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Inside the studio, the photographer held his cara, shifting angles nonstop, firing the shutter at perfect little monts. He rapidly advanced the film after each shot, eager for the next.
Aside from the lighting assistants, John Crosby sat in a corner with a well-dressed white man in a sharp suit. The two sipped whiskey while enjoying the show in front of them.
The only noise in the room had been the photographer's commands:
"Look here."
"Look there."
"Move by the window."
"Hands down."
"Raise your arms."
He directed the model with clinical efficiency.
Suddenly, a voice that did not belong to the photographer cut through the room:
"Ohh… so this is what a photo studio looks like. Each room with its own aesthetic. Huh—looks like it's set up for more than still photography. Video wouldn't be a problem either."
"Who the hell are you!?"
The startled photographer spun around to see a stranger standing not far behind him.
"Henry."
Recognizing him, Charlize Theron panicked. Realizing her state of undress, she collapsed into a squat and hugged her legs tightly.
The intrusion sent the studio's hired muscle pouring into the room — big, thick-necked n radiating violence.
Henry, perfectly calm, picked up a bathrobe from a chair and wrapped it over the trembling girl.
John Crosby sprang up, pointing at the man he'd only t once before, shouting:
"Henry, what the hell are you doing!? You're disrupting Charlize's work — do you understand that?"
"Work?"
Henry glanced around with exaggerated curiosity, then chuckled.
"Ohhh… this kind of work."
People loved to preach that nude or semi-nude photography was "art" and shouldn't be stigmatized. But everything outside the cara fra? The "unrecorded portions" challenged human imagination far more than they challenged moral standards.
The suited man finished his whiskey, stood, and eyed Henry with cold amusent.
"Kid, you're not seriously thinking this is so heroic rescue, are you?
"We're a licensed studio doing contracted work. This isn't sothing you just refuse because you feel like it. Want to hear what happens when soone breaks a contract?"
Charlize tried to say sothing, but Henry pressed a hand on her head, keeping her down, shielding her.
He looked at the suited man and the ring of enforcers — so not even bothering to hide the guns tucked into their waistbands.
Super-brain whispered to him that punching everyone here through the walls would be the fastest solution — but fast did not equal smart.
Start with violence once, and you'd never stop.
Henry never wanted to solve problems with his fists.
So he smiled politely.
"I just want to take her with . And… the film with any photos that shouldn't exist. That's all right, isn't it?"
He reached into his pocket and flicked sothing through the air in a perfect, lazy arc.
The suited man caught it with practiced reflexes — and stared.
A Continental Hotel gold coin.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Where did you get this?"
Henry smiled wider.
"One coin, one favor. As far as I know, the rule is that you answer 'yes' or 'no' — no questions asked."
"John called you Henry. Henry what? Surely you're not refusing to give a full na."
"Henry Brown, sir."
The man didn't even need ten seconds. He closed his fist around the coin, pocketed it, and flicked his head toward his n.
Instantly, they stepped aside, parting to form an open path.
Henry lifted Charlize gently, then pointed at the photographer.
"And the film."
Inwardly, he exhaled relief.
Thank God the man recognized the coin.
Otherwise, who knew how ssy this would've beco.
The suited man raised his chin. One of his n imdiately grabbed the cara out of the photographer's hands.
Ignoring the photographer's shrieks, the enforcer popped the back open and yanked the entire strip of film out — completely ruining it.
Even if he had done it gently, the exposed film was finished.
He tossed the ruined film to Henry and shoved the cara back into the photographer's arms.
Henry turned to Charlize.
"Where are your things? Get them. I'll wait. Then we leave."
"Wait!"
John Crosby lunged forward, furious.
"What about today's shoot!? What about the paynt!?
"This job pays more than everything she's done combined! Do you have any idea how much I've invested in her!? I've been waiting forever for a return — of course I'm anxious!"
Henry shook off the man's hand, expression icy.
"I go to the Actor's Guild myself, wait a couple of weeks, and I can land background roles.
"You've managed Charlize for half a year and this—" he pointed around the sleazy room "—is all you've brought her to.
"That tells your abilities go only this far. I think the two of you should part ways peacefully. Stop wasting each other's ti."
"No!" John shouted.
"You think I'm going to agree!? Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
"She's my contracted actress! She does what I tell her — no room for argunt!"
He grabbed Henry by the collar, practically spitting on him.
Henry shielded Charlize behind him and glanced toward the suited man, who'd been watching like he was in a theater.
Henry smiled pleasantly.
"Think you could help with the termination of contract? He seems more afraid of you than of ."
The suited man raised his brows — as if to say not my business.
"One coin, one favor. I let you take the girl and the film, pretend none of this happened. That's the favor. Anything else isn't included."
Henry flicked out another Continental gold coin.
The man snatched it midair with lightning-fast precision. He stared at it and chuckled.
"Either you're bold enough not to pay tribute to the hotel, keeping the coins for yourself…
or you've found so other source of inco."
"Tribute? What's that supposed to an?"
"No one taught you that rule?
Then ask around yourself.
Not my place to explain."
He pocketed the second coin, then asked:
"So, how do you want the contract voided?
My recomndation — if either party ceases to exist, and no one legally inherits the contract, the agreent automatically dissolves.
How's that?"
John's face went sheet-white.
Henry winced.
"Uh… just have him sign a cancellation docunt.
No need to go that far."
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