longer."

She cast a cautious glance at him before continuing, "And it has something to do with you."

Martin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Related to me? We've only met twice, once at Morgan Freeman's farm and another time at the WMA gate."

Nikia nodded, her expression serious. "Yes, but Mia, Marlena, and I approached you with a different purpose at Morgan Freeman's party."

Martin's face took on a thoughtful look. "I had my suspicions."

He remembered investigating the trio after their sudden disappearance from Los Angeles, but the trail had gone cold.

Nikia took a deep breath and decided to reveal more. "Martin, have you ever heard of Michelle Bryan?"

Martin's Hollywood connections meant he was well aware of her. "Michelle Bryan? After Heidi Fleiss, she's the most infamous pimp in Los Angeles. I heard she got stung and punished by the FBI a few years ago."

Nikia nodded. "After her release, she went right back to her old ways, and her business grew even bigger. Since her punishment was only a fine and she wasn't under strict surveillance, many people believed her operations were safe. Even if there were issues, they could be easily resolved."

Martin leaned back, his interest piqued. "How long were you involved with Michelle?"

"More than a year," Nikia admitted. "I moved to Los Angeles from Europe with dreams of becoming a star. But I soon realized that while it was easy to get a foot in the door, becoming famous was nearly impossible. The pay for temporary acting gigs wasn't enough to live on. A fellow Ukrainian introduced me to a modeling agency, which led to me joining Michelle's team."

A touch of nostalgia crept into her voice. "I earned well under her, five figures a month, but some of her clients had...special interests that were hard to endure. Plus, Michelle was incredibly controlling. She used unethical methods to attract wealthy and influential clients."

Martin nodded, understanding. "Clients like me?"

Nikia hesitated, then answered carefully, "Yes. Before the party at Morgan Freeman's farm, Michelle specifically picked Mia, Marlena, and me. She figured that with our varied looks, one of us would catch your eye."

Martin recalled the trio vividly: Marlena with her innocent charm, Mia as the blonde bombshell, and Nikia with her delicate, youthful appearance. Michelle certainly knew her trade.

He leaned forward, probing further. "What was her plan? How much could she make from someone like me?"

Nikia's face darkened. "Michelle's goal was to lure you in and get you comfortable. Once you were relaxed and indulging in the party, she intended to introduce you to drugs. If things went as she planned, you'd become addicted."

Martin's expression remained stoic. "She wanted to turn me into a drug addict?"

"Yes," Nikia confirmed. "Many of Michelle's high-profile clients in Hollywood are addicts. People like Depp, though I don't have concrete proof, just rumors we heard. When these clients would hire girls to party with, they'd discuss it afterward."

Martin thought back to a particular incident. "Did Michelle supply Johnny Depp while he was filming The Lone Ranger in Death Valley?"

Nikia shook her head. "I don't know. That operation seemed separate."

Martin pressed on. "I noticed you and your friends, but then you suddenly vanished from Los Angeles."

Nikia explained, "Michelle was paying us well to develop you as a major client. But we realized you were cautious, and...a bit different."

She glanced at Martin, hesitating. "There are some clients who make us dance for hours without any intention of doing anything. Marlena suggested that if we kept pushing, it might alert you. We decided it was safer to take Michelle's money and disappear."

Martin chuckled softly. "So you returned to Ukraine and entered the selection for the Saint Girl Band."

Nikia smiled, a mix of pride and disbelief on her face. "I entered on a whim, but I never expected to gain so much support."

Her expression grew serious again. "Recently, someone from my hometown called to warn me that people were asking about me. I've felt like someone's been following me when I go out. Maybe it's just paranoia, but..."

Martin's eyes narrowed, sensing the gravity of the situation. "It's better to be cautious. You're not just imagining things."

Nikia nodded, visibly relieved to have shared her burden. "Thank you, Martin. It feels good to finally talk about it."

Martin gave her a reassuring smile. "We'll figure this out together."

Martin leaned in, his voice low but intense. "How did Michelle deal with people like you who ran away in the past?"

Nikia's eyes clouded with fear as she thought about it. "I don't know," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. "But Michelle always said that no one could take her money and walk away without consequences."

A wave of panic washed over her, and she glanced nervously at Martin. "I suspect Michelle's people have followed me to Ukraine."

Martin exchanged a quick glance with Bruce, who immediately began typing out messages on his phone.

Nikia's voice quivered as she asked, "What should I do?"

Martin's response was firm and reassuring. "Stay focused on your training. Follow the program team's arrangements closely, and don't go out alone. Stay safe until the competition starts."

Nikia nodded, determination mingling with her fear. "I will follow the program team's arrangements completely."

Martin patted her shoulder reassuringly before stepping out of the reception room. He spotted Alexandrovich and Rebrov, the TV station director, waiting nearby. He relayed Nikia's concerns in detail, watching their reactions carefully.

Alexandrovich's face turned a deep shade of red, his short stature doing nothing to diminish his fury. "Someone wants to target our contestants? This is a slap in the face, especially during our show!"

Rebrov's expression matched his outrage. "Those bastards can try. Our TV station has armed bodyguards ready with AKs!"

Alexandrovich, bolstered by his confidence as a village chief, added, "Boss, this is Kiev, not Los Angeles. They don't understand the rules here."

Martin considered their words carefully. He had only brought a small team of bodyguards with him, so he would have to rely on local support. "We can't be sure if these threats are real, but we can't take any risks with the show."

Rebrov nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. We can't afford to assume there's no threat."

Alexandrovich turned to Martin, seeking guidance. "Boss, what do you think we should do?"

Martin asked, "The contestants are usually between two places, the TV station and the hotel, right?"

Alexandrovich confirmed. "Yes, their schedule is very tight with no extra time."

Martin's mind raced as he formulated a plan. "Are our security personnel sufficient and professional?"

Rebrov assured him. "The TV station is part of the Privat Group, and we have ample professional security."

Martin knew that Privat Group was a powerful entity in Ukraine, with substantial resources. "We'll keep a low profile on the outside but tighten security inside. Maintain the appearance of normalcy, but replace unnecessary personnel with professionals."

Alexandrovich added, "We'll need some female security officers as well."

Rebrov nodded and made a call. Shortly, three security team leaders entered, and the group began strategizing in earnest.

After the meeting, Martin found Nikia and handed her a discreet alarm device provided by the security team. "If anything goes wrong, press this button. The security team will respond immediately."

…

Meanwhile, the media frenzy surrounding the Saint Girl Group selection was in full swing. The show, helmed by Alexandrovich and with Martin as a guest judge, had captured the attention of the CIS and Eastern Europe. Reporters swarmed the TV station, eager for any scoop.

Andre, a reporter with a tag around his neck and a camera slung over his shoulder, left the TV station and climbed into a waiting car. Moments later, two more men joined him inside.

Andre turned to the bearded man beside him. "Victor, what's the situation with Nikia?"

Victor rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "She's been sticking to the TV station and the hotel, very cautious. Our people haven't been able to make contact."

Andre's brow furrowed. "Is there any way to intercept her along the route?"

Victor shook his head. "They travel by bus with security vehicles escorting them. An armed robbery would be the only option, and that's too risky."

The men sat in silence, contemplating their next move.

Andre tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully. "Looks like we need to set a trap."

He turned to the young blond man sitting beside him. "Leonid, any progress on your end?"

Leonid flicked his perfectly styled blond hair back and smirked. "Yes, a dance teacher took our money and our information. I've been in touch with her. She's agreed to influence a few of the more naive contestants."

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "These girls come from humble backgrounds and are desperate to chase their dreams of stardom."

Andre nodded, understanding. "Who wouldn't want to leave Ukraine for a paradise like America? I did just that, left Ukraine and chased my dream in the States. The allure of the American dream is powerful."

Leonid's eyes sparkled with hope. "Boss, when this is over, can we go to America too?"

Andre chuckled, his eyes glinting with ambition. "Of course! I'll take you to bask in the warm sunshine of Los Angeles. Stick with me, and you'll be earning five times what you make here, all in US dollars!"

Victor and Leonid shared a laugh, their spirits lifted by the promise of a brighter future.

…

Meanwhile, at the TV station, in a cozy lounge near the practice room, Erica Helsig, her golden ponytail swaying, entered slowly. She peeled off her sweaty dance clothes, kicked off her shoes, and sat on the floor with a sigh of relief.

Nastya Rekevnikova, her long brown-black hair cascading over her shoulders, winked at Misha Normanova, who responded by shaking her long red hair and checking the hallway before firmly closing the door.

The three roommates, bonded by the competition, settled into their usual spot. Erica glanced up. "Do you have a secret to share?"

Nastya leaned in conspiratorially. "From our recent rehearsals, I have a bold theory. When the finals reach a crucial point, we might perform in three-person teams."

Erica hugged her knees, her eyes wide. "But there's been no official announcement."

Misha rolled her eyes playfully. "Erica, use your brain! You're not just a pretty face with no substance, are you?"

Erica shrugged. "I guess I'm a bit out of touch after years of being a switchboard operator. I lack experience."

Nastya sighed. "If it weren't for Misha and me, you'd have been taken advantage of long ago."

Their friendship was a complex tapestry of camaraderie and competition. Nastya's voice softened with genuine concern. "There are many deceitful people in this competition. Always think twice before making decisions. If you're unsure, consult us first."

Despite being the youngest, Nastya's early start in the performing arts had made her the wisest among them. She had been on stage since she was six and had participated in two talent shows by fifteen.

Misha nodded in agreement. "Don't get duped into helping someone else's agenda."

Erica quickly promised, "I'll definitely come to you guys if I have any doubts."

Returning to the topic at hand, Nastya continued. "Based on my experience, talent shows often end with group performances. Since the Saint Girl Group will only select three members, forming teams of three will likely be crucial."

She proposed, "Since we live together, we should practice our songs and dances together in our downtime."

Misha's eyes sparkled with determination. "This is our golden chance. We can't let it slip away!"

Erica, born in 1988 and feeling the pressure of time more acutely than her younger friends, nodded fervently. At 25, she was desperate to escape her mundane past and seize this opportunity.

After their strategy session, the trio changed and left the lounge. Erica headed next door to the Latin dance studio to seek advice from Olga, their dance instructor.

Olga, who had observed her students closely, answered Erica's questions patiently. Despite her nerves, Erica couldn't shake her anxiety.

Olga's voice was soothing. "Be patient and keep a calm mind."

Erica, frustration evident in her voice, replied, "I'm the oldest contestant. If I miss this chance, I'll never make a name for myself. I can't go back to being a switchboard operator."

Olga smiled kindly. "Opportunities are always around us... I had a student your age who was eliminated in the Kiev regional finals. She was devastated, ready to give up, but out of the blue, a Hollywood scout noticed her!"

Erica's eyes widened, hope rekindled. "Really? What happened to her?"

Olga's smile broadened. "She's now training in Los Angeles. Remember, keep working hard and stay open to possibilities. You never know when your big break might come."

Erica nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. She wasn't going to let fear or doubt hold her back. This was her moment, and she was ready to seize it.