The Wolf of Los Angeles

Chapter 29: The First Employee

Landing the first job was a good start, and making money didn’t conflict with recruiting people.

Though Robert Downey Jr.'s career faced setbacks, it was far from ruin. Hawk had no luck in Brentwood, where too many peers were already camped out, making exclusivity impossible.

At the Wing Chun Gym, he had managed to recruit a few informants, but the Tracy Gym remained a blank slate. The gym wasn’t just Downey’s spot but also a popular choice for many Hollywood stars and athletes.

New to Los Angeles, Hawk lacked connections. After some thought, he remembered Eric Eason, a director he’d met at the Sundance Film Festival. Eric had mentioned plans to develop his career in L.A.

Hawk found Eric’s number and made the call.

Eric was thrilled. “You’re in Los Angeles?”

“More opportunities here,” Hawk said truthfully. “So, I decided to move here and try my luck.”

“Got time? Let’s meet up,” Eric suggested.

They agreed to meet in Century City.

Twenty minutes later, Hawk arrived at a Starbucks and waited briefly before Eric showed up, right on time.

The young director looked much more confident than he had at Sundance.

After ordering coffee, Hawk remarked, “Looks like you’re doing pretty well.”

Eric laughed freely. “Not bad at all.” Then, sizing up Hawk, he added, “You’ve really changed. If you hadn’t reached out first, I’d have thought you swapped bodies.”

Hawk joked, “I wish I could swap bodies. Ideally for a handsome one—a real star’s face. Then I could live off my looks.”

Eric teased, “It’s not just the face. In Hollywood, some also rely on their ass and mouth.” His tone turned serious. “If you want to grab onto someone powerful, you have to get down and work those angles.”

Hawk chuckled to himself. Eric, the artist, was still something of a philosopher.

Because of their collaboration in Park City, Eric trusted Hawk more than most. “Found a job yet? Want to join me?”

“I’ve got something already,” Hawk declined politely. “How’s your progress?”

Eric shared his excitement. “Next month, District Heights is hitting the DVD and VHS market. It’s profitable, so Katherine has agreed to help me secure a million-dollar budget for my next project—a proper theatrical film. I’m currently writing the script.”

Hawk, clueless about screenwriting or filmmaking, asked, “Is the script done yet?”

Eric waved it off. “Not even close. It’ll take at least six more months.” Then, with a dramatic air, he sighed, “So I’ll have to keep enduring for a while longer…”

Sensing Eric’s unease, Hawk reassured him, “Compared to someone like George, you’re lucky. At least Katherine’s a woman.”

The comparison worked. Thinking about his rival, George Hanson, Eric immediately brightened up.

Hawk then brought up his favor. “I’m new to L.A. and don’t know many people. Ran into a little trouble, so I figured I’d turn to you.”

“Say no more. Tell me what you need,” Eric offered.

Hawk smiled. “Since Sundance, I’ve been maintaining a strict workout regimen. You can see the results. There’s this Tracy Gym in Westwood with great facilities and professional trainers. I gain weight easily, so I want to sign up there. Problem is, it’s members-only, and joining requires a referral from an existing member.”

Eric thought for a moment. “I’ve heard of that gym—quite famous in the industry. Katherine mentioned it once. I’ll check with her.”

“Thanks,” Hawk said sincerely.

“No problem,” Eric replied but then recalled something. “You’re not planning to cause trouble at the gym, are you?”

Hawk flexed his arm, striking a playful pose. “Of course not. I’m just there to work out.”

Relieved, Eric promised, “Alright. Leave it to me.”

They continued chatting about Eric’s new project, with Hawk wisely listening rather than offering opinions on creative matters.

At noon, Hawk treated Eric to lunch. Afterward, he received a call from the convenience store owner in North Hollywood, informing him that Robert Downey Jr. had arrived at the Wing Chun Gym.

Hawk drove there immediately.

Outside the store, Bree, the white owner, lounged casually, watching the Eric Ohlen Martial Arts Gym across the street.

Inside, her mixed-race employee, Edward, was busy stocking shelves.

As Hawk stepped out of his car, Bree waved him over and pointed across the street. “He’s been in there for a while. His wife came chasing after him. I know her—Deborah. She’s all over the papers today.”

Hawk nodded slightly. According to the news, Deborah had moved out of Brentwood with their children, separating from Downey.

Following professional etiquette, Hawk handed Bree $20. “Thanks for the tip.”

Delighted by the easy cash, Bree returned to her store.

Edward, having witnessed the exchange, complained to Bree, “I was the one who spotted him first.”

Bree snapped, “Get that pile of cotton products into the storage room. I’ll order you fried chicken and watermelon juice for lunch!”

“You treat me like a slave! Working every day without pay!” Edward was furious. He ripped off his apron and shouted, “I’m done with you!”

Hawk barely noticed the quarrel as he turned to see Downey and Deborah emerging from the gym.

They were arguing heatedly, with Deborah calling Downey scum and accusing him of being unfit to be a father.

Downey, clearly guilty, got in his car and drove off.@@novelbin@@

Deborah followed suit, leaving shortly after.

Hawk lowered his camera. Behind him, Edward stepped out of the store.

Bree’s voice rang out from inside. “You leave me, and you’ll end up homeless!”

Edward shouted back, “I’d rather live on the streets than let you drain me dry!”

Hawk glanced curiously at the convenience store.

“Hey, buddy. We meet again.” Edward grinned, flashing a row of white teeth, and gestured toward Hawk’s camera. “Caught anything good?”

Before Hawk could reply, Edward continued, “See? Every time you run into me, you hit the jackpot. I saw your last front-page scoop. Struck it rich again this time?”

Hawk casually replied, “Just earning a living.”

Edward suddenly had an idea. “Say, are you hiring? I’m a hard worker. We’ve got great chemistry. I can drive, use a camera, and never complain. Every boss I’ve worked for says I’m great…”

Hawk said nothing, gesturing toward the store.

“No, no, that’s different,” Edward explained quickly. “I felt sorry for her—divorced with a kid—so I stuck around as her boyfriend. But she treats me like a slave! I’m worse off than my ancestors picking cotton.”

Hawk cut to the chase. “Why’d you go after her? Be honest.”

Edward shrugged. “Divorced with kids? Means child support. I figured I could skim a little off the top.”

“This isn’t the first time, is it?” Hawk pressed.

Scratching his head, Edward admitted, “I got out of Compton without ending up homeless thanks to single moms. They’ve got at least half the divorce settlement, plus child support. Most own homes but are lonely and need someone to do the heavy lifting…”

Hawk found him amusing. This was a unique survival skill. “Who taught you all this?”

Edward chuckled. “Figured it out myself.” Glancing back at the store, he added, “But this time, I got nothing. Daytime labor, nighttime… more labor. I’m done!”

Hawk, in need of an assistant and someone to handle risks, found Edward’s background fitting. He motioned toward the car. “Let’s talk on the way.”

Handing Edward the keys, Hawk instructed him to drive while he called Jack from the National Enquirer. They arranged to meet at their usual spot for a deal.

Edward, a native Angeleno, navigated the city with ease and quickly brought them to the destination.

After a brief wait, the bearded Jack arrived.

Hawk sent Edward away to give them privacy. The two quickly struck a deal—$200 for the photos.

The argument between Downey and Deborah wasn’t major news, but as a follow-up to a previous headline, it had some value.

Once Jack left, Edward returned. “Deal done?”

Hawk nodded and, with a serious tone, said, “Let’s talk about you working for me. Show me your driver’s license or ID, and your Social Security number.”

“Seriously? All this just for a job?” Edward grumbled but complied, handing over his license and reciting his SSN.

Hawk photographed the license and noted the SSN. “You’re on a one-month trial period. California minimum wage. Hours are flexible. Meals provided during work. And your phone stays on 24/7.”

Edward groaned. “My ancestors on the plantation had better deals than this!”

“You can walk away anytime,” Hawk replied flatly, before sweetening the pitch. “My studio is just getting started. If we succeed, you’ll be my business partner.”

Edward wanted to refuse but recalled the fireworks of that night and reluctantly agreed. “Fine. If it doesn’t work out, I’m leaving.”

Hawk added, “Not so fast. To get this job, you have to pass my test.”

He didn’t believe in charging employees or making them invest, but anyone wanting to join West Coast Media had to prove themselves—through commitment and a willingness to take risks.

Every good hire needs some skin in the game.