Chapter 13: Strip Club

After removing his makeup and changing back into his regular attire, Martin exited the temporary dressing room and found a spot that wouldn't interfere with others' work. After a brief observation, he located Fat Andrew.

When Andrew had a moment of free time, Martin approached him and greeted, "Mr. Andrew."

Andrew still recalled Martin, quipping, "Couldn't find the finance office to collect your dues?"

Martin replied with a smile, "I happened to spot you as I was leaving, so I wanted to express my gratitude."

Andrew held a favorable impression of Martin, acknowledging, "You did a fine job."

Martin steered the conversation, "Later, when I meet my friend, I'll ask her to connect with like-minded individuals. I'd appreciate it if you could assist, Mr. Andrew."

Andrew readily agreed, "No problem." He pondered for a moment and added, "Since you support freedom and progress and are willing to contribute, it would be helpful if you kept an eye on current social issues. If you come across anything detrimental to the Womans Association, please inform us promptly."

He had uttered similar words to many acquaintances as a way to curry favor with his boss and enhance his prospects for promotion.

Martin naturally accepted the request.

A brand-new BMW 7 Series rolled down the farm road, drawing the attention of onlookers, including Andrew.

As the car came to a halt, a young female assistant emerged from the passenger side and opened the rear door. A short-haired, professionally attired woman then stepped out of the vehicle.

Andrew beckoned to Martin and walked over.

Martin inquired of a passing extra, "Who's that? Seems quite important." The actor continued walking, replying nonchalantly, "The company's boss."

Martin pieced together that this was Kelly Gray, a prominent figure in the ATL Womans Association.

He soon noticed that Andrew was hesitant to initiate a conversation in front of Kelly Gray but was familiar with the female assistant.

Out of nowhere, Robert appeared, exclaiming, "Let's collect our earnings. I'm going to splurge on dinner tonight!"

Martin playfully retorted, "Hey, why are you making me wait and not treating me tonight?"

As they made their way to the finance office, Robert quipped, "Another time, my friend."

Before four o'clock, they had finished filming their scene. Each of them received a $100 check and rejoined the group of extras.

Martin spotted Jerome and approached him, saying, "Captain, here's today's pay. I'll settle the dues as well."

Martin had become convinced that Jerome possessed connections and capabilities in Atlanta's low-level acting scene, making him a more reliable guide than navigating it alone.

However, he couldn't provide the full amount at once. With over 20 people in the troupe, old and new members, Jerome would need to remember Martin for some time.

Jerome accepted the check and was impressed by Martin's promptness in repaying. There was still $200 left, so he had no doubts about Martin settling the debt soon.

In a gesture of goodwill, Jerome asked, "Do you have enough to cover your living expenses? You can keep some."

Martin responded, "I work at nightclubs in the evenings, and that covers my basic expenses."

Taking the opportunity, Martin inquired about the Gray Film and Television Production Company's situation. It was a local firm in Atlanta, not particularly large in scale, and hadn't produced any theatrical movies. Instead, it frequently collaborated with cable networks for late-night programs and invested funds annually to create video films distributed directly to the DVD market. The owner, Kelly Gray, had studied at the University of Southern California and worked in Hollywood, making her a progressive figure in Atlanta.

A little after four o'clock, the extras returned en masse, and Martin and Robert joined them on the bus back to downtown Atlanta.

Martin retrieved his car, had a casual dinner, and headed to Saijo Avenue. Before he could park, the door of a nearby Wrangler swung open, accompanied by a loud expletive.

Martin stepped out of his car and locked the door.

From the Wrangler's passenger seat emerged a black woman with dreadlocks, a robust figure, and an ample posterior. She pointed at Martin's car and berated him, "You loser, how dare you pick up girls in front of me! If I hadn't supported you, where would you be today? Now that you're successful, you dare to embarrass me!"

A bald black man emerged from the other side, retorting, "Who are you calling a loser? Believe me, I'll kick you to the curb in this divorce." The irate woman, brandishing her basketball-sized chest, pulled out a shiny silver pistol, warning, "Boyet, I'll wreck your sorry ass."

Unfazed, bald Boyet drew an M1911 and challenged, "Bring it on; let's see who's left standing."

The elderly black couple pointed their guns at each other, appearing poised to open fire at any moment.

Martin hurriedly distanced himself, reaching the club's entrance. Noticing Brainless Ivan observing the situation with keen interest, Martin asked, "Do you know those two lunatics?"

Ivan gestured to his head, saying, "Aren't they all a bit off here?"

Bruce emerged from the porch and swatted Ivan's head, admonishing, "Don't say such troublesome things at the entrance! We're civilized folks!"

Ivan complained, "What I said is universally accepted. They seem normal most of the time, but they turn into mindless beasts at the slightest provocation.

At the entrance of the black bar across the street, someone dashed out, attempting to mediate the situation.

Martin inquired, "Who's over there?"

Bruce explained, "The man's Boyette, the owner of the black bar, and the woman is his wife, Betty. Both have ties to black gangs in South City."

Martin scratched his head, realizing that the couple had resorted to firearms during their quarrel.

Bruce cautioned, "Black gangs tend to have violent tendencies."

Martin took the warning to heart and resolved to steer clear of those two in the future.

The two entered the club, changed into their work attire, and found that the club was sparsely populated that night, with no more than 30 patrons at most.

Martin received a $1 tip and pocketed it.

Envious, Bruce asked, "I heard every bartender has a unique skill. Do you have one?"

Martin replied, "Of course." He extended his hand to Bruce, saying, "But I don't show it to civilized folks; they prefer traditional tastes."

Though he talked about unique tricks, Martin was merely acquainted with a few cocktails not widely known or popular in this era, such as the Paper Plane.

A tall man with a blond ponytail entered from outside, and upon spotting Bruce, he voiced his discontent, saying, "Who's that guy at the door? He actually asked me to buy a ticket."

Martin didn't need to inquire; he knew it must be Ivan.

Bruce simply grinned.

The ponytailed man turned to Martin and remarked, "Hey there, handsome. Selling alcohol is a waste of resources! Vincent made a mistake by putting you in this spot!"

He then ascended to the second floor.

Martin sought clarification with his eyes.

Bruce explained, "That's Michael, the nightclub's publicist hired by the boss. He probably noticed no improvement in customer traffic, so the boss summoned him. This guy's in for some trouble." He playfully teased Martin, "Bartenders may need to moonlight as cleaners, and it's our job to handle Michael's mess. By the way, do you know how to use acid? Or perhaps how to dissolve bones?"

Martin responded with a straight face, "I'll ensure that the civilized folks here lick him into a deep hole!"

Bruce adopted a serious tone, "You still owe me a month of posters and a well-endowed actress."

The former matter could be resolved easily, but the latter was far more complicated. Martin promptly changed the topic, saying, "If the club closes, you'll lose your job."

Bruce reassured him, "Not to worry, the boss has a trump card up their sleeve."

Martin's curiosity piqued, and he asked, "What's the trump card?"

Bruce explained with seriousness, "The boss is canvassing opinions from the staff. They're planning to select the best idea."

He cast his gaze around the empty club and added, "When we were contemplating a career change, someone suggested opening a strip club. The boss made a choice, went to Las Vegas to research it, and then opened Hulk Mansion."

Martin couldn't help but think that this unconventional approach might explain the club's poor business.

As he looked around the deserted venue, he pondered carefully.

Once he had a moment to spare, Martin inquired, "Given the club's challenging business situation, where's the person who proposed the strip club idea?"

Bruce pointed toward the ring stage and remarked, "The boss has Hart performing there until things pick up."