HBWnovel Chapter 103: Scandal
Chapter 103: Scandal
[Chapter 104: Scandal]
After being checked over, Hawke went to pay; the clinic was accustomed to such business and immediately quoted $2,000 for treatment fees.
Edward was annoyed: "Are you robbing us?"
Hawke intervened, taking out cash to pay the chubby woman at the front desk.
On their way back, Edward commented, "In Compton, they'd charge at most $500."
"Can they cure him?" Hawke inquired.
Edward answered, "Depends on whether God favors him."
The two returned to the diagnosis room and could see through the glass door that a nurse was administering IV fluids to Campos.
Hawke waited in the hallway, continuing to contemplate the previous two undertakings.
He still had some ideas regarding Allison but nothing for Josh yet.
He had dug his own pit, making it difficult to fill.
Noticing Hawke was lost in thought, Edward decided to remain silent, waiting patiently.
Only faced with situations involving Nicole or Deborah would his thoughts frantically race; foreverything else? Not so much.
For instance, his last suggestion for Josh Hartnett to streetwalk in Compton had been dismissed by Miss Baa's mocking laughter.
Others may have seen that as a joke, but Edward meant every word seriously.
...
The clinic provided catering services, so Edward returned with a couple of snacks and drinks.
A while later, the nurse returned, announcing Campos was improving and was awake.
Edward grabbed a couple of snacks and beverages to enter again.
A moment later, he re-emerged and told Hawke, "Boss, that butterfly wants to see you."
Hawke opened the door to the examination room, leaving Edward stationed outside.
As Campos drank some water, he recognized Hawke, "It's you."
Hawke pulled a chair beside him and asked, "Feeling better?"
Edward sat beside the door, stating, "This is my boss, Hawke Osment, the founder of West Coast Media Entertainment Studio."
"Why did you save me?" Campos inquired, sheltering his wariness.
Hawke quickly fabricated a reason, "It's simple; last time we met, you offered me a warning, thereby avoiding certain troubles. For that, I made some friends keep an eye out for you." ????ἁＮՕᛒЁṢ
Campos realized, "Those nice Black folks who look out for me are with you?" He instinctively touched his backside, "I thought they were coming to get me."
Edward was displeased, "Hey buddy, they may look scary, but they have good hearts, and they detest faggots."
Campos ignored the unpleasant topic and asked Hawke, "Has the Mule Gang been after you?"
Hawke evaded, "With you lacking legal status, you need to stay put and nurse your wounds; don't run around."
After glancing at the bandage on Campos's leg, he fell silent for a moment and asked directly, "What do you want from me?"
Hawke turned his gaze to Campos's right hand, "Who are you?"
Campos thought for a moment.
Edward couldn't help but shake his head, "With how we're treating you, let alone these Black street homeless folks, if we alerted immigration, do you think it'd be dire?"
He then added, "We're footing the $2,000 bill! Do you grasp what that means? With $2,000, we could hire street trash to take out ten of you!"
Campos took a deep breath, slowly answering, "I'm a Mexican, a narcotics officer; I used to take my work seriously, wanting to do something for my hometown."
Hawke had a hunch about that; in Mexico, decent narcotics officers are weary of taking their job seriously; if they do, problems ensue.
Sure enough, Campos continued, "By sheer chance, I intercepted a vehicle with large quantities of product; I even caught two dealers on the spot. I initially believed this was the best breakthrough to take down the local biggest trafficking organization, then reported my findings to my captain."
Edward jumped in, "You were sold out."
"Exactly; the captain I deemed righteous -- most of the bureau was full of their people," Campos lamented, his face contorted in agony. "We were sold out, and my comrades got killed in plain view -- those who came after me were my colleagues!"
He seemed to have lost his resolve: "Fortunately, I was trained well, fighting to escape, though I'll never shake off what those comrades said."
Without prompting, Campos continued, "They told me the reason I became a narcotics officer in Mexico was just to facilitate their bribery, or to switch sides and become a trafficker myself."
Hawke stated, "Your experience could be adapted into a Hollywood film."
Campos mustered a faint smile, "Subsequently, I became a fugitive after killing several comrades; I had to escape, blending into the waves of refugees coming from South America, wandering through Tijuana into California and ending up in Los Angeles."
Hawke directly asked, "What's your full name? Which city do you hail from?"
Reaching this point, Campos plainly stated, "Joaquin Garcia Rodriguez, from St. Louis City. I took the name Campos because I like butterflies, so you can call me Campos from now on."
"First, take care of yourself and heal up," Hawke noted down his name and city, saying, "We'll talk about the rest once you're well again."
Campos thanked him.
Hawke prepared to leave: "Leave some cash and a phone for him. If anything comes up, he can call."
Edward took out a gold-trimmed Motorola but quickly tucked it back in his pocket, pulling out a battered Nokia, placing it beside Campos.
Hawke left some cash, then went outside with Edward to the van.
Edward went to see the two Black guys.
...
Hawke made his way downtown,
While still on the phone, the assistant checked other entertainment websites and exclaimed, "It's on blogs too; a lot of big bloggers have re-shared the Yahoo Entertainment news."
Fergie knew she couldn't suppress it herself, immediately calling her boss Roger.
Roger said he would come right over.
...
Fergie rushed out and called for Joanna and Scott, "You two, come over here!"
The two followed Fergie to the computer.
Seeing the images nearly made Joanna faint; she quickly grabbed the table for support.
Scott was taken aback too, asking, "Jo, are you sure it's Allison?"
Joanna, weakly responding, confirmed, "Yes, indeed."
Scott, a capable agent, asked Fergie, "Are those photos fabricated?"
"I assure you, they are not," the assistant replied.
Scott pressed, "Have you contacted the website? Can they take it down quickly?"
"It's too late," Fergie answered. "By the time we discovered the news, it had already been re-shared by multiple websites and bloggers; it's already out there."
She added, "I've alerted my boss, Roger."
Scott, not being a public relations manager, turned to Joanna and asked, "Where's your publicist? Get her over here fast; if this isn't handled properly, Allison won't just have trouble releasing her album -- she'll become a laughingstock across the nation."
Joanna, unable to stand any longer, plopped down onto a nearby couch, suddenly thinking of Dwayne Johnson, shouting, "Hawke! Get Hawke Osment here, fast!"
*****
/Sayonara816.