America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Before ten o'clock, Kate Winslet left. Martin prepared three sweet and refreshing Mojitos, planning to leave after finishing them.

Kelly's words caught his attention, "The director we regularly collaborate with, Benjamin, just gave me a screenplay; he wants to make a feature film."

She opened the bag she brought, took out a screenplay, and handed it to Louise, "You're experienced, help me take a look."

Martin was curious but didn't join in right away; screenplays involve trade secrets and it's better to be cautious.

Louise had only flipped through the first ten pages before saying, "Any movie company in Hollywood could find a pile of these in their script vault. You've been in Hollywood; for these B-movies, the quality of the film isn't greatly dependent on the script."

She openly criticized, "Zombie vampires, the most trite B-movie theme, the only novelty is that the vampire dancer is now male."

Kelly suddenly turned to Martin, "Actually, the original idea came from Martin. He played a corpse and joked with me about having the female lead pick up a body. I casually mentioned it to Benjamin, and he wrote this screenplay, combining it with Martin's real experience working at the strip club."

At this point, Martin found a good reason to chime in, "Kelly, shouldn't you send me a red envelope, some royalties?"

Louise looked surprised, "You really are multitalented, you've been a dancer?"

Martin corrected, "The lead bartender at the strip club." He then said to Kelly, "Was the screenplay custom-made for me? I'm so touched, how should I thank you?"

Louise suddenly said, "Penicillin can cure everything, thanks for everything."

Kelly completely did not understand, "What do you mean? Penicillin? What did you two do that you dare not tell me?"

Martin and Louise looked at each other and smiled, neither speaking.

"You two are such a pair of scoundrels!" Kelly said with a laugh, then added, "To make this screenplay work, it would cost at least one million US dollars. The director's estimated costs are already discounted, and who knows how much will need to be added once shooting starts."

Louise understood her friend somewhat, "The Gray Company can't possibly be unable to come up with one million US dollars, right?"

Kelly said, "I'm planning to buy those warehouses from General Motors and convert them all into sound stages to rent out. Given the current state of the auto industry, General Motors isn't likely to restart the ATL Production Center. The warehouse district is near a large cemetery, so the land isn't very valuable."

Being promoted to Vice-Chairwoman gave Kelly confidence, "The film and television incentive policies introduced by Georgia can attract your crew and others in the future. Atlanta doesn't have a professional shooting base. I'm in talks with City Hall and the state government through the Freedom Association and, by the way, I'm requesting a film and television studio construction subsidy."

Louise agreed, "You're right, the tax incentives offered by Georgia are attracting many companies from Hollywood. If the Gray Company provides support services, they'll be happy to collaborate. Kelly, you may be a rookie in filmmaking, but in business, I'm no match for you."

Kelly picked up the screenplay, "If my cash flow has problems, not only will the plan be severely affected, the company might even go bankrupt."

Martin looked at Kelly, this woman wasn't a naive little sweetheart; he could climb up by holding on to her because she saw value in him as a tool.

With a glass in hand, Kelly leaned on Louise, "Spread the word for me over in Hollywood."

Louise, the femme fatale, pinched Kelly's chin and looked towards the mirror, "If I don't help you, who will I help? We're now in the same boat."

Martin spread his hands, "Please, mind your language."

Kelly started to laugh, from the moment she tasted that Paper Plane, she wanted to use Martin as a weapon.

This weapon turned out to be surprisingly good.

Martin guessed as much, but he got what he wanted.

For now, no one seems to be losing in this three-way deal.

Louise noticed Kelly putting away the screenplay, "Giving up for real?"

Kelly replied, "Unless the funds are ample."

Louise turned to Martin, "Stud, you can even produce a kettle; come up with a solution for Kelly."

Martin countered, "If I come up with one, would you dare use it?"

"Go ahead," Kelly said, not really counting on him, taking it as a joke.

Martin wasn't just making it up, "Kelly, you're—I'm thinking—right, you are Deng Wendi, Murdoch's wife Deng Wendi. Then you call those aspiring to be famous, saying there's a movie project looking for a lead actor. You've accidentally seen his performance, praise him as a genius, and if he wants in, he should deposit money quickly."

Kelly frowned, "Such a low-level scam?"

Martin shrugged, "You can't expect me to come up with financial frauds; I've never even touched that field, ladies, I'm just a small fry."

However, Louise suggested, "It might work, provided you impersonate someone high-profile."

"Pull off a scam, and the FBI will be at your doorstep shortly," Kelly envisioned the consequences, "Whether pretending to be Deng Wendi or Catherine Kennedy, the other party will surely pressure the FBI, and then I'm finished."

She said offhandedly, "I'd rather learn from Hollywood and collaborate with money laundering."

Louise couldn't help but laugh, "You think you can handle it?"

Kelly was confident, "I couldn't handle it before, but after the kettle affair, if it doesn't involve the tough guys from Atlanta, I can handle it."

Even into the new century, money laundering and backroom deals were still the norm in the industry, and neither Kelly nor Louise took it too seriously.

Martin poured himself another glass of wine and sat down in a chair to savor it slowly.

After a while, he asked Kelly, "Can I see the script?"

Kelly handed it to him, "Don't get the wrong idea, it's not tailored for you. Friendship aside, business is business, I might consider it if it's under $500,000."

"I'm just taking a look," Martin continued to flip through the script.

It was the typical trashy plot of a B-movie, where a seductive male vampire uses his charm to lure women, feeding on their blood while offering sacrifices to a dark god. The elder sister seeking revenge for her younger sister doesn't hesitate to use her body, and after discovering the truth, leads a group of buxom huntresses into the male vampire's nightclub for an all-out melee.

The heaviest roles were those of the female lead and the head vampire, the male dancer.

Martin had encountered many film crews and could roughly estimate from the script that the cost of wardrobe, makeup, props, plus action and special effects would hardly be covered by $500,000.

...

West Strip, Black Bar.

In the large private room upstairs, Lynn lay sprawled on the sofa, trapped in a strange state, hovering as if in limbo.

Adam Smith and Ward had seen the dozen or so pages of copied script he had brought.

Ward commented, "This vampire dancer role seems tailor-made for you."

Adam Smith closed the script and picked up the paperwork next to it, "Martin Davis used to hang out at the vampire club, and Lynn just mentioned that Benjamin based the script on Martin as the prototype."

He was extremely tempted, "The male lead in a theatrical movie, huh!"

Ward had gathered some relevant information, various public records about Martin: like him living in the Clayton Community, starting work as a temp actor at sixteen, having been a repairman, owing money to loansharks, working as a bartender at the House of Beast, and by a twist of fate joining the ATL Freedom Association, and so on.

The door to the suite opened from the outside, and Boyette, the boss, came in with his Latino assistant, Diego.

"How's it going, Adam?" Boyette, as was his habit, reached down to adjust himself, "Did I give you some strong new stuff?"

Adam pointed at Lynn, "All good stuff, look at him, he's enjoying it."

Boyette sat next to Adam, "Ward tells me you've been having some troubles?"

Adam gestured with his eyes to the documents, "Some asshole named Martin Davis wants to steal my job."

"Where have I heard this goddamn name before?" Boyette couldn't remember and said, "You can't lose that damn job of yours, you can get me in touch with those damned upper-crust folks so I can sell my stuff at a high price!"

As he spoke, he suddenly remembered, "The bartender at House of Beast across the street, isn't his name Martin Davis?"

Adam replied, "That bastard Martin does indeed work part-time across the street."

Boyette shot up from his seat, pulling a gun from his pants, "I'm gonna kill him! Word has it that House of Beast is stealing our customers, and it's all thanks to this asshole's bright ideas!"

Diego hastily grabbed Boyette's arm, "No way, you absolutely can't!"

Boyette retorted, "He's just a poor kid from the slums!"

Diego took the gun away, handing the documents to Boyette who looked down at them, his eyes blurring with the amount of text, "I can't fucking understand this."

"Martin Davis is an official social investigator for the ATL Freedom Association and has received a special commendation," Diego, clearer about the social situation, clarified, "With the Freedom Association causing such a ruckus right now, do you think they would ignore it if we really killed Martin Davis?"

Boyette, impulsive but not dizzy-headed, "We're fucking black, no, you're not, and neither are you." He tapped Adam's forehead lightly, "Buddy, make sure you keep that damned job of yours and don't let me see you as worthless."

After Diego and Boyette left, Adam Smith and Ward exchanged worried glances.

The two discussed for a while, and then Adam Smith suddenly remembered an entertainment news piece from the beginning of the year, "Robert Downey Jr. got out of prison last year."

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