America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

The soccer training camp had started, with Martin holding a tactical board and a whistle around his neck, standing in front of the goal and directing the female players as they trained with a serious demeanor.

As he blew his whistle, the scramble for the ball commenced.

Six female players formed a circle, with the tallest Latin woman taking the initiative to fight for the ball.

Martin shouted, "Pass the ball with one touch, don't hesitate; it's the foundation of quick passing and moving, right! Just like that, pick up the pace!"

The tall player Aisha poked the ball away, sending it rolling quickly towards Martin.

She had played soccer with Martin on "The Beach" before and now charged at him like the wind, thumping into him with a bang.

Martin, his arms full from the impact, didn't fall but steadied Aisha with one hand.

Director Capisce unsurprisingly yelled "Cut!" and requested a retake.

Martin helped Aisha up and reminded her, "Be careful, don't charge so fast."

With her back towards the director, Aisha winked at him, "How does it feel, pretty soft, right? How about a walk on the beach tonight?"

These Mexican actors had practiced their English specifically to vie for more opportunities.

Martin had no interest in such games and flatly responded, "Hurry up and get ready, we're about to start filming."

Aisha added, "I know a lot more."

Martin, ever the straight-laced man, failed to understand her insinuation, "Sorry."

Once more, Aisha said, "Give me a chance."

Martin raised his hand and called out, "Makeup artist, I need a touch-up."

Aisha, pressing her lips together, had no choice but to return to the scramble.

Filming resumed, and Martin once again vigorously directed the scramble drills.

This take went smoothly.

Martin then stood in front of the penalty area, coaching the female players on shooting techniques.

All of his screen shots depicted him in a cool and handsome manner, free from the need for complex character development or intense emotional conflict.

The scene that required the most retakes was actually the one where Martin demonstrated how to shoot at the goal himself.

The distance from the edge of the penalty area to the goal wasn't far, but finding the angle to strike the ball into the net wasn't easy; Martin's first attempt was far too powerful, ending up as a sky-high blast.

His next two shots did land within the goal area, but rolled straight to the goalkeeper.

Capisce, not wanting to waste time, asked Martin to shoot with proper form and didn't care where the ball ended up.

He then had a local soccer coach take the shots, with the intention of editing the required footage afterwards.

During the filming break, Martin had just settled under a parasol when Blake promptly sat down beside him.

"Are you not good at sports?" Blake assessed Martin's near-perfect physique, "That doesn't seem right."

Martin stated simply, "I played soccer a few times years ago, but haven't touched it since, the sports I'm good at aren't this one."

Blake, curious to know more, asked, "Which sports are you good at?"

Martin replied, "Riding, shooting, and fighting."

Blake blinked and deliberately asked, "Are you talking about the ones I'm thinking of?"

Martin tapped the chair armrest, "I'm a decent man, don't talk to me about indecent things."

Blake remained silent, sitting sideways on the chair, quietly appreciating every move Martin made.

Suddenly, she remembered something and mentioned to Martin, "My brother Eric, you've met him at WMA Company, he's here to visit the set."

Martin didn't grasp what she meant by that.

Blake looked around, not seeing her brother, then pointed to her head, "He's a bit slow sometimes and can do stupid things."

Martin replied, "I won't pay him any attention."

At that moment, the makeup artist arrived to do a touch-up, signaling the imminent continuation of the shoot.

Picking up her script, Blake shook it, "After we wrap, shall we rehearse on the beach?"

"Sure," Martin got up and headed towards the set.

The most crucial scenes for their characters were set to take place on the beach.

Not far away, Aisha unscrewed a bottle of water, her gaze drifting over to the resting area.

Blonde-haired Blake, with her hair tied in a ponytail, was treated like a princess on the set, referring to the director and producer as uncles, someone no one dared to antagonize.

The other three lead actresses all accommodated her.

Aisha spat out a mouthful of water onto the ground and cursed, "Bitch!" She then looked at Martin, recalling earlier, "Jerk!"

To be part of this cast, she had made many sacrifices, dreaming of earning a ticket to Los Angeles.

Her acting coach had warned her not to trust middle-aged men and old men, who, after getting what they wanted, would pat their behinds and leave.

The young were more prone to impulsiveness.

The target she chose in the cast was just a supporting role, but in another production, with a comparable investment, she was the absolute lead.

Nearby, one of the leading ladies, Elle Tabrin, overheard Aisha's words and, following Aisha's gaze, saw Martin and Blake.

Elle reminisced for a moment, remembered which team Aisha was on, and joined her best relation, Erica, heading to the changing room.

Aisha had finished her scenes for the day and returned to the changing room to bathe and change clothes.

Coming out from the shower, she overheard the voices of two girls talking through a row of lockers.

"Blake is getting quite close with that Martin Davis, are those two an item now?"

"Maybe."

"Definitely, someone saw them secretly meeting on the hotel beach yesterday, and then they went back to Blake's room together, stayed there for quite some time before coming out."

"Exactly, I heard from the makeup artist that they've arranged to meet at that beach again today."

"Blake's brother, what's his name, right, Eric, he came to visit the set; it'd be a spectacle if he found out."

"The tall blond guy? He looks so secure, totally my type."

"Stop drooling; Eric wouldn't give you a second glance, his father is a producer and has influence in Hollywood..."

Aisha finished dressing and silently left the dressing room.

Two girls peeked out from behind the closet, watching as Aisha walked away.

Erica asked, "Will she go?"

Aibo replied, "It doesn't matter if she goes or not, we just have to talk a bit. It's fine if she doesn't, but the better if she does. That bitch Blake has been acting all high and mighty in front of me, I won't let her get away with it!"

Her tone intensified, "I'm clearly the lead, but she demanded more lines and stole the lead role. What does she think we are? Just a bunch of leaves glorifying her, the red flower?"

The grabbing of roles by those with connections was absolutely detestable.

Erica said, "We can't help it, she comes from a good family."

Aibo scorned, "I'm more famous than her, have a deeper resume; I started acting at the age of ten."

"I have other things to do, I'll be leaving first." Erica left the dressing room, slowing her steps.

She would see how the situation unfolds. What could she possibly gain if it blew up?

Erica was just an ordinary girl who dropped out of middle school, not too ambitious, simply envious of the star's entourage.

Who has the greater potential to be popular between Aibo and Blake?

......

The crew wrapped up for the day. The hotel was nearby, so most people chose to walk back.

Aisha carried her bag, looked around, and even asked a colleague from Mexico a few questions. Finally, she found her target by the hotel basketball court.

Eric checked the time, ready to head back to the hotel.

He noticed a curvaceous Latina girl standing by the roadside, staring at him, obviously attracted to him.

Eric, quite full of himself, flipped his blond hair while the Latina girl briskly approached him.

Latinas are known for their fiery enthusiasm, and Eric, confident about his looks, found it all very normal.

"Hello, my name is…" Aisha was going to use a fake name but upon approaching Eric, she suddenly had an idea. Wasn't he a perfect target? She was passionately forthcoming, "My name is Aisha Rosalind, handsome, what's yours? Can I have your contact information?"

Pleased to have a girl approach him for his contact details, Eric happily pulled out his phone and said, "My name is Eric Lively, tell me your number."

Aisha gave her number first and then purposely asked, "Lively?" She examined Eric more closely, "You look a bit like Blake."

Eric smiled and asked, "Do you know my sister Blake Lively?"

"I know her." Aisha nodded, holding back further comment, "I've heard some things about her..."

Even Eric, not the sharpest tool in the shed, could tell she had something difficult to say, "What is it? I'm Blake's brother and I have the right to know."

Aisha, still struggling, spoke under pressure from Eric, "There's a bastard in the crew who's really deceptive. He convinced her to go to the beach yesterday, and it's said they went into Blake's room... I'm sorry, I don't mean anything by it, just worried about Blake. She's young and can be easily deceived."

As a responsible brother, Eric didn't look too pleased, "Who's got the guts?"

Aisha replied, "Seems to be someone named Martin Davis."

"Thanks, you're a good person." Eric shook his phone, "I'll call you."

"I'll be waiting." Aisha was delighted, the importance he placed on the information she provided was clear.

Eric returned to the hotel, inquired around for a bit, and found that Martin was quite conspicuous in the crew; some saw him going to the hotel's beach.

Once he got the details, Eric hurried out the back door of the hotel to the beach, looked around, and spotted a familiar figure near some rocks.

The two had met more than once at WMA, recognizing each other.

Eric picked up his pace, heading towards Martin.

Martin, holding a script, sat alone on a rock, waiting for Blake.

Bruce deliberately sat at a distance, finding the actors rehearsing rather boring compared to the beach beauties.

Martin also spotted Eric and, seeing him rush over, stood up to greet, "Eric…"

But Eric suddenly picked up speed, yelling: "Martin Davis!"

He swung his fists as he charged like a golden bull.

Martin let go, his script falling to the ground.

Although Eric looked fierce, he was no match for Old Cloth, who Martin would often spar with.

Martin side-stepped and grabbed Eric's wrist, demanding, "What are you crazy about!"

"I'm going to crush your skull!" Eric struggled to free himself.

Utilizing his momentum, Martin tripped him with a leg sweep, pushing at the same time, sending Eric crashing onto the sand.

Bruce, seeing the commotion, immediately rushed over.

Eric got up, crouching and charging again like a rugby defensive end.

Martin easily dodged, kicking him in the butt, causing Eric to face-plant.

Just as he was trying to get up, his arm was caught and forcefully twisted behind his back, a heavy knee pressing against his back.

Eric yelled, "Martin Davis, you bastard, let me go! I'm going to bash your head in!"

Martin wasn't about to release him, pinning Eric on the damp sand to cool off, "We don't have a beef, do we? What's getting into you?"

Eric felt a mountain's weight on him, unable to move a muscle.

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