America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Vogel had drunk just as much as Martin, if not more.

Martin, as if drunk on the spirited vigor, stood up and said, "A man, can't say he can't do it!"

He picked up his glass, unsteady and tilted, and clinked it against Vogel's, "Cheers!"

Vogel was almost at his limit too, and after drinking that glass, he fought the urge to throw up, "A drinking match, we're tied. Let's find another way to prove who's the real man among us!"

With a drunken haze around him, Martin responded, "With women? Not to insult you, but you can't handle it."

That hurt, and a tipsy Vogel jumped up wanting to fight, "Who can't handle it?" He still remembered his purpose and held back, "This is Mexico, let's settle it the Mexican way!"

Since a fight wouldn't solve anything, Vogel raised his voice, "Around here, a real man dares to face a venomous snake head-on. Let's go challenge a venomous snake!"

Blake stretched out his leg and kicked Martin under the table, signaling him to refuse.

Martin still looked like a drunk, but his mind was very clear, guessing what the guy wanted to do.

Leaning on the table, Vogel swayed, "What, are you scared?" His voice suddenly rose, "Hey, guys, listen up! Martin and I are going to prove who's the real man, the Mexican way. Whoever's too chicken to compete admits he's a wuss and won't hit on girls in the crew anymore..."

Martin turned to look at Bruce.

The two shared an unspoken agreement, and Old Cloth, knowing Martin was like a piece of shit trying to stir trouble, nodded slightly.

Martin staggered to his feet and declared, "Let's compete! It's on! Where's that damn snake? I'm going to bust its mouth open!"

Vogel said, "Alright, let's go find a snake!"

Martin saw that Bruce was making a call and tried to stall for time, "Yes, we're going to find a venomous snake, the most poisonous kind. Whoever dares not blow up the snake's mouth is the wuss!"

Blake was disappointed in his idol but still came over to pull him back, "Martin, you're drunk."

"Not drunk, can a drunk guy be this clear headed? I can drink two more bottles!" Typical drunken boasts came out of Martin's mouth.

Vogel, still somewhat clear-headed, was secretly thrilled.

When Martin saw Bruce leave, he called out loudly, "Guys, cheer me on!"

He grabbed Vogel, "Let's go!"

Vogel also grabbed him, "We're off."

Before leaving the banquet hall, Martin grabbed two more bottles of alcohol.

On the way to the parking lot, he opened the bottles and continued to drink with Vogel.

The sea breeze blew, and Vogel was hit hard by the alcohol, not wasting words, the alcohol automatically went down as it reached his mouth.

Martin tossed his bottle into the trash bin, "Let's go!"

Vogel remembered what they were supposed to do and tossed his bottle as well.

Before leaving the hotel, Martin went to the restroom where Bruce and he quickly exchanged a few words.

To prevent Martin from bailing halfway, Vogel called for the crew's bus, waited for the driver to bring it over, then dragged Martin onto the bus, signaling for other onlookers to get on.

There were many who wanted to watch the spectacle.

As for stopping them? The actors in the back couldn't wait for those in front to drop dead.

Blake also got on the bus, tried to persuade him twice, but seeing it was useless, she fell silent.

As the bus left the parking lot, Dallot who had worked with the crew before received a call from Bruce. He summoned a large group of people, got into several off-road vehicles, and followed.

On the bus, Martin kept boasting to Vogel, taking it to cosmic levels.

The bus quickly left the city and arrived at the desert, where everyone got off to help find venomous snakes.

Rick, blending in with the crowd, reached the target area and shouted, "Here! We've got a rattlesnake here!"

Dozens of people swarmed over.

Among them were Dallot and his men.

On the flat, stony ground, a khaki-patterned rattlesnake hid in the crevices between rocks, trembling helplessly upon seeing so many bipedal monsters approaching, only able to pitifully rattle its tail, warning them to keep away.

"Real men, go for it!" a minor actor hidden in the crowd yelled.

Various voices began to rise, "Go on, don't be a wuss! Don't let us look down on you!"

Martin and Vogel stopped about 20 meters away from the rattlesnake.

Vogel grabbed Martin's arm, "Dude, your moment to prove yourself has arrived. Come on, blow that snake to smithereens!"

Martin glanced at the rattlesnake and whispered, "I'm not going."

This was completely unexpected for Vogel, "Are you a damn wuss?"

Martin broke free from Vogel's grip, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him vigorously back and forth, "I'm not going in, I'm damn afraid of snakes!"

He shook Vogel so hard that Vogel's head swayed, and he felt the alcohol hit him, even wanting to vomit.

But Vogel held it in.

As a real man, how could he vomit in front of everyone?

Martin turned and walked back, seeing that Vogel hadn't moved, he shouted, "It's a draw, I didn't lose."

Once he was out of the crowd, a Mexican shouted loudly in English, "Martin is a wuss, and so is Vogel, both are wimps without balls!"

More than a dozen people yelled at Vogel, "Wuss, if you can't handle it, get back here!"

"You can't even do what you suggested, you really bring shame to men!"

"Ball-less waste!"

"You're just a waste!"

It wasn't just shouting, but some people also pulled out cameras and video recorders, starting to film Vogel, "Wuss, give us a good pose, we'll put you on the local newspaper's front page tomorrow!"

People kept goading Vogel.

Blake was surprised that Martin had suddenly changed his mind, followed by a crowd of people mocking Vogel.

At first, only about twenty people were calling him trash.

But soon, under the influence of the herd mentality and the alcohol that made them carefree, the actors from the crew joined in the jeering.

The pressure that had been put on Vogel to influence Martin was now resting entirely on Vogel's shoulders.

Martin had no shame, saying he had none was simply admitting the fact.

Vogel was shameless too, but not to the extent of Martin.

The key point was that the people with cameras and camcorders were wearing passes that made them look like reporters.

Vogel set himself up there, stimulated by the environment, with alcohol fuelling his brain and courage.

He made the decision a real man would make.

Suppressing the urge to vomit that was shaking out of him, Vogel strode toward the rattlesnake: "Watch and learn, you losers, what being a man is all about!"

His father had worked on a snake farm, and he'd caught snakes as a child; he was quite confident.

Approaching the jumble of rocks, hearing the sound of the rattlesnake's tail, Vogel's head suddenly cleared.

"What am I doing? Why am I fighting the rattlesnake? Wasn't this what I'd prepared for Martin Davis?"

With clear-headedness came the inability to suppress the vomit any longer, and Vogel's mouth gaped open as a waterfall of puke poured out.

The repulsive fluid hit the ground and splattered everywhere.

The rattlesnake, trembling with fright, got splattered with vomit on its head and skin.

So disgusting, so humiliating — how could a true male snake bear it?

The rattlesnake shot out like an arrow, biting Vogel's leg in one gulp!

Vogel screamed in agony.

The surrounding onlookers were in uproar.

Vogel shook his leg repeatedly, now truly sober, screaming out, "Help me! Help me! Call a doctor, find a doctor fast!"

Many in the crew were still calculating, wondering if not saving him would give them better opportunities. Would they face one less obstacle on their path to success?

A Mexican that Dallot had brought along pulled out his phone and made an emergency call.

Of course, no one was foolish enough to help Vogel, letting him dance with the venomous snake.

......

Martin kept walking away at an unhurried pace; when things turned chaotic behind him, he looked back briefly, hands in his pockets, walking away from the wasteland.

The SUV provided by the crew was parked at the roadside, with Bruce leaning against the door, gesturing to Martin like a lady seducing customers on the streets of Cabo San Lucas.

In the crowd, Blake looked at Vogel, then at the departing Martin, suddenly understanding something.

Having no interest in watching further, she strode forward with her long legs to catch up with Martin.

Blake was certain, this was the real deal.

Not many noticed Martin had left.

Some even thought Martin, who had backed away at the critical moment, was just a coward.

Blake caught up with him from behind and grabbed his arm, asking, "Are you going back?"

Martin exhaled a breath full of alcohol, "Going back to sleep, to sober up."

Blake thought even the smell of alcohol from the demigod was appealing, fawning over him as if she were a leech: "Let me come with you."

Martin pointed back, "Do you believe that someone among those bastards will report me, and then I'll be in a lot of trouble?"

Blake, who had been a cheerleading captain since the sixth grade with thick-skinned prowess said, "It's fine, I can wait for you till you're 18, it's not far off."

Then Martin suddenly stopped.

Blake asked, "Are you feeling unwell?"

Martin deliberately said, "I feel like throwing up."

Blake opened her small cross-body bag, took out tissues, and also a small bottle of mineral water, standing ready by Martin's side.

Martin was somewhat surprised, asking for her water and took a small sip, "I'm fine now."

Blake passed him a tissue, "Wipe your sweat."

Reaching the car, Bruce looked questioning, and Martin nodded slightly, the three of them all got into the vehicle.

Blake, full of curiosity, didn't ask too much but pondered the ins and outs of the situation.

Her father had told her more than once that the industry was full of conflicts, with a huge base at the bottom and scarce positions at the top, it inevitably led to fierce struggles.

Back at the hotel, Martin sent Blake away and took a shower.

When he came out, Bruce was on the phone.

Once Old Cloth ended the call, Martin asked, "Is the guy dead?"

"No," Bruce said roughly, "Dallot sent someone to follow to the hospital, they asked about that idiot's condition. The rattlesnake had injected very little venom, and with timely medical attention, it won't be life-threatening. Still, snake venom is problematic, he won't be able to avoid lying down for a while, and if he's unlucky, he could even lose a limb."

If Martin had been an impulsive young man, the outcome would have been unimaginable. He said coldly, "Guess he's lucky then."

Bruce actually found it amusing, "I thought he'd capitalize on how alcohol makes people impulsive, planning to have a fight with you, give you a good beating. Never imagined he'd use alcohol to spur you into messing with a venomous snake."

He added, "This is Mexico, not Los Angeles. If you had actually been bitten in that situation, he wouldn't have been in much trouble."

Martin flatly said, "Old Cloth, get me a black mamba, throw it in his hospital room."

"Buddy, we're in the entertainment business now!" Bruce reminded Martin this time, "You can't go around using uncivilized methods!"