Volume 4: White Devil Chapter 170 Big Shot Martin
Long Beach, in a community bar called Clarity in the black community of North Long Beach.
Two black policemen in police uniforms stood in the corner of the bar, smoking and talking in low voices with Page, an old colleague whom he hadn't seen for a long time.
Tommy's bodyguard, stand-in, barber and TV actor, Mr. Martin Hart, was shirtless at this time, wearing only an Armani suit with the label on, a shiny gold watch on his wrist, and the most conspicuous thing on his chest besides the lush chest hair was a gold necklace that was almost as thick as a baby's arm. He wore gold diamond rings on the middle and ring fingers of both hands. He was standing in the middle of the bar with a stern face, holding a beer in his hand, and seriously looking at the more than 40 black men and women sitting in the bar who were invited in by the police and Page.
He looks like a gang leader in the black community, and Page and the police next to him look more like his personal bodyguards.
Those blacks obviously had an impression of the police and Page, but they felt a little strange about Martin's identity. Why did the two black policemen and Page, a former policeman who was notorious in the black area of Long Beach, look like his obedient followers?
Who is this black man? Even Lott Page, a black butcher, works for him?
Just now, in full view of everyone, Page, the old white man, personally opened a beer and handed it to the domineering black youth.
It has been many years since North Long Beach has seen the appearance of this kind of domineering black boss, who can only be seen in Compton, Los Angeles.
"Martin, Martin Hart, that's my name." Martin slowly took a sip of beer, then looked around at the black people sitting in the seats in front of him, trying to imitate the tone of the black gang bosses he had seen in Miami, and said arrogantly:
"Listen, niggers, I need you to do me a little favor. Sit here for sixty minutes, help yourself to the drinks and food, and when you leave, each of you will get a present. Paige, show them what I'm going to give them."
Paige spat out the cigarette butt in her mouth, walked to the storage room in the corner of the bar, took out a medium-sized cardboard box with both hands, walked to the center of the bar and opened it. Inside was a box full of food packaged in cartons. They were all big brands, not the cheap stuff in the discount supermarket. There was milk, organic oatmeal and some fruits. In short, the box was full.
"This is enough food for a family of four to last for two days. It's given to you by Mr. Hart," Paige began, stepping back behind Martin.
Seeing Page's humble attitude towards Martin, the black people present couldn't help but exclaimed. When had old Page ever been so polite to black people? His heroic record of killing seven black people in a row by relying on his so-called mental illness to get away with murder had already frightened the black people in Long Beach. But now, this guy actually used a respectful title to address a black person!
They racked their brains and searched their memories to figure out who this fellow named Martin Hart was.
"And this favor is very simple. I set up a TV station, a TV station owned by black people. Now there is a pilot program. I hope you can watch it and give me some opinions." After Martin said this, he looked at Paige and tilted his head towards him.
Paige took out a videotape from her arms, walked to the TV on the bar, put the videotape into the VCR, and turned on the TV screen after adjusting it.
The black people looked at the screen in confusion. Black TV station, a pilot program?
"What's your name? Ma'am." The TV soon showed a picture of a black host holding a microphone, standing outside the door of an obviously shabby black home, and asking a young black woman next to her.
"Helen," the woman replied nervously.
The host continued to smile at Helen and said, "Okay, Helen, the registration information you submitted said that you have five daughters. Wow... and their names are all Helen. You and your five daughters are all named Helen?"
Helen nodded nervously, "Yes."
"...I mean, how do you tell them apart? Like, do you call them to eat or something like that?" the host asked in confusion.
Helen tried to calm herself down in front of the camera with the encouragement of the host: "Just shout Helen, come over for dinner, and then they will all show up."
"Okay, let's put it another way. What if you only want to talk to one of them?" the host changed the question.
Helen looked at the host as if she was an idiot, and then said, "...I will call them by their last names."
When a group of black people in the bar heard what Helen said, they burst into laughter. This is indeed a very common situation for black single mothers, but few mothers would give their children the same name.
"That means the fathers of your five daughters are five different men," the host asked with an exaggerated expression.
Helen nodded: "Yes."
"You've come to the right show, Helen. 'Looking for Daddy America' is here to help you and your children out of trouble! Come on, let's go in and see your children." The host made an excited expression: "I can't wait to help you!"
The host was led by the hostess into the messy residence. In the living room, two black girls aged five or six were sitting on the sofa, watching TV while taking care of the middle sister who was only three years old at most and eating potato chips. As soon as they entered the door, the host immediately asked the camera to move away to avoid filming the scene on the TV, and reminded Helen:
"Helen, your children watched an R-rated movie with a lot of explicit scenes."
Helen opened the refrigerator disapprovingly and took out a cheap Coke to entertain the host:
"Don't worry, they'll think a woman showing her topless body on TV is a food commercial."
There was another round of laughter in the bar, even the two black policemen couldn't help laughing out loud. These words may sound shocking to many white people, but to the lower-class black people, they are the most common things. Because when children ask their parents about those revealing scenes on TV, most black mothers will lie perfunctorily and tell their children not to worry, that it is just an advertisement to sell breast milk.
"I mean, maybe the Los Angeles Children's Authority will give you trouble..." the host said.
Helen took a sip of Coke and looked at the host with a numb expression: "I have been waiting for them to come and take these little devils away for two years. If they come, will I still seek help from your show?"
People in the bar watched the one-hour video with great gusto. It was very interesting. The TV station hired a professional private detective team. Using the information provided by Helen and various investigative methods, they finally flew from Los Angeles to Toronto, Canada, and took her to find the last man who abandoned her and now worked in a wood factory in Toronto.
When everyone saw the man's expression as if he had seen a ghost when he saw Helen, they all burst into laughter. Indeed, if they were the irresponsible man, they would not believe that Helen, who could not even recognize slightly complex words, could actually find them.
And when the legal team from the United States and Canada brought by the program crew told him the serious consequences of abandonment and escape, the man was so desperate that he almost cried out.
Helen, with the help of a lawyer, settled the child support issue without the other party's consent. As long as the factory paid her salary, 40% of the money would be directly transferred to her account after deducting the handling fee.
Finally, the TV station even prepared a $2,000 interest-free loan for Helen through KeyBank to support her in improving her living conditions, overcoming difficulties, and ushering in a new life. The show ended with Helen's shock and ecstasy after receiving the check.
It was not until the entire show was over that Martin, who was sitting arrogantly at the bar with his legs spread wide, jumped down and asked everyone, "Niggers, what do you think of the show I put on?"
The twenty or so women present applauded vigorously, and one of them shouted, "Mr. Hart, you're doing a great job! Great! We have a lot of people who would like to be on this show! We need help!"
However, most of the men present said that the show was boring and made them sleepy, and suggested that Martin should change it to a hip-hop music program, which would be more appealing.
Seeing the men say that the show was ugly, the women who were applauding and cheering started cursing at the men without waiting for Martin to refute, saying that these bastards were there because they all had similar pasts and were worried that one day the show would appear in front of them with their ex-girlfriends and children!
"Do you like it?" Martin asked the crowd.
"Yes, I like it very much! This is the show that black people should watch!" A group of women said excitedly: "We want to sign up too! Mr. Hart!"
"Participate in this show? Come on, girls, you are so beautiful, of course you don't need to participate in this show? Listen, I will produce another show that is more suitable for you, 'Battle for Black Hair'. We will invite the best black hairstylists in the United States to design hairstyles for the registered audience for free to make you more beautiful! It's up to you to decide what is popular in the United States!" Martin winked at several black women who were relatively good-looking and said loudly.
Seeing that Martin had some affection for them, the black women immediately came up to him and boldly asked about Hart's background, wanting to find out how rich this guy was. One of them even directly invited Martin to chat alone in the car for a few minutes, hoping to leave a deep impression on Martin.
When Martin was intoxicated by the disgusting flattery and bold declaration of love, Paige walked up calmly and reminded him in a low voice: "Mr. Hart, the time is up. You have another meeting to attend."
"Girls, I will wait for you to go to the TV station to sign up. You, you, you~ and you, I think you have the potential to become stars, but I have to leave first." Martin took a few steps back, distanced himself from the women, and spoke.
Seeing that the women were still trying to get close to Martin, Paige took two steps to stand in front of Martin and stared at the black men expressionlessly: "Don't make me say it again, get out of here."
The women were frightened by Paige's eyes and dared not come forward.
"Peppa, be polite," Martin reminded.
Paige looked at the women and said, "Get out of here politely."
After the women made way for them, Paige guarded Martin and accompanied him out of the bar.
Page didn't pull over until the Cadillac drove out of the black area.
Without waiting for Paige's instructions, Martin obediently opened the back door and got out. He first helped Paige open the passenger door, and then ran to the driver's seat and started the car.
Paige sat in the passenger seat with an expressionless face, took out a stun gun from her pocket and operated it on Martin.
"Crackle~" "Ah~~"
“Crackle~” “Ahh~”
Martin was driving while screaming, "Okay, Mr. Page! I know I was wrong! Take away your damn stun gun, or you can just replace it with a higher-powered one and shock me to death or knock me out!"
"I want to remind you that your boss asked you to help the TV station understand the tastes of black people, not to take the opportunity to pick up black women." Paige put away the stun gun, turned her head, looked at the Long Beach scenery outside the window, and spoke.
This is the most polluted city in the United States. The sky is as gray as a mirror that has not been wiped for who knows how long. Staying in such an environment for too long can easily make people depressed. However, Martin next to him is obviously not one of them. Although he has just received two electric shocks, he is still grinning and is as happy as a fool.
"Did you get shocked in the brain?" Paige couldn't help but ask curiously when she saw that this guy could still laugh after being shocked twice.
Martin said excitedly while holding the steering wheel: "No, I just didn't expect it would be so cool to be a black big shot. Did you see the way those people looked at me? They were full of admiration for me!"
"If I and my two former black colleagues weren't here, they would have killed you and robbed you in thirty seconds." Page picked up his mobile phone and dialed Rick Luther's number:
"Mr. Rick Luther, the survey of the black community in North Long Beach is over. I calculated that they laughed out loud twenty-nine times within an hour. Your show was very popular. We are about to go to the next district. Goodbye."
"Where are we going next? I feel that all the black people in Los Angeles should be curious about me now. They might guess that I'm a wealthy black man from New York." Martin waited for Page to hang up the phone and asked.
"The next stop is a bit dangerous." Paige said to Martin, "Put me down at the company later, and someone else will take over the security of your next area."
Martin was not overjoyed when he heard that Paige would not accompany him to the next performance event. Instead, he was a little disappointed. He tried to persuade Paige to stay:
"Come on, I can't trust others, Paige, don't do this. You standing behind me has a completely different effect than other people standing behind me. Look at the expressions of those black guys, they want their eyes to pop out of their eye sockets. The notorious black butcher in Long Beach has to stand behind me respectfully and serve me. Other black people will never enjoy this kind of treatment in their lives."
"If I go to the next stop with you, there are only two endings. Either I lead you to kill all the way through that area, or we die in that area." Paige said to Martin.
Martin was stunned for a few seconds before he asked, "So, he's going to the Soviet Union?"
"No, Compton, South Los Angeles, the African Star neighborhood." Page gave the answer for the next stop.
Martin slammed on the brakes and almost threw Page from the passenger seat onto the windshield. Although he was from Miami, it didn't mean he hadn't heard of Compton's reputation. That place was just like the Little Haiti where he lived in Miami.
Compton, California has the highest crime rate.
Little Haiti, the city with the highest crime rate in Florida.
Who do the West Coast lowlifes hate the most? White people? No, they hate the East Coast lowlifes the most, and vice versa.
Martin now felt that he had urinary incontinence. He said frantically: "As an outsider from Miami, am I going to the Los Angeles nigga base to pretend to be a big shot? I won't go. I will be shot to death. My death will be more miserable than Kennedy's."
"You know what? The boss likes to use reward plans to motivate people. For example, he is willing to give Miss O'Connor a large sum of money to reward her hard work. He is willing to give Mr. Earl Rush some shares to recognize his contribution to the TV station. So, he specifically told me to arrange a corresponding reward plan for you." When Paige heard that Martin was about to give up, she didn't show any emotion at all. She sat in the co-pilot seat, admiring the scenery outside, and lit a cigarette for herself. She said calmly.
Martin seemed to have gained some courage after hearing about the reward plan, and asked with some longing: "So, the boss will reward me with a large sum of money for this?"
"No, the bonus plan for you is a notice. If you don't work, I will fire you." Paige looked at Martin and said seriously.
Martin rolled his eyes in despair: "Thank you for this crazy reward."
Page continued to Martin: "The boss said that there will be three brothers named Big Jack who will be responsible for your safety in that area. They are black."
"That's what I'm worried about. I'm worried that the three men named Big Jack will take the gold from me before the other blacks find a suitable opportunity to do so." Martin said, "I'm a nigger myself, so I know how bad niggers are!"
Paige said unmoved, "You can go or not. If you go, you will still be a big shot at BT TV, surrounded by people, able to ride in this luxury car, and the company will pay for all your expenses. If you don't go, you will need to repay the loans the company has taken out for you to buy these clothes, and the creditors who come to your door may be the three brothers Big Jack."
