America achieves both fame and fortune

Chapter 791 Red Umbrella, White Pole

The studio wasn't far from the photography studio. Martin walked quickly, and as soon as he entered the studio's main entrance, he heard Mia and Sebastian arguing.

Sebastian demanded, "Who was that person last night? This isn't the first time I've seen you with him! Mia, please don't treat me like a minor. The way you were linking arms with him, it's definitely not just a normal friend!"

"Gross is a producer! I'll say it again, he's a producer!" Mia exploded, her voice sharp. "I went to see him yesterday to discuss future collaborations! I'm a screenwriter now, a screenwriter for a $6000 million film project. Isn't it normal for other producers to approach me?"

Hearing this, Sebastian calmed down somewhat and said in a low voice, "On the 30th of last month, you went to the Four Seasons Hotel with him; on the 6th, 14th, and 19th of this month, and yesterday, you went to the Four Seasons Hotel with him again, staying there for more than three hours each time!"

Mia's expression changed: "You don't believe me? You've been following me!"

"I'm just obsessed with music, not an idiot," Sebastian said. He sighed, trying to salvage the situation: "Mia, come back. After we finish this project, we'll go somewhere else..."

"Are you crazy? Go somewhere else? Do you know how much effort I've put in to get where I am today?" Mia thought of her past life as a part-time waitress at Warner Bros. Studios, and then looked at her current position as the lead screenwriter on the production team. She said, "You like the down-on-his-luck me from the past, don't you? Now you're not satisfied with seeing me succeed step by step!"

Sebastian, a musician with a romantic spirit, said, "I'd rather you were the way you were before than see you like this!"

Mia resolutely declared, "You cannot imprison my dreams in the name of love!"

Martin entered the studio just in time to hear the last few sentences.

Many members of the film crew were watching, and there were plenty of onlookers everywhere.

If the argument continues, it will inevitably affect the work that follows.

Martin offered no comment on the two of them, and went straight over to them, saying, "Mia, Seba, have you two finished arguing?"

Mia had known Martin since 2005. When she saw Martin approaching, she bowed slightly and said, "I'm sorry."

Sebastian, who had known Martin for several years, said, "It's all my fault; I couldn't control my emotions."

Martin looked at the two men, then said very seriously, "We've been friends for many years, and now we're colleagues working in the same production crew. Discuss your personal feelings and affairs when you get back, and try to resolve them peacefully so as not to affect your work, okay?"

Mia said, "I'm sorry, Martin."

Sebastian nodded. "I promise, there won't be a next time."

Martin said, "Alright, let's go back and talk calmly. Don't let others laugh at us."

Mia glanced at Sebastian, slung her Hermès bag over her shoulder, and left the studio first.

Sebastian put his hands in his pockets and followed.

Behind her, Saoirse quietly approached and whispered gossip, "I told you so, didn't I?"

Martin glanced at her: "Stop talking nonsense, let's go."

The two left the studio and got into the electric scooter that Bruce had driven.

Saoirse said, "I have dinner plans with Greta Gerwig tonight. It's a girls' party, so I can't invite you."

Martin asked, "The screenwriter you met last time? The one Disney hired to adapt 'Beauty and the Beast'?"

"Yes, she's already started writing scripts," Saoirse said, leaning closer. "I've read all the scripts Greta has written."

Martin said, "It seems you get along well with her."

Saoirse wrinkled her nose: "Don't you remember who taught me!" She swung her fist: "When it comes to messing around, I'm a pro! When it comes to building connections, I'm a master too!"

Martin had known Saoirse for a long time and treated her somewhat differently, so he asked, "Have you had a deeper conversation with her?"

Saoirse lowered her fist and said, "We've talked a few times about Greta taking on the Beauty and the Beast project. She wanted to use it to make a name for herself and gain more experience. She's working on a story about a girl from Sacramento... Oh, Greta grew up there. She probably wants to write a script based on herself and then direct the movie herself."

Martin thought for a moment. He wasn't familiar with Greta Gerwig, but he had a fairly deep impression of Saoirse Ronan, and couldn't help but think of the movie "Lady Bird".

He said, "If you think Greta's story is good, you can recommend her to my studio."

Saoirse said with utmost seriousness, "I will! Teacher, I assure you, she will only look for another company if you don't like Greta's story."

Martin nodded in satisfaction. This student hadn't been taught in vain; he knew how to repay his teacher.

Upon arriving at the parking lot, Saoirse drove away alone.

Martin and Bruce got into the Cadillac Escalade, ready to return to Beverly Hills.

Just as the car left Burbank, Martin received a call from Clara.

"Are you free tonight?" Clara extended the invitation. "I'd like to invite you to dinner to thank you for taking care of me all this time."

Martin glanced outside and said, "I'll treat you to a meal at the Ritz-Carlton, Beverly Hills."

Clara immediately replied, "I'll be there at 7:30 sharp."

Martin said, "I have a long-term private room on the top floor of the hotel. When you arrive, just let the front desk know, and someone will take you up."

"Okay," Clara said with a smile. "See you in two hours, Martin."

Martin put away his phone and said to Bruce, "To the Ritz-Carlton Hotel."

Bruce turned at the next intersection, glanced at the time on the car clock, and said, "I'll drop you off at the hotel, then I'll go to Venice Beach."

Martin asked, "Are the Kardashians here?"

Bruce said, "All four sisters are on Venice Beach."

Martin was deeply impressed and gave Bruce a thumbs up: "Old Bruce, you're a real talent!"

"Don't misunderstand," Bruce explained. "I was just with Kim and Kohler..."

Martin interrupted him: "You don't need to explain, I understand, I understand everything. You, Bruce, are a good person, someone who takes care of other people's sisters."

Bruce gave Martin the middle finger: "Don't talk about me, you're no better than me!"

Martin offered no excuses, instead saying, "Give me whatever you want from the trunk."

Bruce said, "I won't stand on ceremony with you."

The Cadillac arrived at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel soon after. Martin got out of the car, went inside the hotel, and took the elevator to the top floor.

The Ritz-Carlton Hotel has been renovated, with the presidential suite on the top floor being remodeled. Martin's private room now features a garden-style terrace adorned with numerous green plants and a small swimming pool. A small glass-walled restaurant has also been built near the outer terrace.

Enjoy dinner at the restaurant and overlook the night view of Beverly's busiest business district.

When Martin made the reservation, Bruce routinely checked the suite to make sure there were no problems before leaving the hotel to meet the Kardashian sisters.

Meanwhile, Clara returned to her rented apartment, took a shower, carefully applied makeup, and changed into a red dress before setting off half an hour early.

Her rented apartment was located on the outskirts of Beverly Hills, not far from the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

Clara came downstairs and found that the wind had picked up.

Beverly Hills is not far from the sea, and the wind is a bit strong at night.

Clara held down the hem of her skirt with one hand and covered her chest with the other as she got into the car and headed to the hotel.

Upon arriving at the hotel and entering the underground parking lot, she called Martin and then took the private elevator to the top floor.

The butler, who was waiting at the door, asked a question and, as he opened the door, told Clara to go directly to the rooftop restaurant.

As darkness fell, the suite and terrace were brightly lit.

Clara's gaze traveled across the living room and through the glass wall to Martin, who was sitting in the terrace dining room.

She hurried to the doorway leading from the living room to the terrace, and the moment she opened the door, she felt a gust of night wind blowing in her face.

The wind is stronger on the rooftop of a high-rise building in Beverly Hills than it is below.

On the other side of the door, Martin was sitting in the glass restaurant.

Clara took two steps forward, and the night wind suddenly picked up. Perhaps because of the terrace's location, the wind blew from beneath her feet, causing the hem of her red dress to billow like an open red umbrella.

Beneath the red umbrella, naturally, lies the white pole.

Her smooth, long legs suddenly appeared under the night light, so white they seemed to reflect light.

Clara's first reaction was to press her hand down, holding down the hem of her skirt in front, just like in Marilyn Monroe's classic photos.

She then noticed that Martin was watching them with great interest.

Clara reacted immediately, loosened her grip on the hem of her skirt, hummed a dance tune, and moved her arms gently, her high heels tapping to the rhythm as she danced with the wind.

She has a great figure, dances well, and her unique style is a visual treat.

Martin leaned back in his dining chair, watching Clara dance. Amidst the fluttering red skirt, there was always a unique sight.

Perhaps due to the excessive playing, singing, and dancing during recent filming, Martin suddenly recalled a very classic internet song from his past life when he saw Clara's footsteps moving to the beat.

He couldn't help but hum a tune softly: "Red umbrella, white pole, let's lie down together after eating..."

The evening breeze suddenly subsided, and Clara's red dress fell down. She slightly adjusted her dress and hair, and with a charming smile, walked into the restaurant.

Martin clapped his hands lightly: "A fantastic dance. It's clear you worked very hard in the rehearsals."

Clara's mind worked quickly. She put down her handbag and said, "I've also prepared another dance."

Martin gestured for him to proceed.

Clara opened her handbag, took out her phone, and opened the music player.

The moment the music started, she put her hands on her waist and started twisting and shaking her hips as if she had been given an engine, just like Martin's zombie machine gun dance back in the day.

Dinner was naturally postponed, and right there on the terrace, in the Los Angeles night breeze, Martin enjoyed his meal under a red umbrella and on a white pole.

(End of this chapter)