The conversation drifted naturally as they continued chatting, eventually touching on the Hilton sisters' recent Europe trip, which had been funded by Simon. Their excitement about planning another such adventure was evident. As Simon finished his champagne, he motioned to a passing server carrying a tray of cocktails. Taking one, he noticed the eager looks on the girls' faces and teased, "Do you want one?"
Nicky immediately shook her head. "Simon, we're not old enough to drink."
"I'll take one," Paris said boldly, grabbing a glass. "But if Mom sees me, I'll just say it was your idea."
Simon smirked. "Go ahead."
Not wanting to be outdone, Nicky reached for a glass as well. After the server left, she took a sip. Although she had tasted alcohol before, the stronger cocktail immediately made her stick out her tongue. It wasn't unbearable—she just thought it might make her seem cuter in Simon's eyes.
Paris, meanwhile, downed half her glass in one go, her face flushing red. Just as she started to say something else, three girls approached. Among them was Christina Hendricks, whose exaggerated curves easily overshadowed the Hilton sisters.
When Simon had been surrounded earlier by a group of stunning models, the Hendricks trio hadn't been able to get close. Now, with just the Hilton sisters there, they seized the opportunity. Christina, clearly the leader, stepped forward with an excited but somewhat nervous demeanor. "Simon, I'm Christina. Could we take a picture with you?"
"Of course," Simon agreed, adding, "But no posting it online."
"Of course not," Christina nodded eagerly, then hesitated, "Wait… you know who we are?"
"Sure," Simon said with a smile. "You're the Elite influencer trio. Actually, I'm a major shareholder in Elite, so technically, you're my employees."
Christina's face lit up. "Oh, what an honor!" She quickly introduced her companions, "And this is Barbara, and Lisa."
Simon shook hands with all three, but Christina nudged Barbara aside to make room. She explained that no personal cameras were allowed, so they had arranged for an official photographer, who now approached.
Simon gestured to the Hilton sisters to move aside briefly. Christina and her friends eagerly took their places beside him, with Christina boldly wrapping her arms around Simon's. The atmosphere grew noticeably warmer.
After the photos were taken, the trio didn't linger, though Christina discreetly slipped Simon a card as she left, inviting him to call her.
As soon as they were gone, Paris resumed her place and immediately started sniping, "Those are way too big—they're probably already sagging. Gross."
Nicky, equally sour, eyed the card in Simon's hand. "Are you going to call her?"
Simon calmly slipped the card into his shirt pocket. "Of course not."
Paris pouted. "Liar."
Nicky, on the other hand, felt reassured. If Simon was willing to lie to her, it showed he cared.
Feeling emboldened, she took another large sip of her cocktail. Her head spinning slightly from the alcohol, she leaned in closer and mimicked Christina by wrapping her arms around Simon's arm. Gaining courage, she said softly, "Simon, I really like you."
Simon tilted his head to nuzzle hers affectionately and replied with a smile, "I know."
Blushing, Nicky hesitated before adding, "Then… you said last time—"
Before she could finish, Paris cut in, "He said he liked you a little more than me. Just a little."
Nicky gave Simon a pitiful look.
Simon chuckled. "Your sister is so annoying, isn't she? Let's get rid of her."
"Okay."
But Paris immediately clung to Simon's other arm, refusing to budge. "I'm not going anywhere."
At that moment, another voice interjected, "Simon, are you into little girls now?"
The three turned to see Madonna.
As the epitome of rebellion and an enduring pop icon, Madonna had once been admired by both Hilton sisters. But her comment instantly lost her two fans.
Unbothered, Madonna strolled up, tilted Paris's chin, and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. "Sweetie, mind giving me some space? Otherwise, I'll have to sit on Simon's lap and share."
Paris, stunned by the kiss and Madonna's charisma, subconsciously scooted over. But as soon as Madonna sat down, Paris began regretting it, silently vowing to throw out all her Madonna CDs when she got home.
Simon looked at Madonna with a faint smile. "Maggie, your eyes look different."
"Prettier, right?"
"Sure. They've gained a certain charm."
Madonna preened, casually brushing her hand across her temple. "I recently saw an amazing plastic surgeon."
The Queen of Pop had never been shy about cosmetic enhancements.
Simon's gaze flicked to her lips, prompting Madonna to laugh. "Don't worry, I haven't touched my lips. Natural is in now. Actually, it's thanks to you. My surgeon told me he used to work with a leading lip filler brand that went bankrupt last year—and he blames you."
Simon laughed. "Not my problem."
Madonna shrugged, extending her arm. "Look how pale I am now."
"You are."
"I've always been pale, but I started trying whitening injections recently. They're amazing. Again, all because of you. Whitening treatments are all the rage now." She leaned closer and whispered, though not too quietly, "By the way, Simon, they work wonders down there too. Want to see for yourself?"
Her boldness left Nicky blushing furiously. While she had heard rumors about Madonna's wild ways, experiencing them firsthand was something else.
Simon firmly declined. "Not interested. I think we're better off as innocent friends."
Madonna chuckled and moved on to business. "Simon, my film Evita is almost done. Can you take a look at the rough cut?"
"No need," Simon replied. "I've read the script—it's tailor-made for you. With Alan Parker directing, I'm sure the quality is solid. You might even snag an Oscar nomination."
Madonna pouted. "Then why didn't you invest?"
"Too expensive," Simon said bluntly. "If the budget had been $10–20 million, I'd have jumped in. But $50 million? That's blockbuster territory. If this flops, your Hollywood career is over."
A rare flash of concern crossed Madonna's face before she brushed it off. "Well, I have you, don't I? You said we're friends."
"Friends don't sabotage each other."
Madonna huffed. "You're worth $1.5 trillion, and you're still so stingy."
"Business is business. Friendship is different. If you needed money personally, I'd lend it to you. But investments require rules. Otherwise, even the best companies go under."
Not liking where the conversation was headed, Madonna changed tactics. "Okay, fine. But at least help me out with some feedback. Just two hours of your time. Or say something nice to Paramount to get them to boost the marketing."
Simon eventually agreed, though he made it clear his time was valuable. Madonna, satisfied, planted a kiss on his palm before purring, "Simon, tonight, I'm all yours."
"..."
The Hilton sisters, still within earshot, both thought the same thing: How shameless.
Madonna lingered a while longer before finally leaving, not before stealing another kiss from Paris, who vowed to burn all her Madonna memorabilia.
Simon didn't stay at the party much longer. After about half an hour, he left with Sophia, returning to Greenwich, where they had plans for a family breakfast the next morning.
September 17, Tuesday
Sophia left for Los Angeles early to visit the children, while Simon returned to Manhattan. The day marked the premiere of American Idol's second season. Simon had already reviewed the first two episodes during his flight east and spent most of the morning discussing fine-tuning with the production team.
As one of Danerys Entertainment's most lucrative properties, bringing in $600 million in pre-tax profits for its first season, the show warranted every bit of attention.
Season 2 would run for 40 episodes, up from 32 in the first season, airing Tuesday and Thursday evenings at 8 PM. The schedule included 20 weeks of auditions, 4 winter special episodes, and 16 episodes for the main competition.
The increased budget reflected its success, rising to $260 million, or $6.5 million per episode—a 30% jump from Season 1. However, ad rates had also skyrocketed, with projected pre-tax profits expected to hit a staggering $800 million.
While other networks scrambled to launch similar shows, Simon knew they were fighting a losing battle. Phenomenal success like American Idol was impossible to replicate—not just because of its quality, but because it had already captured the public's imagination, leaving little room for imitators to gain traction.
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