*Chapter 244: Do You Need Service?*

Vroom, vroom, vroom~

In the Bastille district of Paris, a red compact car deftly outmaneuvered several pursuing police cars and turned into a narrow alleyway.

“Marie!” Bourne called out as he expertly navigated the small car, eyes focused on the road ahead.

“What?” Marie asked anxiously, gripping the car's handle tightly.

“We’re about to get bumped around a bit,” Bourne warned, stepping on the gas as a steep set of stairs appeared ahead. The car sped down the steps, bouncing violently.

Marie screamed from the passenger seat.

Thud, thud, thud~

The car rattled down the stairs and landed on a flat street. Behind them, the police cars quickly resumed their pursuit.

Bourne kept driving, swerving in and out of oncoming traffic, executing a few slick drifts before coming to a halt at the corner.

“Cut!”

“Richard, great job!” the stunt coordinator’s voice crackled through the earpiece.

“Thanks. How long until the next shot?” Richard asked, thinking for a moment.

“About half an hour. It rained last night, so the roads are slippery, which is slowing things down a bit.”

“Alright then.”

This scene required not only filming the car chase but also capturing the collision and rollover sequences, so they had to pause between shots. After completing his part, they moved on to shoot other angles.

“Richard, you drive like a madman! Those stairs were so high—weren’t you afraid of flipping the car?” Franka laughed.

“No worries. I tested it out beforehand, and the director’s team did some measurements. They wouldn’t let us do anything too dangerous,” Richard said with a yawn.

“You look pretty tired. Is it from all the training?” Franka handed him a bottle of water.

“Yeah, mostly. But last night there was a thunderstorm. I woke up in the middle of the night to watch the rain, so I didn’t get enough sleep,” Richard replied, taking a sip and using the bottle to prop up his back.

“Got up in the middle of the night to watch the rain? I didn’t know you were such a romantic,” Franka teased.

“I am an artist at heart, you know?”

“Ha! How does a boxing champion have anything to do with being an artist?” Franka laughed, covering her mouth.

“Why can’t a champion be artistic? I write poems with my fists, paint with my punches, and express love through my fighting. Sure, my style of art is a bit rough, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m an artist at heart,” Richard said, shaking his fist with a grin.

“Alright, alright, you’re an artist for sure,” Franka burst out laughing.

Richard smiled faintly and leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes.

Last night, he spent over two hours rehearsing with Monica, while a thunderstorm raged outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. They rehearsed scenes from Irreversible, moving from one room to another. The scenes were challenging, requiring intense emotional outbursts to truly captivate and move the audience. Richard had never tackled such a demanding role before.

He could only improvise and perform with all his might, almost like fighting in a boxing match. They rehearsed until Monica’s voice became hoarse, and she couldn’t deliver her lines anymore. That’s when they finally called it a night.

He had hoped to be fully recharged after a night’s sleep, but when he woke up, Monica wanted to rehearse again, so they ran through the scenes one more time.

Afterward, he went for a run and then headed to the set to continue filming.

The constant car chases and intense scenes had kept him on edge, highly energized. But now, with a sudden break, sleepiness crept in.

He drifted off, only to be woken up sometime later.

“Richard, time to shoot,” Franka said, nudging his shoulder and handing him a cup of coffee. “Drink this, it’ll wake you up!”

“Thanks,” Richard said, accepting the coffee.

“No problem. I’m just looking out for myself. If you’re this tired and crash the car, I’ll get hurt too,” Franka joked.

“You’re absolutely right,” Richard replied with a smile.

Richard smiled, finished his coffee, and headed over to the steel bars under the bridge, where he did several dozen pull-ups.

Once he was done, he continued filming the car chase scenes.

The shoot was divided into three parts, with two identical red cars being used. Richard drove one, while the stunt driver handled the other. The more dangerous stunts were left to the professional stunt driver to avoid any injuries that could disrupt the production.

The insurance company working with the production also advised against Richard taking on risky stunts. Richard had taken out a multi-million-dollar personal safety insurance policy, so any accident could lead to significant payouts from the insurance company.

By noon, Richard took a one-hour nap, which recharged him. In the afternoon, they resumed shooting the car chase scenes on the streets.

That evening, Richard headed to the boxing gym for training. He did three hours of intense workouts, including jump rope, weightlifting, pull-ups, and offense-defense drills, leaving him drenched in sweat.

"How's the training going, Richard?" Andy asked as he walked over.

"Not bad. What brings you here?" Richard replied, wiping off his sweat.

"I'm here to discuss some business deals. You have an upcoming fight in Paris, and three companies have submitted partnership proposals. I came to check them out," Andy said with a smile.

Richard nodded, "Besides Paris, where else?"

"The confirmed cities so far are London, Berlin, and Tokyo. We've also received partnership proposals from sports promotion companies in Moscow, Guangzhou, Sydney, and Copenhagen. However, their revenue-sharing and promotional plans aren't up to our standards. If they present more favorable terms before the fight, we'll consider them. If not, we'll keep it domestic," Andy explained.

"Alright, I'll leave it to you," Richard said.

After eating a nutritious meal, Richard lay on the massage table as the masseuse worked on his muscles.

"By the way, Paul mentioned he wanted to fight Hasim Rahman. How's that going?" Richard asked, lying on the table.

"Haha, Rahman turned it down. He's scheduled to fight Lennox Lewis in mid-November. Typically, when a champion loses the belt, a rematch is arranged—what they call a revenge match. Sometimes, the second fight gets more attention than the first, like your rematch with Roy Jones," Andy said. "But the company has set up another fight for Paul. His opponent is former WBU heavyweight champion Shannon Briggs. They're both from New York, similar in height and weight, and both are hard-hitting punchers with similar styles.

A lot of people want to see them go head-to-head, so we've arranged a match. If Paul can beat Shannon, it will solidify his reputation as a heavy hitter."

"Yeah, I’d like to see that too. Their fight should be exciting," Richard replied with a smile.

"The fight is scheduled for the first weekend in August. If you're free, you should check it out."

"I’ll keep that in mind," Richard said, nodding. After a bit more time on the massage table, his body felt much more relaxed. He then left the boxing gym.

By the time he returned to the hotel, the sky had already turned dark.

Richard took out his script and reviewed the scenes for the next day. Just as he was about to go to sleep, there was a knock at the door.

He went to the door and opened it to find Monica leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a form-fitting silk gown, black stockings, and bright red heels, with a bottle of red wine in hand.

"Mr. Brad, do you require special services?" she asked seductively.

"Of course, please come in," Richard replied, smiling as he extended his hand.

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(End of the Chapter)