American History 1988
Chapter 168 - 162: The Hollywood Party

Chapter 168: Chapter 162: The Hollywood Party

Dean glanced around at the men and women filling the room. Despite the lively atmosphere, he barely knew anyone.

Oh, he recognized the stars, of course, but they were not familiar with him.

Dean had no intention of getting involved in Hollywood’s gossip circles, so he didn’t try to get chummy with anyone.

Valentine was resting in the hotel, and Anna hadn’t come along, so Dean simply grabbed a glass of drink and headed straight for his destination.

However, just as he was about to reach the balcony, a short figure blocked his path.

"Mr. Price?" The man was not tall, around his fifties. He wore an Italian dark suit, and most of his hair had turned gray.

"I’m sorry, sir, you are...?" Dean had to stop in his tracks. This really wasn’t a good time.

"Eric Pryszka." The man held a drink in one hand and extended the other for a simple introduction.

"Dean Price." Although he didn’t recognize him, Dean responded politely.

"I watched the program just now, a brilliant performance," Eric said with a smile, clinking his glass closer.

"Yeah, I thought it was pretty good too," Dean replied, clinking glasses with him amidst the throng of people that somewhat obstructed his view of the balcony.

"Byte Company will be the fastest-growing company this year, not even Bell the Great can stop you!" After giving the compliment, Eric laughed heartily.

Puzzled, Dean gave a perfunctory laugh and then had no choice but to take control of the conversation’s rhythm. "So, sir, you..."

Seeing the puzzled look in Dean’s eyes, Eric seemed to suddenly remember, "Sorry, I forgot you are still unfamiliar with this place."

With that, Eric pulled out a business card from his pocket, "Orion Pictures—have you heard of ’Adimas’, ’RoboCop’, or ’Battle Platoon’?"

"Oh—" As the man listed off a series of movie names, Dean nodded in understanding. "I really liked ’RoboCop’."

"It’s a movie that gets the blood pumping," Eric said with even greater joy, hearing Dean’s response.

Liking popcorn blockbusters meant the other party was a genuine outsider.

This kind of wealthy young man with only a half-baked understanding of movies was the perfect target he was looking for.

"Interested in the film industry?" Eric finally threw out the bait.

"The film industry?" Dean looked up, the short middle-aged man across from him gazing at him persuasively.

"Yes, investing in the film industry, participating in movie production, isn’t that cool?" Eric spoke passionately, holding his drink. "You get to meet a lot of stars, and they’ll definitely be a treat for your eyes."

While saying this, Eric’s glance unintentionally drifted towards the balcony. He had noticed earlier that Dean’s gaze kept sweeping there.

"No!" Dean refused without even thinking about it.

The smile on Eric’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Please believe me, investing in movies is just like investing in companies.

If you find a good script, it’s like finding a great idea for a company; it will bring you generous returns."

"Sorry, I don’t understand the film industry, and I have other things to do." Dean said, ready to step around him with his drink in hand. He had been delayed here for too long.

"Mr. Price, could you introduce me to Mr. Valentine then?" This was Eric’s second goal—if he couldn’t snag a big fish, he would look for a real investor.

"Trust me, he won’t like you," Dean remembered Valentine’s disdainful attitude towards Hollywood.

"How about we make a trade? A trade about resources, I think the people outside would need it," Eric hinted.

Dean stopped in his tracks, his gaze flickering.

A minute later, Dean appeared on the balcony with his drink in hand.

And that graceful figure was still leaning against the railing, overlooking the night scene of the Bel Air mansion.

Her voice drifted over, as the wind carried a hint of her feminine low tone, "I don’t feel like dancing right now, thank you."

"Wow, have I come too late, or is the lady so charming that I’m not the first one to invite you?"

Jennifer turned her head. "Dean?" Her smile returned to her face.

"Yeah, I took your earlier words as an invitation. Otherwise, a nerd from Silicon Valley like me wouldn’t have found this place."

Dean walked up to her and extended his drink, and Jennifer clinked her glass with his, laughing. "Then as the person who invited you, may I ask if you’re satisfied with the party tonight?"

"To be honest, I was a bit uncomfortable at first, but now I’m enjoying the moment." Dean sipped his champagne, then pulled his gaze back from the distant night scene to the person beside him.

Heh, they both chuckled simultaneously.

"Don’t like the party?" Dean placed his empty glass on the balcony beside him and then leaned on the railing with his arm, mimicking her pose.

"No, it’s lively here." The night wind lifted her dark hair, seeming to melt into the night as it fluttered.

"Come on, your downhearted mood is almost written on your face," Dean joked, twirling his fists below his eyes.

The gesture made Jennifer chuckle, "That definitely doesn’t sound like a nerd; have you used that move to let many girls let their guard down?"

Dean shrugged, "You know, ’nerd’ isn’t usually a self-proclaimed label.

It’s what people assume when they hear I’m from Silicon Valley and that I code."

"Yeah," Jennifer laughed at his explanation. "You really are funny, Dean. You’re not a nerd."

"I’ll take that as a compliment then."

"Of course."

After some laughter and banter, taking advantage of a quiet moment between them, Dean tentatively asked, "Is it because of the program earlier?"

Jennifer’s smile faded, and she cast her gaze back into the night sky.

"Things haven’t been going well," her voice grew even lower, "but I’ve been prepared for this, I’ve been away too long..."

"Jenny, may I call you that?" Dean tried changing the way he addressed her.

Jennifer turned her head, looking at Dean in surprise, and just when he thought she would refuse, she nodded generously. "Of course, we’re friends now, aren’t we?"

"OK, Jenny," Dean gestured with his hands, "I was there during the recording of your show, and I’ve heard about the movie situation."

Upon hearing this, Jennifer’s eyes dimmed further; the memories of the show were not pleasant.

"But what I want to say is," Dean looked into her eyes seriously, "everything that happens on stage is just NBC’s production team, thinking about viewership ratings.

They lack compassion, they’re rude, and they don’t consider the perspectives of those being questioned.

Everything they do is for the sake of catching eyes, so what happens there doesn’t represent how people outside of that studio see you."

Jennifer stared at Dean for a good while before venting, word by word, "Letterman is an asshole!"

"Yeah! That’s right, he’s a total asshole!" Dean gave the infamous middle finger gesture toward the figurines of Buddha below.

"Asshole!" Jennifer mimicked him, also giving the middle finger in the direction of Hollywood.

Two twenty-year-olds, one dressed in a suit and the other in an evening gown.

At that moment, they made crude gestures without a care, a sight that was slightly indecent but blended harmoniously with the night.

Having vented, the expression on Jennifer’s face finally became much livelier.

She had similarly been teased from start to finish on "The Late Show with David Letterman," but the jokes had been even more extreme, tied to her upcoming movie "Boiling Point."

As Brad had previously mentioned, Jennifer had nearly appeared nude in one scene of the movie.

With the news already out, David Letterman, of course, took the opportunity to heavily tease her about this topic.

Those who have seen American talk shows know how far they can go.

Letterman’s questions were mostly centered around that part, not much different from risqué jokes.

At 20 years old, Jennifer couldn’t stand his rude questioning, nor the laughter and whistles from the audience.

But in Hollywood, being pleasing in sound and color is almost a consensus for actors, so Jennifer had to endure.

Her agent, Brian, also repeatedly pressured her to manage her image well on stage.

She was already doubtful about her scenes in the movie, and "The Late Show" only deepened those worries.

That’s why Jennifer had been down in the dumps, but after venting, she felt much lighter.

"Mr. Hundred million, you have a gift for being a therapist," the now sparkling Jennifer remembered Dean’s previous performance on stage.

Dean, who had given up struggling, shrugged, "Just half an hour ago, someone told me I had the talent to be a superstar.

Also, let me tell you a secret..." Dean leaned in closer, gazing into her green eyes, "I’m actually broke~"

"Haha~" The two stood shoulder to shoulder, laughing heartily at the statues of Buddha, Hollywood, and Los Angeles.

When they ran out of laughter, they leaned on the railing, quietly admiring the moonlight.

"Dean"

"Hmm~" Dean was sleepy.

"Eric was trying to get you to invest in Orion earlier, but you’d better not do that.

Last year and all through this year, Orion’s movies have been nearly all flops, and there are rumors they’re about to go bankrupt."

Dean’s smile curled up at the corners of his mouth; she had noticed him a while ago.

"Thank you~"

"So, before the party ends and my mother picks me up, as a thank you, would you dance with me?"

Dean stood up straight, gazing at her delicate face, her dark, beautiful, and mysterious eyebrows.

"Of course, but as you know, I’m from the countryside; you’ll have to teach me."

"No problem," Jennifer was more than happy to be the teacher; see, Dean wasn’t almighty after all.

Back in the lively living room, Jennifer pulled Dean into the dancing crowd.

It wasn’t a ballroom dance, everyone just moved as they pleased.

The graceful figure was so close Dean could smell her perfume, close enough to make out the faint beauty mark on her upper lip.

Getting ever closer, the young woman’s lips were soft, and Dean was immersed, unable to extricate himself.

...

The next morning, after having stayed up for the better part of the night, Dean was catching up on sleep, but he was woken up by two phone calls.

One was from Uncle Bill, who invited Dean to visit his house.

The implication from the phone seemed related to the North District Court.

The other call was from Dor, asking Dean to come back to Silicon Valley as soon as possible.

The speech encoding technology was close to finding another potential partner.

Alright~, it was time for him to get back to business.

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