Chapter 16: The Film Goes Viral
Nearly a month had passed since William successfully borrowed one million dollars from Katya's father.
Although her father had insisted from the beginning on not signing a contract, William wasn't reckless enough to do business with mob money on nothing but a handshake. In the end, with Katya stepping in as mediator, the two sides signed a formal loan agreement.
At the same time, the bank approved a loan of $350,000.
Add to that the $100,000 advance payment from Vivid Entertainment.
William now had $1.45 million in cash on hand.
To keep daily filming operations running smoothly, he set aside $50,000 as working capital. The remaining $1.4 million was handed to Katya, who invested it in a long position on the Nikkei Index, using the highest leverage an ordinary investor could access—16× leverage.
If William's math was right, by December this money would more than double.
That meant it would provide $5 million in capital for shorting the Nikkei Index the following year.
Granted, to real financial tycoons, this amount was pocket change.
But for William, it was more than enough.
He wasn't trading stocks to get rich for the sake of it—
he was trading stocks to fund his films.
It wasn't obsession.
It was survival.
In America, being merely rich meant one thing: sooner or later, you'd be stripped clean.
To protect yourself, money alone wasn't enough.
You needed fame, and more importantly—power.
Cash meant nothing.
Industries were what truly kept you standing.
If you ran a company that fed a few thousand people, the governor and mayor treated you politely.
Feed tens of thousands, and they'd treat you like a father.
Feed hundreds of thousands—
—you became the King of California.
Because of this, William hadn't just been shooting new films nonstop during this period. He had also recruited a large number of newcomers.
Drawing on his past-life experience, he began applying a factory-style production pipeline from the San Fernando Valley, pushing it to its limits in this era.
At present, he already had three separate crews filming this specific genre.
Over the course of the month, several films had been completed.
But he didn't rush to sell them.
Because American Soldier's Wife and the Black Neighbor hadn't exploded yet.
The day it went viral would be the day these stockpiled films could fetch their highest possible price.
And today—
after a full month of fermentation—
American Soldier's Wife and the Black Neighbor
finally began to erupt.
Crenshaw.
Inside a small house.
Smoke filled the air.
Two Black men were sprawled across the couch, lazily killing time, their posture loose and indulgent.
If a DEA agent had walked in at that moment, the two of them would've been hauled straight to jail.
But this was America in that era—
and enforcement in this area wasn't exactly strict.
Just then, the door was kicked open.
A Black guy wearing an oversized T-shirt, a thick gold chain, and a baseball cap barged in.
"What the hell are you two bitches doing?"
"Holy shit—got good stuff and didn't call me? No loyalty, motherfuckers!"
"And here I was, being nice enough to bring you something good!"
"Shut up," one of the guys on the couch snapped.
"What the hell could you bring that's any good? Quit talking bullshit."
Clearly, neither of them believed a gold-chain idiot had anything worth sharing.
"Heh. Look at you clowns, underestimating me," the guy sneered.
"Listen up—this thing's hot as hell right now. I swiped it from Nick. That dude treats this shit like treasure."
He pulled out a VHS tape.
American Soldier's Wife and the Black Neighbor
"What the hell is this?"
"Man, is this a joke?"
The two on the couch burst out laughing.
"Talking to you tasteless idiots is pointless," the guy cursed.
"Dumbasses."
Ignoring them, he shoved the tape into the VCR and hit play.
The screen flickered to life.
A luxurious, white suburban home appeared.
Then a housewife-style woman saying goodbye to her husband, who was dressed in military uniform.
"What the fuck is this?"
"Are you insane? Watching some white-trash movie?"
The two couch guys were already annoyed.
"Shut your nasty mouths and keep watching!"
"This is buildup, idiots! Buildup! This is art!"
He snapped at them again.
Reluctantly, the two settled down and kept watching.
When the Black neighbor finally appeared on screen, their interest visibly shifted.
"God damn it! Now this is more like it!"
"Black man—fight! Fight! Fight!"
The moment the white woman and Black man shared the screen, all three of them exploded with excitement, jumping up and shouting at the TV.
"Wait—hold up!"
"I know that bitch!"
One of them suddenly pointed at the screen.
"I've seen her on Eighteenth Street Gang territory!"
"Holy shit—I remember now!"
"That's Nancy! Motherfucker, I didn't know she was this hot!"
"Yo, wanna go tonight?"
"I think she's been hanging around the Valley. What was the club's name again?"
Before he could finish—
Smack.
A hard slap landed on the back of his head.
At some point, another person had entered the room.
Also Black—but bigger than the other three.
"Blazing Paradise, motherfucker," he snarled.
"You stupid pigs. You actually dared steal my shit?"
Fuming, he grabbed the remote, stopped the tape, and yanked it out of the VCR.
Nick held the VHS in his hand.
"Man, relax," one of them said defensively.
"I wasn't not gonna return it."
"Do you have any idea what this thing is worth right now, dumbass?"
Nick stepped right up into his face.
"Three hundred dollars a copy!"
"Moron! If anyone else saw it, I guarantee you wouldn't have this tape for even a minute!"
"Shit… it's already worth that much?"
The room filled with amazed muttering.
Nick smirked.
"Hey—you three wanna head to the Valley tonight?"
"What's on TV is still just TV."
"Word is, tonight's Nancy's solo show."
"Cool, I'm down," someone said.
"But isn't that Eighteenth Street territory? Won't we get in trouble?"
Nick scoffed.
"Why are you so damn stupid?"
"No one said you had to wear your colors, Black man!"
"Use your brain—we're paying customers. Those tacos ain't got a reason to turn us away."
---
At the same time — Blazing Paradise
Since it was still daytime, the club hadn't opened yet.
A short, stocky Mexican man sat on a sofa.
One of his underlings leaned in.
"Boss, you should take a look at this."
He handed over a VHS tape.
It was Nancy's film.
José glanced at it, then waved his hand.
The underling slid the tape into the player.
After the video finished playing, José finally spoke.
"What is this?"
"You dragged me here just to watch Valley porn?"
"Boss… didn't you notice?"
"The woman in this movie—she works at our place."