Evening.
Simon waited patiently as Janet changed into a more formal little dress before they left the villa.
The bodyguards had already prepared the car for them.
Simon led Janet out, nodding politely to the two middle-aged men in their forties, named Neil Bennett and Ken Dixon respectively. Though they'd grown quite familiar over these many days, he still felt a bit odd about it.
The two bodyguards weren't hired from a security firm—they were borrowed from Janet's family.
Since meeting her, Simon had never actively inquired about Janet's background, but the flood of newspaper info lately had given him more than enough insight.
Janet came from Australia's longstanding Johnston family.
Though their wealth was only around $2 billion—not standout on global rich lists—the Johnstons wielded immense underlying influence in Australia.
Eight years ago, Australia abruptly abolished inheritance tax, becoming the first Western developed nation to do so, shocking the world. Rumor had it the Johnstons were a major force behind it.
Then, Janet's grandfather Nicholas Johnston passed in 1983; with the tax gone, the family inherited the prior generation's fortune intact.
Today, through multilayered equity structures and deep-rooted clout, the century-old Johnston family still firmly controlled Johnston Holdings Group, spanning Australia's economic pillars like mining, livestock, transport, and more.
The storm faded, and paparazzi gradually realized digging news from a young director like Simon—who skipped nightclubs, drugs, and fights—was nigh impossible. So, media tails on him had noticeably thinned lately.
Of course, that was relative.
As Simon's SUV left the Palisades mansion, plenty of cars still dogged them. The dinner spot with Mike Medavoy was a restaurant beside Century City's Rancho Park Golf Club.
Upon arrival, the two bodyguards deftly shielded Simon and Janet from surging paparazzi. Once inside, Janet looped her arm through Simon's, leaning close to whisper in his ear, "If you don't like them, once we have money to hire our own, we can send Neil and Ken back to Australia."
Simon whispered back as they followed the approaching server who'd taken their order toward the interior, "They're fine—it's just... feels a bit, um, weird."
That was Simon's honest feeling.
As the closest profession to employers, capable and trustworthy bodyguards were rare finds. Though only weeks together, Simon could sense Neil and Ken's professionalism was impeccable. As for trust—with Janet involved, the Johnstons naturally wouldn't skimp there.
Hearing this, Janet smiled lightly and didn't reply.
Following the server a ways, they reached a table where Orion president Mike Medavoy stood to greet them warmly.
The three settled in.
After ordering and some pleasantries, conversation drifted—led by Mike Medavoy—to the upcoming 59th Academy Awards.
This year's Oscars were set for March 30th—the following Monday.
With Orion's bounty of noms from films like Platoon and Hannah and Her Sisters totaling 18, the studio was riding high lately.
Thus, Mike Medavoy's every gesture lately carried a dash of swagger.
"Here's the thing, Simon," Mike Medavoy eyed the young couple across from him. "You and Janet interested in attending next week's Oscars?"
Simon hadn't expected Mike Medavoy to bring this up.
With this year's noms haul, Orion could easily slot in one or two extras for the Oscars. Given Run Lola Run's box office success, the Academy surely wouldn't stint on a couple extra invites.
And attending the Oscars could definitely boost Run Lola Run's ongoing box office.
But.
As Mike Medavoy suggested it, a single word popped into Simon's mind.
Freeloading!
Too embarrassing.
So he shook his head immediately. "Mike, I'll pass."
Mike Medavoy hadn't expected such a coveted opportunity—enough to make many starlets fight tooth and nail—to be flatly refused. Stunned, he glanced at Janet beside Simon, hoping she'd chime in. Women usually loved such events.
But Janet clearly acted as if she hadn't heard, demurely arranging a napkin for her boyfriend.
Fine.
Another quirky pair.
Mike Medavoy thought this, chuckling casually. "Alright then, Simon. I invited you tonight mainly to ask—how's the next film coming along?"
Simon knew that was the dinner's point and didn't hide it. "I've got a full concept, but the script won't start till next month. Mike, you know how busy I've been lately."
"Of course, Orion's in no rush," Mike Medavoy said, though he leaned forward slightly. "So, Simon, give me the gist."
Simon organized his thoughts. "It's a B-movie-style crime drama, made of six independent yet interconnected short stories. Like Run Lola Run, I want to unify them through an alternative nonlinear narrative."
Lately, Simon had been mulling his next film.
After Run Lola Run, commercial success for Simon's next directorial would be easy. But to sustain—and build—his buzz, it needed to deliver that same fresh, stunning feel as Run Lola Run.
After much deliberation, Simon settled on Quentin's Pulp Fiction.
Pulp Fiction also featured nonlinear structure, pushing film nonlinearity to an even more unbound realm. Upon release, it not only sparked huge buzz that year but profoundly influenced later Hollywood, British, and even cross-ocean directors.
[TL/N: Ain't no way bro would cameo on later in film, with his lines like this "Did you notice a sign in my house that said, Dead nigger storage? Did you know why you didn't see that sign? Cuz it ain't there cuz storing a dead nigger ain't my fucking bussiness, that's why." Quentin really said this in the movie, i ain't being racist so fuck off.]
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