Chapter 525: Time is on My Side

As the afternoon sun bathed the suburban neighborhood in a warm, golden glow, Bruce received exciting news: his custom-ordered Porsche Panamera had been delivered to his lavish home. Martin, seizing the opportunity, left work early and personally wrote a check for the customer who had accompanied the delivery manager.

The account manager, with a professional yet warm demeanor, extended a business card towards Martin, presenting it with both hands as a sign of respect. "Mr. Davis, should you require any further assistance or wish to purchase another vehicle, please don't hesitate to contact me. I'm at your service anytime," he said with a polite nod.

Martin accepted the card with a grateful, "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Nearby, Bruce, with a sense of purpose, unlocked the trunk of his car, revealing two boxes of premium gun oil. He hoisted them with ease, his muscles flexing under his shirt, and strode towards the villa. "Time for some gun maintenance," he remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. Bruce had always taken pride in personally caring for his firearms collection.

Meanwhile, Martin, upon reaching the villa, discovered two neglected boxes in the basement. He gathered the discarded items, including some old junk Bruce had collected, and headed out to dispose of them through the side door.

Nestled between his house and the neighboring property, owned by the renowned actress Charlize Theron, was a narrow alleyway where the residents placed their trash cans.

As Martin tossed his garbage, he noticed something odd – his trash can was dented, seemingly kicked by someone. He puzzled over this, muttering to himself, "Who would do this? The staff here are mostly women, and it doesn't seem like their doing."

While contemplating this mystery, the side door of the neighboring house creaked open, and out stepped Stewart Townsend, Charlize's partner, carrying two hefty bags of trash. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing Martin, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"Hello, Stu," Martin greeted warmly. "It's been a while since I've seen you and Sally. How have you both been?"

The mention of Charlize, casually referred to as Sally by Martin, seemed to strike a nerve in Stewart. Unpleasant memories from the Cannes Film Festival surfaced in his mind. He responded tersely, "Sally's not in Los Angeles right now. She's been away shooting for quite some time."

Martin slapped his forehead in realization. "Ah, right, she did mention that in Cannes. My memory's playing tricks on me. Sorry about that."

Stewart's grip tightened on the trash bags, a fleeting thought of hurling them at Martin crossing his mind. But he quickly dismissed it, remembering videos he'd seen of Martin's fierce reputation, his encounters at Burbank High School and the Santa Monica Pier. Martin was known to be a tough and unforgiving man, someone who wouldn't hesitate to resort to violence if provoked.

Stewart knew that provoking Martin would be a grave mistake. The man was not only attractive and famous but also rich and formidable in combat. He briskly walked past Martin, but couldn't help himself from issuing a warning, "Stay away from Sally in the future. She's my girlfriend!"

Martin, taken aback by Stewart's sudden hostility, looked at him incredulously. Was this man losing his grip on reality?

Stewart, trying to maintain his composure, warned, "If you keep bothering Sally, I'll... I'll expose you to the media and ruin your reputation!"

"You're misunderstanding the situation," Martin replied calmly, his voice steady and confident. "Sally and I are nothing more than friends."

Stewart glared at Martin, skeptical. "Enough with the excuses. Do you think I don't know what you're up to?"

Martin, although slightly offended, maintained his composure. "There's really nothing to it. Why don't you ask Sally herself? We can talk it out face-to-face."

The tension in the air was palpable, the alleyway a silent witness to the brewing conflict between neighbors.

Stewart, his disbelief palpable, forcefully tossed the trash bag into the can. In his haste, however, he used too much force, and the bag burst open, revealing its unsavory contents – a used condom. The unexpected sight created an awkward tension in the air.

Martin, his eyes flicking from the trash can to Stewart, raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "You just mentioned Sally's been away filming for quite some time?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of suspicion.

Stewart's heart raced with panic. He was cornered by his own deceit; Charlize Theron, his partner, had been unfaithful, and he had silently endured it for the sake of their shared opulent lifestyle. But his own infidelity could give Charlize a legitimate reason to leave him. He couldn't let that happen.

Despite the turmoil within, Stewart's acting skills kicked in, masking his inner chaos with a facade of calm. He blurted out a hasty explanation, "I was just... relieving myself while watching the Sacred Valley movie. It was the 'Limitless' version, you know?"

As he spoke, Stewart, almost out of habit, lashed out with a kick at Martin's trash can, producing a dull thud. The can dented further, confirming Martin's earlier suspicion about its deformity.

Realizing he had just exposed his habit of kicking Martin's trash can, Stewart glanced at Martin's stern gaze and quickly retreated towards his side door, throwing a threat over his shoulder, "If you come near Sally again, I'll spill everything to TMZ!"

Martin, unfazed, turned towards him, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Do you understand the consequences of trying to frame me?" His laughter was light yet ominous. "I might just turn your false accusations into reality."

Stewart pointed a trembling finger at Martin, but words failed him.

Martin, dismissing Stewart's theatrics, walked back into his home, musing to himself. He had joked to scare Stewart, but if Stewart dared to slander him, he was ready to play the game.

Living next to Stewart, with his beautiful girlfriend, was proving to be a challenging exercise in neighborliness. Martin prided himself on his respect towards his neighbors, never crossing boundaries, especially with Charlize Theron. Yet, here he was, being unjustly accused.

Shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation, Martin returned to the villa to assist Lao Bu with the maintenance of the firearms.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, a Porsche rolled into the driveway. Martin waited in the garage for Elizabeth to emerge from the car, then pressed the remote to raise the garage door, revealing a brand new, cherry red Porsche, its sleek design shimmering under the garage lights.

Elizabeth gasped, her hands flying to her mouth in astonishment. "It's so beautiful," she breathed out, her eyes sparkling with joy. Martin, watching her reaction, felt a surge of satisfaction.

He handed her the keys. "Why don't you give it a try?"

Without hesitation, Elizabeth pulled Martin into the car. "Let's take it for a spin to Peak Park," she suggested excitedly.

As they drove through the winding mountain roads, Elizabeth, her excitement palpable, asked, "Is today some special occasion? This gift is amazing!"

Martin, with a smile, played it down. "Just felt like celebrating. A little something for my girlfriend."

Elizabeth's joy was evident. "I absolutely love it!" she exclaimed, though she kept her speed moderate, enjoying the scenic drive.

Upon returning, Martin inquired about Lily, to which Elizabeth replied, "She's busy with the exhibition. She's really making a name for herself as an artist, thanks to a little help from Maria and me."

Martin smiled warmly at Elizabeth. "You always think of others. That's one of the things I admire about you."

After dinner, Martin, along with Bruce and Elizabeth, headed to Kane's Angels Shooting Club, where Chad Starsky and Marcus were practicing. The night promised more adventure, a welcome distraction from the day's earlier drama.

Ten minutes after the group settled into the dimly lit, exclusive lounge of Kane's Angels Shooting Club, renowned producers Akiva Goldsman and Louise Meyer made their appearance. Their arrival added a new layer of energy to the room, already buzzing with discussions about the adaptation of Marcus's memoir, "Lone Survivor."

The project was gaining momentum. Funding from South Korea had been secured, and the screenplay was ready. The only key position yet to be filled was that of the director. Akiva, a veteran in the industry, had suggested his long-time collaborator, Peter Berg. Both Louise and Marcus had already met with Berg and felt confident he would be a perfect fit for this gritty, intense story. Martin, after considering the potential and direction of the film, also gave his vote of confidence.

Martin understood the intricacies of Hollywood financing. The film was fully funded by South Korean investors, which meant that even in the event of a financial loss, Davis Studio would still secure a substantial management fee. It was a standard, yet clever, Hollywood operation.

As for casting decisions, Martin chose to step back, trusting the crew to make the best selections. Marcus, having put on considerable weight, was not an option to play himself – a casting reality they all tacitly acknowledged.

After these discussions, the group dispersed to the shooting range for practice, immersing themselves in the rhythmic echo of gunfire. Elizabeth, who had little interest in shooting, stayed behind with Louise. The two ordered drinks and settled into an easy conversation, their history as neighbors in Sherman Oaks providing a wealth of shared memories.

Louise, gazing nostalgically at Elizabeth, remarked, "I remember when you first moved to Sherman Oaks. You were just a little girl then." She observed Elizabeth's matured appearance, "It's amazing how quickly you've grown."

Elizabeth's smile was tinged with fondness. "I often came to your house after school when no one was home. It's funny to think that's where I first met Martin."

Louise chuckled, a hint of wonder in her voice. "Fate works in mysterious ways. Who would have thought you'd end up as Martin's girlfriend?"

Elizabeth's eyes softened. "Our bond grew stronger after what we went through at Burbank Middle School. Martin's more than just a boyfriend to me; he's my savior."

Louise nodded thoughtfully. "Life's full of surprises. I remember when I first brought Martin to Hollywood – never imagined he'd become such a big star."

Elizabeth's youthful optimism shone through. "I'm still just 20. There's so much more I want to see Martin achieve."

Louise smiled, a mix of affection and amusement in her voice. "I always saw you as the sweet, innocent girl next door."

Elizabeth's expression turned earnest. "Louise, you've been a role model to me since I was young. I've always respected you," she said sincerely.

Louise, acknowledging the compliment, added, "You are indeed a good girl, Elizabeth. And Martin, well, he's certainly unique. Time is on your side."

The distant sound of gunfire permeated the air, but Elizabeth was accustomed to it, often accompanying Martin to practice shooting. After Louise excused herself, Elizabeth's thoughts drifted to the evening ahead, pondering how to surprise Martin, perhaps by playfully unloading his gun.

She had discussed this idea with her sisters, who advised her to keep things fresh and avoid rushing their relationship's development.

An hour and a half later, Martin emerged from the range, signaling it was time to head home. As they drove, Martin received a call from Nolan, who requested his early arrival on set the next day for location shooting in Los Angeles. The night's conversations and plans melted away as they both turned their attention to the new day ahead.