Chapter 53: Celebrities and Cri
Fox Television Center, Channel 11 Reception.
Hawk turned his laptop screen toward gan Taylor and said, "My source tracked down the woman Dwayne Johnson saved. She recorded this video to publicly thank him."
gan squinted at the pixelated, blurred face on the screen. "No unedited version?"
Hawk shook his head. "She wants to maintain her privacy and avoid dia harassnt."
gan crossed her arms, lightly tapping her left arm with her right hand. "The price difference between a blurred face and a clear one is significant."
Hawk spread his hands. "What do you expect to do? Your show doesn’t want a lawsuit for violating soone’s likeness rights, does it?"
gan smirked. "Relax. Our legal team is top-notch."
"Doesn’t change the fact she doesn’t want to be bothered," Hawk countered. "Will the video make the headline?"
gan mulled it over. "It doesn’t align perfectly with our top news the, but I’ll reserve so airti after the main story."
"I watched yesterday’s episode," Hawk added. "The the of cri spreading to Westside affluent neighborhoods was great. Felt more like social news, though."
gan’s eyes glead with ambition. "Hollywood stars tied to cri syndicates—that’s the real gold mine. You could still dig into Robert Downey Jr.’s story. Like, who were his dealers? Were other celebrities involved? Is there a sprawling drug network? Rumor has it there are secret organizations within Hollywood…"
Hawk cut her off. "I’m here to make money, not risk my life."
gan stared at him for a mont before relenting. "Fine. But keep an ear out for stories like that. We’d pay top dollar."
"Depends on my luck," Hawk said, transferring the video onto a storage drive provided by Channel 11.
After negotiating, they settled on $2,000 for the story. Since the video was just a derivative piece with a blurred face, it was worth much less than the original.
As gan prepared to leave, she turned back. "If you can rope in more celebrities for news like this, bring it to ."
Hawk wasn’t surprised she had pieced things together. "As long as the price is right."
gan nodded. "And don’t forget—celebrity cri stories."
Back in the car, Hawk recalled a persistent rumor about Winona Ryder allegedly stealing from a film festival in Sundance. Pulling out his laptop, he searched for updates. The story had indeed gone viral online, but no conclusive evidence had erged.
Given the fierce competition, Hawk decided not to dive into the chaos.
After signing the agreent and pocketing the $2,000 check, he received a call from Dani Garcia, who inquired about the progress. Hawk quickly explained the situation. The thank-you video would keep the buzz alive, segueing perfectly into Dwayne’s upcoming talk show appearance and building montum for The Scorpion King release.
On his way to a Beverly Hills accounting firm recomnded by Dwayne, Hawk sighed at the complexities of U.S. tax law. With tax season in full swing, he knew avoiding the IRS was non-negotiable.
After leaving the firm, Edward called, shouting into the phone, "Boss! A source just told Britney Spears is having a public argunt with her dad. I’m heading there now!"
Hawk bolted to his car. "Where?"
"West Olympic Boulevard, Beverly Wood!"
When Hawk arrived, the area was swarming with photographers and reporters—at least thirty of them. Britney and her father had already retreated to a van, while paparazzi sward the vehicle.
Resigned to the lack of exclusivity, Hawk didn’t bother pushing through the crowd. Instead, he climbed onto a nearby planter for a better view.
A familiar voice greeted him. "Too late, buddy. Nothing hot left."
Hawk glanced down and recognized the reporter he had t during the Robert Downey Jr. incident. "Daniel Richards?"
"That’s ," Daniel said, approaching. "Forgot to get your na last ti."
"Hawk Osmond," Hawk introduced himself as he climbed down.
Daniel smiled. "I was first on the scene. Got enough footage to make at least $5,000."
With a wave, Daniel added, "Catch you later—I’ve got money to make."
His tone carried a hint of boastfulness, perhaps a subtle jab at their previous encounter.
Edward soon erged from the chaos, his face glistening with sweat. "It’s insane! These people are like wild animals. Nothing like the elegance of our setups—it’s pure madness."
"Did you get anything?" Hawk asked.
Edward shook his head. "By the ti I arrived, the argunt was over. All I got were shots of them getting into the van. Not worth much."
Hawk reviewed the images on the cara. "Not worth it. Let’s go."
Back at the studio, Hawk tossed Edward a water bottle and asked, "The tip ca from a source?"
Edward gulped down half the bottle before replying, "Yeah, but by the ti they called, reporters were already there. I was late."
Grateful for Hawk’s generosity in other areas, Edward lanted, "Burned gas money and a $20 tip for the source. Nothing to show for it."
"Business has its ups and downs," Hawk said calmly.
Edward, drained from the experience, reflected, "We’ve covered plenty of tips from sources, but none of them have led to exclusives. Relying on tips feels unreliable."
Hawk agreed. "The highest payout from a source-based story was $280—the one you shot."
Edward crunched the numbers ntally but gave up halfway. "Relying on tips alone won’t make us much. Might as well specialize in divorced won with kids. Less running, more… other work."
"Developing tips from the public is a gamble," Hawk explained. "Sotis, luck strikes, and you get a big story."
"Luck doesn’t favor Black n," Edward quipped, his confidence bolstered by recent earnings. "Boss, depending on tips is pointless. We need to manufacture news. Self-made stories are the way forward."
Hawk nodded. "Opportunities arise, but we must seize them." He pulled out an invitation. "The Scorpion King premiere. I can bring a plus-one. You’re coming, so get a suit."
Edward imdiately protested. "No way! I hate suits!"
Hawk smirked. "What if you et a divorced Hollywood star with kids?"
Edward straightened up. "Boss, you need a proper assistant to carry your bag."
Hawk turned serious. "You should learn more. At the very least, improve your math skills. The studio can’t stay stuck at just manufacturing news."
Edward slumped into a chair. "Just kill now."
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