Chapter 78: Quick, Accurate, and Ruthless

Murphy ordered a dozen beers and kept clinking glasses with James Franco. Alcohol can bring people closer, and with the stress he'd been under lately, this was a good way to let off steam.

As time went by, the bar began to get busier. More and more people entered, and from the second floor, Murphy could see that the seats on the first floor were almost full. Many people were coming upstairs looking for seats. While Murphy was finishing another beer, a chubby man with glasses sat down at the table behind James Franco.

Unlike others, he was alone, sitting with his back to Franco, and seemed to be in a bad mood. Murphy vaguely heard him order a bottle of vodka.

James Franco put down his beer bottle, pointed at Murphy, and said, "You think you're hiding it well, but I can see right through you. You're just fooling naive girls like Carey Mulligan."

Murphy didn't mind the alcohol-laden breath. Neither of them was drinking lightly. He retorted, "You're so smart, you almost got castrated by a naive girl!"

Emphasizing the word "castrated," Murphy mercilessly mocked him. "If it weren't for me stopping her, you'd be without your manhood right now!"

Murphy added with a burp, "A sex-change operation would save a step!"

He was clearly quite drunk.

James Franco looked embarrassed. "I... I..."

Swallowing hard, he argued, "We were rehearsing!"

With the alcohol, their voices naturally grew louder. Fortunately, the bar was noisy enough that no one paid them much attention.

"You, Jim!"

Even though he was drunk, Murphy hadn't forgotten why he was there. Pointing at James Franco, he said, "You're an ungrateful pedophile!"

"Me?" James Franco pointed at himself, mouth agape, clearly also drunk. "What does my liking kids have to do with you? If it wasn't for you..."

"If it weren't for me," Murphy interrupted him, "you'd be without your manhood!"

"You..." James Franco almost choked on his drink. He swallowed quickly and shouted, "Even without my manhood, I won't fall for your tricks again!"

"So you admit you're a coward?" Murphy laughed coldly. "I know why you don't want to join my crew—because Carey Mulligan is there. You're afraid she'll castrate you."

"I..." James Franco stiffened his neck. "I... I'm not afraid of her!"

Despite his loud voice, it was clear to anyone that he lacked confidence.

Murphy shook his head. "Coward! I really wonder if some underage girl has abused you too."

James Franco slammed the table with a bang and shouted, "Absolutely not!"

The sound of his table-slap and shouting drew attention. Murphy intentionally covered his ears, and many people turned to look at James Franco with curiosity.

"Shut the hell up!" an angry voice shouted from behind Franco. The chubby man with glasses stood up, his face flushed red from drinking, glaring at Franco.

He seemed to have been holding back for a while. In a voice no quieter than Franco's, he shouted, "You loudmouth, if you don't shut up, I'll shove your head up your ass!"

"You..." Franco cursed and took a step forward, grabbing the chubby man's collar.

Both of them were quite drunk, and alcohol acted like a catalyst.

The chubby man wasn't backing down. He pushed Franco in the chest, his strength clearly greater, sending Franco stumbling back several steps until he bumped into Murphy. If Murphy hadn't caught him, Franco would have fallen.

"You..." Franco began to curse again.

Before he could finish, the chubby man lunged forward, grabbing Franco by the throat with one hand and reaching for a bottle on Murphy's table with the other.

Murphy stood up immediately. No matter what, Franco was his friend, and if he got hit on the head with that bottle, he'd be seriously injured.

As the chubby man picked up the bottle and started to swing it, Murphy moved faster. He lunged forward, throwing a punch that landed squarely on the chubby man's cheek.

Murphy had no formal training in fighting, but his skills were honed in prison brawls. His punches were all about being quick, accurate, and ruthless.

The chubby man felt like he'd been hit by a raging bull. His glasses flew off, and his head snapped back, causing his entire body to stumble back until he crashed into his table, half his body slumped over it.

Through his squinted eyes, he saw that it was Franco's friend who had hit him. Trying to stand up, he felt dizzy and collapsed to the floor.

"What's going on here?"

A voice shouted from the staircase, and several security guards rushed over, separating Murphy, Franco, and the chubby man. The lead guard said loudly, "No fighting here. If you want to fight, take it outside."

This was Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, where celebrities often visited, so the security staff were quite professional.

Two guards approached Murphy and Franco, while another watched the chubby man. The lead guard gestured for them to leave, ready to force them out if necessary.

"We'll leave," Murphy said, raising his hands and helping Franco. "Let's go."

Franco shook off Murphy's hand and staggered forward. "I can walk, I don't need your help."

Although quite drunk, he wasn't completely out of it. As they walked, he glanced back at Murphy with a look of surprise, clearly not expecting this selfish guy to help him.

Murphy followed Franco, with security guards between them and the chubby man, escorting them out of the bar.