This time, Jenny let Cesare pay for the meal without a second thought. After settling the bill, Cesare drove her home. — To be honest, Jenny found this rather unsettling. In her old circle, the message about not drinking and driving, or driving and drinking, had been thoroughly ingrained. But in America, alcohol was simply ubiquitous in social settings. And white people seemed to have a remarkably high tolerance for it. Cesare had several glasses—both red and white wine—yet appeared completely unaffected, not even flushed. Driving after drinking didn't seem taboo either; they simply hit the road, and no one stopped them for questioning along the way.
"So, this is the neighborhood you live in." After arriving at her building, Cesare didn't leave immediately. He got out and surveyed the surroundings. "Not bad. You don't need to move anytime soon. Find a lawyer tomorrow. Here's Jim's number. Contact him once you confirm the contract is okay. He'll handle the rest for you."
"Okay." Jenny had no choice but to follow his lead.
"You were working at that restaurant?" Cesare asked. "Quit it. Now isn't the time for you to be around people."
"But I need money to live," Jenny protested. "It could be months before the next opportunity. I can't just sit around doing nothing for months. Even just eating costs money."
"Jim will find you a new job." Cesare said, turning toward the car door. But halfway there, he paused. "Right. You don't have a boyfriend now, do you? A lover? Anyone you're seeing?"
Jenny hesitated. Before she could answer, Cesare cut in. "Break it off. Cut ties. The cleaner, the better. If there are any sex tapes, retrieve them immediately and destroy them. I recall Jim mentioning you had a close friend who was an actor and assistant director before you entered the industry—he's the only one qualified to remain in your social circle. You shouldn't maintain excessive contact with others; it's not beneficial for either of you."
He stared at Jenny until he received her affirmative nod, then nodded his farewell, climbed into the car, and drove off.
Wasn't it a bit too eager to start arranging her life already? Jenny stood watching the car disappear, then thought about it and shook her head with a wry smile. Truthfully, they both knew their partnership had already begun; the contract was merely an extra layer of legal assurance. From the moment dinner started, Cesare Viglieri had effectively become her agent.
Just how powerful was he? And how exactly had he parted ways with Jennifer Bell? Signing the contract without clarifying these details felt reckless. Rushing everything into place within a single day was indeed hasty—perhaps it should have waited until he returned to the States...
Jenny cut off these inevitable, lingering doubts. Cesare Viglieri was the best option she could find. Seizing this opportunity was undoubtedly the right decision. Otherwise, she'd have to wait another two months, hoping some agent might take notice after CSI aired. Without Cesare, even if CAA extended an olive branch in two months (highly unlikely), their attitude wouldn't be as unreserved as it was today, and resources certainly wouldn't be tilted her way.
Though arrogant, domineering, cold, and intensely controlling, Cesare was a senior agent at CAA who had elevated Jennifer Bell from obscurity to a powerhouse newcomer. More crucially, he shared her drive for excellence, pursued the same goal, and possessed the discerning eye to recognize her as the talent he sought.
In short, her priority now was to trust Cesare as much as possible and channel her energy into honing her craft. Cesare's assessment of her was actually quite fair—she was far from being an outstanding actress yet, merely possessing "exceptional talent." To succeed on the path she'd chosen, both acting skill and looks were equally vital, neither could be neglected.
That night, she slept poorly, plagued by chaotic dreams. The next morning, Jenny rose early and dialed Dave's number.
"A lawyer? Of course, no problem," Dave said. "I can ask Lynch or Sarah—oh, Sarah would be best. Her lawyer has the most experience in this area. Hold on, I'll call you back."
Soon enough, she got the lawyer's number. Three hundred dollars an hour. Contract review was charged by complexity—standard contracts were simpler, costing fifteen hundred for a review within three business days.
Great. She'd just signed the contract and was already heading toward broke? Jenny hung up with a bitter smile. Rent was due soon, and with the filming, her monthly pay would likely be cut in half. After paying rent and this $1,500 fee, she'd barely have enough to eat. If the CBS check arrived late, she might actually have to borrow money to get by.
Dave called back quickly. "So, did you seal the deal?"
"Got it done," Jenny replied, forcing a cheerful tone. "Are you free for lunch? I'm still on the night shift today."
Turned out Dave had a work lunch. Jenny asked about dinner, but when he said he was still busy, she dropped the invitation.
She'd switched to a week of night shifts. Filming only took five days. For the remaining two, Jenny worked out at home during the day and went to the restaurant at night, clocking in a full eight hours each shift. Johnny, Jessica, and the others didn't notice anything amiss.
The lawyer's review came back right on schedule. Before the end of the third workday, he called Jenny to confirm the contract contained no hidden traps and was safe to submit. Jenny waited another two days for the contract to arrive via the federal 'slow' mail service. Upon receiving it, she called Jim, who immediately arranged for someone to pick it up.
"Cesare has already navigated the internal company procedures," he informed Jenny over the phone, his tone tinged with borrowed authority. "You can go to the restaurant today to resign. Once the company seals and signs the contract, they'll arrange some training for you. You won't be able to work full-time anymore."
"But I need the money," Jenny pointed out. "Mr. Vijay said he'd arrange new part-time work for me. Is that true? Without that promise, I won't quit the restaurant."
"Well, Cesare already told me," Jim's voice sounded muffled. "Go handle your resignation first. If you're willing, you can start the new job immediately afterward. Call me when it's done, and I'll pick you up."
Jenny had no choice but to shout into the phone, "Remember to bring back my underwear!"
Jim choked awkwardly before hanging up.
The resignation process went smoothly. Johnny clearly anticipated it, offering only sighs and little else, just asking Jenny to promise she'd return to Hollywood Star if she ever needed work again. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. Many actors hit rough patches in their careers. Waitressing is a lucrative gig—a perfectly decent side gig."
Jenny was pleasantly impressed by him and thanked him politely. As for Jessica, she never even crossed paths with Jenny. The moment she realized Jenny was there to quit, she vanished through the back door—probably off for a smoke break.
As for Kevin and the others, they naturally cracked jokes, urging Jenny not to forget to look out for them in the future. Johnny even pulled out his camera, grinning, "Let's capture this moment now. Once Jenny becomes famous, this group photo will be our prized possession."
Amidst the good-natured banter, Jenny was gently nudged over to Johnny. She obliged with a smile, posing for several photos amid cheers. It was a fitting end to her brief stint as a restaurant server.
After settling her wages, she found over a thousand dollars in her hands—enough to cover the legal fees from the previous days. All Jenny possessed now were the two thousand-plus dollars in her bank account and the anticipated five-thousand-dollar check. For most Americans, that might have been enough. But unfortunately, Jenny was a white-skinned, yellow-hearted egg-person. The Chinese traits of diligence, frugality, and a love for saving had left deep imprints on her soul. Without an income source, she instantly felt a loss of security. Walking home, she couldn't wait to contact Jim: "I quit. What about the new job you promised?"
Jim quickly drove to her apartment building. After Jenny climbed into the car, he handed her a brown paper bag. "Your clothes and pants are inside."
Jenny opened it and was somewhat surprised—her underwear and pants had been washed and neatly folded. The paper bag carried a faint scent of car air freshener, suggesting they'd been stored inside for a while. It didn't look like they'd been hastily washed, dried, and stuffed in over the past few hours. In other words, Jim hadn't done anything inappropriate with her clothes.
She looked at Jim in surprise. He rolled his eyes. "Come on, I have my limits, okay? If I wanted sex, I'd go to a bar and use my job as an excuse to pick someone up. I wouldn't hide in a dark, cramped apartment jerking off to someone's underwear."
Jenny laughed. "Wow, honesty makes you more charming."
"Would that make you want to date me?" Jim asked, feigning eagerness. "Because I'm game, baby. All you have to do is ask."
"But Mr. Vijay told me not to date for a while," Jenny said.
"Ah, yes. " Jim dropped the banter, his tone leveling out. "Cesare would definitely arrange it that way. You don't need romantic distractions right now. And even if you were dating, it wouldn't be with a middle-aged guy like me—Cesare would never allow it. Besides, you're way out of my league."
"Me?" Jenny didn't like that last bit. "I've got barely two thousand bucks in my wallet. I'm barely scraping by. Jim, where exactly am I on the ladder?"
"Maybe you're broke now," Jim said earnestly, "but all you lack is an opportunity. Cesare is your opportunity, girl. The moment you land his contract, it's only a matter of time before you're above everyone else. The instant I decided to take you to meet Cesare, I knew I could never have you, and you'd never stoop to dating me. Hollywood is a world of strict hierarchy. You're one level, Cesare is another, and me—me and Dave? We're on yet another tier. Our levels never intersect with yours. I get that. Dave gets that."
Jenny instantly recalled the last day of filming, when Jim and Dave had still been exchanging relatively friendly banter. Suddenly, she felt a surge of anger. "What's this? After Vijay decided to sign me, he immediately sent you to warn Dave not to keep being friends with me? He started interfering in my social circle before I even agreed?"
"What? How did you jump to this?" Jim revealed his slow-on-the-upside-down reaction, asking a few startled questions before grasping Jenny's meaning. He shook his head. "No, no. Cesare never said anything like that. He wouldn't say it. Dave's an assistant director and actor—obviously someone agents want to be friendly with. That afternoon, I just walked over to chat with him. It's obvious we both wanted to pursue you, but neither of us could possibly reach your level anymore. We both knew that. I just went over to commiserate with him."
Jenny was still fuming, but this time Jim beat her to the punch. "Isn't that the truth? Cesare dropped his New York schedule to come see you act on set. You have no idea how many people at Universal that afternoon were seething with jealousy. Cesare was like a superstar in the free agent market—everyone wanted him as their agent—and he came to the set just for you! We all knew that unless Mars collided with Earth or the Twin Towers fell, he'd sign you 100%. Once he made his decision, boom—you'd soar like a bird freed from its cage. We mere mortals would be left chasing your shadow on the ground. This is what's going to happen. We all know it. He knew it long before I did, which is why he finds it so hard to let go, so reluctant for me to take you to meet Cesare. Anyone who's seen you act knows your talent is extraordinary. Dave must feel it more deeply than anyone. He knows what will happen after you meet Cesare. He doesn't want you to leave."
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Honestly, I think he's genuinely infatuated with you. Wow, thinking about it, this guy is head over heels for you."
Jenny rolled her eyes dramatically and made a gesture of utter exasperation. "I get it. Can you cut the crap? Thanks for making me feel even worse."
"Not even a superstar yet, and already throwing diva tantrums." Jim chuckled as he pulled the car into the driveway. "I like it."
Jenny stepped out of the car and squinted at the house before her. It wasn't enormous—a two-story structure facing the street, each level roughly a hundred square meters, with what looked like a backyard. Compared to the super-mansions that dotted Beverly Hills, it wasn't particularly flashy, but its value was undoubtedly substantial. The difference was like tens of millions versus millions. Either way, it was far beyond her current means. And this neighborhood was already part of Beverly Hills.
"Where is this?" she asked, a sense of foreboding creeping over her. "I thought you were taking me to my new workplace."
"I am," Jim chuckled. "This is your new workplace—Cesare's home."
He pursed his lips and whistled, pointing to a large dog dashing out from inside. "And this," he announced, "is your job."