Chương 638: Chapter 638: The Responsible Way to Vote!
Inside the dimly lit Mexican restaurant, filled with the aroma of spices and the sound of mariachi music playing softly in the background, the tension at a secluded table was palpable. Derrett and Rodriguez were locked in a negotiation that seemed to be going nowhere fast.
Derrett, leaning back in his chair with a composed demeanor, broke the silence. "The information you've given me, Rodriguez, it's just scratching the surface. I was expecting more depth."
Rodriguez, his hands clasping a wad of cash as if it were a lifeline, retorted without missing a beat, "The depth of information you're after doesn't come cheap. If you want more, it's going to cost you."
A smirk played on Derrett's lips as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Rodriguez's. "You're telling me there's a chance for more detailed information?" he probed, his voice laced with a mix of challenge and curiosity.
Rodriguez hesitated, his gaze dropping to the money on the table before meeting Derrett's eyes again. "That's all I have," he stated, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him.
Unfazed, Derrett opened his wallet and laid down another stack of dollars next to the first. "I believe you have your ways, Rodriguez. Everybody has a price, and I'm willing to meet yours."
The mention of Martin Davis hung in the air like a thick fog, making the stakes clear. Martin wasn't just any target; his connections with the LAPD and his notoriety for single-handedly taking down a dozen armed Russian spies made him a formidable figure. The room seemed to shrink at the mention of his name, with Derrett acknowledging the gravity of what he was asking. "For my brothers, facing Martin is a death wish," he admitted, yet his determination did not wane as he placed another stack of dollars on the table.
Diego and DePaul, who had been silent spectators until now, exchanged glances, their breaths quickening at the sight of the growing pile of money. Romero, ever the cautious one, placed a restraining hand on them, a silent warning not to act rashly.
Rodriguez remained unmoved, shaking his head. "It's impossible."
But Derrett was relentless, his confidence unshaken as he laid down the final stack of money. "Think about it, Rodriguez. This is Los Angeles, a city where dreams are bought and sold. We're all looking for our slice of paradise."
The weight of Derrett's words seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, Rodriguez wavered. The harsh reality of their lives as immigrants in Los Angeles, the city of angels that often felt more like a purgatory for those chasing the American dream, was a constant reminder of their struggles.
Derrett, sensing the shift, pushed the money closer to Rodriguez. "Double the amount, and you find a way. We both know you can do this."
Rodriguez's resolve crumbled under the weight of Derrett's offer. "Okay," he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. The promise of a better life, symbolized by the stacks of money on the table, was too tempting to resist.
As Derrett stood to leave, a mutual understanding was sealed with a handshake. "It's a deal," they both affirmed, knowing well the risks and rewards that lay ahead.
Rodriguez's final caution to his crew, to keep their mouths shut, was met with nods of agreement. The allure of the money, now divided among them, was a potent reminder of the dangerous game they were all playing. For Diego, the scent of the dollars was intoxicating, a harbinger of better days to come.
As they left the restaurant, the weight of their decision lingered. In Los Angeles, money could indeed buy happiness, or at the very least, a momentary reprieve from their troubles. But at what cost?
Rodriguez eagerly pocketed the money, his hesitation evaporating. He cast his mind back to the surroundings of the office building, his gaze landing on Romero.
"You're a whiz with locks. Think you can crack that safe?" Rodriguez inquired, eyes alight with anticipation.
Romero nodded confidently. "Piece of cake. Worst-case scenario, we break it open." He grinned, oozing confidence. "The safe's a cinch."
"Next step, we need an electrician," Rodriguez continued, determination etched on his face. "Someone who knows their way around those surveillance cameras."
Paul chimed in, "Plenty of tech-savvy folks around, especially from Mexico. We'll find the right person."
Rodriguez rose to his feet. "Let's not waste any time."
...
Fresh from the New Year celebrations of 2011, Martin eagerly retrieved his Oscar ballot from the mail, a privilege afforded by his memberships in the Screen Actors Guild and the Producers Guild.
As the Academy's ballots arrived, Oscar fever swept through Hollywood.
Leonardo graced the Helen Show, baring his soul about his acting journey, tugging at heartstrings with tales of struggle.
Nicholson, watching the program in the villa's sprawling living room, shook his head in disbelief. "We asked for ugly, not tragic," he remarked dryly.
Leonardo's expression fell. "Do you know what I've sacrificed for my craft over the years?" he lamented, turning to face his peers.
Martin interjected, unable to resist a playful jab. "You call that misery? You've had more official girlfriends than I can count! Dozens, unofficially, all supermodels!"
Leonardo raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You've got it all wrong, Martin. It's me who's been dumped by a dozen women!"
Elizabeth Olsen, passing by with a fruit plate, rolled her eyes at the banter. "No wonder you two are best friends. You're both incorrigible."
Martin shot Leonardo a knowing look. "True Hollywood royalty, shamelessly so."
Nicholson, retrieving his Oscar ballot, declared, "For enduring so much heartache, you've got my vote for Best Actor."
Leonardo turned to Martin, playfully pleading his case. "Surely my investment in Lily's warrants your support?"
With Elizabeth's assistance, Martin filled out his ballot, a mix of obligation and preference.
As they deliberated the remaining categories, Nicholson's solemnity set the tone. "Every choice on this ballot is a responsibility," he declared, prompting Martin to nod in agreement. "We owe it to the Academy to set an example."
Nicholson leaned forward, his eyes scanning Martin's entertainment area. "Didn't you have an indoor archery setup here? And a dartboard?"
Martin grinned, nodding. "Yep, just for some casual practice."
Leonardo couldn't resist teasing. "Casual? More like severe persecution delusions, if you ask me."
Elizabeth, usually silent in her role as temporary waiter, interjected with a smirk. "Leo, anyone would feel paranoid after violent incidents like Burbank High School and Santa Monica Pier."
Leonardo nodded in reluctant agreement.
But Nicholson had a different take. "Nah, Martin's just reaping what he sowed, messing with too many people."
Martin ushered them to the adjacent building, once a bowling alley, now transformed into an archery range and sports equipment hall.
Nicholson covered a dartboard with a list of candidates. "Let's decide the rest by throwing darts."
Martin cheered. "Now that's a responsible approach! Let's uphold the sanctity of the Oscars!"
Leonardo, with a mischievous glint, questioned Nicholson. "Do you old-timers always vote so responsibly? No wonder I keep losing! It's all your fault!"
Martin feigned realization. "So it's not Leo's acting, it's Jack's voting strategy that's the problem!"
Nicholson, uninterested in banter, picked up a dart. "Enough chatter. Let's vote." He aimed, threw, and missed.
"Best Supporting Actress!" Leonardo declared with a grin. "Woodboard!"
Nicholson threw again, hitting his mark. "Amy Adams for Best Supporting Actress," he announced.
Martin and Leonardo dutifully filled in their ballots accordingly.
Next, it was Leonardo's turn. He chose Christian Bale for Best Supporting Actor, following Martin's lead to ensure fairness.
Martin, accused himself of being too accurate, blindfolded himself and threw. The dart landed on Jackie Weaver for Best Supporting Actress, a choice unfamiliar to the trio.
But they honored the dart's decision, filling out their ballots diligently.
With unwavering dedication, the three friends spent over an hour finalizing their Oscar picks before promptly mailing them out.
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