[Chapter 5: Playing Hard and Soft]
Meanwhile, on the other side, Charlie was driving with a relaxed expression, not giving any thought to Fox's attitude at all. The young guy in the passenger seat was all excited, waving his hands, "Godfather, this is awesome. We're openly robbing Hollywood big studios."
"Hahaha," Charlie was pleased with the praise. "Do a good job, Mord, and you'll get a fat paycheck. How much can you make hustling on the streets? Remember what I told you last night?"
This guy was one of Lamont's crew.
"Of course, Godfather!" Mord Spencer assured, pounding his chest. "I'm going to threaten Spike Lee hard later. That guy always exploits us Black folks; who would've thought he insults us behind our backs!"
Charlie tempted him, "Good, these guys talk a big game but it's all business underneath. The friendships we've built on the streets are the real deal, not skin color. If you do well this time, you can stick with me and we'll make big money and date movie stars."
"I will, Godfather," Mord trembled with excitement.
Yes, there were definitely talks about discrimination against Black people, and evidence existed. But in reality, it was said by Spike Lee, a Black filmmaker who'd been around Hollywood for years.
Charlie spent a lot of effort trying to heat up the project.
Eventually, he met Alicia. She was hired by a party company, trained not to mess with powerful clients.
From his experiences, Charlie learned she had served celebrities like Will Smith, so he seized the opportunity without hesitation.
Security at the party was tight, but he used various methods to get leverage.
At first, Charlie only wanted to stir trouble with Will Smith during the Independence Day release.
He wasn't afraid to make enemies, but too many enemies wasn't good either.
With Locke refusing to help, Charlie chose to escalate things and drag Spike Lee into it.
Even if he took a slow and steady approach, enemies would appear -- even the good guys couldn't avoid it. That's just society.
Charlie rubbed his hands, ready to go all out.
Before that, Charlie had investigated everyone involved as thoroughly as possible.
Will Smith needed no introduction.
Spike Lee went to college; unlike the typical muscle-headed Black guys, he wasn't very skilled professionally. But he profited a lot as a leading Black figure in Hollywood.
Charlie planned to use recordings and show he had the power to rally some Black people to confront him.
Spike would comply!
...
And just as Charlie thought, after hearing the recordings, Spike Lee angrily opened his door to the unexpected visitors.
On arrival, Mord, following the Godfather's orders, slapped a newspaper article on Spike's chest. "You damn bastard, I know all about what you're doing! I'm reporting this to Kirk, urging our people to get rid of you."
Spike showed a fearful look, imagining hundreds of angry Black folks showing up at his doorstep. If things escalated nationwide, he might have nowhere to hide, barely surviving even with luck.
But he wasn't a fool and sensed a turning point. His face flushed with anger as he glared at Charlie: "Alright, come in and tell me what you want."
Charlie sat on the sofa politely, smiling and putting an arm around Spike's shoulder. "Don't be mad, man, it's all a misunderstanding. You've made it big, many of our people envy and resent you, and some have made unreasonable demands.
I know you don't really discriminate against us; you just got caught up in anger."
Mord timely showed a generous attitude, "That's right, the Godfather said the same to me, so I decided to give you a chance to make it right."
Spike didn't relax. "You're right about some things. But kid, don't try any tricks. I made my first film back in '83--it was my grad thesis at NYU's Tisch School of the Arts. My father, the famous musician Bill Lee, scored it. The film won a student award. I've been in Hollywood over ten years. My influence is beyond what you imagine. Trust me, you can't handle the consequences if I go all out against you!"
Charlie chuckled lightly.
From what he knew, Spike had fallen out with his father over issues like drug use. He was clearly scared; otherwise, he wouldn't have boasted about his achievements.
Still grinning, Charlie showed respect, "Sir, I'm here seeking a business deal, not trouble."
Spike said coldly, "Ten grand, young man. Don't be greedy! Unless you want to die."
Bang!
Charlie's face instantly changed; he slammed the table hard. Mord flinched and quickly played along with a forced grimace.
He'd had enough of these people's disrespect.
Whether Spike was rattled, confused, and mishandling trouble or just disrespecting him, Charlie was genuinely pissed.
When the old man wouldn't cooperate, Charlie revealed his true face -- grinning fiercely with a muscular build, very intimidating.
"Fuck it! Can't you just talk straight? I fought bloody battles on the streets. Do you think I'm scared of threats? I even dared to cross 20th Century Fox! If you keep this attitude, I'm out of here."
"Wait!" Spike said anxiously.
Charlie sat back down, pouting. Such cheap people everywhere -- panic first, curse second to calm down.
He switched back to a polite smile. "That's better. Like I said, I'm here to talk business. Look, I want to invite you to direct a highly anticipated film adapted from my novel Fifty Shades of Gray.
It's a commercial hit waiting to happen."
Spike suspiciously took a paper, scanning the story summary quickly. "You want to ride on Will's fame to hype this? It's hard for anyone to invest in you. Besides, I'm an artist and I won't take on such a trashy kind of film."
Charlie sneered, "Spare me the pretense. It's all business! You say you don't love money? You just make it under a different 'artistic' name. Now's the chance. I've got the market strategy, you've got the directing skills! Follow my lead and Fox will invest."
Charlie had changed plans on the fly since he had seriously pissed off Fox already, so he didn't mind making things more uncomfortable for them.
But Spike was too much for a rookie like Charlie; besides some guts, he couldn't see much hope.
Frowning, Spike said, "Listen, even with your recordings, I won't cross Fox or turn into Will's enemy.
You don't know who's behind Will's breakthrough series The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air -- Benny Medina! A Dominican guy who sold drugs as a teen. He's gay -- or maybe bisexual. Jada and Will both have casual ties to a lot of shady stuff."
Charlie felt a headache coming.
He automatically ignored his own unseen father's similar background.
After a moment's thought, Charlie cracked his neck.
He wasn't scared -- these folks were either legit businessmen or genuine celebrities.
Besides, if they played dirty, he wasn't powerless!
He had loyal friends like Ophir Dawson; if needed, he could call on his father's old comrades.
Wait, he was here to make money, not start a war. Why get all fired up?
Even if Will and others acted reckless, 20th Century Fox would definitely put a stop to it.
Big money wasn't about petty games.
Almost got sidetracked by this guy.
"Old man, you're overthinking. I only want you to skip nominations and use your influence to expose the discrimination against our people. Leave the rest to me. I'll force 20th Century Fox to negotiate. If it works out, we'll get investment and co-produce a major commercial hit. Will's fame will soar, Fox's films will rake in profits -- everyone's happy."
That was Charlie's revised goal.
Though many would hate him afterward, interests would calm the fury. They wouldn't hate him too deeply.
Charlie wasn't brainless or blinded by greed; he had a well-thought-out plan.
Climb fast while avoiding too much trouble.
"I want to know your detailed plan," Spike said cautiously and suspiciously.
Charlie lost patience, "We must hurry. Independence Day opens in a week. I don't want to corner Fox. And you have no choice! Now sign this directing contract."
Minutes later, Spike complied.
*****
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