As September arrived, the intense summer shoot for "Risky Business" in Chicagoland was winding down, with filming almost complete. Alex Hayes had navigated the complexities of Joel Goodsen, including the challenging intimate scenes, and the project felt strong. News also came from Paramount Pictures; they had slotted the high school movie Alex starred in previously – the unique take on Shakespeare now tentatively titled '10 Things I Hate About You' – for a November release schedule, hoping to capitalize on Alex's momentum.
But Alex's life rarely stayed confined to the movie set.
****
One cool evening in downtown Chicago, the sterile quiet of the Chicago Police Department's 1st District Headquarters was broken by a low murmur of activity near the intake desk. Four people were brought in – three looking rough, bruised, and sullen, the fourth younger man appearing calm but alert, dressed simply in jeans and a jacket.
Whispers rippled through the officers lingering near the bullpen.
"Hey, Miller, what happened?" one cop asked another leaning against a filing cabinet.
Miller took a sip of stale coffee. "Three dumbasses tried to rob that convenience store over on Wabash," he grunted.
"And?" the first cop prompted.
"And they got their asses handed to them by a young man who happened to be buying a soda."
"Seriously? One guy versus three?"
Miller nodded. "Well, two of them had guns, third one had a knife."
"Damn! Then how did he beat them? Was he armed too?"
"Nope," Miller shook his head. "The store has a camera, detective upstairs is watching it now. Says the kid used some kind of martial arts. Took 'em down hard and fast before they knew what hit 'em." He paused for effect. "And you know what else?"
"What?"
"The young man... he's a big film actor."
"Really? Who?"
"Alex Hayes."
"Oh my god!" a female officer, Selena, exclaimed from a nearby desk, having overheard. "Alex Hayes?"
Miller smirked. "What, Selena, do you like him?"
"Oh, I love him!" Selena declared without hesitation. "So do my kids! We saw 'Fast Times' last week!"
Another officer nearby, looking skeptical, chimed in. "Is he really that big a star? Never heard of him."
Selena and Miller both looked at him incredulously. "Are you living under a rock, Henderson?" Miller asked.
"Well, I'm not interested in movies," Henderson grumbled defensively.
Selena jumped back in. "He's huge! He's just 18 and already gave, like, four hits back-to-back. They say he's the most bankable young star in Hollywood right now! That's what the magazines say, anyway."
The first cop whistled softly. "Eighteen? Man, he must be ballsy to tackle three robbers with guns?"
They all nodded, a newfound respect dawning even on them.
Meanwhile, down the hall from the bullpen buzz, several cops were huddled around a monitor in a small viewing room, eyes glued to the grainy, timestamped security footage from the Wabash Avenue convenience store. The scene playing out felt surreal, more like choreographed action than raw reality.
The camera angle, high near the ceiling, showed the first two robbers entering briskly, faces partially obscured by hoods or masks. One immediately and brutally swung the back of his handgun, striking a female customer near the aisles. She crumpled to the floor instantly. Simultaneously, both robbers raised their weapons, aiming squarely at the terrified owner behind the cash register, shouting demands lost to the silent footage.
Just as the owner raised his hands, a side door – likely leading to the restroom – opened, and Alex Hayes stepped out, perhaps alerted by the commotion. He stopped short, taking in the scene.
Instantly, both robbers pivoted, guns now trained on Alex. Their body language on the tape was aggressive, shouting, gesturing for him to approach them, hands likely demanding to be raised.
Alex moved forward slowly, cautiously, his hands held partially up, seemingly compliant. The robbers continued shouting, becoming agitated. Then, a subtle shift: Alex's head flicked to something behind the robbers. It was a classic misdirection. As the two gunmen instinctively, almost imperceptibly, glanced over their shoulders for a split second, Alex exploded into motion.
With blinding speed, his left hand parried the nearest gun barrel away from his face just as his right elbow drove hard into the first robber's jaw. The man collapsed instantly, hitting the floor like a dropped weight. Before the second gunman could fully process his partner falling or re-aim his weapon, Alex launched forward, a powerful flying knee connecting squarely with his face. Robber number two went down just as hard, hitting the linoleum beside his accomplice.
Simultaneously, the front door of the store burst open as the third robber, presumably the lookout, rushed in, likely alerted by the sudden sounds of the takedown or drawn by his partners' lack of exit. He barely had time to register the scene inside before Alex, seeing the new threat, pivoted and rushed towards him. In one fluid motion, Alex launched a devastating back kick that caught the third man square in the chest. The force was incredible; the man flew backward out the way he came, crashing through the plate glass of the front door, sending shards scattering onto the sidewalk outside.
The entire violent encounter lasted mere seconds. The footage then showed Alex quickly scooping up the dropped handguns, securing them, before immediately kneeling beside the fallen female customer to check on her, then looking towards the stunned owner behind the counter
In the viewing room, there was a stunned silence as the loop ended. One of the cops finally let out a low whistle.
"Jesus Christ," another muttered. "Felt like watching a damn movie scene."
"Forget the movies," said a more seasoned officer, shaking his head in disbelief. "Anybody can learn a few kicks and punches in a dojo. But to do that… one against three, guns involved, knives… and stay that calm, that fast? That takes more than training. That takes serious courage. A real cool mind under fire."
They all nodded, replaying the incredible speed and brutal efficiency in their minds. Alex Hayes wasn't just a movie star; he was something else entirely.
******
While murmurs and snippets of the security footage circulated through the 1st District Headquarters, Alex Hayes sat in the relative quiet of the Captain's office. The door was closed, shielding him from the curious stares and the general buzz of the station. Someone had brought him a coffee in a styrofoam cup, which now sat cooling on the desk beside him.
To anyone glancing in, Alex might have appeared remarkably calm, composed even, given the circumstances. He sat upright, hands resting loosely on his knees, his breathing measured. But inside, a different storm was raging. The cool exterior was a facade, a necessary shield honed by years of intense training and perhaps, now, the habit of public scrutiny.
He replayed the incident in his mind, not with the detached analysis the cops brought to the footage, but with the visceral immediacy of lived experience. It hadn't felt like a choice. Seeing the gun on the customer, the threat to the owner – his father's relentless training had simply taken over. Years of drills, sparring, self-defense scenarios ingrained into muscle memory. It was pure instinct, a blindingly fast sequence of reactions bypassing conscious thought. Deflect, strike, neutralize – the mantra his father had drilled into him.
Only now, after it was all over, sitting in the sterile quiet of the police office, did the adrenaline lift its insistent grip, leaving him feeling strangely weak, almost shaky. There was a tremor in his hands he consciously stilled. The sheer danger, the reality of the guns and the knife, settled heavily in his chest now that the immediate threat was gone. It was the familiar, unsettling crash after the surge.
But beneath the physical reaction, a different feeling simmered: pride. Not arrogance, but a deep, quiet satisfaction. He hadn't frozen. He hadn't panicked. He had reacted as trained, protected himself, and likely prevented serious harm to others. His father's harsh lessons, the endless hours in the dojo, had served their purpose in the most terrifying way imaginable. He took a slow sip of the lukewarm coffee, the normalcy of the act a stark contrast to the violence of an hour ago, grounding himself in the present.