The Wolf of Los Angeles-Chapter 460: Fuck You, White Trash!

[Chapter 460: Fuck You, White Trash!]

By the roadside, inside a parked business van, Philip stood with his arms crossed, looking warily at the opposite side. Juan was disguised in a flamboyantly colorful outfit, complete with an exaggerated wig and fake mustache, and a pair of prosthetic breasts as large as basketballs that filled out his clothes, making it impossible to recognize his real appearance or figure.

He came prepared: "Philip Wright, your father passed away eight years ago from AIDS due to drug use, leaving your mother and a younger sister with a congenital heart condition. You couldn't afford your sister's medical bills and chose an unconventional path to make money."

Philip's gaze was hostile. "Who are you?"

"Someone who can help you." Juan pulled out an envelope and handed it to Philip. "Honestly, I respect you. Responsible black men like you aren't many."

Philip opened the envelope to find cash inside. Out of admiration and respect for Grant and Franklin, his attitude softened. "What do you want me to do?"

Juan didn't answer immediately but pulled out some documents and photos, handing them to Philip. "Take a look."

Philip opened the file folder. He recognized short sentences and common words, but reading large blocks of text smoothly was beyond someone who had only received a basic education. He struggled through a bit, then set the papers down and picked up the photos. All the photos were hospital-related.

Juan looked at Philip and said, "We've reviewed your sister's medical records. Her condition isn't severe; the surgical success rate is very high. We will cover all her surgery and recovery costs until she's fully healthy."

"Not in San Francisco," Philip, despite being a typical illiterate, was street-smart. "No, she can't stay in the U.S."

He adjusted the prosthetics, then said, "Your help definitely means work for me -- something unusual. If my sister has the surgery in the U.S., could it affect us?"

Juan pointed to the hospital on the documents. "We've made arrangements. The hospital listed is in Japan -- Tokyo Women's Medical University Hospital. They've performed hundreds of similar surgeries with zero failures."

He stated a fact: "If your sister doesn't get treatment soon, as she grows, her life is at risk."

Internal searches on Twitter exposed a person's weaknesses and vulnerabilities online.

Philip wouldn't be hesitating now if he had other choices. After a long pause and unable to refuse, he asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"Fight for your rightful benefits..." Juan said quietly.

---

Atherton, a traditional white neighborhood in San Francisco.

Wealthy whites had long left this old district, and those remaining were mostly ordinary middle-class.

Since several violent incidents involving the mistreatment of African-American suspects erupted, Williams was assigned to patrol this neighborhood.

Like LAPD, SFPD also protected their own; even with many misconducts, Williams was still defended.

Atherton had less than 1% Black residents.

With sirens blaring, a Ford patrol car marked SFPD stopped in front of a standalone wooden house.

Williams, in a dark blue uniform, fully equipped, pushed his sunglasses onto his head. Together with partner Eddie, he got out to speak with a reporting woman.

She accused her husband of domestic abuse; they had a conflict.

Williams could only detain the husband temporarily and told the woman to drive herself back to the station.

...

Nearby, in three different cars, Betty, Elena, and Lareya quietly filmed all the activity from separate angles. Then, several vehicles followed closely.

They had been secretly tailing Williams for two days but found nothing unusual in his work or life.

...

At night, after Williams finished duty and went home, the team withdrew.

Including Juan, everyone gathered at a vacation villa in the North Bay Area.

Campos personally came to San Francisco to command the operation.

Juan reported his contact with Philip and added, "Through an overseas foundation, we contacted Tokyo Women's Medical University Hospital and sent the patient's information to the doctor. They said surgery could be scheduled as soon as she arrives."

Campos ordered, "Book the flight immediately -- get the person to Mexico City, then change identities before heading to Asia."

Philip's sister was his greatest concern and vulnerability.

They couldn't stay in the Americas; their whereabouts had to be kept secret.

This was routine; Juan immediately began arrangements.

...

Elena brought up another target: "Williams is divorced, living alone, 36 years old, a San Francisco native with over 15 years on the force. Due to controversies in cases he's handled, he's still a patrol officer. His first partner was promoted to sergeant and helped transfer him to Atherton, where fewer minorities live."

Lareya added, "In two years here, Williams hasn't been involved in discrimination scandals. On the surface, he's changed. But twice a week, he attends a white bar in Atherton, actually the white supremacist base there."

Campos concluded, "This kind of person rarely changes." Then he asked, "Have you traced his movements?"

Hierro uploaded his digital movement map to Campos' laptop. "Mostly figured it out."

Campos studied it and said, "Observe a few more days. Once Philip is ready, we strike."

This operation had plenty of time; rushing leads to mistakes.

...

Early next morning, the team mobilized again.

Philip's mother and sister flew out of San Francisco to Jakarta, Indonesia, to change their identity before heading to Tokyo.

---

Los Angeles, Beverly Hills.

On the weekend, Hawke sat under a poolside umbrella, reading today's San Francisco Chronicle.

Water splashed as Erica climbed out of the pool, catching the towel Hawke threw her. She dried off and sat on the chair beside him.

She leaned over. "Any juicy news?"

Hawke pointed to the front-page headline: "California Governor Schwarzenegger caught cheating with his nanny; has an illegitimate child."

Erica took the paper, looking at the large photo, confused. "Schwarzenegger has unique tastes."

Hawke sipped water. "A storm is brewing."

Erica knew Hawke and Brian engineered the story. "Will the Schwarzeneggers divorce?"

"Given what we know about Maria Schwarzenegger, probably yes." This was one of their goals.

Erica was puzzled. "If they divorce, Schwarzenegger can pin the insurance matters on Maria and dodge negative publicity."

Hawke chuckled. "That's an advantage, but on the downside, he'd lose his final political support."

...

Hawke's phone rang; Erica handed it to him. It was Fiona.

Hawke answered, "It's me, what's up?"

Fiona said, "I just got word; Gavin Newsom is living with Jennifer Siebel, bought her a mansion. They're very happy; Jennifer feels he might propose anytime."

For politicians, family is essential.

"Got it," Hawke hung up.

...

Erica said, "I don't get it. You nudged things, and now they're actually together?"

"Honestly, I don't get it either. Just a guess. Money and power meet beauty and charm."

Erica tossed aside her towel. "Come on, swim a lap."

Hawke pulled out another phone. "Let me make a call first."

He called Campos to check on the latest plan updates.

Hawke's plan wasn't complex and had previous success.

---

San Francisco, North Bay Area.

In a seaside villa, Jennifer Siebel directed workers installing appliances. The cleaning company followed, preparing to scrub the mansion top to bottom.

Jennifer went to the top floor terrace and gazed at the Golden Gate Bridge and her multimillion-dollar mansion, barely able to keep from laughing.

Exchange a hole for a mansion.

She was a winner.

Compared to the generous, charming, and powerful Gavin Newsom, Harvey Weinstein seemed like a miserly, ugly pig.

As a feminist in America, Jennifer never imagined she could move into a mansion in her name alone, fully furnished.

Unfortunately, she couldn't afford it herself; Gavin would foot the bill.

Jennifer pondered how to earn money. For a moment, she shamelessly thought about marrying Gavin, tricking him into no prenuptial agreement, then divorcing after two years to expose his wealth.

Even as a Hollywood actress known for trading favors for roles, she found this idea disgusting.

No feminist march activist would approve making money that way.

...

Gavin called: "Are you happy with the furniture and appliances?"

"Very," Jennifer said gratefully.

Gavin added, "Don't go back to L.A., stay in San Francisco."

Jennifer hesitated; she had a star dream and invested much in it. Sunk costs mattered. "I need time to think."

"Okay," Gavin offered a compromise, "When the opportunity comes, I'll help bring investors, you star and produce. Make whatever film you want."

Jennifer was speechless.

Gavin soon hung up.

...

Jennifer leaned on the railing, staring at the calm sea, thinking of the struggles and Hollywood. Her thoughts inevitably went to Harvey Weinstein.

Thinking about the greasy fat guy who took advantage of her multiple times without delivering promises made her angry.

Especially trading a hole for this mansion -- the contrast infuriated her.

She considered using Gavin's influence to take down the Weinstein brothers and seek justice.

She heard Gavin would run for governor, then president.

Though in Hollywood, exchanging sex for roles was common, Jennifer knew it wasn't commendable.

Best wait for the right moment.

But when and how to judge that moment? That troubled her.

She thought of Fiona.

She met Gavin thanks to Fiona inviting her back to San Francisco.

...

Without hesitation, Jennifer called Fiona: "I'm setting up my new place in the North Bay. When can you come see it?"

Fiona replied, "I'm already in the North Bay for outreach. Can I come now?"

"Yes, I'll wait outside."

...

In under ten minutes, Fiona drove a Mercedes into Jennifer's yard.

Still workers downstairs; Jennifer took Fiona on a quick tour before heading to the terrace.

The two sat in teak chairs; Jennifer shared her grievances about Harvey Weinstein.

Fiona remembered Jennifer discussing Hollywood's dirt before and after thoughtful consideration said, "Don't bring this up proactively. Gavin's a politician; it could cause unnecessary trouble. Wait for the right time."

She warned, "You told me before these things are common in Hollywood, but without timing, you risk backlash from all of Hollywood."

Jennifer asked, "Right time? What is it?"

Fiona paused then explained quietly, "I shouldn't be telling you, but as a senior member of the FMF, I trust you'll keep this secret."

Jennifer swore, "I promise."

Fiona detailed, "Hollywood is our prime platform. We're building membership and fighting for fair treatment. The FMF plans to take down a major figure soon to highlight female power."

Jennifer's eyes lit up, "Is Harvey Weinstein the target?"

"Not decided," Fiona sighed. "We need solid evidence. Those predators are powerful. Without proof, hard to bring them down."

Jennifer strongly suggested, "Choose Harvey. He's the perfect target."

She bit her lip and said, "I have evidence!"

Fiona feigned surprise, "No kidding?"

Jennifer recounted how she secretly recorded while buying electronics.

Standing in the mansion, tears welled and flowed as she told her story.

Fiona embraced her gently. "He will pay. I swear!"

Jennifer, an actress, was emotional. Wiping tears, she said, "Call me anytime you need."

Fiona vowed, "We're sisters!"

Both women had their motives but at this moment, they were close allies.

---

The slogan "Love is Love" spread widely through media, becoming a symbol among LGBTQ+ groups nationwide within half a month.

Like the rainbow flag, but boosted by the Internet, despite conservative media blocking, their impact in California was significant.

California's mainstream media leaned left and didn't realize who was behind the push.

Leading papers like the Los Angeles Times and San Francisco Chronicle dedicated pages to LGBTQ+ events.

California had become a true swing state, diverse and blended.

Philip, a black man, put down the paper, grabbed his prosthetics, and drove his newly bought used car to an arranged parking spot.

The area was remote; not only were cameras absent, the streetlights had been smashed.

Philip got into the business van where the colorful wig and prosthetic-breasted man awaited.

Looking at the coconut-sized fake chest, then down at his tea cup, Philip asked, "Are we ready?"

Juan opened his laptop, connecting a private chat video to Tokyo Women's Medical University Hospital in Tokyo, Japan.

...

Philip immediately saw his sister lying in a hospital bed and his mother standing beside her.

A week earlier, he had videoed his sister just after surgery.

Now, she was out of ICU and recovering rapidly, smiling and waving to the camera.

The Black woman pointed to the bed. "The surgery succeeded; your sister will recover. They're good people."

The girl, about fifteen, apologized, "Sorry for holding you back. When I'm better, I'll go with you for surgery to change you back."

Philip nodded repeatedly to ease her mind. "Take care and get well."

He couldn't return -- he had taken too many female hormones, causing irreversible changes.

No going back.

But with his sister's health secured and a promise to support her education in Japan, Philip had no doubts.

After some time, the video ended.

...

Philip looked at Juan, resolute: "Tell me what to do and when. I'm ready anytime."

Without hesitation, he said, "My life is yours now."

"Drive to Atherton..." Juan began detailed instructions.

---

Atherton district.

Officer Eddie drove the patrol car with partner Williams starting their daily route.

As wealthy and most of the middle-class left, even this white neighborhood's safety declined.

Poverty not only breeds illness but crime.

They responded to a neighbor dispute, then stopped at a coffee shop where Williams usually bought coffee at shift start.

Eddie got his coffee. "Same as usual?"

"Same," Williams said, rolling down the window.

...

Two cars parked nearby secretly filmed their every move.

Elena estimated distance then spoke into radio, "Move in."

Inside the cafe, an older Black man got up, headed to the door, then suddenly threw it open.

Williams, caught off guard, nearly hit his head on the glass door.

The man shouted before being seen, "Don't block the road, good dog, don't block the road!"

Williams saw the black arm and face, instinctively hand on holster, angrily yelled, "Shut your filthy mouth, bastard!"

The man raised his hands. "Sorry, officer. Didn't see you. Sorry."

But as he lowered his hands, the coffee cup fell, splashing coffee onto himself and Williams.

Williams felt the heat on his shoe and pants, stared at the man, anger boiling, quickly looking for a reason to arrest him.

Eddie, knowing his partner, rushed over, held Williams back. "Calm down, man."

He turned to the man, "Apologize."

The man kept hands high. "Sorry, officer. I didn't mean it. I can pay for it!"

Eddie pressed Williams' arm, "Enough."

Williams removed his hand from the holster. "Kid, behave in Atherton. Don't let me see you again."

"I promise." The man backed away, then suddenly turned, flipping Williams off, shouting loudly, "Fuck you, white trash!"

*****

https://www.patreon.com/Sayonara816.