Chapter 804: Airborne Once More

A shabby Toyota sputtered into the bustling parking lot of the Los Angeles Convention Center, blending almost invisibly amid the sleek luxury cars.

Stuart Townsend squinted at the grand entrance, his eyes drawn to the vibrant posters flaunting names like Netflix, David Fincher, and Davis Studio. The excitement was palpable.

"I really hope she'll come," he muttered under his breath, pulling out his phone and dialing Charlize Theron's number for what felt like the hundredth time. Once again, the line was busy.

Ever since his reckless stunt the previous day, splashing McFarland's head and face, he had been desperate to reach Charlize. He wanted to boast about his misguided act of loyalty, to show her the lengths he would go for her. But Charlize remained unreachable.

Using every connection he had on the North Side of Sunset Boulevard, Townsend had managed to enter Charlize's gated community, only to find her house locked up tight. Despite all his efforts, he couldn't be sure if Charlize even knew what he had done.

After three more futile attempts to call her, each met with that same infuriating busy tone, Townsend sighed and pocketed his phone. He pinned his hopes on a different ally: Martin Davis.

He didn't need much. Just a word from Martin could change everything.

Sliding out of the old Toyota, Townsend made his way into the familiar expanse of the convention center. Skipping the main venue, he navigated through a security passage to the lounge area and stationed himself by a VIP room door.

His patience was soon rewarded. The lounge door opened, and Martin Davis emerged, flanked by Bruce and several others. Townsend sprang into action, hastening toward them.

"Martin! Martin!" he called out, desperation lacing his voice.

Two security guards immediately intercepted him, but Martin, recognizing Townsend, signaled them to let him through. Curiosity piqued, Martin stepped forward.

"Can we talk alone for a few minutes? Just a while!" Townsend implored.

With a wave, Martin gestured for Bruce to stay back and approached Townsend. The two moved a few steps aside to a quieter corner.

"I can't get in touch with Charlize. Can you?" Townsend whispered urgently.

Martin knew perfectly well that Charlize had blocked Townsend before jetting off overseas for filming. But he played along, shaking his head. "I only know she went abroad for a shoot."

Desperation seeped into Townsend's voice. "Martin, I deeply regret what happened between us. I was a fool to target you. I'm genuinely sorry."

Martin, puzzled by this sudden change of heart, urged him to get to the point. "If you have something to say, just say it directly."

Townsend cast a cautious glance over Martin's shoulder before speaking. "I want to get back with Charlize. We've been in love for ten years. Please, Martin, can you tell her I'm willing to do anything to make things right?"

Martin's expression remained unreadable. Townsend's plea hung in the air, a fragile hope in a world of uncertainty.

Martin stared at Townsend, eyebrows arched in surprise. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, this guy must be out of his mind.

Townsend pressed on, trying to clarify his intentions. "Don't get me wrong, Martin. I'm not trying to cause any trouble. You can still see Charlize, keep things going with her. I won't stand in your way."

Lowering his voice, Townsend leaned in, conspiratorial. "In fact, if you want, I can even cheer you on, help you push things forward. Beyond the nominal relationship, I won't have any involvement with Charlize unless you have specific requests."

Martin shook his head, dismissing Townsend's ludicrous proposition. "You can leave now. I get it, you're just trying to worm your way back into her life, living off her success. That's not going to happen."

He paused, seeing through Townsend's pathetic attempts. "You need to abandon these delusions. I don't have time for your nonsense."

Townsend opened his mouth to speak again, but Martin had already turned on his heel, striding away down the adjacent passage. Security guards quickly stepped in, blocking Townsend's path and ensuring he couldn't follow.

Dejected, Townsend trudged back toward the parking lot. His eyes fell on his battered Toyota, its once shiny exterior now a dull reminder of better days. He groaned, remembering the car needed gas.

Fumbling for his wallet, Townsend found only a few crumpled twenty-dollar bills. Not enough. He sighed, wondering how he'd scrape together more cash. Then, an idea struck him as he glanced back at the convention center's entrance. Desperation bred ingenuity. If all else failed, he could sell his story to the media.

Yes, he could spin his experiences with Charlize Theron into something sensational. Maybe even throw Martin Davis into the mix. "My Love Triangle with Charlize and Martin"? No, not sensational enough.

"How Martin Davis Stole My Fiancée Charlize Theron" now that had potential!

Lost in his scheming, Townsend didn't notice the sleek car pulling up until it stopped right in front of him. Two men got out, one of them flashing a police badge.

"Mr. Stuart Townsend," the middle-aged officer began, his tone civil but firm, "you are wanted for questioning regarding an incident of intentional injury yesterday. Please come with us for investigation."

Townsend's heart sank. He knew resisting was futile; the police wouldn't be so polite if they didn't mean business.

So, Seth MacFarlane had called the cops. And just like that, Townsend's plans crumbled as reality closed in.

At the Los Angeles Convention Center, Martin and Bruce made their way to the bustling press room, anticipation hanging in the air as they prepared to go on stage.

Bruce, ever the pessimist, couldn't hold back his concern. "It's over, Martin. You're about to be exposed," he warned, thinking about the swirling rumors.

Martin shrugged, his expression a mask of indifference. "Rumors are just that, rumors. They don't matter."

Bruce wasn't satisfied. "Even if you don't care, just pretend you didn't hear them. Act like you're innocent."

Martin's gaze slid over Bruce's face, dismissing him. He found the constant scrutiny laughable. Leonardo, Nicholson, Bruce, and even Charlize, they all thought he was abnormal. But Martin knew better.

When everyone else thinks you're wrong and you know you're right, he thought, it's them who have the problem.

A commotion erupted at the front of the press room. Martin turned his attention to see Netflix making a significant announcement. Before a throng of eager reporters, they officially revealed a comprehensive collaboration with Oscar-winning director David Fincher and introduced the "House of Cards" project. The media's interest was instantly piqued.

Despite Netflix's previous attempts to make a mark by purchasing Hollywood copyrights and producing subpar content with lesser-known directors and actors, their influence had been minimal. But this partnership with David Fincher was a game-changer.

The hardest part of any venture is the beginning, Martin mused. Once Netflix breaks through, the rest will follow much more smoothly.

The savvy reporters sensed a seismic shift in the Hollywood industry chain, driven by streaming media. The partnership with Fincher was just the start.

As the representative of Davis Studio, Martin was called to the stage to sign a licensing agreement with Greg Peters, Netflix's representative.

Netflix would now hold exclusive online on-demand rights to a slate of Davis Studio films, including blockbusters like "Assassins," "Infinity," "John Wick," "Gone Girl," "The Martian," and "Argo," for the next five years.

The licensing fee from Netflix was substantial, amounting to $42 million annually, a figure significantly higher than the average Hollywood film package. The reason was simple: the Davis Studio's licensing package contained no subpar films.

Martin glanced at the crowd, his mind racing with the possibilities this deal unlocked. Netflix's embrace of high-quality content would not only enhance their standing but also set a new standard in the industry. For Martin, this was more than just a business deal, it was a validation of his vision and a strike against the doubters who questioned his methods.

As the cameras flashed and reporters jotted down notes, Martin couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph. The tide was turning, and he was right at the helm.

Hollywood's major studios often bundle a few blockbusters with a slew of subpar movies in their licensing packages, making them both expensive and a gamble for buyers.

In contrast, Martin's company prided itself on producing fewer films, but each one was a cinematic gem. This reputation made their content highly desirable for online on-demand licensing, the preferred collaboration model between Hollywood and Netflix.

By hosting the signing of David Fincher and Davis Studio at the same press conference, Netflix was making a bold statement to the entertainment industry: they had secured partnerships with the Oscar winners for Best Director and Best Picture. It was a power move, one that would undoubtedly boost Netflix's stock price.

At noon, Martin attended Netflix's reception lunch. Later, he and Bruce headed to Los Angeles International Airport, making their way to the private apron area reserved for celebrities and wealthy businessmen.

A brand-new Bombardier Global 6000 business jet awaited them on the tarmac, gleaming in its silver-white paint with striking red accents on the wings and tail.

As the cabin door opened, Lily and Elizabeth descended the steps. Martin approached with a grin. "It's a beautiful plane."

Elizabeth greeted him with a passionate kiss. "After waiting so long, it's finally here!"

Lily followed suit, pulling Martin into a French kiss.

Elizabeth pouted playfully, then grabbed their hands. "Come on up and see it. You're its owner, after all."

Martin ducked through the cabin door, entering a world of luxury. The interior was divided into three main areas: a bar, a communal seating area, and a spacious bedroom, all equipped with the latest in audio and video communication technology. With a maximum range close to 10,000 kilometers, it could easily fly from New York to London.

Martin lounged on a plush white leather seat before making his way to the bedroom. The large bed caught his eye, its mattress promising unparalleled comfort.

Lily had snuck off to the cockpit, returning with a mischievous smile. "I asked the captain to contact the tower. We're flying straight to Las Vegas tonight. Ready for some fun?"

Elizabeth, leaning against the door with her arms crossed, smirked. "Your plan isn't just about Vegas, is it? What's so special there when we can have our fun right here?"

Lily jumped onto the bed, reveling in its bounce. "Don't you remember why we ordered this bed specifically?"

Martin chuckled. "Good point. Let's do it."

He hurried to the cabin door and waved at Bruce. "Bruce, get on board! We're heading to Vegas."

Bruce climbed aboard, taking in the scene with a knowing look. He found a seat near the cockpit as Lily and Elizabeth greeted him and settled in the back.

With all preparations complete, the plane taxied onto the runway and ascended into the sky.

Shortly after takeoff, Martin, Lily, and Elizabeth retreated to the bedroom, ready to celebrate their new acquisition.

That night, they partied in Las Vegas, living it up in the city that never sleeps. The next day, they flew back, savoring the luxury of their airborne sanctuary once more.