Chapter 118: Chapter 118: The Struggle for the Big Boss's Favor (Alliance Hierarch +13)

The coach left Los Angeles International Airport and, at Hart and Carrington's insistence, didn't go to a hotel first but headed straight to Burbank Warner Studios.

Martin had rented a professional dance rehearsal room there.

The Stylish Men's Group couldn't wait to see their daddy.

Eighteen stylish men storming Hollywood!

Arriving at the gates of the studio, Hart and Carrington called on the guys to grab their meal packs and marched mightily into the studio, following Bruce to the dance room.

Bruce opened the door to the dance room and saw the familiar figure stretching inside; a well-prepared Hart rushed in first.

After a few running steps, he slid on his knees across the smooth floor, flinging one hand behind him, gripping a whiteboard marker that, along with the paint on his knees, streaked three lines across the floor.

Carrington and the other stylish men slid in on their knees as well, each leaving behind three streaks.

Hart spread his arms, barely missing Martin's legs as he closed in, "Daddy Martin, do we get full points this time? Look, we slid on our knees making three lines!"

The once clean and tidy dance room was now covered in scuff marks, and Martin was so angry that he wanted to kill someone: "Old Cloth, draw your gun and drag these chumps out—shoot them all."

Hart spread his hands over his butt, "No please! Keep that freak Old Cloth away from us!"

Stylish Bryan said, "Back in Atlanta, we lived in the terrorizing shadow of Old Cloth, and now in Los Angeles, we're still being threatened by him."

Bruce's right hand slowly lifted, his coat flaring back with an elegant gesture that screamed civility.

Seeing the civilized man about to emerge, Hart quickly bowed his head, huffed on the floor, and started wiping with his sleeve, "Quick, clean the floor, don't want to upset Daddy Martin, do you still want to be on TV?"

The eighteen stylish men transformed into eighteen cleaners.

Mene standing aside was dumbfounded by this bunch of shameless, thick-skinned nutjobs!

He fell silent and mused, "Compared to these guys, is my skin too thin?"

Are these jokers here to usurp the boss?

Mene immediately ran next door, grabbed a white towel, and started scrubbing the floor.

Martin ignored these clowns and took a few steps forward to embrace Annie gently, "Miss Annie, sorry to trouble you again."

Annie said, "The club has paid for it." She smiled, "How much time do we have?"

"Twenty days," Martin provided an exact figure and added, "For these twenty days, I won't do anything else, just focus on training."

Annie inspected the dance room, "You've got the basics down; twenty days of practice for one dance is enough."

Bruce brought more towels from next door, handing them to Hart and Carrington among others, telling them to restore the floor to its original state.

Martin suggested, "You guys should head back to the hotel and rest; we start tomorrow."

But Annie set down her backpack, "No need for that, sitting on the plane all this way, might as well stretch out a bit."

Hart turned around and said, "We just can't wait!"

The others chimed in agreement.

Mene sensed a tremendous threat, his position seemed to be plummeting.

From just behind Old Cloth to somewhere over the Pacific?

He quietly approached Bruce and asked, "Old Cloth, what's the deal with them? Why do they idolize the boss so much?"

Bruce explained, "They all starred in 'Zombie Stripper'; that movie doubled their tips. Now following Martin to the award ceremony, guess how much their tips will increase?"

Mene's quick-witted brain caught on immediately, "Am I in the same business as them?"

"Pretty much," Bruce found the right words, "the favorite of middle-aged women."

He patted Mene's shoulder lightly, "These knuckleheads will go back to Atlanta after the awards ceremony."

Mene's heart settled; he couldn't handle eighteen guys competing for the boss's attention.

Annie and the Stylish Men's Group changed into their dance clothes, warmed up together with Martin, and started training.

More than half a year of professional fitness and body shaping had greatly helped Martin. S~eaʀᴄh the novёlF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Plus, he didn't go for the lithe and graceful type; his public image on screen was that of a sunny, stylish man.

That evening, Martin booked a small restaurant in the hotel to treat the old buddies from Atlanta.

"The club's business is booming like crazy." Hart, sitting on a chair, was on a roll, "The boss opened a branch on the east side of Atlanta, and right next to the branch, they started a budget hotel and an adult toy store, offering our female gods a one-stop service."

Carrington continued, "Our income has gone up a lot; we all moved into middle-class neighborhoods."

At this moment, Martin raised his glass, "To our ever-improving lives!"

Everyone lifted their glasses and drained them in unison.

Hart went on, "I got engaged. Guess what I gave my fiancée?"

Mene retorted, "You can't pluck a star from the sky for her, can you?"

Hart poured some wine, clinked glasses with Mene, and said, "Buddy, ever heard of the Atlantic Astronomical Association? One of the biggest in the States. I bought a star naming right from them, named after my fiancée! I gave her a star!"

Martin clearly remembered the Atlantic Astronomical Association as the one Harris Carter came up with.

He inquired, "Who did you buy it from?"

"Uh... a girl volunteering in astronomy, about fifteen or sixteen," Hart did his best to describe, "Long legs, big chest, tall figure, and very pretty. Girls these days seem to grow on hormones, they mature too well."

Martin had his suspicions confirmed.

The next day, they still had dance practice, so everyone dispersed before nine o'clock.

Hart and his group were staying at this hotel, while Martin and Bruce returned to their North Hollywood Apartment.

As soon as they entered the second-floor corridor, the door diagonally opposite opened, and Jessica came out. This time she was very serious and didn't do anything messy. She said, "Someone sent you a package; you weren't home, so Antonio left it in your mailbox on the first floor. Don't forget to pick it up."

Martin said, "Thank you."

Bruce quickly went downstairs and brought up a small cardboard box.

Jessica wanted to say something else but was pulled back inside by Emily.

Bruce whispered, "They've become smarter."

Martin took the box, entered their apartment, and Bruce followed him in, going to the fridge to grab some ice water.

"Sent from Atlanta," he reminded him.

Martin checked the shipping address, Clayton Community.

He borrowed Bruce's military knife that he always carried with him and quickly opened the packaging. Inside, protected by sturdy bubble wrap, was a long object wrapped in black cotton cloth.

Bruce curiously asked, "What's that? There's a photo too."

Beneath the long object, there was a photo pressed down; Martin picked it up to see that it was of Lily. stay-updated-with-NovelFire

Bruce asked, "Isn't that Elena's sister?"

Martin nodded, "This is Lily."

As he spoke, he subconsciously unwrapped the long object.

But as the name Lily left his lips, he suddenly felt something was amiss.

What would Lily send by mail?

The black cotton cloth was unveiled, revealing the complete figure of a carving wrapped inside, a pale blue humanoid sculpture with horns.

Martin looked more closely and recognized it vaguely resembled him, except for the mouth that curled up to the root of the ears and a red nose, making him look like a clown.

Bruce had just taken a sip of ice water and choked on it upon seeing the sculpted figure; he started coughing violently while trying to suppress a laugh.

Martin's face darkened, feeling fortunate that it was just Old Bruce present. If he had opened it in public, it would have been a social disaster.

"What did you do to people?" As soon as Bruce stopped coughing, he couldn't wait to say, "No way? Even I, a pervert, think that you, a pile of stinky dog shit, are a pervert!"

Since there was nothing wrong, Martin was very calm, "It's just an ordinary hand-carved sculpture, Old Bruce. Your thoughts are too dirty. It's just a clown."

Old Bruce wanted to make a sarcastic remark again, but Martin decided to strike a fatal blow, "I heard Hart say that Sophia might come to Los Angeles. Will she come looking for you?"

The bloody wound was ripped open, and Bruce turned and left, "I'm going to get my gun; don't close the door!"

Martin said, "I'll wait for you to come back."

Bruce left worn out and disheartened, without looking back.

Martin carefully examined the humanoid bison horn carving. Besides the clown design, everything else was good.

It was finely polished, appearing to be handcrafted.

Martin put it away back in the box and noticed that there was writing on the back of Lily's photo.

"I'm sending you a special carving to wish you a different life in Los Angeles, just like this sculpture."

Martin clenched his fist, but with no one around, all he could do was slam it down on Lily's photo with a pound.

The photo and the horn carving were carefully put away in a box where Martin kept gifts.

Inside the box, there was also a crocodile tooth.

Should he give one to every woman he was acquainted with in the future?

Seems like someone had done that...

The next evening, Martin met up with Wes Craven and others for drinks. During the gathering, he heard Craven mention that he and Alexander Aga had come together.

Of course, not in a bayonet fight, but a collision of great ideas.

Both had an idea about a horror film, and after exchanging thoughts, they found similarities, thus deciding to join forces, combining their ideas into one.

Craven promised the lead role to Martin, and Alexander Aga had also expressed a desire to work with Martin; they were unanimous in this regard.

They both specifically instructed Martin to join them in discussing the script when the time came, to better tailor the lead role to the actor himself.

Of course, Martin readily agreed.

As for things like investment, Wes Craven's horror films were never short of funds.

If it really came down to it, Martin had a backup plan.

He could cast a grand summoning spell toward Atlanta.

Afterward, Martin devoted all his energy to dance training, aiming to deliver a sufficiently good performance when it was time to take the stage.

As the Saturn Awards ceremony approached, he took the time to order a men's tuxedo and dance outfits, and he had Bruce rent a luxury car. He joined the ceremony rehearsal twice.

This time, with sponsorship from the House of Beast Club, Martin's budget and funds were quite ample.

On May 15th, 2004, the 30th Saturn Awards ceremony kicked off at the Los Angeles Avalon Theatre.