American History 1988
Chapter 201 - 195: Little Deer

Chapter 201: Chapter 195: Little Deer

"Dean, I think this Christmas tree is nice."

In the Walmart, Jennifer Connolly examined a decorative Christmas tree repeatedly.

The bright ribbons and twinkling beads embellished the green pine branches, shining brightly.

"I think it might not fit in our trunk," Dean logically offered his suggestion.

"Come on, it’s my first time spending Christmas in California." Jennifer Connolly shook Dean’s arm just like countless lovestruck girls.

"Umm..." Dean’s eyes wandered, then suddenly lit up, "Jenny, if you want to buy this Christmas tree, then you have to agree to wear this."

Following Dean’s gaze, Jennifer Connolly saw a Santa Claus outfit.

However, this Santa suit was quite special; it was extremely revealing, seemingly without any place to hide.

What’s more, the Santa hat was replaced with two cute reindeer antlers.

"Dean~" Jennifer Connolly looked at him with a strange expression.

"Sweetheart," Dean whispered close to her ear, "I want to see you dressed up as a little Christmas reindeer."

"Then who’s Santa Claus?" Jennifer Connelly glanced at him flirtatiously.

Seizing the moment when no one was around, Dean slapped Jennifer Connolly’s butt with a smack.

"Only I can handle the little reindeer!" Dean liked a bit of excitement.

"You are such a bastard!" Jennifer Connolly quickly stuffed the special Santa suit into the shopping cart.

Beep beep beep... Her Motorola in the bag rang.

"Hello~ this is Jennifer Connolly." She answered the call while signaling Dean to handle the Christmas tree.

"Wait! Are you Mr. Eric Pryszka?" Jennifer Connolly hastily motioned for Dean to be quiet, "OK, I’m available anytime..."

Just as Jennifer Connolly was about to catch the hand that was mischievously caressing her waist, her expression froze, "Uh, are you talking about Dean?"

Dean, holding her slender waist, raised an eyebrow; he thought he heard his name.

"I’m not sure... I’ll let him know, then goodbye..." Jennifer Connolly hung up the phone and shrugged at Dean.

"Looking for me?" Dean felt vaguely familiar with the name Eric Pryszka she mentioned.

"Mr. Pryszka from Orion, he wants to invite you for dinner." Jennifer Connolly was initially excited when she heard his identity.

Since the movie "Boiling Point" flopped, she hasn’t received any film offers until now.

The CEO of Orion personally calling over, Jennifer Connolly thought her luck had finally turned, but the result was totally unexpected.

"Is this important to you?" Dean probably guessed the purpose of the call.

Just that he didn’t expect them to be so impatient, unwilling even to wait until after Christmas.

Jennifer Connolly didn’t reply, she didn’t want to put Dean in a difficult position, but her concern was evident in her eyes.

"All right, after Christmas, we’ll find some time to meet him." Dean had some memory of the CEO of Orion.

"Oh, sweetheart~" Jennifer Connolly wrapped her arms around his neck, "I promise, I’ll be all yours tonight."

"Yeah" Dean’s mouth curved into a smile, "Tonight, Santa’s going to ride his little reindeer, galloping away."

"Hold on tight to the reins, don’t get lost."

...

Beep beep beep... Early morning, Dean was awakened by the ringtone of the phone next to the bed.

"Hello~" He answered the phone lazily.

"Dean, if you can’t appear in Washington today, then we’re finished!"

Shit! Dean was instantly jolted awake, quickly checking to confirm that the figure beside him was still asleep.

Dean covered the phone with his hand, "Sweetheart, I’m on my way to the airport, give me some more time."

"Christmas is over, but you were absent. I guess you were with your little girlfriend, right?!" Miranda’s raised voice echoed painfully in Dean’s ears.

"Dean, who is it?" Jennifer Connolly’s groggy voice came from beside him.

"Bitch! He’s mine! F*ck you!"

Dean slammed down the receiver, dammit, she might have heard that.

Jennifer, propped up halfway, had the cute reindeer antlers broken and hanging in her hair.

The Santa suit was also torn and tattered; Dean had galloped in them all night long.

"What’s wrong, Dean?" Jennifer Connolly rubbed her face; she seemed to have heard someone cursing.

"Just some business stuff." Dean quietly reassured her, then tiptoed out of bed to the other room.

Business stuff that gets called a bitch? Jennifer Connolly was somewhat puzzled.

But before she could get up to investigate, Dean had already returned to the bedroom looking composed.

"Sweetheart?" Jennifer Connolly let pieces of the ripped fabric fall from her body.

"Jenny, I’m taking you back to New York." Dean began searching the bedroom for scattered clothes.

"Now?" Jennifer Connolly’s head hadn’t fully cleared yet; Dean had shaken her by her hair all night long, and she felt like her brain was about to be thoroughly scrambled.

"There’s a business deal to talk over in Washington, plus I’ll give you a ride home," Dean was already packed and ready to go in just two minutes.

"What business is so urgent?" Jennifer clutched her hair and complained, "I had just managed to convince my mother."

"A bigger deal than that White House over there," Dean tossed her clothes to her, "Come on, dear, we need to be at the San Francisco airport in one hour."

...

Five hours later, Dean showed up punctually in front of Miranda’s apartment.

"Surprise!" The moment she opened the door, Dean, clad in a Santa Claus outfit, stepped forward with an exquisite jewelry box in his hands.

"Bastard!" Miranda cursed and then tried to close the door.

"Dear," Dean shamelessly wedged himself in the door, "look, I’ve brought you a present."

It was only then that Miranda noticed the delicate little box in his hands, but she still did not offer him a warm reception.

"I’ve already heard, is it that Hollywood bimbo?!"

"I was talking business all night last night, Miranda," Dean explained with an air of grievance, "Afterward, everyone went to a party, and then I drank too much.

When I woke up, everyone was sleeping in the living room, and what you just heard was just one of the people there."

"One of them?!" Miranda grew even angrier.

"No, I mean nothing happened, there were lots of people. Look, this is a Tiffany necklace I had custom-made just for you."

The box was too conspicuous, and hearing the name "Tiffany" made Miranda’s heartbeat quicken noticeably.

Tiffany, the renowned luxury jewelry brand headquartered in New York. Their jewelry is internationally famous, like the diamond rings...

Noticing the momentary hesitation in Miranda’s eyes, Dean seized the opportunity to open the box, "Look, such a beautiful necklace."

Miranda was somewhat disappointed, and her tone reverted to sarcasm. "What kind of business needs to be talked all night, especially on Christmas?"

"Oh, dear. Byte Company is about to enter the next round of fundraising, and those guys can’t even wait for Christmas.

I could have refused, but there was one important person involved, so..."

"Aha, an important person, more important than the one in the White House?"

"Maybe," Dean said with the look of having been caught out, and without pausing, he proceeded to put the necklace on Miranda himself.

Well, Tiffany’s merchandise was indeed luxurious, and Miranda reluctantly accepted it.

While she was distracted admiring the necklace, Dean forcefully squeezed through the door and then slammed it shut.

Come on, he was still dressed as Santa Claus.

"Miranda, how about we play a game? I’ll be Santa Claus, and you can be the little Christmas reindeer," Dean said.

Dean then took out another special outfit from his bag, thinking Miranda would look quite nice in it as well.

...

As the year turned to ’91 and the brief Christmas break passed, Silicon Valley buzzed with life once again.

While people were still basking in the afterglow of the holidays, Byte Company’s annual financial report dropped like a depth charge, turning Silicon Valley upside down.

Although the newspapers had announced the milestone of Teams’ sales exceeding one million units earlier, the specifics of Byte Company’s financials remained unknown to the public.

But now it had arrived, and the $157 million in sales left the entire Silicon Valley speechless.

Byte Company had only been established for 14 months, but they had set the record for the fastest-growing software company.

The previous record-holder was Oracle, located in Redwood City.

But that wasn’t the most surprising part. According to the financial report, Byte Company’s profit margin was an astonishing 20%.

Compared to Oracle’s 14% and Lotus Software’s 13.7% profit margins, its performance was particularly dazzling.

Even though Byte Company’s financial statement had not been audited by any authoritative institutions, no one doubted its authenticity.

Because it pertained to Byte Company’s upcoming IPO; if the board did not wish to joke about its prospects for going public, then the financial report was undoubtedly credible.

$157 million and a 20% profit margin—the investors on Sand Hill Road were already fidgeting with their calculators.

Damn! Seeing the numbers, investors were already on the move.

Byte Company was releasing its financials at this time; it was clear they were ready for the next round of funding.

"Glenn," in the office at Mayfield, senior partner Wally Davis affectionately wrapped his arm around Glenn Miller’s shoulder.

"Look, now that Byte Company is making big bucks, but our backers are not happy.

They think they should have had a piece of that big money.

So..." Wally Davis patted Glenn’s shoulder, "you’d better find a way back into Byte Company, or I can’t guarantee what might happen."

Glenn Miller’s face went pale; he felt like he was about to collapse.

Ever since Mayfield had pulled out of Byte Company, every mention of the rival’s name in the newspapers was another round of ridicule from his colleagues for Glenn.

They didn’t say anything to Glenn’s face, but he was certain they were pointing and whispering behind his back.

Now the repercussions had arrived, and he had to take responsibility for his prior smugness.