hollywood entertainment mogul

Back at the bar, Duca told Gutierrez at the door not to let Andrew in unless he changed his clothes and washed his hair.

"Yessir, promise to complete the task."

Javier, who was standing nearby, suddenly shouted loudly.

"Are you going crazy?!"

Duca picked his ears.

"Hey, boss, if I speak louder, don't I show respect for you? Just leave the matter to me, and I promise to do it properly."

Javier said, patting his chest.

"Okay, then you come."

Duca walked into the bar with his ears picked out.

After Duca entered, Javier smiled and winked at Gutierrez.

"boring!"

Gutierrez curled his lips and walked into the bar to patrol with his hands behind his back.

The business of the bar this year is much better than last year. At two or three o'clock in the afternoon, customers come to drink and chat, and there are also people working here with computers.

There are also four tables of people playing golf and cards in the billiards and card rooms upstairs.

The bar business is gradually getting better, and the monthly revenue is getting higher and higher. The total revenue in January reached 330,000 US dollars, almost double the same period last year.

Arriving at the bar, Cardoso, Michael Marco and several other waiters gathered around to chat after finishing their work.

"What are you talking about?"

Duca walked into the bar and asked.

"Talk about work."

Michael sat up and said, "I've been very confused recently. I came to Hollywood when I was 20 years old and this is my fifth, no, sixth year. I don't know if I should stick to it or go home early to get married and have children."

"I think Michael should go back. 26 is not a young age, and he is not a professional actor. There is not much point in persisting."

Marco brushed his bangs and said.

"I object. Michael came to Hollywood to act before he finished college. Now he can't do anything except acting and serving dishes and pouring wine. It would be better to stay in Hollywood to do other jobs.

Maybe there will be opportunities to become famous in the future."

Cardoso was lying on the bar, as if he had no bones in his body.

"What they said makes sense. This is where I struggle. Boss, what do you think?"

Michael asked.

Duka thought for a moment and shook his head,

"Go back or stay. Only you can answer this question. Do you want to go back?"

"No, my family is in a small city in Arkansas. The pace of life there is very slow. It's the same life every day. It's monotonous and boring. It's not like Los Angeles. There are Sunny Beach, Sunset Strip, Hollywood Studios, and...

..”

"Hot chicks in droves, right?"

Marco raised his eyebrows.

"There are also cheap restaurants, lively bars, and a nightlife that never ends as long as you don't sleep."

Cardoso chuckled.

"Yes, what you said is correct. This is why I don't want to leave Los Angeles. I feel alive in Los Angeles. After going home for a week, I can't see a way out at all."

Michael shrugged.

Duca smiled and said, "Samuel Jackson, have you ever seen him?" When filming "Reservoir Dogs" last time, Michael also had a small role in the crew, playing the role of a policeman who was shot back by Mr. Pink.

[To be honest, I have been using Yeguo to read and catch up on books recently. I can switch sources and read aloud with many sounds. www. Android and Apple are available.]

"I met you once."

Michael thought for a moment and said.

Duca told him about Samuel Jackson's life experience. He entered the entertainment industry in his 20s, and it was not until the age of 48 last year that he got a small supporting role that lasted more than 5 minutes in "Reservoir Dogs".

"Compared to him, your persistence is nothing. At the recent Sundance Film Festival, director Spike Lee took a fancy to his performance in "Reservoir Dogs" and invited him to star in the new film "Jungle Fever"

He plays an important supporting role here, and he will definitely get better and better in the industry in the future. You can learn from him."

Duca said.

Michael nodded, "You are right, I should stick to it and not think too much."

"But don't you ignore your family's urgings for you to get married?"

Marco asked.

"There are so many beauties in Los Angeles, why can't I find one here?"

"Haha, I want to find one too."

A few people chatted happily for a while, and when the guests came, they took the wine list to greet the guests.

Duka shook his head and glanced at Tony who was washing fruits in the pool.

"Tony, is your visa ready?"

"Hey, I got it. I got it at the end of January, and it only cost less than 2,000 US dollars in handling fees."

Tony grinned with white teeth.

This guy made six thousand dollars last year. With the money, he solved the problem of illegal worker status. Duca helped him contact the Edward Lombard Law Firm.

Tony chose the slower process and took more than four months to get his visa.

"Just get it. By the way, I think I want to give you a salary increase?"

Duca frowned slightly, a little unhappy.

"Haha, boss, don't worry, I'm very satisfied with my current salary."

Tony grinned.

Duca shook his head. If you have a work visa, you need to pay a tax. According to regulations, his hourly wage cannot be too low, otherwise it will become exploitation. This is also the reason why many illegal workers do not want to apply for a visa. With a visa, it is easy to be transferred to the original job.

Dismissal from the unit.

"Boss, are we still hiring people in our bar?"

Tony asked.

"Do you want to introduce someone you know?"

Duca asked as he cleaned the wine glass.

"Yes, my girlfriend doesn't have a job yet. She came from Nicaragua like me and hasn't gotten a visa yet."

"Go and ask Jasmine. The business on the second floor is good now. We need to add a few more waiters."

"Okay, I'll be there in a moment."

Tony chuckled.

Duca curled his lips, this guy had a job and a girlfriend, and his life was more beautiful than Michael's.

"Hey Duca, give me a glass of whiskey."

An old man with gray hair came to the bar. He was in his sixties, with a round belly, a slightly chubby figure, and a wide-brimmed sun hat. He looked like a western cowboy.

This person is none other than Coach Matthew Foster, whom I haven’t seen for a long time.

"Matthew, why do you have time to come here to drink?"

Duca took out a bottle of blue label Johnnie Walker whiskey and poured the old man a glass.

"Duka, you haven't gone to the shooting club to practice shooting in two weeks. Are you going to give up shooting?"

Matthew Foster put down his hat and said.

"No, I've been too busy recently and don't have time. I will practice for a few hours on weekends."

Duca also thought about giving up shooting to stop the old man from causing trouble.

But guns are easy to pick up and hard to put down. If one day you can truly put down the gun in your heart, you can almost become a Buddha instantly.

"Well, since you won't give up, let's take a look at this."

Matthew Foster took out a stack of registration forms and pushed them over.

"This is the registration form for the Shooting World Cup. This year's competition will be held in Munich. If you can get a medal in the Shooting World Cup, you will be eligible to advance to next year's Olympic Games.

In addition, you are a newcomer. Before the Olympics, I also think it is necessary for you to participate in a few more games to adapt to the rhythm, atmosphere, and rules of the game. What do you think?"

Matthew Foster laughed.

Duca took a look at the registration materials. The Shooting World Cup is one of the three major international shooting sports events. It is organized by the International Shooting Federation. It was founded in 1907 and is held every four years.

The competition is divided into two groups, men and women. Men have a total of 14 events, including air rifle, pistol, flying saucer, etc.

Each competition brings together experts from all over the world. It is relatively difficult and the gold content of the championship is relatively high.

"Is there no problem with my identity? Will I also get a summons from the Mexican police when I get the gold medal?"

Duca put down the information and asked.

"No problem. According to the information registered on your temporary green card, you immigrated to the United States three years ago. This is also true according to the FBI's internal information."

"oh?"

Duca frowned.

"Haha, look at this. We found a record of training at the Los Angeles Shooting Club in your file. From 1988 to 1991, there is a government stamp here. You can touch it."

Matthew Foster took out another document and placed it on the counter.

This document records in detail how he joined the Los Angeles Shooting Training Club, training data, coaches, assistant coaches and other information.

In the lower corner of this document, there are also the seals of the Immigration Bureau and the Los Angeles Civil Affairs Department.

Duka touched his forehead. This old man was too considerate.

"Haha, there's also the issue of appearance. You don't look like a Mexican at all, no matter your appearance or personality. As long as you don't admit it, who can recognize you? You just need to play with peace of mind and leave the rest to me."

The old man chuckled.

Duka glanced at him, "Do you know something?"

"No, no, I don't know anything."

The old man shook his head repeatedly, and the muscles in his neck made several noises.

"It doesn't matter if I know. I just robbed a gangster's treasury and didn't do anything else."

"Yes, you just robbed... No, no, no, you didn't rob anything. You are a Mexican veteran who retired three years ago and came to the United States to work. Because you showed great talent in shooting

, was invited to join the Los Angeles Shooting Training Club and became a quasi-athlete. Apart from this, there is nothing, am I right Duka?"

Matthew Foster winked and smiled.

"Yes, exactly."

Duca smiled softly and had a drink with this interesting old man.

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