Chapter 123: A Celebrity

In North Hollywood, at the Valley Shooting Range, Martin had earplugs in as he shouldered the AR rifle. His gaze remained fixed on the moving target, and he rhythmically pulled the trigger, each shot finding its mark without a miss.

After the gunshots ceased, Bruce glanced at the electronic display and complimented, "You're spot-on with all the targets, buddy. Your skills have improved."

Antonio approached with an old Winchester rifle, glanced at the display, but shook his head, saying, "Martin, you've improved, but you're still average."

Martin lowered the rifle and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's all in good fun."

Antonio, with the build of a sturdy mountain of flesh, positioned himself at the firing line. He raised the old-fashioned rifle, aimed at the moving target, and fired repeatedly. With each shot, the layers of fat on his body trembled, as if they absorbed the recoil.

Antonio may have been as round as a ball, but his dexterity put young sharpshooters to shame. He changed bullets midway and fired ten shots, with the worst hitting eight rings.

Bruce couldn't hide his surprise. "Who'd have thought you were so civilized?"

Martin hadn't expected the rotund landlord to be such a quick and accurate shot.

Antonio removed his earplugs and panted heavily. His mammoth chest heaved up and down vigorously. It seemed like he might drop dead on the spot without catching his breath.

Concerned, Martin asked, "Should we call a doctor?"

Antonio, clutching a nearby pillar, shook his head. It took a half-minute before he could speak. "I'm too fat. Shooting's strenuous exercise is too much for me."

Martin quipped, "Well, at least you don't have a beautiful wife."

Bruce chimed in, "Anthony, you'd better stay away from wives. Martin's scoundrel of a father was a pro at seducing neighbors' wives. You think he can't?"

Martin retorted by flipping off Old Bruce.

As Antonio's breathing gradually steadied, he patted his belly, which was larger than a basketball. "I've shrunk so much that you can't even see it. Why would I want a wife? I have millions in assets. Why would I want a wife to help me spend my money?"

"You've got life figured out," Martin agreed, not daring to let Antonio shoot again. "Let's take a break."

As they walked, he added, "You're quite the marksman."

Antonio jiggled his enormous chest lumps. "The best sharpshooters among us are always the fat ones."

Just as they reached the rest area, Mene arrived.

Looking flustered, he explained, "Sorry I'm late; I had an audition."

Martin pulled out a chair and sat down. "For the one Craven recommended?"

Mene confirmed, "Yes, 'Land of the Living Dead.' I'm auditioning for a role as a zombie with lots of personality. Director Craven recommended it. The casting director, Eva, she's a 55-year-old lady..."

Antonio, a bit of an outsider, tactfully left the details unsaid.

But Martin and Bruce understood. Mene had a knack for attracting middle-aged and elderly women.

Antonio glanced briefly at Mene, then skillfully pulled out a business card and handed it to him. "Dr. Hyena, specializing in proctology. If you ever need it, don't hesitate to visit." He saw Mene's perplexed expression. "I've been in North Hollywood for years and have seen a few clients with anal haemorrhoid."

Mene was left speechless. He'd originally considered discarding the card but thought better of it, tucking it away for a rainy day.

Before the Saturn Awards ceremony, Hart and Carrington had told him about a down-and-out scoundrel in Atlanta who had seduced a wealthy woman with a penchant for intimacy and had raked in quite a sum.

If such an opportunity were to present itself, Mene thought, perhaps he'd entertain the notion.

A passerby, a young man in his twenties, spotted Martin and asked, "Excuse me, are you a celebrity?"

Martin flashed a friendly smile and replied, "Hello."

The young man quickly continued, "I recognize you... I saw you in a photo with Hugh Jackman holding the Saturn Award. You look just as handsome as in the picture."

Mene realized that the person didn't remember Martin's name but remembered that he had posed with Hugh Jackman at the Saturn Awards. He quickly introduced, "My boss is Martin Davis, the Saturn Awards' Best Young Actor and a rising star in Hollywood." The young man eagerly took out his phone. "Can we take a picture together?"

Martin didn't refuse and asked Bruce to take the photo.

Once the others had left, Antonio was taken aback. "Do you have fans?"

Martin was somewhat uneasy. "I won a major award once."

Antonio, trembling, stood up. "Let's head back. We'll take a picture in front of the apartment. When you become a big star, I'll hang the group photo in the living room. The place will be in high demand among actors, and the rent will double."

Martin chuckled. "You'll have to give me a commission."

Back at their apartment building, Martin and Antonio snapped a photo together.

Seeing that it was nearly time, Martin drove to Warner Studios.

After making a call and waiting a while, Louise exited the studio.

As she got into the passenger seat, Martin noticed her furrowed brows. He extended a finger and gently smoothed them, asking, "Is something bothering you?"

"Let's find a place for a drink first," Louise said, securing her seatbelt. "I'm not feeling great."

Martin started the car, heading for North Hollywood. "Work?"

Louise wasn't in the mood to delve into it. She inquired instead, "If I were to go bankrupt, would you abandon me?"

"Never," Martin assured. "I'm a good person with a conscience."

Louise shook her head. "

Louise misunderstood and expressed her concern, saying, "I have a significant portion of my funds tied up in 'Alexander the Great.'"

Martin clarified, "That's not what I meant. I was wondering about the feasibility of bringing in funds from Atlanta."

This jogged Louise's memory, and she responded, "Of course, it's feasible."

Martin proposed, "How about this? Let's assemble a new team. Consider bringing Kelly, your partner in crime, and your network of supporters into the fold." He contemplated further, "Kelly and I don't have ample funds, so the primary investment will rely on your team of backers. This time, it's unlike 'Zombie Stripper.' I'll ensure the project signs a distribution revenue-sharing agreement, offering more opportunities for financial gains."

Martin couldn't help but jest, "I've realized that climbing up from behind... well, there's no one down there, it's too tough to ascend."

Louise maintained her stance, asserting, "Tonight, I'll be on top and push you down!" She then inquired, "Are you certain you can secure the necessary funds?"

Martin nodded confidently, saying, "I've already reached out to Atlanta once, and the issue shouldn't be too challenging." He gazed affectionately at Louise, adding, "Drunkard, I've discovered that you're the best thing for me."

Louise, however, dropped a bombshell, revealing, "Since 'Scream,' every project produced or directed by Wes Craven has turned a profit."

Martin grinned, "Once the team is assembled, I'll throw a party with even more tricks."

After their dinner, the two headed to Malibu Beach to enjoy the night view. When they returned to their apartment building, they could hear boisterous singing.

Antonio, with his ample frame, appeared in the second-floor corridor and yelled, "Martin Davis, my friendship gauge with you just dropped a notch!"

In Venice, a quaint seaside town in Los Angeles, Kim Kardashian parked her car in front of a hotel, made a phone call, and took the elevator to the sixth floor.

Bruce greeted her as the door opened. After she entered and locked the door, he examined her expression and asked, "What happened?"

Kim Kardashian, with a pitiful tone, shared, "In the afternoon, Paris got angry over a piece of clothing, threw it at me, and it hit me in the face with a hanger."

Bruce saw through her thoughts, inquiring, "Did she fulfill her promise in Australia?"

Kim's face twisted with disappointment. Despite her Brisbane letdown with Paris, she had still held onto hope. After returning to Los Angeles for so long, Paris had not mentioned the incident that had catapulted her into the celebrity world.

Kim's tears welled up as she confided, "I'm completely confused now. I don't know what to do..."

Bruce suggested, "It's simple. Wait for a moment when Paris is feeling low, encourage her to go drinking at a bar, and then use your talents to ensure she drinks heavily. Getting her drunk won't be difficult. Stir up an argument, and let her drive. The rest will fall into place."

Kim pondered, "Should I also step forward for another interview with reporters to defend her?"

Bruce smiled knowingly, "You haven't been in the media spotlight lately. Have you mentioned anything about Paris in front of reporters?"

Kim acknowledged, "You're right." She turned around, leaned against the wall, and pushed out her hips.

An ambitious girl with an alluring figure and a story too unconventional to describe.

Almost an hour later, Kim exited the room, retrieved her car, and took out her recorder from her bag. She put on a smile, pressed play, but all that emanated was unintelligible noise.

"Is the recorder broken?" Kim smacked it a few times, but it remained unchanged. She tossed it angrily onto the passenger seat.

On her way back, Paris called and requested Kim to hurry back to drive her out for a night of drinking. Opportunities were never in short supply.

Kim decided tonight was the night.

After picking up Paris, Kim drove to a familiar bar. She carefully orchestrated Paris's state of mind, and with little effort, got Paris thoroughly intoxicated during what could only be described as one of the most dissolute nights of her life.

Kim capitalized on a minor issue to provoke Paris, who, in her drunken state, hurled insults and demanded Kim leave the bar multiple times.

Without further ado, Kim departed from the bar.

Paris, alone and inebriated, headed for her residence. Her car wavered and swayed unsteadily. Kim, in a taxi she had summoned, followed, but noticed that there were no police patrol cars in sight.

She pulled out her prepared phone and dialed 911: "Hello... I'm on Sunset Boulevard and I've spotted someone driving recklessly. The license plate number is..." A few minutes later, a patrol car with flashing lights appeared, pulling Paris over for inspection.

However, Paris didn't stop but instead accelerated, leading to LAPD employing several tactics to compel her to halt.

Subsequently, a routine inspection and a sobriety test took place. Paris, too intoxicated to even walk in a straight line, struggled to maintain her balance.

Paparazzi quickly converged, capturing the entire process on camera.

Kim was confident that Paris would at the very least have her driver's license suspended, and she would then devise a plan to ensure Paris drove under the influence again...