Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Thirty minutes later.

After dropping the stolen car a block away and some walking, Tristan and Martinez stopped in a dimly lit alleyway in front of a back door of a department store. The store was already closed, and there were no signs of anyone being inside.

"Why are we in this place, Mr. Hayes?" Martinez asked.

Tristan typed and sent a text message, then put away his phone and looked up at him.

"That's the best hiding place for you for the next while. It's not associated with me, so you should be in the clear. You and my own people."

"This store?" Martinez frowned.

Tristan smiled.

"It's owned by locals who agreed to do me this favor. Which is all you need to know for now, Martinez. Rest, heal. I have urgent things to take care of besides helping you out. In the meantime, think long and hard how YOU can help me back."

The door in front of them suddenly opened from the inside. On the other side stood Owen, whose eyes widened at the sight of both Tristan and Martinez.

Seeing no threat, he lowered the gun in his hand and gestured for them to enter. Tristan gestured for Martinez to go in.

"Owen, tell the team to keep an eye on Mr. Martinez, but treat him with respect. Message me if anything else pops up."

"Yes, boss."

Martinez turned to Tristan.

"You… that's what you came to Los Angeles for, really, isn't it? To gather your own allies? I knew this was—" He caught himself. "Well, I'm glad to understand your motives better, Mr. Hayes."

Tristan frowned, but let it pass for now.

Martinez was the kind of man who wore his likes and dislikes on his face. An honest man, in a way. But his loyalties were tighter than surface-level emotions like these, and Tristan could respect that.

In fact, Tristan felt much better about Martinez now than in the past, when the other underboss appeared to be just a contrary old man who spit poison at every opportunity. Humbling him a bit felt nice, even if it wasn't Tristan who did it.

'We still need to have a serious conversation, but it can wait. Good thing that Vargas agreed to give me this place's backrooms to use as a shelter, and on such a short notice. I should repay him somehow.'

Tristan had already told his subordinates to give Vargas some money out of those they all brought to Los Angeles, but Tristan thought about something more like a gift.

Now Tristan's subordinates and Martinez were safely hidden for now, Tristan actually had time to plan his comeback at Whitman and the police.

There was only one small thing to deal with.

Making sure that he felt no weight of anyone's eyes on him, Tristan took off his earing, changing his identity to Gemello again.

Then Tristan left the alleyway and walked in a random direction under the starless night sky and the endless lights of the never-sleeping city. Soon enough, he stumbled upon an empty bench.

He fell onto it, barely checking if the seat was clean, feeling mentally and physically drained.

Tristan pulled out his Gemello phone, turned it on, saw all the missed calls, and sighed.

He had to come up with something believable, or he will never be left alone after this. Actually, he probably won't be left alone, anyway.

Tristan finally called Derek.

It picked almost immediately.

"Mr. Gemello!" the manager's voice was full of immense relief. "My God, are you alright? You just disappeared, and all calls fell through! What happened?"

It was incredibly rare to see the usually collected manager so alarmed. Tristan grimaced.

However, when he spoke, Tristan's voice was light-hearted, as if nothing serious had happened.

"Funny story, that. I had to get away from some rabid fan or maybe a mugger, and got lost in the city after that. Then my phone died on me… But I found the charger now, so it's all cool. Anyway, there weren't any problems with the people from the CYS contest, right? I'm gonna call for a taxi next, go straight to the hotel and crash right into the bed."

On the other side of the call, in a lobby hall of the Orpheum Theater, Derek rubbed his forehead with a long-suffering sigh.

All that time Nelson was leaning over Derek's shoulder and listening to every word he could catch in the still pretty crowded and noisy place.

They both were blissfully unaware of a starting police investigation of a twin murdered just half a kilometer away from this building, but they had other problems.

Now Nelson chortled.

"I told you, Mr. Derek! No way Tris got into REAL trouble. He just knows what he's doing."

Derek moved his head and the phone away from Nelson.

"Mr. Gemello, then we will meet in the hotel. Please, stay away from trouble today. We still have a gala to visit tomorrow, and you know how important it will be for your career. That's the real prize for your efforts."

"Of course. Don't worry, Mr. Derek."

When Tristan ended the call, Derek turned toward Nelson.

"His self-assurance, in a way, only makes me worry more. Because he knows what he's doing, while we don't! No matter how good he is with music, and even in other things, he could still get into an accident, or…"

Derek shook his head.

"And right when his career is really about to start! That song will definitely become a hit in the charts. As soon as Tristan releases his first album, he will become a multimillionaire!"

Nelson grinned.

"Yeah, he's amazing like that. Just listening to his music motivates me to work harder on my own album."

Derek smiled.

"It's so refreshing to see an attitude like yours in our industry, Mr. Mayar… I hope you won't lose it. You and Mr. Gemello make a powerful duo with his forcefulness and your gentleness." Discover stories at мѵʟ

As Derek and Nelson also moved toward their shared hotel, the long day was approaching its end.

But not for Tristan.