The Wolf of Los Angeles

Chapter 31: Every Local is a Treasure Trove

Edward might not excel in everything, but when it came to running, he was as quick as a rabbit. Reaching the car, he leaped into the driver’s seat and shouted to Hawk, who was following, “Hurry up!”

Hawk got into the passenger seat and tossed Edward the keys.

Edward started the Mondeo, spinning it around before racing toward the park exit.

Hawk kept a close watch behind them. After several sharp turns, seeing no one in pursuit, he said, “Relax, we’ve lost them.”

Edward exhaled heavily, calming his breath. He took off the camera slung around his neck, pulled into a parking lot, and parked. “Boss, are all our jobs this intense? That skinny guy pulled a gun!”

Hawk brushed it off. “It was just a taser. I handled him easily.”

Edward patted his chest. “I thought you’d run off.”

“Do I look like that kind of person?” Hawk replied grandly. “I said I’d back you up, and I did. You work for me—I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Good that you remember that.” Hawk took the camera and asked, “Did you get the shots?”

“I’m not sure.” Edward admitted, this being his first time on such a job. “I just kept snapping randomly. For some reason, I was more nervous taking those photos than during gunfights back in Compton.”

He clutched his chest. “My heart was pounding like crazy—like meeting a divorced, beautiful woman with kids!”

“You’re hopeless,” Hawk muttered, connecting the digital camera to his laptop to download the photos. He opened the files and started reviewing them one by one.

The first three were blurry shots of the tent’s fabric.

The next three were overexposed, making it impossible to see anything clearly.

The following five showed a man raising his arm to block his face.

As for the rest, they weren’t worth mentioning.

After painstakingly sorting through over twenty pictures, Hawk finally found one usable shot. It showed Eddie Murphy’s face, and in the background, a near-naked woman covering hers with both hands.

He turned the laptop toward Edward. “Recognizable?”

Edward grinned. “That’s Eddie Murphy! Wow, I’m pretty good. Look how clear this is! That girl in the back has a killer figure. No wonder Eddie ditched your source.”

Hawk snorted. “You wasted dozens of shots, and this is what you call skill?”

Scratching his head, Edward defended himself, “Isn’t it just about pointing the camera and pressing the shutter? I’ve taken plenty of pictures before.”

Hawk flipped him off, then connected his Nokia phone to the laptop to retrieve additional tent photos. Combining them with Edward’s, he compiled a package.

Like most cheerful types, Edward didn’t dwell on criticism. Instead, he asked, “Where to next?”

“Hold on,” Hawk replied, pulling out his phone to call a few tabloid papers. He briefly described his scoop and asked for bids.

Eddie Murphy was somewhat past his prime, and while still a known comedian, this scandal wasn’t explosive. The woman wasn’t a celebrity or the wife of a famous figure, and the situation lacked the tangled drama of Robert Downey Jr. and Sarah Parker. The highest bid came from National Enquirer—$4,000.

Half an hour later, Hawk met with bearded Jack at their usual spot.

After reviewing the photos, Jack grumbled about the poor quality, noting only one usable picture and cutting the price to $3,500.

Given the evidence, Hawk didn’t argue.

Once the deal was done, Jack remarked, “Two headline-worthy scoops in under a week, buddy. You’ve got talent for this line of work.”

“I’m just getting started,” Hawk said. “Once I’ve got a foothold in L.A., there’ll be plenty more.”

Jack handed him a check. “If the news is juicy enough, you know where to find me.”

Hawk seized the moment. “I heard the paper issues freelance reporter credentials. Think you can get me two?”

Jack didn’t dismiss the request outright. “The Oscars are coming up. Got any big stories for me?”

Hawk wasn’t into speculative reporting—it lacked credibility. Besides, this year’s frontrunners, Denzel Washington and Halle Berry, had already won SAG awards, which were 95% predictive of Oscar winners.

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “I’ve heard rumors of a secret party after the Oscars—not the official afterparty, but the kind with masks and wild orgies. Is that true?”

Jack, familiar with the whispers, gave Hawk a once-over before cautioning, “You’re young, with your whole life ahead of you. Don’t go digging your own grave.”

Hawk understood. “Got it.”

Jack left, promising, “The credentials will come after the Oscars.”

Afterward, Hawk took Edward out for a late-night meal, using the opportunity to teach him how to properly use a camera and camcorder.

Edward had his merits—he was fast, dark-skinned (perfect for blending into shadows), an excellent driver, familiar with L.A.’s layout, and, as Hawk noted, a true local treasure.

As they ate, Hawk said, “Learn the equipment properly. Pull off another big story, and you’ll be officially on the team.”

“You got it, boss. I’ll study hard and practice,” Edward said between bites of his burger. Then, true to form, he added, “Once I’m official, can you introduce me to a divorced woman with child support payments?”

Hawk countered, “Can you actually get money from them?”

Edward puffed up with pride. “Left Compton at 17. It’s been ten years now. Of the guys I grew up with, at least half are dead or missing from street violence. Most of the rest are homeless, with a few in gangs being exploited. Me? I’m the only one living free and easy!”

Adjusting his relatively clean work jacket, he boasted, “I live in their houses, eat their food, and spend their ex-husbands’ child support. Life’s great—until Bree, that witch.”

Hawk pondered whether Edward’s experiences and connections might come in handy. Every local had a wealth of untapped potential.

“Boss, seriously,” Edward pressed, “can you set me up? I’ll cut you in on the benefits.”

Hawk suddenly had an idea. “What do you think of Robert Downey Jr.’s wife?”@@novelbin@@

Edward was stunned. “Aren’t they still married?”

Hawk’s plan began taking shape. “That’s fine. We’ll help them get divorced.”

A celebrity divorce meant at least half the assets were up for grabs.

“You think they’ll split over something like this?” Edward asked doubtfully.

Hawk thought of Sarah Parker and Bro Derek. In Hollywood, scandals like these were routine, and many couples reconciled after one big fight.

But someone like Downey, with his history of addiction, would spiral under mounting chaos. This could be Hawk’s opportunity to ruin him completely.

“Can your old partners be trusted?” Hawk asked.

Edward shrugged. “Pay them right, and they’re more reliable than most whites. Honestly, whites are the worst. They’re the ones who should be picking cotton on plantations!”

Hawk didn’t push further but had the beginnings of a plan to target Downey.

That night, they scouted some celebrity hotspots but didn’t capture anything worthwhile.

Later, Eric called to inform Hawk that Katherine had agreed to help after the Oscars, and Hawk would be introduced to Tracy Gym.

As the Oscars approached, Hawk prepared by printing 2,000 business cards. With Edward as his runner, he had a plan.

At the studio, Hawk handed the cards to Edward. “Hire some temps. I’ll cover the cost.”

Edward, motivated by money, agreed. “Where should we distribute these?”

Hawk laid out the strategy: “Target two areas—within a five-mile radius of the Kodak Theater and Beverly Hilton Hotel. Focus on burger and fried chicken joints, especially McDonald’s and Burger King.”

Edward was confused. “Other studios recruit at bars, nightclubs, hotels, and Michelin restaurants. Why fast food?”

Hawk played it coy. “Plenty of stars love burgers.”

He remembered stats from 2010 showing many stars, after dieting for weeks to fit into Oscar outfits, binged on burgers post-ceremony.

To keep Edward motivated, Hawk added, “You might even find a divorced mom while recruiting sources.”

Edward’s eyes lit up. “I’m on it!”

While Edward distributed cards, Hawk disguised himself and rented a new house in Santa Monica as a temporary safehouse. He also bought a used Chevrolet, parking it at an old multi-exit lot for emergencies.