America achieves both fame and fortune

Chapter 133 Adaptability

The hotel's private beach was booked by two film crews, and the crew members could party on the beach all day Saturday, with unlimited drinks, beverages, and barbecue.

The film crew made it clear that they were discriminatory; non-crew members and men were not allowed to enter, while women were free to join the revelry on the beach if they wished.

Martin, wearing swim trunks, walked onto the beach alone.

Aja shouted at him, "Martin, come here, let's play a game."

On the five-a-side beach soccer field, A-Jia, with the director's strong appeal, gathered a group of female players.

Martin immediately ran over.

There are at least a dozen girls in swimsuits in the small ball court marked out.

They were all young actresses from the neighboring film crew who played female soccer players.

A-Jia said, "We are the two captains, and each of us will choose four team members to play."

Martin stepped on the ball: "Okay."

The female players around them eagerly jumped up and down, shouting, "Director A-Jia, pick me! Pick me!"

Martin shouted, "Who wants to be on my team!"

Not far away, the famously handsome Blake Lively was running towards them at top speed, shouting as she ran, "Save me a spot!"

She is tall with long legs, and her figure is practically flawless; it's just that her appearance is on the mature side.

Blake ran onto the field, winked at Martin, but then ran over to Aja.

Aja held up one finger and shook it at Martin: "Dude, you're not attractive enough."

Martin turned to face the girls: "I'm going to pick some."

Several female players jumped out and said, "We're on your team."

Martin randomly selected four Latin female players, with the tallest one serving as goalkeeper.

Aja said, "I'll let you kick off first."

"Ladies!" Martin shouted from the center of the field, "We're going to score first!"

He kicked the ball to the player in black on the left, turned and ran towards the opponent's field, and the player in black immediately passed the ball back.

Martin had played football in high school in his previous life, but hadn't touched it for many years. Upon receiving the ball, he immediately took a long dribble.

A girl in a gold swimsuit rushed over from the opposite side to steal the ball, but it seemed she couldn't stop in time and crashed into him, ball and all.

Martin truly experienced what it means to charge someone with the ball.

No wonder A-Jia wanted to organize a beach soccer tournament.

Blake, the real-face dog, bumped into Martin and seemed about to fall, but grabbed Martin's arm and pressed him down hard.

Aja dribbled past Martin.

Martin didn't bother defending him; only a fool would defend a man.

Blake got up and rushed forward.

Martin went back to defend, and as soon as he got into position, he saw Blake receive the ball and dribbling straight towards him.

Without a shot, a pass, or a feint, Blake, the true face-obsessed guy, crashed straight into Martin.

Martin fell to the ground and crashed onto the beach.

Blake also fell down, landing on top of Martin.

She might have hurt herself from the fall, or she might have remembered something; she rolled over and over on Martin.

A-Jia was dumbfounded, and then he understood why the female lead next door wanted to be on his team.

He wasn't the target at all!

The dark-haired Latina girl next to him curled her lip, almost spitting out the word "shameless".

But the production team I was in was arranged by the other party's father, so I had to hold back from cursing her.

"Sorry." Blake struggled to his feet. "I lost control. Did I hurt you?"

With so many people around, what could Martin say? "It's okay."

Blake struggled to his feet, reached out to help Martin, and couldn't help but exclaim, "You're so strong!"

"You're very fit," Martin complimented, getting up and brushing the sand off his clothes.

Blake said, "I played soccer and was the cheerleading captain from sixth grade."

Martin nodded. "You've practiced it, yet you still dribble the ball and bump into people?"

Ah-Jia grew impatient and shouted, "You two, are you going to continue?"

Martin stretched: "Why not continue?"

Not far away, Vogel sat on a beach chair, taking in all of this.

The difference in the timing of resource selection has broken my heart.

Vogel climbed up by stepping on others, and he doesn't mind continuing to climb up by stepping on others.

In his mind, this was the ladder of Hollywood, and every step upwards was through the bodies of his rivals.

Rick came over and said, "It's best to do it in the afternoon; accidents are more likely to happen at night."

Vogel asked, "Is everything done?"

Rick nodded slightly: "The snake is ready. Call me before you leave so I can make preparations in advance."

Vogel understood Rick's motives: "I'll give you the final payment after it's done. Just keep your mouth shut."

Rick laughed, "I'm Mexican, I'm no threat to you."

Vogel waved his hand, and Rick left.

About twenty meters away from the two, Bruce, wearing sunglasses, took out his newly bought camera phone and took several photos of Rick.

He then called Dalot, the safety supervisor on set, and sent a multimedia message.

On the field, the other female players weren't focused on the game; these Mexican women were dreaming of going to the United States.

Aja was knocked into the goal by the enthusiastic female players.

Martin wasn't in a good position either; he was knocked down by several female players, and more players rushed up with the ball.

terrible!

Martin, like a wounded soldier barely clinging to life after a massive bombardment, struggled to crawl out from the onslaught of the female players.

Two long legs came running from the opposite direction. Blake rushed over to save Martin, grabbed him, and ran.

"Hurry! Hurry!" Martin had lost all face as a man, but safety was far more important than saving face.

Martin stopped after running a few dozen meters.

Blake caught up from behind, brushed the sand off his face, and stared at his handsome face: "Are you alright?"

Martin spread his legs and stretched a little: "It's not a big problem."

Blake went to brush the sand off Martin again, and when he turned around he saw the open-air shower area. He grabbed Martin's arm: "Let's go over there and wash the sand off."

It was hot, and Martin felt uncomfortable because he was sweating and had sand on his body. He went over there with them.

After rinsing off, it wasn't suitable to sunbathe anymore, so Martin found a beach chair and lay down under a parasol.

Blake brought over two cold drinks, handing one to Martin: "This should suit your taste."

Martin accepted it, nodding and smiling, "Thank you."

Blake lay on a beach chair next to Martin, covering his chest and abdomen with a towel, but his long legs were draped over the side of the chair. He deliberately kept swaying them in front of Martin and asked, "When are you coming to the set? I'm waiting to rehearse with you. You're playing my sweetheart, and I don't feel anything when I act with my assistant."

Martin casually replied, "I should be able to finish filming here next week."

He noticed Old Bu walking past and said, "I have something to do, let's talk later."

"I'll wait for you here." Blake watched Martin leave, pondering.

People who are good-looking receive more attention and training from the company...

Although she's a sucker for good looks, Blake grew up in a family of actors and thinks much more deeply than the average girl.

Entering a dressing room, Bruce closed the door from the inside and said, "I notified Dalot; his men are following that production assistant, and it seems the other party went to the countryside."

Dalot was the security supervisor previously hired by the crew; people like that have a lot of influence locally.

Martin asked in surprise, "What are you going to do in the wilderness? Shoot in the back? That can't be right, the location scenes are all finished."

Bruce advised, "It's best to figure out what he's going to do and then react accordingly. I believe you can handle it within the hotel premises."

Martin emphasized, "Old Brooks, you'd better guard my rear."

Bruce said, "Don't worry, I'll cover for you. Dalot and his team have a lot of connections with Hollywood. They do things for money and have a good reputation. One call from me and at least a dozen people will come."

This sounded unreliable, and Martin felt uneasy, but he trusted Old Brooks.

Before leaving, Bruce said again, "Be flexible, figure out what he's up to, I'm nearby."

Martin returned to the beach and found Craven, Aja, and Kapis, among others, each leading the female players back to their hotels.

Judging by this, they probably won't even come out this afternoon.

Martin returned to the parasol and found Blake still waiting for him.

Blake watched Martin walk towards him into the sunlight and found it a delightful sight; he was simply too beautiful to look at.

She has a pretty face and a great figure.

Martin lay back on the beach chair and chatted with Blake until almost noon.

The two film crews prepared a lavish luncheon, which was held in the hotel's Grand Ballroom No. 1.

Not many people came.

The main male cast and crew members took the Mexican female players back to their rooms early.

Martin took a shower, changed his clothes, and went to the banquet hall.

The lunch was a buffet. Martin grabbed a bunch of food and a bottle of wine. Just as he found a place to sit down, Blake, who had changed into a dress, arrived.

She placed the glass opposite Martin: "Pour me a glass."

Martin asked habitually, "You're underage."

Blake said, "This isn't America." She beckoned to a young actor in the crew, "Get me a bottle of wine."

The young actor, like a servant, obediently went to fetch the wine.

Blake seemed to be thinking of Martin's best interests: "That way, it's none of your business."

The young actor brought over the drinks, and a few other people followed, one of whom was Mike Vogel.

He sat down next to me, carrying two bottles of Mexican tequila. "Martin, long time no see, wanna grab a drink?"

Martin smiled, his mind racing. Spreading the news would ignite his competitive spirit; alcoholics are prone to impulsiveness, so why not provoke him into a fight? He was a good comrade who had been tested by alcohol.

Vogel opened the bottle, poured wine into two glasses, pushed one of them to the edge of the table, and taunted Martin, "I reminded you about Andrew Nickell; you owe me a favor."

Martin didn't touch the glass of liquor, and picked up his own whiskey: "I don't like tequila."

Vogel glanced at the alcohol content label on the whiskey and said, "Go ahead."

Martin opened the bottle, poured himself a glass, clinked glasses with Vogel, and said calmly, "Thank you for what happened last time."

The two raised their glasses and drank together.

Once you start drinking, it's hard to stop. Vogel knew this all too well, so he chatted with Martin while finding all sorts of excuses to pour himself more drinks.

Martin also wanted to see what he was doing.

After a few drinks, the two men started chatting animatedly.

They boast about the amazing things they've done, how good they are at fighting, as if they could single-handedly destroy the earth, and they refuse to acknowledge anyone else's superiority.

Blake was slightly disappointed; it seemed his idol's drinking manners weren't very good.

Martin boasted that he was the bravest and most capable fighter in Georgia.

Vogel boasted that he was the best person in Baja California.

(End of this chapter)