Hollywood:Starting out as an MV director

"Album cover shoot?" Ethan squinted his eyes, scanning Raymond up and down. "A hip-hop music album?"

"Yeah, that's right, buddy." Raymond felt incredibly lucky to have randomly encountered a photographer who matched his taste. "You know, I've been preparing for this day for eight years—twelve lyrics, each one about my experiences, my family, my brothers around me. Wow, I can't wait for them to be played on all the major radio stations."

"That's really cool." Ethan skillfully raised his fist and bumped it with Raymond's.

"Yeah, totally cool." As soon as Raymond finished speaking, his phone suddenly rang. He handed the camera to a nearby underling and answered the call.

The underlings originally intended to hang the camera around their necks for safekeeping, but they suddenly noticed some eye-popping provocative photos on it. They couldn't resist and started flipping through them.

It turns out that when a man's lust takes over, he can learn anything in a very short amount of time. Even though the underling had never used a camera before, he instinctively figured out how to operate it.

He looked at the photos one by one, swallowing hard, while others around him grew curious and gathered around, either tiptoeing or leaning on each other's shoulders to get a look at the racy images on the camera screen.

"Gulp."

Arcadia suddenly noticed that a lot of the Black guys were looking at her with burning eyes.

They weren't like this before!

For a moment, she forgot all about Ethan earlier humiliation and started flaunting her body lines, even occasionally unzipping a bit to reveal some skin.

Meanwhile, Davis, who was standing behind Raymond, felt as if a lush green field had suddenly sprouted on his head. His eyes bulged with anger, but what could one man do to scare off all his companions?

He could only watch as everyone gathered around the camera, arguing heatedly, while he stood there helplessly furious.

At the same time, Raymond was still on the phone with his manager.

"Yasen! I've got some great news." Raymond's voice was thick and rough, with the vibe of an older brother. "An amazing photographer is going to join us! Yeah!"

"Seriously, trust me, his shots are fantastic!"

"You're going to love it. Alright, I'm hanging up!"

Raymond hung up and said to Ethan, "Hey, buddy. Yasen will be flying to New York next week. We'll shoot the music video and cover then, and he'll come meet you."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "No problem. Do I need to prepare anything?"

Raymond waved his hand. "Of course not, buddy. I think you're totally good to go. Just get a few sexy girls, I'll be in the center, and wow, wow, just thinking about it gets me excited."

He was going on and on about it as if the American Dream was just around the corner, but Ethan wasn't that interested. "Alright, can I leave now?"

"Of course!" Raymond handed the wallet on the stool to Ethan. "Buddy, here's your stuff."

Because he only grabbed it by one side, the wallet flipped open under its own weight, revealing a delicate card with a police badge emblem inside a transparent pocket.

Raymond froze for a moment, then took a closer look at the wallet.

Sure enough, it matched what he remembered.

This was a membership card given by the local New York police to all regular donors, and it was said to have three levels: junior, intermediate, and senior. The junior level had a silver badge, and the card Raymond had seen before looked exactly like the one in front of him now.

And the owner of that card was a Black singer he admired, who had it displayed in his car.

Damn it!

Raymond was instantly furious. He turned and pressed the wallet against his brother's face, shielding him with his body, and whispered angrily in his ear, "Damn it, look at what you've gotten yourself into! He has connections with the police! He's not just some regular guy! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Davis was a bit confused, his voice revealing his panic. "W-what should I do?"

"Leave it to me, kid!" Raymond gripped his brother's shoulder tightly.

Then he walked over to Ethan, put his arm around his shoulder, and kindly slipped the wallet back into Ethan's pocket, patting him on the back with his large hand. "Brother, I want to apologize for my reckless little brother..."

Ethan smirked, surprised that the junior membership card his father had purchased while alive was actually proving useful. At least it could intimidate some people from the rough neighborhoods.

He didn't pay much attention to Raymond's long-winded apology, but he did catch the promise of a higher pay rate.

Raymond even handed him some cash for today's photo shoot.

Once they confirmed their collaboration, Raymond was all smiles, as if he could already see the Grammy Award within his grasp.

Ethan didn't know what to say. Was this guy destined to become some famous rapper in the future? Where did all this confidence come from? Then again, it made sense. People like this often had a narrow perspective, thinking success was easy—just throw on a gold chain, spit some rap, and they'd have a ton of fans and money, reaching the peak of their lives.

But they often forgot their actual level of talent.

That wasn't Ethan's concern, though. He was just a photographer getting paid for the job, aiming to make the album cover as eye-catching and explosive as possible.

After agreeing on the schedule and exchanging contact information,Ethan took his camera back from the group of excited Black guys, who now looked at him completely differently.

It was as if they were gazing at some sort of authoritative mentor, their eyes filled with excitement and admiration. Clearly, they had been deeply impressed by his photography skills.

Ethan remained calm and composed; he had seen those looks countless times in his previous life. At his level, people came to him—girls would beg him to shoot them.

Because being photographed by him was an honor! Enthusiasts would see any girl he photographed as the new "Tang Girl," and her pictures would be widely circulated.

But that was all in the past.

Ethan walked back to the white neighborhood in the cool evening breeze. As he reached his house, he heard his mother's voice inside.

"Regias! Stop it! I told you to stop! Don't make a mess on the floor!"

"Luis! You too, stop messing with your brother's guitar, or he'll come back and beat you!"

It was the same as always—Ethan's family was constantly lively, though it gave his mother, Carmella, a headache.

"Ding-a-ling!" The doorbell rang as Ethan pushed open the door and walked into the living room. "I'm back."

"Brother!" Regias, who had been rolling on the floor, quickly stopped and stood up to greet him.

Luis, on the other hand, put his hands behind his back, pretending nothing was wrong while casting a sideways glance at his brother.

Ethan didn't scold the two little guys. He simply reached out to pat their heads, letting them happily continue playing, and then walked into the kitchen.

His mother, Carmella, was busy at the stove. "Why are you home so early today? Finished with work?"

"No, not yet, but I have a job next week."

Ethan grabbed an orange and started peeling it, slowly tearing off the white pith as he explained to his mother, "I'm going to shoot an album cover."

"An album?" Carmella turned around, placing a frying pan on the kitchen island, and started washing a big bag of vegetables bought with welfare money. She picked through them as she asked, "What, are you going to shoot a photo album for some big-chested celebrity? My great photographer."

She knew exactly what her son usually did for work—Ethan never hid anything from her.

"No, it's for music. A music album."

"Thank God! Finally, not some nude magazine shoot." Carmella clasped her hands together in prayer.

Ethan shrugged, a slight smile on his lips. "Nude magazines pay well, Carmella."

"You and your father are two peas in a pod, Ethan. When he was trading stocks, he used to say the same thing, but look where that got him—dead and leaving us with a mountain of debt. Now his wife and kids are stuck in the slums." Though her words carried some complaint, Carmella was smiling as she spoke.

Ethan knew his father had also made his fortune through shady avenues. After all, in those days, it was hard for a Chinese person to rise above their low social status. Hard work could make money, but not the kind of money that would change your life.

"Don't worry. I won't follow in Dad's footsteps."

Ethan reassured his mother as he ate the orange, suddenly recalling the citrusy scent he had smelled on Scarlett's body, the same scent of her body wash.

He brought the orange to his nose and took a soft sniff.

Mmm... It smelled really good.