A yellow taxi stopped next to a four-story building on Hollywood Boulevard. After paying the fare, Matthew stepped out and glanced at his phone. Still plenty of time. He walked unhurriedly toward the building. The most eye-catching thing at the entrance was a red-painted penguin sculpture. Above the penguin hung a modest brass plaque, etched in bold black letters—
Red Penguin Services Inc.
Matthew recalled the relevant information and strode into the building. A pretty receptionist approached the front desk. Just as she was about to greet him, she recognized his face and stopped.
"Hi…" Matthew waved casually. "I have an appointment with Mr. Lister."
She didn't stop him, just nodded and said, "He should be in his office."
Matthew walked up the stairs and quickly found an office on the third floor. He knocked lightly, and after hearing a "Come in," pushed the door open.
"There he is, our big movie star!"
A mocking voice rang out. "Big star! You must've made bank. Ready to throw a wild party, huh?"
There were three people in the office: a bald Black man, a fat guy, and a tall, thin middle-aged man. The Black man had particularly small eyes that always looked half-closed.
"Made a fortune, huh?" the fat man sneered. "When does your film premiere? Let us know—we'll be there to support you!"
"No need to thank us!" the bald man added, chuckling. "Just give us free tickets!"
At this, he burst out laughing, slapping the desk as if he'd heard the funniest thing in the world. The fat guy laughed too. Even the tall, thin man, though silent, smiled.
Matthew ignored the two jokers and respectfully approached the tall man's desk.
"Mr. Lister, I'm here."
Lister nodded. "Mm."
"I really regret not listening to you before," Matthew said earnestly. "I got burned badly. I'm seriously regretting it and hoping you can give me another chance."
"Young people…" Lister drawled. "You've got to learn from experience."
Matthew nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir."
"And keep your feet on the ground."
"Yes, sir."
Seeing Matthew so humble, Lister was pleased. "You worked hard before. Now the stock market's booming, and those bastards all quit to day-trade. We're short on drivers. I'll give you another shot."
"Thank you!" Matthew knew that was the real reason. "I'll work hard!"
Lister pulled two forms from his drawer, marked a few places with a pen, and made a call. He handed the forms to Matthew. "Go handle the paperwork."
Matthew took them and, relying on memory, headed to the second floor to complete onboarding. With Lister's go-ahead and his past experience, the process took less than half an hour. He returned to the third floor, intending to let Lister know before heading out to find a place to stay and start work the next day.
"No need to wait until tomorrow," Lister said, tossing him a set of car keys. "You start tonight. Any problem?"
Matthew, desperate for work, replied immediately, "No problem!"
Lister handed a stack of papers to him. "We're short-staffed these days…"
"I'm on call 24/7!" Matthew said eagerly.
"Good!" Lister nodded, satisfied. "Tonight, you'll be serving one of our VIP clients—Jonny Lee Miller."
He gave Matthew a few more instructions.
Matthew left the office, bought a cheap bite to eat, and went to the drivers' lounge on the first floor to review the documents. The room was empty—seemed like the driver shortage was real.
He sat down and read carefully. The task wasn't complicated. Jonny Lee Miller was throwing a beach villa party in Malibu—an extreme private party. One man, many women.
Matthew's job was to pick up female models affiliated with the company from various locations around Los Angeles, deliver them to Malibu, and return them the next morning.
As he read, combining it with what he already remembered, Matthew realized what these "models" really were—high-end escorts. Red Penguin Services offered upscale party planning… and apparently, escort services on the side.
The driver shortage wasn't just from stock market fever. This job's nature likely played a role. Who'd want to do this if they had any other options?
But Matthew didn't have that luxury.
After tidying up, he went to the underground garage and drove a Ford van onto the road.
At first, he drove cautiously. But as time went on, his confidence grew—the former Matthew's memories felt completely like his own. Anytime he focused, details surfaced effortlessly.
Heading west, Matthew followed the route he planned: first stop—Westwood. Then pick up five others in North Hollywood. Then off to Malibu.
Once in Westwood, the van weaved through side streets and stopped outside a charming two-story home. Matthew sighed at the spacious house.
"One day, I'll live in a place like this…"
He honked.
A few seconds later, a blonde girl in a T-shirt and shorts opened the door and waved through the wrought-iron fence.
"Give me ten minutes!" she shouted.
Matthew rolled down the window and gave her an OK gesture.
Right on time, she came out with a large bag, now dressed sharply. She slid into the front seat beside him.
"Hi! I'm Rachel," she said brightly.
"Matthew."
She had honey-blonde hair, long legs, a tight waist. Compared to the woman he met that morning, she was much more attractive and full of life.
As the van headed toward North Hollywood, Rachel kept chatting.
"You're new?" she asked. "I haven't seen you before."
"I used to do different jobs," Matthew replied vaguely.
He used to handle the lower-end stuff.
Rachel looked him up and down. "Handsome guy like you driving? What a waste!"
"Oh yeah?" Matthew grinned. "I think so too."
They both laughed.
"You ever think of modeling?" she asked. "I know someone who can get you in."
Matthew wasn't interested in that kind of modeling. He shook his head. "Driving suits me better. I'm a seasoned pro—an old hand."
"Pfft." She rolled her eyes. "Can a driver even make enough to live on?"
Matthew stayed quiet. Rachel, sensing she might've gone too far, changed the topic.
They chatted for a while. Matthew gently steered the conversation toward her past. Turns out she'd also come to Hollywood chasing a dream of stardom. But not everyone's Julia Roberts. Somehow, she'd ended up as a "model."
Soon, they arrived in North Hollywood, another nice neighborhood. Matthew picked up five more women. These girls were taller, sexier, heavily made-up—Latina, white, Black, Asian—you name it. Red Penguin really knew how to cater to diverse tastes.
For some reason, Matthew felt the five new girls had a similar vibe to the blonde woman from that morning.
By the time the van reached Malibu's beachside mansion district, the sun was dipping low. The homes here were palatial—even the smallest among them was far beyond anything Matthew could ever dream of affording at his current income.
They entered a private estate. The girls hopped out after getting his number and asking where he'd be waiting.
Following instructions from the gate guards, Matthew turned the van around and parked at a small lot opposite the estate.
Per Red Penguin policy, he had to wait there with the car—just in case.
The sun set. Music from the estate grew louder. Laser lights danced across the night sky—a wild party was starting.
Thinking about the six beautiful girls, Matthew couldn't help but feel a pang of envy.
Knock knock—
Someone rapped on the window. Matthew turned.
A woman wearing a baseball cap and carrying a handbag stood by the car.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
It was a woman's voice.