America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Over the weekend, the Carter siblings gathered in the living room.

Elena finished preparing the cocktail shaker and started shaking it uniformly.

Martin reminded her of the key points, "Shake it a bit longer so the drink fully contacts the ice cubes, and use a martini glass, which must be chilled."

Elena took a glass out of the ice, unscrewed the cocktail shaker, and poured in the prepared Manhattan cocktail.

The final step was to add a cherry as garnish.

Elena couldn't find it, "Where's my cherry?"

On the sofa, Lily sneakily hid a bowl behind her and said, "Elena, I accidentally ate all the cherries. Don't you have more?"

"Holle, take off your stinky socks!" Martin turned back and said, "Stuff them into that idiot Lily's mouth!"

Lily got up and ran to her room, while Holle took off his socks and chased after her.

Martin, not caring about those fools, said to Elena, "The Manhattan is known as the queen of cocktails. It's relatively simple to make with a variety of versions, and the taste is decided by the base spirit. Practice more."

Elena nodded, "For the damn money, I'll keep at it."

Martin's phone rang. He walked to the side to answer it; it was Vincent calling, asking him to come to the club as soon as possible.

Elena waited for him to hang up and said, "You go take care of your business; I'll memorize the recipe you wrote down."

Martin pocketed his phone carelessly, touching a wad of washed-up paper—it was lottery ticket stubs. He asked, "Did we win last time?"

Elena shook her head, "We're not that lucky."

Harris came out of the room to use the bathroom and stopped upon seeing the bottles and equipment laid out in the living room, saying, "I've recovered fifty percent, I can go out and make money now."

Elena vetoed, "You should fully recover first. Keep the money you made last time. Also, keep your mouth shut and don't let Scott find out."

...…

The club was quiet during the day. When Martin arrived, he went straight to the second floor and into Vincent's office.

Vincent lifted the brim of his cowboy hat, his hooked nose directly facing the door, "Take a seat anywhere."

Martin sat on the single sofa and asked, "Boss?"

Vincent said, "The club's revenue from clientele has been fairly stable lately, you've done well."

The word stable might not necessarily be a compliment. Martin gave it some thought before replying, "With the help of the ATL Freedom Association, we've sued the Methodist Association, and the liberal newspapers have been continuously reporting on it, so we should maintain our current level of customer traffic for quite some time."

Vincent wasn't interested in what Martin was saying, "Do you have any new ideas for the business?"

Martin told the truth, "Boss, I'm not knowledgeable about running a business."

His past life aside, he had spent most of his previous life adrift.

Vincent nodded slightly, "I want to increase the club's performance by one-third. What do you think?"

Hearing this, Martin knew the opportunity he had been waiting for had arrived.

But it wasn't easy to harvest the boss's "crops"; first, he needed to make the boss harvest from somewhere else.

"Well... I think it comes down to two aspects." Martin had ideas already but wouldn't say them outright, for easily obtained things aren't valued. He spoke generally, "Increase the income from the clientele's entry tickets, and boost the club's merchandise revenue."

Actually, he had considered both aspects, especially the latter, which might suit the unique tastes of liberated women particularly well.

Vincent seemed slightly disappointed, but remembering the events Martin had initiated before, he asked, "You haven't thought about this before?"

"I've been busy with the lawsuit against the Methodist Association," Martin replied. "I'll give it some serious thought."

Vincent watched Martin for a while as the latter furrowed his brow in thought, sighing to himself.

Vincent knew how to motivate people, especially how he had sparked enthusiasm in his boys before opening the club—empty promises wouldn't cut it.

He said directly, "A $10,000 bonus."

The numbers were tempting, and Martin still pondered hard, finally saying, "Boss, I'll come to you again when I think of a solution."

Vincent waved him off, signaling Martin to leave.

Martin descended the stairs, knowing that $10,000 was not a small sum; getting it would mean he wouldn't end up a broke failure even if his unique sale items flopped.

Vincent then met with a few of the club's smartest folks. Bruce, that sand sculpture, suggested plastering posters of Hart everywhere, while Kim proposed introducing flour...

Last to show up was Hart.

The guy said, "Leave it to Papa Martin to sort it out!"

Vincent nearly lost it and was about to smash the ashtray over his head.

Smash him upside the head with it!

Vincent felt helpless, as these days the truly clever or learnèd folks were mostly working in legitimate industries.

As six o'clock neared, the club was about to open for business.

Bruce was wiping down the bar, asking Martin, "Haven't thought of anything?"

Martin shook his head, "God is Black."

Bruce said, "I think, printing Hart's photo on something like those taxi ads and sticking them everywhere would be a good idea."

Martin asked, "The boss agreed? Gave you a bonus? My treat then, Old Cloth!"

Bruce pointed to the stage, "Let your idiot son Hart and Carrington put on wigs and fake boobs and they can keep you company."

"Damn it, I've said, daughters only, no sons," Martin flipped the bird, "Keep 'em for yourself."

Bruce suddenly asked, "When does your movie air?"

Martin had specifically asked Andrew and replied, "Next Saturday night at 10:30 PM, on Cable Channel Two."

Just then, Hart and Carrington, along with their handsome group, came out to prepare the stage. Bruce yelled, "Guys, our idiot movie star's first film airs next week, don't miss out on watching it!"

There was a ruckus of cheering from the handsome group.

Martin thought to himself, if you guys can find me, I lose.

As the club opened its doors, a flood of female customers entered, and everyone got busy.

Since Martin had joined the club, there were very few male patrons because, after all, gays had their specialized venues.

Following the media hype, male customers had almost vanished.

Busy until ten, Martin gave Bruce a nod, leaving the club early.

He didn't go far, just grabbed a can of beer and stood on the street corner, watching the Black Bar across the way.

The customer base was female, and at this hour, more were leaving than entering. Ivan had Goldie guard the door and came over to ask, "You're planning to move on those bastards?"

Martin pulled out another can of beer from his pocket and tossed it to Ivan, "Such deep hatred?"

Ivan cracked open the beer, took a big gulp, and hissed through his teeth, "I'm an Eastern European immigrant. Ever since my family came here, we've been discriminated against and oppressed by those blacks..."

Martin cautioned, "Some things you shouldn't say recklessly, it can bring trouble."

Ivan just laughed.

Martin chatted intermittently with Ivan but did not take his eyes off the female patrons leaving the club, watching them until they were gone.

As female patrons continued to leave the House of Beast, just like Martin had seen before, a portion of them didn't head home but instead crossed to the Black Club opposite.

The place didn't charge women an entry fee, so they could get in for free and continue drinking.

Martin tossed his empty can away, felt for his pocket to make sure he had money, and crossed the street to the entrance of the Black Bar.

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