Hearing this, Dunn—half-drunk—snaps halfway sober, eyes wide as he stares at Leonardo. "You know her? Who? Jenny Jane?"
Leonardo rolls his eyes. "Who else could it be?"
Dunn's still reeling. "Jenny Jane from Fire Phoenix Agency?"
Leonardo huffs, exasperated. "How many times do I have to say it? Yes, Jenny Jane—I know her!"
Dunn sucks in a breath, gears turning in his head.
Rose Byrne, still clueless, pipes up innocently. "How do you know her? Did that crazy woman hand you her card too?"
"Uh… sort of," Leonardo mumbles, dodging the question. Some things he'd rather not spell out for Rose.
Dunn frowns. "Spit it out already! Did you work with her or not?"
"Work with her?" Rose's eyes widen as it clicks. Leonardo's "knowing" someone isn't just about swapping business cards.
Leonardo squirms. "We've got a confidentiality agreement. Both sides have to protect privacy…"
"Enough!" Dunn cuts him off, annoyed. "What, you think I'm gonna blab your secrets?"
Rose nods eagerly. "Yeah, exactly!"
Leonardo hesitates. "It's not about leaking—it's a matter of principle."
Dunn's temper flares. He pauses, then softens his tone. "Rose, step out for a sec. We need to talk alone."
Rose pouts, giving Dunn a pitiful, pleading look.
"Be good, go on," Dunn says, patting her thigh. She sulks off, and he lowers his voice. "Don't tell me you actually dropped a million bucks!"
Leonardo shakes his head. "A million's just the rumor. Not that much. I've gone to Jenny twice—once for $200,000, once for $500,000."
Dunn furrows his brow. "That's still a chunk! I thought she was a scammer… Wait, so they're really stars?"
"Uh…" Leonardo pauses, then nods firmly. "Yeah, stars!"
Dunn's baffled. "Stars? They've all got their own agents. Why would they tie themselves to some shady third-party outfit like that?"
Leonardo's expression shifts. He decides there's no point hiding it from Dunn and leans in, whispering, "Not stars from our circle."
Dunn's eyes widen. "Singers from the music scene?"
"Nope."
"Models from fashion?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Famous TV hosts?"
"Not that either."
Dunn chuckles. "What, some hotshot writer from the literary world?"
"No way!" Leonardo rolls his eyes, then leans closer, voice barely audible. "Sports stars!"
"What?"
Dunn blinks, then it hits him like a lightning bolt. Of course!
Sports stars—that explains it!
The U.S. is the world's top sports nation. Its annual sports revenue dwarfs Hollywood's.
In terms of fame and exposure, plenty of athletes match Hollywood celebs blow for blow.
But income? That's where the gap widens.
Especially for female athletes—it's a global issue. Low pay, low status. Sports like swimming, track, shooting, or high jump demand years of training from childhood, and the payoff rarely matches the sacrifice.
Girls give up their youth, their childhoods, and even if they snag a world title, steady career cash is a pipe dream. Street performing, waitressing in clubs, or even dipping into adult films—those are the options.
Dunn takes a deep breath. "When'd this happen?"
"Last summer… or fall, maybe. After the Olympics," Leonardo says, a sleazy grin creeping onto his face.
Now it's crystal clear to Dunn.
Even with feminism on the rise, women in sports still get the short end. Especially in niche events, survival's tough.
The Olympics give them a spotlight, a brief "star" moment. Then Fire Phoenix Agency swoops in, peddling them to Hollywood's elite for some quick cash.
They need more—more money, more security—and they've got reputations to protect. It's safer, more discreet this way.
Athletes skew young, with thin networks. To bridge into Hollywood, they lean on bottom-tier outfits like Fire Phoenix.
It's a raw deal, especially for women who've poured their lives into representing their country.
Dunn sighs, shaking his head. "Give me the details. That $200,000 gig?"
Leonardo slips into bad-boy mode, warming up to the topic. He keeps his voice low but paints a vivid picture. "Two swimmers… well, synchronized swimmers. A duo. One was Alison Barto—something. Forgot her full name. Anyway, killer body, super flexible, tons of tricks. Pure bliss."
Dunn's mouth twitches. After a beat, he says, "$200,000… not too steep. After the cut, they're splitting maybe $70,000 or $80,000 each. Not a ton."
Leonardo shrugs. "They didn't medal at the Olympics, so their rate's lower. Still, $80,000 each? That's solid—could buy a fancy Cadillac!"
Dunn smirks. "And the $500,000 one… she medaled?"
"Medaled? More than that!" Leonardo's face lights up with pride and excitement. "Gold! Olympic gold! I remember her name—Misty Hyman. Think it was 200-meter butterfly?"
Dunn laughs, smacking him. "2000-meter butterfly? You trying to kill someone? 200's plenty!"
"Oh, right, whatever," Leonardo chuckles, swaying smugly. "Point is, Olympic champ!"
"Sounds like you were thrilled."
"Oh, man, you have no idea…" Leonardo's voice drops to a wicked whisper, his grin turning devilish. "When she went full cowgirl—speed, power… I swear, I've never felt that good!"
Athletes—stamina, strength, physique—blow actors and models out of the water, especially swimmers.
Dunn shakes his head, then gets mad. "That Jenny Jane's been playing me! $500,000 for an Olympic champ, and she quoted me a million? Thinks I'm a sucker?"
Leonardo, clearly chummy with Jenny, defends her. "It's not the same. Prices… they shift by industry."
"You know this?" Dunn narrows his eyes.
Leonardo grins slyly. "Not a ton, but enough to school you. Guess which sport's girls are the hottest draw for guys?"
Dunn blinks, staying quiet.
Leonardo answers himself. "Yup—gymnastics!"
"Oh." Dunn nods. "Makes sense. Especially artistic gymnastics. That Russian, Khorkina? I'm a huge fan."
"Khorkina?" Leonardo scoffs. "Forget it. She's Russia's national treasure—Putin's VIP guest."
Dunn laughs. "You've done your homework."
"Damn right. First time with Jenny, I wanted a couple gymnasts."
"Why didn't it happen?"
Leonardo sighs, deflated. "Most of them are minors. They retire young, lose the glow, and their price tanks."
Dunn's face darkens.
In the U.S., "paid" dates sit in a legal gray zone—mostly ignored since it's hard to pin down. But minors? That flips everything.
Even in Nevada, where cash-for-company is legal, touching that line's a hard no.
Dunn nods firmly. "Leo, you did the right thing."
Leonardo sighs again. "Right thing? Doesn't help those girls much."
Dunn says coolly, "We can't control that. But as public figures, we don't break the law—ever."
Leonardo shakes his head. "I'm not talking about the deals. I've chatted with Jenny. Those girls—sixteen, seventeen—even if they're minors, they're grown enough. What chills me is the younger ones, the worse stuff."
"Huh? What're you saying?"
Dunn's brow tightens.
Leonardo's face stiffens, voice flat. "I don't know the details, but Jenny's got gymnast clients—she knows more. We talked, and… man, Dunn, you realize? Shape coaches, fitness trainers, technique coaches, even team doctors—almost all guys training these little athletes. You know what that means?"
"No way, right?"
Dunn's face turns grim.
His voice wavers. Deep down, he doesn't even believe himself.
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