I am Hollywood

Chapter 87: But I'm Not an Angel



[Chapter 87: But I'm Not an Angel]

After ushering Kepler away, Jeffrey arrived next, followed by a few executives from Fox who came over to say hello. After a long hour of navigating the social scene, James Brooks rushed over saying that a few producers wanted to meet him.

"Not a problem, let's keep it going!"

After an exhausting hour of greetings and farewells, Eric felt his smile beginning to stiffen. He had enough and decided to take a breather, plopping down on a sofa in a corner.

"Mr. Williams, may I have the honor of a dance?"

He instinctively forced a stiff smile. The girl opposite him looked excited until she saw Eric shake his head.

"Sorry, Miss, I'm too tired."

"Oh, my bad." She turned away, disappointed.

He turned down two more bold actresses making advances when he thought he'd finally have some peace, only for a striking blond-haired, blue-eyed guy to approach him with a soft demeanor.

"Mr. Williams, my name is..."

Eric suppressed the urge to put up his defenses.

"I really don't care what your name is; I just want to be a normal handsome man without distractions. Is that too much to ask?"

"Sorry, could I just have a moment alone?"

"Oh, I'm sorry~"

Couldn't he have a less melancholic tone? Eric rubbed his forehead, rolling his eyes internally.

...n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

In the brief silence that followed, a voice chimed in again.

"Eric, do you want some juice? It helps with the alcohol."

He looked up to see yet another pretty face, carrying two glasses of orange juice.

"Sure, thanks, Miss Madsen," Eric replied as he took the juice.

Virginia settled next to him, subtly leaning in his direction, her soft curves brushing against his arm. With a hint of longing in her voice, she said, "I'm really glad you remembered me; can you call me Virginia?"

"Alright, Virginia, um... can I call you Vicki?"

"Whatever you'd like," she smiled. "By the way, how did Gerald end up next to you? Are you..."

Eric instinctively raised his voice in denial. "Absolutely not."

"Geez, why the strong reaction? Don't worry; I don't discriminate against gay people. I've seen plenty of directors like that; I think gay men often have a finer touch."

"Vicki, can we change the subject?"

She took a moment to scrutinize Eric's expression, then nodded. "So you really aren't? What was that earlier about?"

"Didn't you see?"

Virginia shook her head. "I just went to the restroom, and when I came out, Gerald was leaving your side."

"I was exhausted and turned down several girls for dances. That might've given him the wrong idea."

"Heh, good thing I didn't ask you to dance, or you would have definitely turned me away." Eric didn't want to keep discussing this. Rejecting several women was quite rude, after all. "So, what movie are you filming lately?"

Virginia's expression shifted to one of disappointment at this question. Each time she thought back to their first meeting, she held on to the hope that Eric had been inspired to create Pretty Woman based on her.

Unfortunately, she hadn't landed the leading role, all the while witnessing Julia Roberts flit through the crowd like a princess. A little jealousy clawed through her heart.

Julia wasn't yet as famous back when, but now that lucky girl had blossomed into a worldwide star. If only she had been a bit bolder that night, perhaps she would have been the one basking in compliments today. Virginia resolved that she had to make her move with Eric tonight.

"I just wrapped up a film where I played a wealthy man's wife who ends up driving a car into a river, resulting in her death."

"Wow... I'm sorry."

Eric felt awkward; it wasn't really his fault, was it? It wasn't like she actually died; it felt like he was the villain in that story.

"Things will get better," he suggested after a moment of thought.

"It's hard to see hope. I'm fading fast; I won't be able to play a pretty girl much longer. Give it two years, and I might just be cast as a housewife," she lamented.

At the mention of "pretty girl," Eric chuckled, realizing that Virginia had certainly held onto what he'd said months ago during a party, where he had merely complimented her beauty while dancing.

He wasn't bothered by her hints. Hollywood had always been a patriarchal world, and women without power or backing had to play their cards right to succeed; what else could they do?

Remembering his former life, he realized it had taken him ten years to barely scratch the surface, only able to circle around the sidelines, peeking through the gaps at the high-rises, the parties, the glamour, and the intoxicating lives others led.

"Vicki, would you like an opportunity?"

Virginia's eyes lit up. "Of course, I would!"

Eric shamelessly scrutinized her voluptuous form wrapped in a black gown. "But I'm not an angel. What can you offer?"

"Everything!"

...

The party had dragged on for several hours, and couples began to leave in pairs. Each could've just felt a spark -- a simple one-night affair, or perhaps, struck a deal that suited them both. In a Hollywood party like this, genuine love at first sight was hard to come by; plenty of tales of someone getting conned or taken advantage of surfaced every now and then. They rode the elevator down to the underground parking lot, where the temperature in Los Angeles at night hovered around ten degrees Celsius. The cool night breeze made Virginia, dressed in her thin gown, a bit more coherent, and she regretted having been so quick to agree to Eric's proposition.

She felt she should have teased this young director a little longer before sealing any deal. Now it seemed like a gamble without any promises -- what if this little man flipped out later and pretended nothing had happened? She could end up being used.

A coat was gently draped over her shoulders, and Virginia smiled at Eric, tugging at the collar. 'Alright, let's consider this a one-night stand. At least he's quite thoughtful.'

They quietly agreed to head to Virginia's place in Malibu. Eric had been surrounded by paparazzi when he arrived, and those guys would surely be on high alert watching as he left with a woman that night. Beverly Hills' mansions had to be staked out already. Bringing Virginia home would only feed the tabloids.

It took them nearly an hour to drive from the Hilton to Malibu without traffic. Fortunately, both were conversationalists, and the ride remained filled with chatter, avoiding any

awkward silence.

Following her into a little villa north of the coastal highway, far enough from the beach that even from the second-floor balcony, a view of the ocean was hard to catch, Eric casually asked, "So why do you live here?"

Virginia hung Eric's coat on the rack and replied nonchalantly, "Getting a little villa in Malibu isn't bad at all. You wouldn't think just because I've done a few films that I'd be able to afford a mansion in Beverly Hills, would you?"

Eric shrugged, realizing he'd asked a pretty naive question. Thinking back, after her debut in David Lynch's Dune, Virginia hadn't had too many noteworthy roles either before the '90s, and afterward, her film count dwindled further as she shifted to television.

With a star of her level, she had some recognition, but lacked real box office pull, meaning she mostly landed low-budget independent films that paid a few thousand dollars.

After tonight, yet another woman's fate would be altered by his presence.

After all, now that he was here, Hollywood's timeline seemed destined to take a turn for the chaotic; he might as well indulge his whims. What was the point of living again if he couldn't

do as he pleased?

*****

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