Chapter 29: Civilized People

In Bruce's family living room, a grimy ceiling fan whirred overhead, causing posters of Scarlett Johansson and Jennifer Lopez to flutter.

The placement of these posters was peculiar, with the celebrities' faces positioned at an adult's eye level, their chins perfectly aligned with the poster's midpoint.

The posters of the two famous actresses had seen better days, bearing damage that exposed the wall's color below their waists and legs.

Before Martin could engage in a thorough analysis, Bruce emerged from the bedroom, wearing a disgruntled expression. He muttered under his breath, "You pervert, why'd you come early? Do you know how hard it was to convince Monica?" Martin responded with a rude gesture, saying, "Mind your language!"

Bruce scanned the room, searching for something, and then snapped, "Where's my gun? I'm going to send your filthy behind into orbit today!"

Martin retorted, "I've got a cannon; would you like to borrow it?"

Just then, the plump figure of Monica entered the living room, inquiring, "What are you two talking about?"

Bruce's demeanor shifted immediately; he scratched his head and replied, "Work-related stuff."

From a drawer, he retrieved a newspaper and tossed it to Martin, saying, "This is the Atlanta Star, Georgia's largest men-oriented tabloid. It's been covering the protests at the statehouse and the ongoing feud between the Methodist Church and the Woman Association . They've published several pieces, and it seems they're getting a good response. Monica has a friend who freelances as a reporter and has connections at Star News."

Martin skimmed through the newspaper, confirming that it contained relevant reports. The tabloid employed a style of storytelling that was challenging to challenge legally but comprehensible to most readers.

Martin turned to Monica and asked, "Can you get in touch with the Star News reporter through your friend and have them cover Hulk Mansion?"

Monica recalled their prior arrangement and replied, "I'll make the call and find out."

The answer was in the affirmative.

Monica then inquired, "When do you need it?"

Martin pondered for a moment and calculated, "Wait a couple of days. I'll have Bruce call you, and you'll be compensated after the job is done."

Monica was content with the previous compensation and smiled, "No rush."

Later that evening, they visited the Beast House Club for some entertainment. One female patron discovered that the club was distributing free lapel badges as part of today's event. Those who sported these badges were entitled to a complimentary glass of beer at the bar.

Most patrons found it too bothersome to remove their pin-buckle collar badges. They often only remembered to do so when undressing at home.

Martin left the club at 9:30 PM and drove around Clayton Street, visiting various bars and nightclubs.

In every nightclub, he spotted women proudly wearing the lapel badges.

Once they departed the Beast House, these women continued with the same practice.

During his bartending stint, Martin engaged in numerous conversations with female customers, gaining some insights into their group.

He also chatted with various men, most of whom frequented nightclubs in hopes of meeting women.

The rest of the male patrons, he noted, were primarily of the LGBTQ+ community.

Boyette, the owner of the bar, stood on the second floor, gripping the railing tightly as he observed the influx of customers at the entrance.

All these individuals wore identical collar badges, piquing Boyette's curiosity. He pondered, "Which organization do these women belong to?"

Since the chaotic altercation between the Methodist Association and the ATL Woman Association, which had cast a long shadow over his bar, Boyette had found himself in a subdued mood for several days.

Subsequently, facing his wife Betty, he had been unusually accommodating.

Diego, a middle-aged man of Latin descent beside him, had been paying close attention to the situation. He explained, "The Hulk Mansion across the street is hosting an event, giving away beer with those badges. This has attracted their attention, and they're coming to our place to socialize and make additional purchases."

As Boyette continued to observe, female customers started ordering drinks and other items, helping boost the bar's revenue.

Boyette inquired, "How long has this been happening?"

Diego responded, "Ever since the Hulk Mansion's business started booming."

With time, women sporting collar badges trickled into the black bar, and Boyette remained composed. His thoughts were clear: "The group from the Hulk Mandion are eager to meet men. The nightclub closest to the Hulk Mansion is our bar. These individuals are easy to connect with, attracting more men and increasing our customer base."

Diego chuckled, "We're benefiting from this as well."

Boyette stroked his chin thoughtfully and pondered, "Is there a way to divert all the customers leaving the Hulk Mansion to our bar, generating revenue for us? Or perhaps, we can introduce new attractions to draw more female customers?"

Diego suggested, "I'll think of a plan."

Two well-endowed black women arrived, causing Boyette's face to light up. He exclaimed, "Consider it carefully; I'm going to pick up a lady."

Diego could only watch his boss depart to pick up a woman, while he wracked his brain to devise a solution.

He noticed that most patrons didn't discriminate based on race.

Diego contemplated having the boss enlist a group of big strong black men from South City to stand outside the bar. Would that help?

...

For three consecutive nights, Martin frequented Clayton Street and nearby bars and nightclubs.

Every observation and conversation he had confirmed the viability of his idea.

Without further hesitation, Martin approached his boss, Vincent.

Whether he succeeded or not, the profit margin was significant either way.

In Vincent's second-floor office, Martin got straight to the point, stating, "Boss, I've come up with a plan."

Vincent questioned, "Can it increase our patronage by a third?"

"It's possible," Martin replied without denying it. He then elaborated, "The club's primary clientele is women, but Atlanta's public safety isn't the best. Women worry about safety at night, so there's a sharp drop in the number of people entering the club after 10 PM, especially after 10:30 PM. Simultaneously, the number of people leaving increases."

Vincent was familiar with these observations, given that Martin had provided similar insights before. He adjusted his cowboy hat slightly and asked, "Are you suggesting we make use of this after 10 o'clock?"

"Yes," Martin affirmed. "I've already contacted the media and allocated funds for media coverage. We've also prepared new club posters."

After the foundation they had laid last time, Vincent had confidence in Martin. He directed, "Go to Dana and write a check."

A while later, Martin visited the finance department, instructing Dana to write several checks.

...

The next morning, Martin sought out Bruce and tasked him with contacting Monica, who, in turn, had connections with a deputy editor at the Atlanta Star through a freelance journalist friend.

The two drove to North City District and entered a café.

Monica and her freelance journalist friend were already waiting.

Martin posed a few questions and then handed two checks of moderate denominations to each of them.

He didn't mind spending the club's money; the experience of taking out his own funds felt more uncomfortable.

The freelance reporter made a call, and about ten minutes later, Buckley, the deputy editor from the Atlanta Star, hurried over.

Monica and her friend excused themselves.

Martin dispensed with pleasantries and got straight to the point. "Mr. Buckley, I require your assistance with a report."

Buckley inquired, "Do you have a draft?"

"Sorry, I can't write," Martin admitted. He lacked the literary skills; reading books and newspapers was a rarity for him. Plus, Elena, being rather dim-witted, couldn't comprehend slightly complex articles. Martin continued, "I can provide you with the theme and general content, and you can handle the writing?"

Buckley accepted without hesitation, his right hand slowly stirring the coffee as he idly twirled his thumb and index finger with his left.

Martin added, "The compensation will certainly be to your satisfaction." He took out the check from his pocket and pushed it toward Buckley.

Buckley glanced at the figures on the checks and shook his head slightly.

Understanding the gesture, Martin asked, "Need more money?"

While it was the club's money, parting with it still stung.

Martin produced an additional check.

This time, Buckley found it satisfactory, collecting both checks. He affirmed, "You have my word."

Martin signaled Bruce.

Bruce reacted swiftly, unbuttoning his coat to reveal a gun holster beneath.

"Sir, journalism is an honorable profession," Buckley declared. "I have a strong sense of professional ethics. You provide the funds, and I'll do the job. Rest assured." Civilized people conducted business in such a reliable manner.