Chapter 19: Chapter 19: I'm Tracking You
After circling around the western part of Santa Monica, the Hummer turned onto the coastal highway, heading south. Murphy followed, and after half an hour, they reached the southern suburbs. Here, there were only standalone houses, nestled among tall roadside trees, quiet and secluded, the perfect place for some clandestine activities.
Seeing only a straight road ahead, Murphy intentionally accelerated, overtaking the Hummer to gain some distance. After pulling over next to a 24-hour convenience store, he pushed open the transparent glass door and bought a pack of gum from the cashier.
During the shopping process, Murphy kept an eye on the road outside until the silhouette of the Hummer appeared. Then he put away his wallet, pushed the door open, and walked out.
Taking out a Nikon D1 digital camera and a telephoto lens from the trunk, Murphy drove his Audi back on the trail of the Hummer. Within minutes, the Hummer parked by the roadside. Bathed in the light from nearby street lamps, he could see the occupants in the driver's and passenger's seats seemingly embracing each other.
Parking at an appropriate distance and angle, Murphy rolled down his window, adjusted his camera and lens, and aimed it at the scene, continuously pressing the shutter to capture every moment inside the car.
Before long, the door of the Hummer opened, and Kobe Bryant got out first. After looking around, seemingly without noticing anything unusual, he beckoned the redhead woman out of the car, and they walked together towards a nearby standalone house. They were like dry kindling meeting a raging fire, with their heads close together and their hands constantly caressing each other's sensitive areas.
Though the lighting wasn't optimal, Murphy's photography skills provided sufficient assurance. Despite some blurriness, the faces of the two were clear enough to identify them.
With close-ups and panoramic shots, Murphy, like the most astute hunter, continued capturing his prey.
Finally, as the two reached the doorstep, seemingly unable to wait any longer, kobe pressed the redhead woman against the door, engaging in passionate caresses and kisses for almost a minute and a half before finally opening the door and entering.
Seeing the door close, Murphy lowered his camera. Now he understood why so many celebrities were caught in compromising situations by paparazzi. Sometimes they were just too reckless.
But thinking about it, it wasn't surprising. When a mega-star like Kobe Bryant had money and power, seemingly at the center of the world, lacking self-discipline could lead to indulgence in beauty, wealth, and drugs.
Compared to other celebrities, Kobe Bryant, at least from what Murphy had heard, was relatively disciplined and maintained a good public image, making him a darling of fans and sponsors.
That's precisely why the photos he took were so valuable.
What would happen inside the house was predictable even to a fool. After putting down his camera, Murphy didn't leave but instead patiently waited.
Sitting in the driver's seat, looking through the open window at the standalone house, Murphy felt somewhat uneasy. It would be a lie to say he didn't envy the lives of these superstars.
Kobe Bryant was still one of the better-behaved superstars. Murphy had only heard of one scandal involving him. In the entertainment industry, stars had more chaotic private lives than those in sports. Some A-list actors and actresses, initially heterosexual, later became homosexual. Perhaps part of the reason was that they grew tired of the opposite sex and sought excitement by experimenting with the same sex.
Murphy believed that there were plenty of homosexuals in Hollywood, and many were bisexual.
With his eyes fixed on the house, his mind wandered. Murphy passed the long, boring time, not knowing how long it had been. The eastern horizon gradually lit up with a gentle light, as the sun rose from below the horizon. The sinister city of sin vanished, and the bright and hot City of Angels reigned again.
Looking at the soft light, Murphy rubbed his tired face and grabbed his camera, turning to look at the entrance of the standalone house. It seemed quiet inside, as if the occupants had forgotten about time after their revelry.
Raising his camera, taking advantage of the good light conditions, Murphy took several photos of the house and the Hummer. After waiting for about half an hour, the door suddenly opened, and a man wearing sunglasses and a hat walked out. As he stepped out of the door, the redhead woman behind him pulled him back, and the tall man turned around, once again passionately kissing the redhead woman.
Murphy, like a cold machine, recorded everything through his camera lens.
Compared to the dim scenes of last night, the shooting conditions now were ideal. In the soft morning sunlight, Kobe Bryant appeared crystal clear in the camera lens, even though he wore a hat and sunglasses. Anyone slightly familiar with him could easily recognize the superstar of the Los Angeles Lakers.
It wasn't until Kobe Bryant got back into the Hummer that Murphy put down his camera. When the other party started the car, he also started his Audi and followed from behind, neither hiding nor concealing his presence, as if telling the driver in front, "I'm tracking you."
The other party obviously didn't have bodyguards or entourage, so Murphy didn't need to be too concerned. Even if they resorted to violence, after experiencing numerous brawls in prison, he wasn't afraid of anyone.
Moreover, he even hoped that Kobe Bryant would confront him.
Perhaps because he had expended too much energy last night, it wasn't until they returned to the bustling streets of Santa Monica that the occupants of the car ahead noticed him. When Kobe Bryant, driving, realized something was amiss, he suddenly slowed down as they turned onto a narrow road, then slowed down and parked in front of Murphy's car.
Murphy stopped the car, seeing the superstar approaching him. He also got out of the car, locked the door, and stood in the morning sunlight, waiting for a conversation between them.
Because Murphy was facing the sunlight and the reflection from the car window, he seemed to be radiating a golden light, like a legendary hero from ancient Greek mythology.
But Kobe Bryant didn't think so. He took a few big steps and stood five feet away from Murphy, his expression showing surprise. "How could it be you?" he asked.
Murphy shrugged, saying boldly, "Why couldn't it be me?"
Seeing a change in Kobe Bryant's eyes, Murphy gestured to the pedestrians nearby. "This is a public place."
After all, Kobe Bryant wasn't just a brute who could only play basketball. He loosened his clenched fist, asking, "Are you a journalist?"
"I'm the owner of a video production company," Murphy said without hesitation, giving himself a high-profile label.
"What did you capture?" Kobe Bryant's dark face showed a change in expression. "What do you want?"
There was a hint of anger and a barely perceptible panic in his words.
Murphy confirmed that Kobe Bryant wouldn't resort to violence, and he wasn't afraid if he did. Over the past year or so, along with Ross, he had experienced many brawls in prison. Compared to the hardened felons in prison, the person in front of him was nothing.
Leaning on the car door of his Audi, Murphy looked up at the dark face and said calmly, "I captured everything— you and a pretty redhead."
Kobe Bryant's eyes flashed with hostility, but then he remembered the instructions from his agent and public relations manager. He suppressed the anger in his heart and, after some consideration, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. "Tell me, give me a number, and hand over the camera."
Murphy shook his head, taking out a business card from his pocket and handing it over. "This is my business card. Look for tomorrow's headlines in the newspaper."
Although Kobe Bryant didn't want to accept the card and instead wanted to punch the detestable bastard in front of him, he wasn't stupid. There were many pedestrians around, and some had already noticed what was happening. Doing anything out of line in public would only worsen his situation. He wasn't a fool like Rodman.
Moreover, the fact that the other party was willing to give him a business card meant there was room for negotiation.
"Alright, let's leave it at that, Mr. Bryant," Murphy said, afraid that the other party didn't understand his meaning. Before leaving, he reminded, "Hope to see you again."
With that, he opened the car door, started the engine, and drove away, leaving only the back of the superstar in front of him.
Watching the Audi drive away, Kobe Bryant gritted his teeth, squeezing the business card into a crumpled ball in his huge hand, as if it were the detestable bastard himself.
"Hey, isn't that Kobe Bryant...?"
After all, he was a superstar of basketball and the city hero of Los Angeles. He was quickly recognized. Kobe Bryant hurried into the car, trying to avoid the crowd's congestion. Throughout, he tightly held onto the crumpled business card, never letting go.
A superstar with such a good image was definitely not foolish or reckless. Kobe Bryant knew very well that, even for the sake of his public image and sponsorship contracts, he had to keep that business card.
As the Hummer left the road, Kobe Bryant took out his phone and dialed a number. When the call connected, he said, "I've run into some trouble..."
On the other end, Murphy returned home, took out the memory card from the digital camera, and connected it to his laptop. Inside were not only the photos he had just taken of Kobe Bryant but also some pictures taken by Carla Fess.
Ignoring Carla Fess's pictures for now, Murphy looked through his own. The digital camera technology of this era wasn't mature yet, and coupled with the poor lighting last night, many photos weren't very clear. However, the faces were clear enough to identify Kobe Bryant, which was sufficient for him.
After having a cup of coffee and resting for a while, Murphy prepared to take a nap. Suddenly, his phone rang, showing an unfamiliar number.
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