Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Tristan's new personal assistant was named Lancelot Petand by his parents, but at their first meeting, asked to call him "Lenny". Neither name suited the 28-years-old man much. He was too average for Lancelot, but too put-together for Lenny.

Clearly, the man had to choose the lesser of two evils.

When Derek introduced Lenny to Tristan for an interview, he said that Lenny was a great worker, but too prideful to accept being mistreated, and it was the reason Lenny left all his previous jobs as personal assistant.

Tristan didn't see it as a flaw, and ended up hiring the man.

So far, Lenny did his job assisting and coordinating Tristan's schedule even better than Derek did, since he was focused only on it. He lacked Derek's emotional warmth, but was professional, responsible, and able to predict Tristan's needs to an extent.

So much so that Tristan wished Lenny could help with his criminal business schedule as well. But it was impossible.

***

Two weeks later.

"Should I wait for you in a car, or pick you up at a specific time, Mr. Gemello?" Lenny asked when they stopped near a mansion.

The sky was already dark, but the place's walls were lit up with electrical lights. More lights shone on the trees planted around the perfectly cut lawn.

That was the place where the charity gala happened today. Near Tristan, other cars drove near, stopping to let out their passengers near the entrance and driving off to the parking lot.

All those cars were sleek and expensive. Many were sports cars—showy, but absolutely impractical in the city.

Tristan's car fit with them. Sleek, black, shiny. It cost him as much as the ticket… and still was one of the cheapest cars around. Not so cheap to stand out, though.

He elegantly stepped out of it, letting his fingers brush the pristine paint before he closed the door.

"I don't know how long I will be here, Lenny. I will make a call when I will need you to pick me up."

"Alright, Mr. Gemello. Have a good evening."

Lenny nodded and drove off.

Tristan went inside the building alongside other gathering guests.

***

A butler brought Tristan inside a large ballroom, where people were already mingling and drinking. Men in black suits told jokes to women in colorful dresses, and waiters flitted around with snacks.

At the side, there were several large donation bins, with the fullest one standing near the entrance.

Tristan threw several prepared hundred-dollar bills in it as he entered. Everybody else was doing the same—it'd be rude to not give anything to charity even if his ticket already cost a lot.

His appearance caught several pairs of eyes, although Tristan wasn't actively gathering attention. He was just too good-looking to miss so easily, even as he simply walked along the wall, taking in the sights.

Tristan spotted several celebrities in the room, politicians, and plenty of other, less known people.

And then—them.

Chief of Police and Assistant Chief, keeping close to each other like they were on a battlefield and needed their backs covered. There was a bond of old friendship between them that Tristan didn't need any talents to see.

They were talking with an old man who was constantly sniffing loudly, as if he had a cold.

Despite that, the man looked important.

Tristan glanced around until his eyes met those of a blonde socialite woman, who was chatting with a pair of similar-looking socialite friends. Instead of looking away, Tristan held the gaze with a slight smile until she moved away from her existing conversation to approach Tristan instead.

His smile widened, and he greeted the woman with fake warmth. Behind her, the woman's friends watched with visible envy before approaching, too. They mellowed when Tristan smiled at them as well.

In five minutes, the girls thought they and Tristan were almost friends, and were eager to tell Tristan all the latest gossip and who all the guests were.

They were very knowledgeable in gossip.

'Probably the only thing those empty-headed chickens are knowledgeable about.'

The sneezing man turned out to be the assistant of the Mayor of Los Angeles.

"This is a charity for children, but the police always ask for more donations for itself!" Gossiper One complained.

"Uh-uh. Why would they even need them, when they take all those bribes, anyway? They are useless. Instead of paying the police, we should hire more private security. Now those are strong, dependable men… Like you." Gossiper Two shamelessly batted her eyelashes at Tristan.

He was too amused by her words to pay attention.

'Wow, this turned political very suddenly,' Tristan thought.

"But do you know if the Chief of Police ACTUALLY takes any bribes himself, ladies?" he asked.

They exchanged looks.

"Of course he is. They all are."

"Well… Maybe others, but he's pretty honest, no? I remember him being angry with that guy—"

"Who had been outed for 'partying' too hard? In the wrong places. With wrong people. If you know what I mean, Tristan—it was all hush-hush, anyway. It's very uncouth to spread rumors like these!"

"Just disgusting. He was doing children. Children!"

"It's a good thing the Chief didn't take the bribe. That'd take the last of my trust in the police."

"But the court only took him away for five years, anyway… There's no justice."

Tristan nodded, absorbing the information. It was so easy to get these three talking—he only needed to ask and smile and they were overflowing with information.

He could also tell when they were embellishing or outright lying for the sake of a story. As far as these three knew, there was no proof that the Chief of Police took bribes, although one of them certainly wanted him to.

"Thank you, ladies. Do you think he's actually the only honest cop in the entire LAPD? He seems to be close with his assistant. I'd say that if the Chief is honest, then the assistant should be, too."

The girls exchanged more looks.

The bonds of the relationship between them were bright and friendly. They were almost sisters—they could tell what the other was thinking.

"Well…" Gossiper Three began.