Chapter 3. The Beta and the Alpha

Los Angeles, California

New season. New goals. New problems.

Translation: more workload and stress for them all year.

To his dismay, it was just the reality for a busy man like him. He asked for it, though. Ever since he learned how cruel life could be for a piss-poor nobody, he'd been dreaming of having a moneymaking career like this. A decent livelihood. A real job that made people respect him for his work and commitment.

"Suck it up and do your best. Do I need to remind you everyone's counting on you?" his uncle would say if he was in a chatty mood.

Jenson let out a sigh and flumped down in his swivel chair, tuning out the voices he didn't need to listen to right now. He stared at the dark and empty cubicles outside the huge glass dividers.

The workstations were designated for their staff—20 or so on this floor. Unlike him, they all lined up in front of the elevator once the clock struck five. He wished they didn't act like so, but, the management never really encouraged the non-essential staff to work overtime.

"Hey. You heard about the millionaire baller who tried to off his girlfriend?"

"No," Jenson replied.

"She shot him and went home with dozens of stitches," said Darren, his friend and co-star.

"Really."

"Pretty gnarly, man." Darren snickered. "That shit's gonna be front page news first thing."

"Maybe." Jenson eyed the digital clock on his messy desk. The bright red numbers just reminded him that he'd been up for more than 24 hours now.

Shit. No wonder his heart was having palpitations again. Working overnight wasn't anything new since they started shooting the pilot season—especially since he took on another role as a producer of the show. But now that he was well in his 30s, his human immune system was sort of ebbing away.

He worked out and ate healthy as often as he could, but whenever he prioritized work too much and forgot about his health, the consequences almost always caught up to him. "Was he a bitten rogue or just high?"

"Prolly both." Darren scoffed. "Bite wasn't obvious. Like, this big."

"Ah." Jenson closed his eyes, internally swearing at the growing ache in his temples. He tried not to pay any mind to the piles of paperwork before him just awaiting his attention and signatures. He had to rest his eyes and hyperactive brain. The lights stayed dimmed.

Definitely time to hire a new assistant. Someone who would deal with his growing list of office responsibilities. Someone not prone to getting knocked up every year, preferably.

His personal assistant of two years hadn't even consumed the entirety of her maternity leave when he got a newer, wordier email, announcing that she was undoubtedly pregnant again. At this incredibly busy time of the year, no less. The temps that tried to replace her didn't meet his standards, nor his most basic expectations, so he fired them. They only gave him raging migraines most days.

"From where?"

"Both from Florida," Darren muttered with a smirk.

Florida. Jenson sighed and sat back. Not their territory. Most likely the suspect had nothing to do with their clan.

"Not our business. Don't worry about it," his uncle would say.

"Go or no go? They're waitin' downstairs." Darren flumped himself on the chair in front of the desk. He seemed reasonably excited to attend the after-party with their production team.

The celebration was for their showrunners and crew. Their series just got picked up for another season by one of Hollywood's biggest mass media and entertainment conglomerates, and so their execs and bosses decided to throw a huge party yesterday.

Jenson stared back at his late-night visitor before he dozed off. They were both night owls, but he couldn't deny the fatigue settling in and forcing his eyelids and brain to shut down. "No thanks."

"Seriously?"

"Knock yourselves out."

"Oh come on, dude... It's not even ten yet." Darren rolled his eyes and combed back his jaw-length brown hair. It made his jawline and chin stand out. If Darren sported a shorter cut like his, more people would say they could pass off as brothers.

“Can’t have you forcing me past five bottles again and another lap dance." Jenson put on a frown to seem actually pissed.

"You really need to bring that shit up again? Who spit and shit in your pancakes this morning?"

"Charm’s ghostin' me."

“Again?” Darren blew a raspberry at his droning retort. “Whatever, old fart.”

"Actually it's partly your fault, so thanks for that. Now get lost." Jenson picked up his cellphone and pretended to be busy texting.

"What'd I do?" Darren made a face and chuckled.

"Go. I'm spent."

"Yo. For real, though. Can't believe they just picked it up. Like, they didn't even wait for the updated list."

Jenson raised a brow at the sudden shift in his friend's tone and expression.

"I'm really psyched about the next one." Darren snickered and tilted his head, looking like he was pondering something entertaining.

"Same. Minus the long nights and ridiculous sleeping patterns," Jenson mumbled with a sigh.

For the next couple of weeks, they’d be staying here in LA, shooting promos, doing junkets and all that—which was good, because they'd get to spend some quality time with their girlfriends. Darren especially preferred the plural version.

Jenson leaned closer to his desk and checked his schedule for next week. They’d been shooting in Canada the past six months, until they finally wrapped up the second season just weeks ago. Sporadic video chats and poorly scheduled phone sex just didn’t work for him anymore.

Charm didn't make a habit of it, either. Mostly because she was too busy dealing with her clingy, arrogant and demanding clients. The corporate financing world also didn't run out of first-class assholes, far as he knew.

"What's up with Charm?" Darren squinted at him with a knowing grin. It tilted his lips to the side, etching small dimples on his tan cheeks.

"Snubbing me again for some shit I don't even remember."

"Bullshit. Of course you do."

"Told her the execs already confirmed and wanted the third finished before New Year's."

Darren snickered.

Jenson scowled. His fiancée's short and peremptory text was still a trigger.

"K. See you next year." It was the entirety of her text before Charmaine started ignoring his calls and messages. It had been going on for three days straight now.

He understood that she also worked at a hectic pace, too busy boosting her career, but the constant stress and sleep deprivation were thinning out his patience for relationship blues, along with the other nuisances that just prolonged this stressful week.

It was obvious; Charmaine was upset that he was too focused on the show and didn't have time for her anymore. Jenson couldn't really blame her for choosing an equally demanding job, but he actually thought that, by now, she understood his commitment to his work.

He worked hard to reach this stage of his career. Being a high-paid actor in the entertainment industry wasn't his ultimate goal, but he did put in the long hours and sacrificed a lot. Now his hard work was finally paying off, earning him two promotions in just two years. It was taking care of the bills, maintaining their lifestyles, blah blah blah. And he really thought it would make her feel secure about their future.

Plus, they'd been together for years now. He'd sincerely hoped she would cut him more slack when she said yes to his proposal. Apparently they had some glaring issues to resolve soon.

"On the flip side, we're gonna be rakin' in a hundred Gs per episode, so..." Darren muttered with his hands on the back of his head.

"So what?"

"That should make her pretty happy in the long run."

Happy? Did he really think money always solved everything? Jenson snorted and looked away, but his friend's failing efforts to cheer him up reassured him somewhat. "I doubt it."

"What? Why?" Darren scowled. Real confusion narrowed his attentive eyes. "She say something about working full-time in Beijing?"

"Not really." Not yet, anyway. The bigger paychecks should keep them happy and motivated for the rest of the year—hopefully Charmaine, too. But Jenson doubted it would be enough.

Although Charm did agree to marry him, some nights, the self-doubts crept up on him and relentlessly messed with his peace of mind. The workaholic side of her probably wanted to accept the job offer in Beijing because it would advance her career to greater heights. Charmaine had always dreamed of a well-respected job in the corporate scene, especially in the bustling cutthroat world of finance broking.

Of course he discouraged her to take the offer, just because he was starting to hate long-distance relationships. He also thought her job here in California was keeping her happy enough. Stable. Less exposed to risks. Less stress.

But now his brain couldn't stop emphasizing how Charm only said yes to his proposal because their families expected them to tie the knot. Have babies and raise kids soon. The whole nine yards.

"Text me when you get tired of bein' such a downer," Darren drawled as he got up from the chair. He stretched his toned, bulging arms and back muscles as he made his way to the door. "A lotta good booze and hot girls. Just sayin'..."

"Don't fuckin' drink and drive." Jenson scoffed as Darren exited his office.

After a minute or two of total silence, his phone rang.

A call he least expected tonight. Especially after the last lawyer he talked to reassured him that "everything" would be "sorted out".

But it seemed Magnus didn't share the same opinion.

"You guys landed yet? Got my email?" Jenson said after taking the call, not bothering with the usual greetings.

Magnus practically lived on his private plane, busy tycoon that he was.

Most of the time, Jenson couldn't tell which continent his uncle was in, with his well-paid bodyguards in tow. Magnus was also his boss—in more ways than other people knew.

"Yes," Magnus replied in his usual monotone. Cold and emotionless. "You back in LA?"

"Finally. Why?" Jenson muttered as he made guesses in his head. Why did he call again? Did Magnus want him to do another clean-up job? Great. As if he wasn't exhausted and stressed enough.

"Did you talk to the lawyers?"

"Yeah. Twice. They didn't call you?"

"They didn't tell me the pesky detective's pursuing another lead," Magnus replied, his tone still cool and casual.

Another lead? What did he mean? "You mean Richardson? Who told you?" Jenson made a face. He'd heard of a certain Detective Richardson trying to dig deeper into the whole mafia-for-hire angle the past two years.

The detective first led a supposed kidnapping investigation, which later turned into a homicide investigation involving a young Hollywood star named Drew Mihhailov.

Jenson didn't know the guy well, but Drew actually worked as a guest star in the show before his wife reported him missing, alerting the police.

Magnus didn't appreciate the negative publicity the unfortunate news stirred up, especially since he shelled out millions of dollars over the past two years to help finance the show and boost promotions and ratings.

At first, Jenson thought it was just another one of his uncle's dozens of investments to help keep his boredom at bay, but then it all turned into serious business sooner than he and Darren realized.

Magnus had also pulled some strings to help them sell the show to the big-timers. At this point, they owed Magnus pretty much everything. Jenson didn't like the fact. Then again, he didn't have much choice on the table. He wasn't the filthy rich magnate entitled to be calling all the shots. "Who told you Richardson's still on it?"

"Friend of a friend," Magnus replied to his question.

"Who? Another LA cop?" Probably.

"Doesn't matter."

"Nah. Already took care of it. Stop reading gossip columns," Jenson quipped with a dismissive scoff. He was doing his best to sound chipper despite the throbbing headache he was trying not to mind. The full moon was still days away, but it seemed he needed another good dose of his top secret meds soon.

"The moron's sticking his nose into everything. Just sort it out." Magnus sighed on the other end. "I don't have time for this bullshit."

"Yeah. Got it," Jenson replied calmly, trying not to scowl. Just days ago he'd already said that the issue was all taken care of after some damage control. In fact, they'd hired the best publicists and lawyers in California to keep it all under wraps.

Still, his uncle didn't believe it was enough. What got him extra paranoid now? "We both know the kind of shit that can happen once bigger rumors start circling this project," Magnus droned on over the phone. "Don't get cocky now—"

"I'm not being..." Jenson feigned a nonchalant chuckle. "Just telling you to calm down a little. It'll fizzle out. Relax..." was his mumbled reassurance. He didn't want bad publicity at this point as well, but he wasn't going to waste any more of his hard-earned money just to solve problems he didn't cause in the first place.

There was a lengthy and awkward silence before his uncle spoke again. "Talk soon," was all Magnus said.

Jenson sighed the second he realized the call got dropped. He frowned at his phone screen after the man just hung up on him. Not even a quick "Bye" or a lukewarm "Thanks". As per usual.

It shouldn't bother him, though. His uncle wasn't really big on showing affection. Even to his family, and especially towards his subordinates.

Alphas like Magnus didn't give a crap about politeness and pleasantries. Unless they needed or wanted something in return. Just the norm for people of their stature, it seemed.

Jenson closed his eyes and reclined in the swivel chair, his hands now busy massaging his forehead in an effort to calm down the headache reminding him of the pressures of his job.

Well, jobs, to be accurate...since he was wearing a lot of hats right now.

But he shouldn't be bitching about it. He chose to be in this position. Time to step it up. He had to prove that he deserved his rank in the clan. Prove to everyone else that he wasn't chosen for the position simply because Magnus thought he wasn't the type to break promises or abandon his responsibilities.

Jenson sighed. It would be another difficult year ahead, but he was up for the challenge.