制霸好莱坞

Jenny didn't press James for details about his and Cesare's grand plan. Though they had only met twice, she had a decent grasp of his personality. At best, he was mischievous; at worst, downright infuriating. Taking him too seriously was a surefire way to get played. If you tried to pin him down, he'd just toy with you, wrapping truth and falsehood together so seamlessly that you couldn't tell them apart.

"You decided to play your last card for me after only meeting me once? And that meeting lasted, what, an hour?" Jenny asked, half-joking. "With all due respect, either this card isn't really your last, or you're being a little too hasty."

"Is an hour not enough to see a person clearly?" James countered, his tone brimming with self-assurance. "Well, maybe it won't even take an hour. I think I'll just spend the next thirty minutes enjoying the way you tolerate me."

"You do realize you're incredibly sick?" Jenny asked dryly.

James laughed, clearly pleased with himself. "People say that, but strangely enough, they often like me at the same time."

The entertainment industry was full of characters. Jenny had sensed that in her previous life, but she felt it even more strongly now. From literary directors and quirky theater managers to agents with the demeanor of an aloof CEO, and even the occasional cross-dressing mogul, the industry was a melting pot of eccentricity. Artists gathered here, and personalities ran rampant.

She shrugged and let James continue.

"Of course, Cesare showed me your TV series, and Rob made an exception and let me watch a clip of your performance. Watching you in person only reinforced what I saw on screen. Your on-stage presence is completely different from your real-life persona. You're composed, ambitious, meticulous in your craft. You can portray similar roles with distinct nuances—three female criminals, yet three entirely different people. That's crucial. And, of course, you're stunning. No one can deny that."

He sipped his eggnog. "And you have Cesare Vigeri as your agent. I had already decided to push for you to be the new Roxy, even if your stage performance needed polishing. We had time to work on it. But your audition? It made my job of persuading the higher-ups much easier. It also helped Cesare secure a very favorable contract for you."

"So it wasn't exactly smooth sailing?" Jenny noted.

"What do you think, ma'am?" James scoffed. "The issue is that you're not famous. If you were a Hollywood star, this would've been effortless. But you? I had to fight tooth and nail to get the top brass to agree to Cesare's terms. The deal almost fell through. Cesare insisted you be the lead Roxy—not a backup, not a standby, not a one-off appearance. The management wanted you as an understudy, guaranteeing two performances in three months and reevaluating from there. When I said I played my last card for you, I wasn't exaggerating. If ticket sales don't pick up in June, both you and I might be out."

"What do you need from me?" Jenny asked, before correcting herself. "Or rather, why are you telling me this now?"

"Cesare didn't tell you anything?" James raised an eyebrow.

"Cesare basically tells me nothing," Jenny admitted.

"Classic agent behavior." James smiled, hesitated, then rubbed his hands together. "Alright, let me officially introduce myself—James Schubert, newly appointed manager of the Shubert Theatre. Been in office less than a year."

"I thought you'd been in the industry for a long time," Jenny said, surprised. After all, Agatha seemed familiar with him and called him by his nickname.

"Not all of us get to rise to the top overnight." James shrugged. "Sure, my last name is Schubert, but that only gives me a slight advantage. The Shubert Theatre holds a unique position within our company, and I had to step on a lot of wrists to get this job. But securing the position doesn't mean keeping it. Last year was brutal—box office numbers tanked, and if trends continue, next year won't be any better."

Jenny nodded. "Bad financials make for easy targets. Your enemies don't care about the circumstances. They just want an excuse to take you down."

"Exactly. And right now, I'm at a disadvantage." James sighed. "After 9/11, internal company dynamics shifted. A director who supported me had to leave for medical reasons. Long story short, the past year hasn't been kind to me. I need a major win."

"And I'm supposed to be that win?" Jenny asked.

"To be precise, Cesare saw my predicament and sold me a plan to turn things around." James glanced at her. "And you are a crucial piece of that plan. With the right hype and packaging, we aim to return to pre-9/11 attendance numbers in the first year, with growth in the second."

"And why me?" Jenny asked again. "I have advantages, sure, but I'm not that special. Did I miss something?"

James smirked. "Oh, you're special. We could have chosen a famous actress, but none of them starred in the movie Chicago."

He paused dramatically. "And none of them, undisputedly, outshine Renée Zellweger."

Jenny's stomach dropped. She recalled Cesare's words: I want you to step on Renée Zellweger's performance and use it as a stepping stone to rise to the top.

"You're planning to pit me against Renée?" she asked. "How exactly? With some cheap headline like, 'Broadway's Roxy is better than Hollywood's'?"

James spread his hands. "Our Roxy is better. What do you think?"

Jenny stared at him, momentarily speechless. "Should I be thanking you for your confidence? What if the critics don't agree?"

"That was my concern before your audition. Of course, we could soften the approach to avoid backlash, but Cesare insisted I see you perform the hardest scenes. Agatha vouched for you. Even Rob spoke highly of you."

"So you came, you saw, and you decided to go all in," Jenny said woodenly.

James lifted his glass. "I think it's the highest compliment, don't you?"

Jenny wasn't sure how to feel. James believed her performance could outshine Renée's and convince critics that Broadway's Roxy was better. That was flattering, but—

"What about Renée?" she blurted out, then immediately regretted it. Of course Renée wouldn't be happy. "And Robert? He directed the film. You're essentially trashing his work. Does he know?"

James chuckled. "How do you think Cesare got him to recommend you? Robert and his two female leads… don't get along."

Jenny exhaled, realizing the full picture. The film company wouldn't lose—if anything, the hype would drive more people to watch the movie. But Renée? She was the only one who stood to lose.

James reached for her hand, locking eyes with her. "In six months, we succeed, and our professional contract ends. Then, if I get close to you, I hope you won't feel the need to step away."

Jenny smiled ambiguously. "Let's talk in six months. For now, we focus on the show."

James sighed dramatically. "I need to think of some romantic tactics. Maybe love and career can mix."

Jenny rolled her eyes. James suddenly grinned and pointed above her. "Oh, mistletoe."

Before she could react, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

Jenny scowled. "Where's the mistletoe?"

James smirked, pulled a small mistletoe wreath from his pocket, and placed it on her head. "Right here."

Jenny yanked it off and threw it back at him. "You're insufferable."

James just laughed, raising his glass to her before sauntering away—coquettishly, of course.