America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

In the club's second-floor office, Vincent sat on the sofa, pressing the remote control, as the television screen switched between several news channels.

On the television screen, the House of Beast Club appeared in large feature shots repeatedly.

Vincent changed channels a few more times, and in the related live news coverage, the House of Beast flashed across the screen frequently.

Downstairs was bustling, but Vincent didn't go to look; around half an hour later, he had seen feature images of the House of Beast on five different television channels.

Tomorrow it would undoubtedly become the focus of social news in the newspapers.

Not to mention how much money it would take to achieve such media coverage, according to Georgia regulations, the House of Beast didn't even have the opportunity to advertise directly.

Martin Davis, that idiot, was truly a talent!

Vincent poured himself a glass of whiskey and sipped it slowly.

There was a knock on the door, and he responded; Martin came in from outside and said, "Boss, there's a situation."

Vincent gestured toward the sofa, "Sit down and talk."

"We just saved Kelly Gray…" Martin quickly recounted what had happened before.

Vincent asked, "What do you think?"

Martin replied, "They could become our biggest potential customer group."

"Do as you think," Vincent had confidence in Martin because of his previous actions.

Martin mentioned the last issue, "There will be media journalists coming over for interviews soon, will you receive them, boss?"

But Vincent had reservations, "I am not suitable for appearing in front of media."

"Shall I deal with it?" After receiving a clear reply from Vincent, Martin went downstairs to meet with a public relations officer sent by Kelly, quickly exchanged views, and prepared to open the club's doors.

......

Meanwhile, the club's back door opened and eight people, including Bruce and Ivan, came out of the alley onto West Strip, holding mobile phones to find their respective targets.

Mia, the television reporter, just finished her busy work; as she came to the front of the interview van to grab a bottle of water, she noticed a man with a silly grin coming over with a mobile phone in hand.

She said, "The TV station is working, please don't come closer."

Bruce raised his mobile phone, "I made the call to the news hotline, I'm here to collect the reward."

Mia responded, "Go to the TV station tomorrow, or leave your email address."

Bruce, who knew a bit about how things worked, said, "Can we not waste time? I know you have a reward for dealing with breaking news leads."

Mia didn't want to say more, "That's not according to procedures."

Before coming out, Bruce had already learned from Martin, and he lowered his voice, "Today's incident was caused by the House of Beast, I can help you contact someone from the House of Beast."

Upon hearing this, Mia's interest was piqued. The House of Beast, as the focal point, had been closed tight all day; after tonight, this male striptease club was bound to become the focus of Atlanta's social news.

She took out her bag, pulled out a 50-dollar check, and placed it in front of Bruce, "Are you sure?"

Bruce took the check, glanced at the number, pocketed it, and then said, "This is for the previous news, for this news right now, you need to pay me 100 dollars."

Mia hesitated for a moment, took out a 100-dollar check, Bruce reached for it, but she pulled it back, "First you get in touch."

Bruce dialed Martin's phone, but Hart answered; he handed the phone to Mia, "Someone from the House of Beast."

That son of a bitch Martin, even for this kind of mess, he made others take the blame.

Mia spoke a few words with the person on the phone, handed the check to Bruce, and signaled to her assistant, "Move the TV broadcast van to the front of the House of Beast!"

Bruce pocketed the check and left, quickly disappearing into a deep alley.

Mia arrived at the front of the House of Beast, where she heard the sound of locks being opened behind the club doors.

Journalists who had been scattered around seeking interviews hurried over one after another.

Mia saw Dyke from "The Atlanta Constitution" and asked, "How did you get here?"

Dyke, who had been a bit hesitant at first, noticed many colleagues arriving and simply said, "A news informant got in touch with someone from the House of Beast for me."

Mia looked displeased, "100 dollars?"

"You too?"

"I am!"

"I am!"

All the arriving journalists were in the same predicament, each with a face of frustration.

Mia said, "They're a bunch of bastards!"

One could guess it was the work of someone inside the club; still, they had to steel themselves for the interviews, as no one was willing to leave.

The doors of the club opened, and Martin led the way out.

The cameras all swiveled in his direction, and the reporters each buzzed with excitement.

After the interview concluded, Martin returned to the club.

The public relations expert sent by Kelly said, "You did very well, contact me immediately if there are any follow-up problems."

When this person left, Bruce came over, reminding him specially, "Buddy, you are the man!"

Martin said, "As long as it benefits us, I don't mind sending you to Thailand."

Bruce gave him the middle finger and pulled out the check, asking, "Will the reporters curse us for doing this?"

"Buddy, you're used to being the civilized one and haven't dealt with the media much. Let me tell you, once you step out in front of the media, you shouldn't be afraid of being cursed," Martin was very bold, "Do you think if we please them, they won't curse us? You think too highly of them! Let them curse; even bad publicity is publicity. The House of Beast needs to be known."

He asked, "Does the club have a legal advisor? In a few days when the news cools down, let's hold a press conference and send a lawyer's letter to the Methodist Association; we can stir this up a few more times."

Ivan and the others returned with their checks in hand, asking, "How do we handle the reward?"

Martin didn't look up but noticed Vincent had come to the edge of the second-floor railing and said, "Leave it to the boss to handle."

"Everyone involved tonight gets a share," Vincent was generous, it wasn't the club's money anyway, "Martin gets thirty percent, the rest of you split it."

Martin tallied the amount on the checks, derisively, "You shameless lot managed to bring back 1200 dollars!"

A bunch of middle fingers stood before Martin.