制霸好莱坞

"Hi."

"Hey." Jenny stopped and greeted James. "You haven't had dinner yet?"

James raised the hamburger in his hand. "Obviously, I missed dinner. But if you get the chance, don't miss this burger. Two blocks away, Jim's Kitchen—double cheese, lots of pickles. If there's anything worth breaking your diet for, it's this."

Jenny laughed. James' words made her aware of her own hunger. Theaters didn't provide meals, and after half a day of rehearsal, her stomach was rumbling. "The day I don't have to perform, I'll definitely indulge."

"You poor actresses." James shrugged. "Go easy on yourself. You're in a musical now. If you're this strict already, what are you going to do when you're filming? Just drink water?"

Jenny's rehearsals had been going smoothly, but James hadn't been around as much. They hadn't seen each other in days, and neither seemed willing to part without exchanging a few words. Jenny knew this was a quiet acknowledgment of their mutual attraction, but she also knew, according to Cesare's schedule, that nothing would come of it. "Maybe what I'm about to say is disappointing, but maintaining a good figure is a long-term commitment. The human body craves salt. If you break the habit with a delicious burger, your desire for salt and sugar skyrockets, making it harder to stick to salads. So—"

James made a face and covered his ears. "Just let me get fat in peace. Hell, I'm just a poor theater manager."

Jenny chuckled. She wanted to leave but hesitated. "Next Monday, Dietrich's hosting a party. Will you be there?"

Mondays were typically a slow day for ticket sales, and many troupe members took the day off.

"I was going to go," James said, then smirked. "But since you'll be there, I might reconsider. You know I tend to do inappropriate things when I drink."

For the first time, they addressed the two kisses from the Christmas party. Jenny suspected James regretted them. He had been tipsy that night, and ever since, he'd been serious and professional, keeping his distance. An ambitious young theater manager like him wouldn't risk mixing emotions with professionalism. He was likely trying to reset their dynamic.

"If you do it again, I'm sure rumors will spread that I got the role because I slept with you," Jenny teased.

James laughed. "Oh, that's nothing. Everyone knows I invoke the droit du seigneur in my theater."

They exchanged amused smiles, dissolving some of the awkward tension. Then James asked, "Are you getting along with everyone? No bullying?"

Jenny considered this. "There are a few minor things, but nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, you're good at navigating people." James nodded. He seemed caught between wanting to keep talking and knowing he should maintain distance. "I mean, I get along well with Dietrich, but I wasn't invited to her party. You were."

Jenny had seen James and Dietrich's camaraderie. Their body language was relaxed, friendly. From what she gathered, Dietrich usually invited him to parties. It was strange that she hadn't this time—especially when she had invited Jenny, the new actress James had personally advocated for.

Having spent years among wealthy socialites, Jenny was attuned to these subtleties. Instead of saying goodbye, she asked, "James, about my third audition—did you tell Dietrich to ignore me on purpose, to put me under more pressure?"

James groaned. "No, but she read the situation well. She saw my intentions and played along. Why do you ask?"

"I just found her behavior odd." Jenny bared her teeth in a half-smile. "Thanks, though. Now I understand."

Despite her reservations, Jenny attended Dietrich's party.

First, she doubted Dietrich would do anything reckless. This was a country ruled by law. If anything happened in her home that jeopardized Jenny's performance, James would make her regret it.

Second, she wanted to gauge Dietrich's intentions firsthand. It was better to uncover hidden motives now than be blindsided before a show. Besides, as Velma, Dietrich wasn't in direct competition with her for the spotlight. There might be misunderstandings between them, but as long as they could be resolved, there was no reason to escalate tensions.

Foreigners loved parties. While Jenny didn't understand the appeal of standing around with a drink in hand, she had attended enough to recognize the different tiers. High-end ones, like Lillian's New Year's party, featured formal dresses and fine wine. Hollywood parties were filled with scantily-clad women and men looking for hookups. Broadway's artistic crowd leaned toward bohemian gatherings. Dietrich's Soho apartment, filled with mystical tapestries and eclectic decor, fit that mold.

But Jenny sensed something was off even before she stepped inside. The moment she entered, it hit her—

The stench.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of marijuana. Jenny struggled to breathe. Limbs sprawled lazily across sofas, ethereal music played, and hazy-eyed partygoers immersed themselves in their own worlds.

She didn't need to be particularly astute to realize she had walked into a drug-fueled gathering.

Both Jenny's and Chen Zhen's pasts had exposed them to this world. Jenny had attended a poor public school where students smoked weed openly. She had taken a few puffs once at a party but hated the nausea that followed. Chen Zhen, on the other hand, had married into a powerful family that enforced strict anti-drug policies. Her father-in-law made it clear: one misstep, and you'd lose everything.

Jenny had attended Hollywood parties where marijuana was casually present, but she had always left early. This, however, was the first time she had been invited to a gathering that revolved entirely around it.

And it was too late to leave.

She had already made eye contact with Dietrich and some colleagues. Walking out now would label her as a prude and likely alienate her from the troupe.

"Hey, Dietrich," Jenny greeted with a smile. "Thanks for inviting me."

Dietrich, cigarette in hand, took a deep inhale from a hookah and then extended a freshly lit joint toward Jenny. "You're late."

"Got lost on the way," Jenny said, waving off the offer. "No thanks."

Dietrich's eyes widened. "You don't smoke?"

Around them, the mood shifted. Colleagues gave her looks that said, "Don't be that person."

"I can't." Jenny sighed. "My agent's a pain—regular drug tests."

Dietrich laughed. "Oh, please. It's just weed. It won't show up after a week."

Jenny cursed inwardly. These people were drug-test veterans.

Thinking fast, she added, "Hair test. My agent is brutal. If I test positive, I get fined six grand."

That won her some sympathy, but Dietrich still wasn't satisfied. She pushed the joint toward Jenny again. "Really?"

Jenny now suspected she was being tested. Instead of panicking, she took the joint, lifted it to her nose as if about to smoke, then suddenly dropped it. "Shit! I can't. I really can't."

Laughter erupted around her. Someone teased, "Oh, poor thing."

Dietrich didn't look pleased, but before she could press further, Jenny sprang into action. "Damn, Dietrich, I'm so sorry! Your carpet—let me clean that up."

She quickly retrieved a cloth and wiped the floor. The room, hazy and slow-moving, watched her curiously. Once finished, she said her goodbyes and left.

As she walked down the street, the stench clinging to her clothes, she pulled out her phone and called Lillian.

"Hey," she said as soon as the line connected. "Listen, Lill, I need your help with something... Didn't you say you had a classmate in a medical research lab?"