The Wolf of Los Angeles

[Chapter 24: For Whom the Fireworks Bloomed]

In just three minutes, Edward Connor drove to the delivery location in a sedan, but he didn't spot the buyer.

"Over here," a man's voice echoed in the dim alley, and the sudden glow of a phone screen illuminated a friendly face.

Edward Connor's car turned into the alley and drove deeper into the darkness. He felt no worry or fear; after all, a Black man from Compton was a sprite of the night.

"Good thing I'm bold; who else would dare make a delivery like this?" Edward got out of the car and popped open the trunk. "The goods and shipping fee just doubled; if you pay me a dollar less, you won't get anything at all!"

Hawke glanced at the man's not-so-dark face, paid the shipping fee, and walked to the fire escape before saying, "Help me carry this up, do as I say, and I'll give you an extra $100."

Edward was cautious. "What are you planning to do? I'm telling you, fireworks are meant for the sky; if you launch them in the wrong place, people could die!"

Hawke pointed at the sky. "Just follow my instructions."

Thinking of the $100, Edward lifted a box and walked over while reminding, "Don't let Bree know about this money. It's my personal income; if she finds out I made some extra cash, she'll force me to take her daughter to the amusement park."

As Edward climbed the stairs, Hawke urged, "Hurry up, no time for chatter."

Edward, in his typical style, could be a bit chatty. "A man can't just say 'hurry,' he needs to have power. Every move counts."

Reaching the rooftop, Hawke pointed to the highest platform. "You go there, set the stuff down, and I'll tell you when to launch."

Edward noticed the camera set up by Hawke. "Wow, man, that camera is no joke; you could sell it for a few thousand bucks on the black market."

Being a native of Los Angeles, he instantly guessed, "You're a journalist, right? What are you gonna shoot? The hotel across the street? Which star is messing around in there?"

"Shut up and get to work," Hawke replied.

As Edward's mouth kept busy, his hands didn't sit idle either. He carried the box up to the platform, arranged the fireworks, sat on the edge, stared at the hotel across the street, pulled out a lighter, and asked Hawke, "You really are a journalist? What do you want to shoot? Why not light it up now?"

Hawke glanced at the time and casually said, "When two people are busy doing things, they're in no mood to enjoy fireworks."

"Sure they are!" Edward used himself as an example. "I love having the curtains open, working while enjoying the view outside."

He looked at Hawke, surprised. "You're still closing the curtains and shutting the door? That's so old-fashioned, so out of touch, so lacking in romance!"

Hawke felt the disdain coming from some sort of high ground and shot back with a middle finger. "Shut up."

Edward shook his head. "You need to face the reality; take a look at the work you're doing. If you don't confront the issue, you're gonna have some psychological problems."

Hawke raised his binoculars and vaguely saw shadows moving behind the curtains of room 407. He hurried to the camera, carefully observing through the telephoto lens, and signaled from behind, "Launch now, shoot two at a time."

"I used to go to the police station all the time in Compton; I would go in and come out quickly," Edward said while lighting the fuses. "You're different; you'd be out of luck if you went in. Some sickos would love a strong guy like you."

He ignited two square fireworks.

With a series of bangs, snake-like flames shot into the sky, erupting in vibrant colors.

At the hotel entrance, several bellhops looked up at the sky, captivated by the fireworks for a moment.

On the street-facing side of the hotel, a few guests pulled back their curtains to enjoy the unexpected stunning display.

But in room 407, the curtains remained tightly closed.

Did those two start again?

Hawke shouted, "Don't stop, keep launching!"

The Black man didn't hold back, even getting excited at the sight of the flames. Edward shouted and continued lighting the fireworks.

The sky lit up, and more windows in the hotel began to open their curtains.

Hawke called out again, "Keep going!"

Edward, lighting fireworks, responded loudly, "Dude, hurry it up, or they'll call LAPD! There's no way we'd escape; they'll empty their magazines for sure."

Hawke found his counterpoint. "That's for you, not for me."

Edward, for the first time, was at a loss for words after Hawke's retort.

More fireworks exploded across the sky, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

...

In room 407, Sarah Parker was startled by the light and sound outside. She got up, pulled back the curtains, and saw the dazzling fireworks.

The couple, in a moment of intimacy, was enveloped in romance. Sarah excitedly exclaimed, "Look! There are fireworks outside!"

Downey grabbed a blanket and stepped to the window, saying, "What beautiful fireworks!"

"Is this your surprise for me?" Sarah asked.

Downey thought, didn't I just give you a couple billion surprises? But he didn't refute her and simply responded with an "uh-huh."

Sarah lunged at him, showering him with kisses.

Feeling a different kind of thrill, Downey responded with fervor.

...

Up on the fourth-floor office building, Hawke appeared to be a merciless filming machine, constantly pressing the shutter to capture the couple at the 407 window. All their intimate moments were clicked one after another.

Behind, an excited Edward seemed like a diligent worker, igniting all the fireworks.

The blooms of fireworks lit up the night, illuminating the office building rooftop.

...

Suddenly, Downey noticed someone across the rooftop seemingly taking pictures. He quickly shut the curtains and pushed Sarah to one side of the window and peeked through the curtains, only to see that the person was already preparing to leave.

He cursed under his breath, saying, "We might've just been caught by a paparazzo!"

Sarah instantly realized the seriousness of the situation. She grabbed her phone and dialed, "I'm in a bit of a situation; I'm on a date, and I might've been photographed by a reporter. Damn, if it's Matthew, why would I even need to call you? I'm notifying PR right now."

Downey dialed as well, calling the same company that would provide crisis management for them both.

...

On the other side, Hawke swiftly dismantled the camera lens, packed it into his bag, grabbed the tripod, and while running, shouted to Edward, "Let's go!"

Edward didn't lag behind; he followed Hawke down the fire escape.

The two made it downstairs. Hawke jumped into the Mondeo. "Stick with me; we'll meet outside this block."

Edward hopped in his car, revved the engine, and followed Hawke, driving out of the alley and heading toward another block.

There were no police sirens or lights behind them. The LAPD was stretched thin and showed no interest in the fireworks display.

Hawke turned into a parking garage with multiple exits.

Edward, a good driver, quickly caught up and parked beside the Mondeo.

Hawke pulled out a total of $100 and handed Edward a business card. "If something interesting happens nearby, give me a call."

Edward checked the legitimacy of the cash while accepting the card, intrigued, he said, "Man, your job sounds thrilling. You pay cash and so easily; can you make big bucks?"

Hawke vaguely replied, "It's hard-earned money, just putting food on the table."

Edward didn't buy it, "If you find such an easy job to make money again, call me."

Once the other man drove away, Hawke suddenly remembered there was still some money he hadn't given.

He turned back to the hotel, quickly changed his look, and entered the hotel lobby.

Sure enough, Jacqueline was sitting in the lounge, looking around as if searching for someone.

Hawke approached, handing her the prepared cash. "This is for you."

Jacqueline asked quietly, "Did you set off those fireworks earlier?"

Hawke wouldn't dare admit it. Instead, he shot back, "What fireworks?"

Jacqueline was momentarily stunned.

Hawke pulled out a few more business cards. "You have plenty of friends, right? Hand these to them. If they come across someone or something worth it, call the number on it."

He gestured to the dollars in her hand. "You see, I'm generous; cash isn't an issue."

Jacqueline misunderstood. "There's no way I could help you shoot celebrities messing around. If that got out, the agency wouldn't let us off easy."

Hawke shook his head. "As long as you spill a little info, you don't need to shoot anything."

Jacqueline pocketed the money and cards.

Hawke returned to his car, drove away from the hotel, and pulled out his phone to check the contacts he recorded during the day.

What he had just filmed definitely had to be monetized.

Choosing the right media outlet could land a good profit.

*****

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