The club wasn't open yet, so Bruce arrived early and found Martin sitting alone in front of the bar, leisurely sipping his wine.
Martin tossed the account book toward Bruce and quipped, "Don't worry, I'm not drinking for free; it's all on your tab."
Bruce grabbed the account book, walking into the bar, and retorted, "You scoundrel, try acting like a decent human being!"
Martin took another sip of his wine, adopting a more solemn expression, "Hey, if I ever become a big star, I might hire this scoundrel like you to be my personal assistant."
Bruce fished a white bottle out of his pocket and placed it in front of Martin, saying, "Here, you might need this someday."
Martin glanced at it, realizing it was a bottle of Vaseline, and asked, "What in the world do I need this for?"
Bruce delivered the final blow, saying, "One day, when you're either taken in by a producer or you want to take up a producer, it might come in handy."
Martin cheekily responded with two middle fingers.
Meanwhile, in the club's foyer, a man and woman turned heads.
Dressed in tight sportswear that accentuated their muscular bodies, the duo captured Bruce's attention.
The man moved with an unusual gait, his legs wide apart, resembling a human crab with splayed legs.
It was Sophia and her beloved companion, Scott.
"Hi, Boo," Sophia greeted Martin at the bar, "We should catch up when you have some time. I've missed you so much."
Bruce didn't dare to respond and forced a smile as he watched Sophia head upstairs.
Scott, with his peculiar gait, approached and suggested, "Have a glass of beer."
Martin patted the chair next to him and said, "Take a seat."
Scott confronted him, "Did you do that on purpose?"
Martin, realizing his blunder, apologized, "Sorry," before reminding Scott about Lily and Hall's need for financial support: "Make sure to withdraw the money as soon as you earn enough. Otherwise, you won't have enough for medical expenses."
Scott sighed, "Originally, I planned to withdraw it." Then he lamented, "But I did take some initiative. It's just that when I saw her with all those muscles and the mindset of Mike Tyson..."
Martin casually suggested, "You could be Holyfield."
Scott retorted, "I'm not biting anyone's ears!"
Martin remembered something important and brought it up, "Harris has applied for college."
Scott dismissed the idea, "What's the point of going to college? It's better to start working early. That's the practical choice." He shook his head, "I know, these idiots never let me worry..."
In the office on the second floor, Sophia stood by the glass door, watching Martin in the first-floor lobby, and said, "I've had members of the Women Association look into it. He has a close relationship with Kelly Gray."
Vincent swivelled in his chair, focused on his laptop screen, and replied, "I did some thorough checks too, consulting my contacts in Los Angeles. Money laundering is standard in the film and television industry."
Sophia waved her hand dismissively, "It goes beyond that. You're fixated on the club and money laundering, but you're missing the big picture. The Gray family wields significant power in Georgia, and our underground casino business is secure. We might even gain legitimate income with an export license, reviving our smuggling operations."
She continued, "Don't underestimate avocados. Their market and profits are immense, enough to drive Mexican drug traffickers to the point of madness. I predict there'll be a clash between Mexican drug traffickers and avocado plantations soon. When the 'avocado war' breaks out, if we shift from the shadows to the light, maybe..."
Vincent halted her, unable to keep up with her thoughts, "Wait, wait. The key question is whether we should proceed or not."
Sophia suggested, "I think we should make contact; this is an opportunity. I'll discuss it with your father."
Vincent nodded in agreement, stating, "I'll reach out to Gray Entertainment first to gather more information."
Sophia was about to leave, saying, "Give me a call after your discussion; I'm going to take my little darling to play some games."
As she descended the stairs, Scott obediently followed.
"Boo," Sophia greeted Bruce once more by raising her fingers, "Let's work on this together."
Bruce didn't dare to utter a word, feeling utterly helpless.
Once everyone had left, Martin cast a sympathetic look toward Bruce. "Boo, no need to say anything; don't cry; I get it."
Bruce turned around with a vow never to talk to this scoundrel again.
Martin climbed the stairs once more, feeling refreshed as he left. Being a leading man was no easy feat, and this time he had taken on the role of an independent producer. Balancing production companies and investors was like a tightrope act, enticing one side to win over the other.
Back at Kelly's apartment, Martin roused the slumbering Kelly Gray, whipped her playfully, then carried her into a warm bathtub, all the while briefing her on the situation as they soaked in hot water.
Of course, Kelly Gray had no intention of personally participating. "I'll send someone to negotiate, and you and I won't be directly involved in the details," she declared.
Martin nodded in understanding, saying, "I'll just play my part in soliciting investments. Out of gratitude to my former boss, I'll present him with an investment opportunity, nothing more." He leaned on Kelly, feeling exhausted, and remarked, "I'm beat. Who knew being a leading actor required this much work?"
Kelly Gray reminded him, "You're still the production manager, so you have your role to fulfill."
Martin recalled another concern, "The male performers from the club are readily available gigolos. I suggested bringing them in and hinted that their payments would be routed through legitimate earnings. Naturally, this will inflate their earnings. My salary as the male lead can't be lower than theirs, right?"
Kelly Gray reassured him, "If the deal succeeds, you'll be the top contributor, and no one will scrutinize your salary." After their comfortable soak in the bath, they dressed and chatted for a while.
Martin pulled out the BMW keys from his pocket, preparing to return them.
Kelly waved it off, saying, "It's yours."
Martin grinned, teasing her, "Rich lady, are you really planning to support me? What's about the weekly allowance? Where's the house?"
Kelly didn't jest, saying, "So much has happened recently, and we've tackled it together."
"I get it," Martin said, miming zipping his mouth shut. "I've always been tight-lipped and can keep secrets better than the grave."
Kelly changed into fresh clothes and invited him, "Let's go have dinner."
Martin exclaimed, "The life of being taken care of has officially begun."
After enjoying a steak dinner, Kelly Gray made a phone call. Martin accompanied her to the company and met with Gray's vice president and late-night producer, Dave, to discuss the project. The specifics were left to Dave to handle.
After dropping Kelly off at her place, Martin sat alone in his car, reflecting quietly. It had taken him over three months to transform from a poor boy from the slums with a background in the arts to a leading actor in a multimillion-dollar theater movie. Throughout the hardships, calculations, and struggles, he realized that these were the steps to success. It might be exhausting, but it sure beat idling and making easy money.
Starting his BMW 7, he drove out of the apartment's underground parking lot. But before he could get onto the highway, Bruce called him.
"The key members of the South City gang are done for. Boyette will probably spend over ten years in prison, picking up soap," Bruce reported, making a U-turn and temporarily forgetting his vow. "You can come back now; there shouldn't be any issues."
"Thanks, Bruce. I owe you a dinner," Martin responded.
Bruce dropped another bombshell, saying, "I have something to tell you: Monica broke up with me."
Martin was taken aback, asking, "Why?"
Bruce, playing the blame game, shifted responsibility to Martin, "It's all your fault. You gave me that Kate Winslet photo. I couldn't resist adding it. I showed it to her a few times. She called me tonight and said I was a pervert."
Martin added insult to injury, stating, "Well, you are a pervert."
Bruce promptly hung up the phone.