Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm

"Bye-bye!"

Martin ended the call.

The blanket beside him squirmed a little, and Drew's head popped out. She licked her lips, her face flushed.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Michael Eisner. He wants me to give up Blue Sky Studios," Martin replied casually, tossing the phone aside with a smirk.

"You didn't agree, did you?" Drew's eyes widened with a flash of worry.

Michael Eisner, who had ruled Disney with an iron fist for two decades, was infamous throughout Hollywood for his dominance and strong-arm tactics. To those unfamiliar with Disney's internal power struggles, the old tyrant's reputation was still quite formidable.

Martin shook his head. "Of course not."

Recalling the hint of pleading in Eisner's tone during the call, Martin chuckled. "That old guy really is getting on in years. His energy seems to have waned considerably. I bet Roy Disney and Bob Iger are pushing him hard."

Listening to Martin's casual evaluation of one of Hollywood's top power players, Drew Barrymore's eyes lit up, and the flicker of anxiety in her heart vanished.

She had almost forgotten—Martin was one of Hollywood's elite, standing shoulder to shoulder with those at the very top. He had even started stepping beyond the confines of the entertainment world. Compared to Michael Eisner, Martin's status was in no way inferior.

Hehe, I really have an eye for people.

Drew couldn't help but feel proud of herself, recalling how she had "taken the initiative" to approach Martin years ago in New Zealand.

"Hey, Drew, haven't you got something to finish?" Martin asked.

"What? Oh, damn it! Martin, you and your 123 little brats!"

Drew's head was promptly pushed back down under the covers.

Miramax Headquarters

Harvey's Office

The corpulent producer lay back in his oversized chair, puffing leisurely on a cigar, while the seductive voice of his beautiful secretary filled the room as she read aloud the film reviews in the newspaper.

"Another Christmas season is here, and the North American box office has entered its fiercest competition yet. Among the surprises, it's neither the massive box office success of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers nor the powerhouse collaboration between Leonardo DiCaprio and Steven Spielberg in Catch Me If You Can. Instead, it's the musical film Chicago."

"This Miramax production has, following 20th Century Fox's Moulin Rouge, sparked a brief revival of the musical genre. With a production cost of 45 million dollars, it has raked in nearly 100 million at the North American box office in just three weeks. Older audiences, in particular, are mesmerized by the film, returning to theaters again and again. It's as if the film transported them back to the golden age of Hollywood."

Chicago was a critical and commercial triumph.

After a year of decline, Harvey was finally regaining his footing.

Blowing out a puff of smoke, he narrowed his eyes and asked lazily, "When's Bob coming back?"

His secretary shot her boss a glance. Seeing that he paid no attention to her alluring attire, she purred in a coquettish tone, "Bob Weinstein will be back this afternoon. Boss, we still have some time~!"

Feigning confusion, Harvey replied, "Time for what?"

Then he waved dismissively. "You can go now. Leave the newspaper."

Once his sultry secretary had left the office, Harvey sighed in relief.

For reasons he couldn't quite fathom, his "performance" in that department had been lackluster lately—either failing to rise to the occasion or being over far too quickly. Even the blue pill didn't seem to help.

Could it be that I'm tired of this one? Looks like it's time to hire a new secretary!

Harvey didn't dwell on it. He picked up the newspaper from his desk, humming a tune as he scanned the glowing reviews of Chicago. The endless praise had him grinning ear to ear.

Until—

"The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers grosses $214 million within two and a half weeks, breaking the record for fastest to $200 million..."

"Shit!"

With a furious snarl, Harvey tore the page from the newspaper, crumpled it into a ball, and hurled it into the trash can.

Beverly Hills

Martin's Mansion – Private Beach

Martin and Leonardo lounged in beach chairs, soaking up the sun.

Leo took a sip of his juice, set the glass down, and reclined with his hands behind his head.

"This place is amazing, especially the private beach. It's so secluded—perfect for parties," Leo remarked, glancing around with audible admiration.

"Parties are better hosted at rented venues. This place is only for close friends. By the way, the media doesn't know about this spot yet, so don't let anything slip," Martin warned.

"Don't worry, I've got a tight lip." Leo mimicked zipping his mouth shut, then added with a laugh, "You know, Tobey's shooting Gary Ross's Seabiscuit. Word is, he's baring his ass in the film. Ha!"

"For the sake of art! Tobey must have his sights set on the Oscars," Martin quipped.

The mention of the Oscars brightened Leo's expression.

This year, he had a solid chance. With Gangs of New York and Catch Me If You Can both in the race and massive campaigns underway, Leo felt confident about a Best Actor nomination. But whether he could win...

A frown crossed his face.

His youthful arrogance had alienated the Academy's old guard, and they still held a grudge.

(PS: Back when Titanic became a global phenomenon, it earned James Cameron the Best Director Oscar and secured a Best Actress nomination for Kate Winslet. Even technical categories like costume and cinematography won accolades. Yet Leo, the film's male lead, didn't even receive a nomination.

Although the movie catapulted him to superstardom and made him the heartthrob of millions, the Academy offered him no consolation—not even a nod.

In a fit of youthful defiance, Leo refused to attend the 70th Academy Awards, saying to the press: "It's not arrogance. If I wasn't nominated, why should I walk the red carpet? Just to show my face? That's not my style."

Instead, he spent Oscar night dining on sushi at a Greenwich restaurant in New York.

From that point on, relations between Leo and the Academy soured. Despite later regrets and numerous efforts to mend fences, the damage was done.)

Feeling despondent, Leo suddenly remembered that the man sitting next to him was a member of the Academy's voting body. A flattering smile spread across his face.

He propped himself up, leaned toward Martin, and brought his slightly chubby, stubbly face uncomfortably close. 

"Hey, Martin, my dear, dear brother!"

Martin shuddered, goosebumps prickling his skin. He barely stopped himself from reflexively kneeing Leo away. Instead, he shoved Leo's face back, wiping his hand on the chair with exaggerated disgust.

"If you've got something to say, just say it. I'm not into knightly duels." "Knightly duels? What the hell?" Leo looked puzzled, then caught on and barked a laugh. "Screw you! I'm a straight man, through and through."

His face quickly returned to its sycophantic expression. Summoning all his acting skills, he pleaded in the most obsequious tone imaginable, "Martin, vote for me. And maybe help me rally a few more votes?"