Chapter 415: Greed and Brutality

[Chapter 415: Greed and Brutality]

On a cloudy afternoon in 2005, a sleek black Maybach pulled up in front of a sprawling office building on Coastal Avenue. Harvey Weinstein stepped out of the car, looking up at the vast structure with a slight unease. Since the 1990s, Harvey had been closely tied to the Clinton couple, serving as their enforcer.

Even Leonardo DiCaprio was first recommended to the couple by Harvey himself. This was all about securing film subsidies and gaining more political leverage.

Harvey, with decades of experience in the exclusive Hollywood circuit, quickly sensed that Hillary Clinton was cut from the same cloth as him. The only difference was that Harvey, a man, needed women; Hillary, a woman, needed men, preferably charming leading men.

Pulling his gaze away, Harvey, accompanied by his assistant, braced himself and headed to the building's entrance. He had flown in from New York specifically for this secretive mission.

Having spent much of his time in Hollywood and Los Angeles over the years, Harvey was no stranger to Twitter or the Ferguson family who helped create it. The Fergusons were once one of Southern California's top political and business dynasties. Though they had faded somewhat since the mid-90s, they had recently regained prominence, reshaping Los Angeles politics and turning the city into a stronghold for their party once more.

Hawke Osment was a key figure in this ongoing political battle.

Harvey knew the current mayor of Los Angeles, Brian. In his mind, Brian was just a playboy who liked to date Hollywood actresses, not particularly capable. If such a person could be mayor, Harvey thought he could easily be president.

...

At the reception, the staff greeted them warmly. Harvey soon made his way to the 16th floor to meet Hawke and Brian.

He strode forward and shook their hands, smiling as he spoke to Brian first, "Haven't seen you at many Hollywood parties lately."

Brian replied casually, "Busy with work and responsibilities, haven't had time for Hollywood events."

"Whenever you have time, I'll throw a party just for you," Harvey said earnestly. He was eager to build good relations with the mayor and the tech mogul sitting beside him. "I'm old friends with Dwayne Johnson and Dany Garcia; they often speak highly of you."

Hawke nodded slightly as they shook hands.

Harvey knew these two were not like the typical corporate executives. Offense with them was costly. The recent Covina hit-and-run and shooting incident was just the surface; behind the scenes, it had led to multiple deaths, including a top executive from a major investment group.

The later Russian spy scandal had dragged BlackRock into a deep quagmire.

Harvey saw himself as a hungry wolf in Hollywood, but these tech moguls were man-eating tigers. He played it respectfully but straightforwardly in true Hollywood style, "To celebrate our acquaintance, I plan to host a grand entertainment party soon, inviting Hollywood's top stars like Gwyneth Paltrow, Nicole Kidman, Renee Zellweger, and Julia Roberts, all Oscar winners."

Seeing no immediate response from Hawke and Brian, Harvey continued, adapting his pitch, "I can also get Judy Dench and Meryl Streep, and if you want, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck could come too."

Hawke lounged on the sofa, showing no hurry to respond.

Brian shook his head directly, "Harvey, let's put this aside for now. You didn't come here just to talk about parties."

Harvey's chubby face broke into a sincere smile, "I'm here on behalf of Ms. Hillary Clinton, flew in from New York specifically to discuss potential collaboration with you both."

Hawke was straightforward, "Hillary Clinton? Not sure what kind of cooperation she seeks with us. Hopefully, it's not a BlackRock matter."

Indeed, Harvey represented Hillary Clinton this time. Two BlackRock power players had approached her with very lucrative offers. She was prepared to intervene but not blindly.

Harvey tested the waters, "BlackRock is related to Ms. Hillary Clinton's family's employment matters. Miss Chelsea Clinton joined BlackRock as a senior advisor..."

Hawke didn't recall any Chelsea Clinton in BlackRock's executives and glanced slightly at Brian, who shook his head.

Neither interrupted Harvey, letting him continue.

So far, Hawke had not had direct conflicts with Hillary Clinton's side. Political parties were like any organizations -- full of factions and contradictions.

The Clinton couple represented a significant faction linked to many members of Congress.

"Hold on, Harvey," Hawke abruptly interrupted, "Regarding the BlackRock case, I have a suggestion you can pass on to Ms. Clinton."

Harvey felt relieved as they hadn't outright rejected him. Before coming, Hillary had said there was no direct conflict in interests, so talks were possible.

Hawke said, "The latest FBI reports show those involved in the Russian spy case aren't from BlackRock itself but individuals in management who have seriously harmed Twitter's interests, causing billions in losses to Twitter's Manhattan AI Project. They must be held accountable."

Harvey clarified, "Just a few individuals?"

Hawke bluntly replied, "Management led by Larry Fink and Robert Kapito must bear responsibility for this case."

"I'll convey this to Ms. Hillary," Harvey promised.

"Right now, Pacific Investment Group, Merrill Lynch, and Goldman Sachs are all at the table," Hawke's voice was low but firm, "Tell Ms. Hillary if she wants to negotiate, it has to be in person."

Harvey's face turned serious, "I will report back."

"That settles it," Hawke stood and left the meeting room, with Brian following.

...

Edward escorted Harvey to the elevator. Harvey acted like a trustworthy, honest man. Joining up with his assistant, he quickly left Coastal Building, jumped into the Maybach, and headed back to his Los Angeles residence.

As the divider rose, Harvey pulled out a recorder from his pocket and pressed play. All it played was static. Nothing had been recorded.

His face instantly turned sour, contorted like a red soccer ball. He glanced back at the retreating Coastal Building.

These guys were too cautious, much different from traditional politicians. Many politicians he knew openly used ordinary home computers for secret emails.

Not long ago, Harvey met a friend in Washington who shared an amusing story that some members of George Walker Bush's cabinet had set up a group chat on Twitter to discuss Iraq security issues - a national matter treated so casually?

Harvey thought his company's board meetings were far more secure than these top government officials'.

Back at his Beverly Hills villa, Harvey locked himself in the study and called Hillary Clinton, briefing her in detail.

...

In Washington, in the north wing of the Capitol, Hillary Clinton hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair, contemplating the BlackRock matter seriously.

With the greed and ruthlessness of politicians, a good opportunity presented had to be seized.

Especially considering her daughter lacked political savvy. After marrying in, maintaining status required capital support.

Hillary's priority was not to protect the BlackRock management led by Larry Fink and Robert Kapito but to maximize her own interests.

Pushing aggressively into a case unrelated to her came with risks, considering Goldman Sachs and Merrill Lynch's positions.

Hillary made her decision, picked up the phone, and called the number Harvey had left. When answered, she smiled, "Hello, Mr. Hawke Osment, this is Hillary Clinton..."

---

In South Los Angeles, the predominantly African American neighborhood of Compton,

An old van pulled onto Caldwell Street, stopping in front of the Black Cat Club.

DaShawn picked up a rainbow-colored wig from an empty seat and put it on his head.

Red heels were thrown over from behind, and Carter said, "If you're wearing fishnet stockings, how can you not wear red heels?"

DaShawn, wearing fake breasts and a brightly colored short skirt over fishnet stockings, kicked off his sneakers and stepped into the heels. Touching the stubble on his cheek, he said, "How do I look?"

The driver, Tyrone, scrutinized him seriously, "Not bad, fits our artistic style."

DaShawn, who was already so ugly he was like a living art piece, looked even more surreal with pink lipstick and eyeshadow. He looked like he could be placed in a church and hung on a cross.

No, he could kick Morgan Freeman off and become God in Paris.

Carter, having also finished dressing, sported a masculine queer look, the opposite of DaShawn.

DaShawn reminded him, "Remember, psychologically you are female."

Carter repeated like a mantra, "I look like a man, but my self-identity is female."

"Let's go." DaShawn opened the car door and stepped out. His heels clicked precariously as he nearly stumbled, grabbing the door for balance. Wearing the bright skirt and black fishnet stockings, he swayed toward the Black Cat bar.

Carter pinched a big metal ring on his nose, feeling like a bull, and followed along with his dreadlocks.

...

At the bar entrance, two effeminate doormen looked at their costumes but said nothing, opening the door for them.

Inside Black Cat bar, their once eye-catching outfits blended in naturally.

The bar was full of all sorts of strange characters and creatures.

There was a young African American man dressed in a suit but wearing pink high heels.

An elderly African American man in a white lace wedding gown.

And a woman wearing a torn cardboard box, looking like someone trapped inside it.

*****

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