[Chapter 84: Special Treatnt in Prison]
After a few busy days, Hawke decided to give Edward a break and caught up on so much-needed sleep.
However, just as the sun began to rise, loud banging on the door jolted him awake.
Hawke threw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then leaned out the second-floor window to see what was going on.
Frank, the old man, looked like a beggar asking for change, banging on the door with a coin-filled ashtray.
Hawke shouted down, "Wait a minute!"
Frank shot a middle finger up at the second floor.
...
Hawke quickly washed up and went downstairs to open the door, pulling a di out of his pocket and tossing it into the ashtray. "There's your money."
Frank pretended not to hear, forcing his way inside, setting the ashtray down by the fridge. He grabbed a beer, popped it open, and took a long swig, letting out a satisfied burp.
Hawke asked, "You co banging on my door this early for sothing?"
"I haven't seen you in days. No morning runs; the lights are off at night," Frank said, rummaging through the fridge for so sausage Hawke had bought just yesterday. He sat down on the couch and ripped open the packaging with his teeth, stating, "I thought you were dead or sothing, so I ca to check if you needed an ambulance."
Hawke snatched the sausage away from him. "Thanks, but no thanks." He purposely pressed a few buttons on the remote. "I'm about to electrify the couch."
Frank jumped up in alarm, scolding, "I was just trying to be nice; don't be ungrateful."
"Grateful? I'd thank you, but I don't have ti," Hawke said, tossing the sausage back to him. "I've been busy with a project down in Orange County for a while."
Frank took a bite of the sausage. "Why does your sausage taste so damn good?"
Hawke replied, "Because it's free."
"That makes sense." Frank found a bag, opened the fridge, and stuffed the beer, sausage, and other food inside. "Just don't electrify anything; I'm not here for a free al."
He continued, "A few days ago, the four punks who hit your studio finished their trial. They were charged with burglary, vandalism, and illegal possession of firearms, and they got three to five years."
Hawke was surprised. "That process moved fast?"
Frank started to brag a little. "Did you forget who's been keeping tabs on them?"
Hawke recalled hearing that the fastest criminal cases in California sotis wrapped up in just over a week.
Frank added, "The property they seized is going up for auction, which could take a bit longer. You should get around $35,000 in damages."
When soone helped him, Hawke was gracious. "Once the money cos in, I'll buy a new RV and let you use it."
Frank responded without hesitation, "Just put it under your studio's na for tax write-offs. I can't have any assets in my na."
At that mont, Hawke's phone buzzed, and he took the call.
It was Caroline. "Wasn't it today that you were going to give my cut?"
"I rember," Hawke checked the ti. "Ten o'clock at the Bank of Arica in Century City."
He noticed Frank had raided his fridge and thought it might be a good ti to get so groceries. "I've got to go," he said as Frank filled his bag.
Frank paused at the door and asked, "Haven't seen that LAPD girl lately?"
Hawke replied, "Erica went to New York for so event."
Frank left, and Hawke changed his clothes, driving over to Century City.
...
By ten o'clock, he t Caroline outside the Bank of Arica.
Ms. Baa was dressed in a white Chanel mini-skirt, carrying an Hers purse, and wearing red high heels, strutting like she owned the place.
She approached Hawke, took off her sunglasses, and reminded him, "Sixty thousand dollars."
Hawke waved her into the bank, where they found the business manager and settled the transfer inside a VIP room.
When they exited the bank, Caroline suggested, "Let buy you a coffee."
"Sure," Hawke replied.
They walked into a nearby cafe and ordered their coffees.
As Caroline stirred her drink slowly with a spoon, she said, "Steve left in a hurry last night; he couldn't tell you in person, so he called to say thanks on his behalf this morning."
Hawke sounded very professional. "I am paid to do my job, that's what I should do."
Caroline conveyed so regret, "I wish I knew when I'd get another big payout opportunity like this."
Hawke reminded her, "That depends on whether you can find another opportunity."
Caroline sighed, "I was worried when I didn't make money, and I found that I was more worried when I made money."
"You've got a screw loose," Hawke sipped his coffee. "When you're starving, you only worry about finding food. Once you're full, a plethora of new concerns co up -- all because you've eaten too much."
Caroline got annoyed. "You country bumpkin, you don't understand the finer pursuits at all." She placed cash on the table. "I got it; bye."
Hawke leisurely continued sipping his coffee.
...
Caroline exited and hopped into her red rcedes, driving off to Rodeo Drive, parking in front of the Hers store.
She raised her chin and entered, asking the sales associate, "Where are the limited edition bags for the new season?"
The associate smiled and replied, "Ms. Jones, you don't have enough quota to qualify for the allocation."
With a confident smile, Caroline stated, "I'm here to shop today."
The associate quickly beca more enthusiastic. "This way, please."
With the recently earned sixty grand, Caroline felt empowered to spend.
About an hour later, the associate returned with four shopping bags and escorted Caroline to the car.
She stashed her purchases and then headed over to Chanel and Cartier for more shopping.
A luxurious lifestyle needed money to sustain itself.
...
anwhile, Hawke left the cafe and called Dwayne Johnson. "Got ti for so target practice at the Gun Range?"
Dwayne replied, "I've got ti tomorrow; how about then?"
"Sounds good, tomorrow." Hawke then called Edward.
Edward said, "Boss, hold off on the gun permit class for now; I've got so important stuff to deal with."
Hawke didn't push. "You handle your business."
...
Brentwood School, a private elentary school.
Edward drove a second-hand van, following a rcedes to the school entrance.
Deborah parked her car, opened the back door, helped her son with his backpack, and reminded him, "You better hurry; I'll pick you up after school."
The little boy remained silent, walking into the school alone.
Deborah drove away.
Not long after, the boy quietly slipped out of school, heading down the sidewalk alone.
Edward followed closely, yet discreetly.
The boy reached the entrance of Brentwood Park, turned in, and walked along a gravel path until he got to the manmade lake. He picked up a rock from the ground and threw it hard into the water.
He looked unhappy, tossed rocks for a bit, then took off his shoes, sitting on the granite edge of the lake, splashing his feet in the water.
Edward saw his chance and walked quickly over, grabbing the boy. "Hey, hey, don't play in the water here; it's dangerous."
The little boy struggled, "None of your business!"
Edward spotted the boy's backpack on the ground. "Where are your parents? Did you co here by yourself? Are you skipping school?"
The boy shouted, "It's none of your concern."
"Tell your parents' phone number," Edward said sternly. "You are a Brentwood School student, aren't you? If you don't tell , I'll have to call the police or notify your school."
He picked up a flat stone and tossed it into the water, where it skipped seven or eight tis across the surface.
The boy's eyes lit up. "Wow, that's amazing!"
Edward asked, "Do you want to learn?"
The boy nodded eagerly.
Edward seized the mont, saying, "Tell your na and your parents' contact info."
"I'm Indio Downey, but do you promise to teach ?"
"I promise."
Edward got a phone number, called it, saying, "Hello, ma'am, I'm at the artificial lake in Brentwood Park, and I've found your son, Indio."
...
After about ten minutes, Deborah hurried to the park's lake, finding her son playing the stone-skipping ga with a young Black man.
They were laughing and seed to be getting along quite well.
Deborah paused for a mont, thinking about how long it had been since her son found this much joy after Robert's passing.
Edward spotted Deborah and patted Indio on the shoulder, nodding toward her.
Indio's smile instantly vanished; he picked up his backpack and walked toward her.
Edward waved at him and turned to leave.
"Excuse , sir." Deborah stopped him. "Thank you for your call."
Edward smiled lightly. "No problem, I was just passing through when I spotted Indio."
The boy tugged at Deborah's sleeve, "Mom, can I play here a little longer?" He looked up at Edward. "You promised to teach ; I haven't learned yet."
Deborah hadn't seen her son this happy in a long ti and slightly nodded. She turned to Edward. "Sir, could you stay for a little while longer?"
Edward replied, "I always keep my promises."
Indio led him back to the water to skip so stones.
Deborah stood nearby, watching.
Edward quickly beca familiar with Deborah through Indio, and when they parted, they exchanged contact information.
Indio arranged to co back with Edward the following weekend.
Deborah agreed, wanting to do what was best for her son.
Edward took his first successful step.
...
Santa Clara County, San Jose Prison.
Henry, covered in tattoos, exited the visiting room and climbed into a parked Cherokee.
His driver, Pedro, asked, "How were Lewis and Puyol holding up in there?"
Henry fastened his seatbelt. "They're getting special treatnt."
Pedro misunderstood, "So they're doing okay?"
"I've got intel that's good," Henry sighed. "The West Coast Studio has a rather cozy relationship with the LAPD. Lewis and his guys are all in a cell with Black inmates. When those old black people get angry, they don't care about anything."
He slamd his fist against the door. "Every night, two of those Black guys are tornting them!"
Pedro's eyes widened in shock. "Oh my God!"
Henry replied, "Let's get back to LA." He thought for a mont and instructed, "Lewis and his crew took all the heat, and it didn't lead back to the gang at all. When we get back, get part of the money to send to their families."
Pedro started the car, asking, "They're being treated this way, and we aren't getting them justice?"
"Justice?" Though Henry wasn't the head of the Dwarfs' Gang, he was a senior mber. Still, he wasn't stupid enough to overlook the facts. "When you break it down, it's all thanks to the West Coast Studio and Fox Television Channel 11. The forr is colluding with the LAPD, which is why Lewis and his crew are drowning in milk every day. And Fox? They could wipe us out with a single breath!"
Pedro, the low-tier mber, lacked Henry's vision and insight but was fiercely loyal.
He didn't dare to harm soone or wreak havoc, so Lewis and the others were a clear cautionary tale.
He wasn't prepared to handle the inconvenience of dealing with the Black inmates.
But he was quite skilled at being a nuisance instead.
*****
/Sayonara816.
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