As they approached the Porsche, Hendricks stopped just short of the passenger side door.
Jason glanced back. "What's wrong?"
Hendricks scratched the back of his neck. "I don't want to mess up your car."
Jason tilted his head, almost confused. "It's a car. It can be cleaned. You, on the other hand, need to stop thinking like that. Get in."
Still hesitant, Hendricks slowly opened the door, wiping his hands on his pants before settling into the leather seat like it was a throne made of glass. He didn't even lean back.
Jason didn't comment. He just smirked and hit the ignition.
Their first stop was a general store. Jason grabbed a basket and tossed in shampoo, conditioner, body wash, lotion, toothpaste, and a decent razor.
"You got a brand you like?" he asked.
Hendricks gave a short laugh. "Brother, I've been using rainwater and bar soap for six months."
Jason nodded, dropped in a travel grooming kit, and kept moving.
They swung by a casual men's boutique next—simple jeans, fitted tees, some polos, and a hoodie or two. Jason grabbed a pair of sneakers off the shelf and tossed them into Hendricks' arms.
"Try this stuff on after your shower," he said.
When they reached a public bathhouse on the outskirts of the city, Jason handed Hendricks the bag and waved toward the entrance. "Take your time."
And Hendricks did. An hour passed before he came out, looking like a different person.
He wasn't transformed—he wasn't polished—but he no longer looked like a man who'd been sleeping under a bridge. His skin was clean, his beard trimmed, and his dreadlocks tied back with a simple band. Even the way he stood changed. Taller. Straighter.
Jason gave him a once-over and grinned. "Now we can start."
Meanwhile
Manager Park sat on a leather couch, swirling a glass of whiskey, a smug grin pulling at his lips.
CEO Lang sat across from him, scrolling through social media.
"It's working," Lang said. "The apology video is trending. Sympathy's already shifting."
"Told you," Park chuckled. "People don't care what's true. Just what sounds good and fits in a headline."
Lang leaned back. "Can't believe that kid gave it all up for an apology."
"I still think he's bluffing about that other evidence," Park added. "If he really had what he claimed, he wouldn't let us walk free."
Just then, the sound of boots thundered down the hallway. The front door crashed open.
"Police! Don't move!"
The room exploded into chaos. Armed officers swarmed in, pinning them to the floor. Lang screamed something about lawyers. Park cursed, writhing under the officer's knee.
"You're under arrest for the rape and murder of Vanessa Clark."
The smiles vanished. Reality slammed down like a hammer.
They entered a trendy shopping district—bright signs, expensive boutiques, and sleek staff trained to measure a person's worth with a single glance.
Jason walked in with Hendricks, who now wore a clean polo and jeans. Still, the staff at the upscale clothing store barely hid their sneers.
A clerk with slicked-back hair walked up, eyes moving from Jason's watch to Hendricks' shoes.
"May I help you?" he asked, already frowning.
Jason nodded. "We're looking to update his wardrobe. Some formalwear, maybe two custom suits, shoes—whatever you'd sell to a hedge fund client."
The clerk's smile grew thin. "I see. And… will you be paying with store credit?"
Jason's brow lifted. "No. Cash."
The clerk turned to walk away, but Jason caught him with a low voice. "You might want to treat us with a little more respect."
The man laughed politely. "Of course, sir. But if I may say—certain fabrics might not suit… everyone's lifestyle."
Jason's expression didn't change. "I see."
He turned to a nearby display mannequin wearing a $5,000 suit.
"This," he said. "We'll take it. And five others. In his size."
The clerk froze.
Jason reached into his wallet, pulled out a black Centurion card, and handed it over.
Five minutes later, the entire mood in the store shifted. Tailors rushed out. Managers appeared. Coffee was offered.
Hendricks turned to Jason mid-fitting. "You enjoy that?"
Jason just smirked. "Not as much as they enjoy kissing ass."
Next stop: real estate.
They toured four high-rise apartments. All sleek, high-end, and modern.
At each place, Hendricks hesitated—he didn't like the attention, or how the agents would glance at Jason when quoting prices.
At the last unit, the agent gave Jason a fake smile. "We do require proof of employment for applicants—unless you're a foreign investor?"
Jason stared at him. "You know who I am?"
The agent paused. "Y-Yes, sir."
"And you're asking me for an application?"
The man stumbled over his words.
Jason pulled out his phone, made a single call, and handed Hendricks the keys.
"It's yours. The paperwork's being handled."
Hendricks stared at the condo. Hardwood floors, city views, Italian appliances. "Jason… this is too much."
"You're not a charity case. You're an investment. And I don't let my investments sleep on sidewalks."
Back at the dealership, Jason led Hendricks into the VIP showroom—this time avoiding any potential clerk drama.
He handed Hendricks a key fob.
"What's this?"
"Your car. Custom interior. Good mileage. You're going to need it."
"Jason—"
"No argument. You've got a reputation to rebuild. Best way to do that is showing up in style."
As they left the dealership with the keys to Hendricks' new car in hand, Jason checked the time.
"Still early," he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You hungry?"
Hendricks blinked, still overwhelmed by the whirlwind of upgrades in his life. "Uh… yeah. I could eat."
Jason nodded. "There's a noodle shop two blocks down. It's quiet. They make a mean beef broth."
They walked side by side, blending into the afternoon crowd. Hendricks turned to him. "You don't even know me. Why're you doing all this?"
Jason smirked. "I do know you. Or at least, I know what you're supposed to become."
Hendricks tilted his head. "Huh?"
"Never mind," Jason said. "Just remember this—don't make me regret it."
They turned the corner, neon signs beginning to light as dusk fell over the city.
As they drove toward the bar—soon to be a café—Jason explained his vision in more detail: a sleek, multi-use space blending high-end beauty treatments with artisan coffee and brunch options.
Hendricks nodded slowly, then reached into his bag and pulled out his sketchbook again.
"I started this as a joke," he said. "But now… this might actually work."
Jason nodded, eyes on the road. "It will."