Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

Early June, the Gold Coast of Palm Bay in Miami.

James, the chubby one, often said that the beaches of Miami are the most beautiful in June.

Above, an endless blue sky, a dazzling sun.

In front, the blue sea, white sandy beaches.

A warm sea breeze blew, fluttering the lush palm groves along the shore, the rustling leaves mixing with the sound of the waves lapping against the sandbanks, both beautiful and enchanting.

And even more enchanting were the occasional bikini-clad girls appearing on the beach.

Because this is Miami, where there’s the highest concentration of Latin beauties, known for their curvaceous figures; thus, the bikini-clad girls on the beaches here were mostly buxom and curvy, fiery and charming.

In the past, James liked to place a long chair, grab a bottle of ice-cold Coke, sit under the awning in front of Baker’s store, squint his eyes, and watch each bikini girl passing by the front of the store, as if watching a Victoria’s Secret lingerie show.

But ever since Daniel got married in April and Michael went off to wander, he no longer had the leisure to sit in front of the store to admire beauties; every time he sat alone in the store, he would become inexplicably irritable, unable to calm his mind.

It wasn’t until the day before yesterday that Link returned from Paris and said he would be staying in the store for a while; his heart suddenly calmed down again, inexplicably so.

"Link, how many days are you planning to stay at home?"

James stood at the entrance of the store, looking at Link under the awning who was reading a magazine, and asked.

The guy was bare-backed and strong, wearing sweatpants and big slippers.

Maybe it was because he’d lived in Paris, but James always felt that he had become a lot trendier, sporting black long hair, messy yet stylish, and wearing a platinum shield-shaped pendant around his neck, shining brightly in the sunlight.

His face seemed even more handsome than before, fair-skinned, with well-defined features, appearing even more attractive than Keanu Reeves, Tom Cruise, or Orlando Bloom.

This made James suspect that the guy might have had plastic surgery.

"Not sure, could be four or five days, or maybe seven or eight days," Link replied while lying on the lounge chair, flipping through the latest issue of Billboard magazine.

"Only staying for eight days?"

James felt a bit disappointed; when Link left, there would only be him left here again.

"Can’t you stay a few more days? You’re a billionaire now; you don’t need to be so busy," he said.

Link glanced at him, clearly exasperated. He had hoped that after Daniel and Michael left, James would also leave to join him in the city center or in Los Angeles. ꞦÁN∅ʙƐṤ

But he hadn’t. He was still there at Baker’s little store, clocking in and clocking out for work as if he were Robinson Crusoe trapped on a deserted island.

Link had invited him to be his assistant.

James, afraid he wouldn’t do well, didn’t accept the offer.

Link planned to buy a coffee shop in Miami and have him run it, but James refused as well, saying he wouldn’t manage it properly.

Seeing the guy was like trying to prop up a mud fence, Link simply let him be.

"I heard your mom is trying to find you a girlfriend. Why don’t you follow in Daniel’s footsteps, get married and have kids early? It’s better than staying here alone," Link said.

"No!"

Hearing him bring it up, James immediately scrunched up his chubby face, gesticulating and saying, "Do you know what those girls my mom sets me up with are like? They all weigh over 160 pounds—big girls. God, I may be fat, but I don’t have bad taste. I like those long-legged girls with curves in all the right places—not the fat girls, never the fat ones."

Link gave a light laugh, "Liking someone is one thing, marrying is another. With your personality, if you marry a hot girl, you’ll probably be miserable after the wedding. So, I think your mom is right."

Upon hearing this, James’s expression became crumpled.

"Hey, Link!"

"Danny, what brings you here?"

Link called out to Danny, who was walking over from the opposite side.

Soon after getting married, Danny had sold the beach store to someone else and opened a deli with Lina in West Palm County. Business was said to be pretty good.

"James told me you were back, so I came to see you," Danny laughed.

Link invited Danny to sit down and pulled out an ice-cold beer from the cooler for him.

"How does being married feel?"

"Haha, it’s great! You should try it," Danny winked and laughed.

"I’ll give it a try in a few years," Link responded with a light smile, then asked about Michael’s whereabouts.

Danny mentioned that Michael had called him last week, saying he was working as a bartender in a Queens bar in New York and sometimes moonlighting as a guitar player; he also told him New York was too cool, with so many fun places, and regretted not coming to New York sooner.

Daniel also said that Lina was pregnant, and by this time next year, he would be a father.

Link and James quickly congratulated him.

Among the beach quartet, Daniel was the oldest at twenty-six this year, Michael was twenty-four, James was twenty-three, and Link was the youngest.

Now Daniel was the first to get married and the first to become a father.

While they were chatting, Blonde Reggie drove over in a pickup truck, followed by six teenage boxing apprentices, saying he brought them over to see what a superboxing champion looked like.

After winning the cruiserweight championship in the national amateur boxing championships, Blonde Reggie turned professional.

His current record stood at 8 fights, 5 wins, 2 losses, and 1 draw, a satisfactory performance, but still a long way from a continental champion.

Now, besides preparing for matches, Reggie spent the rest of his time as an assistant coach at West Boxing Gym. He was a practical boxing talent, much better than Mario, that whimsical guy.

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After Reggie arrived, the surrounding neighbors saw the crowd and also gathered around to join the fun.

Seeing the crowd growing, James suggested throwing a beach party to celebrate his return.

Link didn’t refuse either, and had someone pull a truck of beer, drinks, and fruit from the Mexican restaurant next door, brought out speakers from the store, and they had a party on the beach.

It started with only thirty or forty people, but as word spread that this big star was here, neighbors and tourists on the beach started coming over, and the number of people gradually approached a thousand.

That also included many journalists and paparazzi who had hurried over after catching wind of the event.

Link felt a headache coming on at the sight of the paparazzi.

After the outbreak of his breakup with Taylor, he left Los Angeles early to avoid media harassment and went to Paris to film.

While filming in Paris, he got along well with Marion Cotillard, the female co-star, and was quite close to her. Consequently, the French media speculated that they had developed feelings while filming and were in an illicit relationship.

And Marion Cotillard previously had a boyfriend she had been dating for two years, the famous French actor Guillaume Canet.

The unscrupulous media then sensationalized his role as a homewrecker, causing an uproar in the French entertainment industry.

Every time they shot a scene, there were hundreds of paparazzi using various methods to snoop around, and some even infiltrated the crew to be extras.

The paparazzi were too crazy, often directly affecting the crew’s filming.

Director Woody Allen was often so frustrated that he resorted to swearing. He couldn’t stop the crazy paparazzi, so he vented his anger on Link, blaming him for causing the disruption in the crew; therefore, he was extremely demanding of him during filming.

Scenes that others could complete in one or two takes, Woody Allen made him do twenty or so, very nitpicky, sometimes emotionally abusing him on set, criticizing his acting as terrible, significantly delaying the crew’s progress.

He would also mock his goal of winning the Oscar for Best Actor, saying that with his kind of acting, he could spend a lifetime making films and still not get nominated for the Oscars.

All sorts of sarcasm and emotional abuse, with no consideration for his feelings.

Even though Link had a good temper, there were several times when he couldn’t help clenching his fists, wanting to KO Woody Allen, the annoying old man.

Thankfully, Marion Cotillard and Jennifer Lawrence were there to comfort him, which helped him suppress the urge to hit someone, and he finished shooting the film.

But shooting every day like this for over a month, even with his abundant energy and strong recovery, he felt mentally exhausted in the end.

Let alone having to deal with the paparazzi’s harassment every day, which doubled the exhaustion.

This was also the reason he chose to return to Miami for a rest after finishing "Midnight in Paris."

But just as he was starting to relax for a day, the media surged up again.

"Mr. Baker, ’Le Figaro’ in France reported that while filming ’Midnight in Paris,’ you and Marion Cotillard sparked a romance out of the play, and there were photos taken of you staying overnight at Ms. Cotillard’s home. Are you involved with Miss Marion Cotillard?"

"Mr. Baker, ’The Times’ revealed that during your filming in Paris, Emma Watson visited the set and stayed in Paris for a few days. What is your relationship with her, and are you still dating?"

"Mr. Baker, the media captured photos of you and ’Midnight in Paris’ lead actress Jennifer Lawrence shopping in Paris. Is Jennifer Lawrence also your girlfriend?"

"Mr. Baker, the latest issue of ’Vanity Fair’ magazine features your photo on the cover and brands you as a playboy. What is your opinion on this?"

A group of entertainment reporters shouted outside the front door of Baker’s small shop.

Link extricated himself from the crowd, stepped up onto the stairs, looked down at the dozens of voracious journalists and paparazzi below, and said, "Marion is a very talented actress and one of my favorite actresses. During the filming in Paris, she was of great help to me, we are good friends, nothing more, please do not speculate wildly."

"Mr. Baker, ’Vanity Fair’ called you a playboy; do you accept this title?" asked a reporter from ’American Express.’

"That’s slander! ’Vanity Fair’ is slandering me; I am certainly not a playboy."

"Mr. Baker, celebrities like Tiffany Thomp, Paris Hilton, Amanda Hearst, and Georgia Bloomberg have taken the initiative to promote your new album, and the ’New York Post’ calls you the new darling of New York socialites. What do you think of this title?" a reporter from ’USA Today’ shouted.

"Welcome everyone to Palm Bay Beach as guests; there are beers and drinks for you to enjoy. I have other matters today, so I can only answer a few questions. If you have more questions, please schedule an appointment. I look forward to your interviews. Goodbye!"

Link walked into Baker’s small shop and casually closed the door behind him.

"Mr. Baker..."

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