King of Hollywood

Stop the rambling motorcycle and take the helmet off Thomas? Hart had a long exit, and after getting out of the car he kicked a little bit of this old thing before walking to his rented apartment.

“Thomas?” I just walked into the door downstairs and a voice came into my ear, "I remind you, the rent is due in a few days, you better make it up with the $50 you owed last month, or I'll have to call the cops! ”

On the corridor, a white woman in her thirties stood there and looked at him in disgrace, saying that while she had a round face and seemed rich and gentle, words were rather harsh.

“I know, Mrs. Regizamo, I'll make a fortune in a minute, and I'll give it to you as soon as I get it.” Despite the anger in his heart, Hart pressed down and lowered his voice when he thought of what Rufflow, editor of the Los Angeles Times, had said to himself.

“You better do it.” The white woman weighed him with some suspicion, presumably feeling that he had reacted differently than usual, but she didn't think too much, frowned, flashed a disgusting look from her face, and then knocked back to her house.

Goddamn woman! Hart pinched his fist, the mean man he hadn't seen, but he was so mean to this woman once. It's like he owes rent, he's still somewhere else, and he doesn't owe it, but the other landlord has allowed him up to four months - of course, he made it up in time. But this woman, who is only in her thirties, sees money very heavily. Almost repeatedly prayed last month, emptying every cent of his body, he was so broke that he barely agreed that he owed $50.

If it weren't for the last recurring rent arrears, which were always made up for, I was really embarrassed, sorry about the good host, otherwise how could he have moved to such a more dilapidated place?

We have to make this deal. We have to! Hart said that to himself in his heart. It was God's will, and he had no idea he was just walking in the wrong place. But accidentally broke into a private beach and shot such a stunning scene far away. This is crazy. Look at this list, Nicole. Kidman, Gwyneth? Patrol, Catherine? Zeta Jones, Britney? Spears... taking one out, even one of those two lingerie models, makes countless men feel like they're having this party in the same place at the same time and with the same man. If the news were in the paper, it would definitely cause a strong earthquake.

As long as we can make this deal, we can turn ourselves around! Hart opened the door to his apartment and took a deep breath. Forgive himself so cheerfully, his face still looked gloomy and he thought he was going to the newspaper. When he met the editor-in-chief of power, the deal could be completed. He almost forgot that the miracle director was also the world's top media tycoon.

Hart knows. The media tycoon is a tough guy, he used to be a journalist, and if he didn't... he doesn't really care about fame, now he's more concerned about real interests, like opportunity, like money. But Rufflow's editor-in-chief told him that he was still too shallow about many things. Although he did not believe that there was a need for more high-definition photographs, Rufflow was right and had to be careful and confidential, which was a good suggestion.

So he went to the New York Times division in Los Angeles today, and met with one of the editors in charge that Rufflow recommended to him, and of course, he played a trick and didn't clearly tell the other person who let him come looking for him. What happened after that was basically the same. The other side also repeatedly asked him to be careful not to spread it immediately, and when he made it clear that it was Rufflo of the Los Angeles Times, he immediately called Rufflo in front of him and exchanged opinions, and Hart spoke to Rufflo.

This reassured him even more, so he promised to keep a low profile for the time being until they pulled up other, more contextual people to discuss what to do with him.

Maybe I should borrow some money from them and pay the fucking rent first? Sitting on a chair, rubbing your face with your hands, relieving fatigue, Thomas? Hart suddenly came up with this thought, and then he shook his head with a bitter smile, gripping his hands into fists and squeezing them hard. Some of them sighed flashly and got up ready to pack up their backups and find a safe place to hide them.

And then a voice went up and said, "I'm sorry, I don't think you have much to drink here, so I made myself a cup of instant coffee, do you mind? ”

Breaking into the other sounds scared Hart, almost threw his backpack out, hit another chair before calming down slightly, then grabbed something out and looked nervously at the person who suddenly appeared in his room: "Who are you? What do you want to do? ”

“Relax, Thomas? Mr. Hart, the plastic inflatable stick in your hand is not a threat to me. There are no proper defenses in your room, no guns, no knives, no baseball bats.” The other said in a gentle tone.

It was a middle-aged man who couldn't see his age, maybe 35, maybe 45, had a very mediocre face, mediocre enough to turn around and maybe forget. His suit of leather shoes stood at Hart's reconstructed darkroom door, holding a cup in his hand and looking perfectly peaceful in his spare time.

“I didn't bring anything as lethal as well, of course, I admit to bringing a few bodyguards, but they were all outside, downstairs," he walked up to his old couch casually and sat down as if it were his own, "so sit down and talk to me, Mr. Hart. ”

“Who are you?” Despite a little guessing, Hart couldn't help but ask and always grabbed the plastic inflatable stick in his hand.

“My name is Martin? Modimer," They put their legs up and made a sit-down gesture, "Adrian? Mr. Corwell's personal representative. ”

Thomas? Hart's heart sank, and although he smelled a little bad, he didn't expect it to happen. What the hell is going on here? He went to Rufflow yesterday. Why did the media tycoon come to the door today? Looks like they searched their room too. Who betrayed everyone?!

“Really?” I told Running Hart to squeeze a smile out of his head, "So, what do you want to do next? Find a bag to put me in and throw me in the ocean? ”

“How could it be," Mordimer smiled, "we are law-abiding citizens. ”

Seeing this pie of his, Hart also let go of his raised heart slightly. Looks like they're here to negotiate. Then, an idea popped out of his head and excited him slightly, but also created some hesitation, if the other person knew… but it could bring more to themselves and make them safer, they couldn't be so familiar with themselves, much less know what they were carrying.

“Okay.” Hart swallowed his mouth, trying to keep himself calm, dressed, and sat down in front of Modimer, "What do you want to do? ”

“No, Mr. Hart. Say what you want to do.” Modimer was about to kick the ball back.

“What else can we do? It's big news, Hollywood's richest man, having sex parties with some of Hollywood's most famous celebrities on the beach, which will attract a lot of attention. Whether that newspaper publishes the news or not, the circulation will be on several steps.” Hart licked his lips and said.

“Do you think the readers will believe it? Two Oscar's best actress winners, two Oscar's best actress winners, two popular red idol singers, and two red lingerie models, and Hollywood's richest man throwing a sex party on the beach?” Modimer asked with a smile.

“Why not? As you all know, the miracle director is a playboy, and every miracle girl is confused with him, not to mention...” Hart smiles, "and so many pictures. ”

“It's synthesized with photoshop.” Modimer understated.

“What?” Hart frowned.

“Adobe's programmers will be happy to demonstrate to the jury how such photographs are synthesized and willing to provide a way to distinguish between synthetic photographs and normal photographs," Modimer said softly. “Then, when the news came out, people began to question the correctness of the whole thing, and soon someone would turn themselves in, the head of a porn site, specializing in making composite photographs of stars to sell money. He would admit that someone had ordered these photographs from him, and he didn't care at first, until after the case appeared, to know how wrong he was. He was not a good man, but he also had his own bottom line, and Mr. Corwell's charitable fund had helped him through his life. ”

Hart looked a little pale, he basically understood that coming here, if it really came out, Adrian would be the first to prosecute and all the backers were arranged... how is that possible?!

“I can testify, I saw it with my own eyes...” He still wants to struggle.

“The jury will not believe a person with a prior record of fraud, especially if he divorces his wife and is expressly barred from approaching his children by court order.” Modimer dropped another heavy bomb.

“That bastard set me up!” Hart's face rose red and his neck shouted loudly, and the calm he had tried so hard to maintain had completely broken, which was the biggest pain in his heart.

“I believe that, especially after reading your information, and expressing sympathy," Modimer is still so bleak, "but you have to convince the jury and the court. Of course, there may be some lawyers who want to be famous for free, but trust me, most media groups will be on our side, and the jury won't let them. ”

So * * naked to divide the jury on its own side, the intentions are obvious. Hart snorted and breathed a few times, finally pressing himself again, but no more talking, just staring dead at Modimer, though, he had at least one more move.

Unfortunately, he was always calm. Modimer obviously guessed what he was going to do. When he calmed down, he lifted his jacket, just above the right of the inside, with a rectangular little black box at the end, and a few wires that he didn't know where to attach.

“The Pentagon recently ordered a recording jammer, which has also been used by the FBI and CIA. Non-civilian, whether taped or digital, cannot escape.” Modimer explained calmly.

Hart stared and looked incredible.

“Try it,” Modimer lifted his hand, "I'm sure you have more than one recorder here. Try one. ”

Though he cautioned himself not to believe each other's mantras, he was forced to reach into his arms, take out the pen he had previously opened with his clothes and raise his ears. Staring at Modimer, he shook and pressed the play key. Then, his face greyed to death, and the sound of sand was all that came from the pen.

Hart, desperate, realizes not only that he has found all his information in a short space of time, but that he has also taken into account everything, making all his means useless. What does Rufflow mean when he says he's too shallow and Adrian's enormous energy?

“What do you want to do?” He was pale and soft on the chair like a pissed off leather ball.

Modimer smiled slightly and his emotions didn't seem to have changed: "A check of 2 million, your son's visiting rights, and an opportunity for further education. ”

“Ah?” Thomas? Hart opened his eyes and looked blindly at the middle-aged man in front of him.

“If the refresher qualifies. You will receive a letter of recommendation, which will be assigned to a number of prestigious magazines or newspapers based on their final grades, and then promoted to a position of supervisor within a few years," Modimer continues, "if you fail. You can get another check for 3 million and a ticket to Monaco - of course, if you're not interested in further education, you can get a check for 5 million and a ticket to Monaco. ”

Hart became more and more unaware that he had done so much to break his confidence so completely. And in the end, the conditions were so generous? Why? But he reacted quickly, and even though all the cards were eaten to death by the other side, his head didn't turn out to be a piece of paste. It's perfectly normal for the other party to do this, and it's probably the same for itself. In negotiations, whoever can see through the other party's bottom card first can take the initiative.

From this point of view, they negotiated in good faith. Moreover, although this person in front of him has exhausted his means to strike himself, the tone of speech has never been higher than the smell, but why such conditions… and so on!

With a glimmer of light in his head, Hart suddenly looked up and said, "Mark? Rufflow, editor-in-chief of the Los Angeles Times entertainment edition! And Louis? Hoffman, editor-in-chief of the New York Times Los Angeles Division! ”

After a pause and a deep breath, he said, "If I'm right, so is the editor-in-chief of the Los Angeles section of the Washington Post. ”

Modimer tapped the target lightly: "You're a smart man, Mr. Hart, and after a detailed look at your information, I've come to the conclusion that even if your colleague betrayed you, you could still grab the loophole and the prosecutor made a deal in his favor, so I made a suggestion to my boss, so -- can you give me an answer? ”

“I promise.” Slightly shrugged his lower throat, Thomas? Hart responded positively that he could not refuse his son's visitation rights, especially now that he needed the opportunity.

“Good, then let's go.” Modimer stood up immediately.

“Go?” Hart doesn't get it.

“Yes, it's enough to sell everything you've got here," Mordimer said, handing over a check for $100,000, "you don't have a backup somewhere else, do you? ”

“Of course not.” Modimer reacted with a smile, "Do you want me to put this dress here too? ”

“No, but it's best to keep everything on you except what's necessary, like keys, like a driver's license.” Modimer says no offense, "I can get someone to help you find a rentable house, and you can do it yourself. ”

“All right, all right.” Hart pulled some small things out of his pockets and threw them on the floor, then picked up the check and left the room with Modimer.

Then, when Modimer pressed something in his pocket, two fine men walked up the stairs and, after nodding his head, went in and packed up.

“You're doing a really good job.” Watching them enter the house, Hart sighed with some remorse, and while there was nothing of value, some spent a long time with him.

But he soon came back to God, and that was good, too, as if it were a complete cut from the past.

“You must have earned Mr. Corwell's trust.” He then said so.

“Thank you,” Mordimore patted him on the shoulder, "let's go. I can give you a lift. Which hotel are you staying at? ”

After walking out the apartment door and getting into Modimer's car, Hart finally couldn't stand it: "What if I never agreed? What if I insist on being public at all costs? ”

“Why ask that question?” Modimer picked the eyebrows.

“I'm just curious," Hart seems to be explaining something, "I'm sure you would never have prepared just such a means, and I'm sure Mr. Corwell would never be willing to go public or even to court, and I've seen some of his information, even though it's a little short, and I've heard that he… in some respects has a good reputation and is very protective. ”

Modimer, who put his hand on the steering wheel, laughed and tapped Hart on his shoulder a moment later: “You know, Mr. Hart, America is a big country, with millions of square miles and 300 to 400 million people, so... there will never be too many homeless people with guns and drunken truckers. ”

After he finished, he smiled again, then started the car, Hart sat in the co-pilot's position and beamed half to react, looked at Modimer and sighed.

“Law-abiding citizen...” he mumbled so half-mocking and sighing.