She received a strange phone call from a strange guy asking if she was interested in starring in a movie.
Simon Westeros.
Sandra had some recollection of that name. She seemed to remember hearing it recently.
Oh, right, it was at Robert's party.
Robert Duvall, an Oscar-winning Best Actor, was her senior, even though he was thirty years older than her.
Many years ago, Robert Duvall had also studied drama under Sanford Meisner, much as she had. Her good fortune in being signed by WMA Vice President Jonathan Friedman was also due to Robert's connections.
After moving to Los Angeles, this very friendly senior, who was old enough to be her father, even invited her to a party at his house last weekend, where he introduced her to many Hollywood stars.
Coincidentally, she seemed to have overheard someone talking about a guy named Westeros.
It was a very unusual surname.
So she immediately made a mental note of it.
However, she wasn't quite sure what the person did.
Perhaps it was a different person.
Then, she cautiously questioned how the other party got hold of her contact information.
Sensing her vigilance, the person on the other end of the line provided a simple explanation.
He was also a client of Jonathan's, and he had gotten her contact information from their agent.
She wasn't so easily convinced, anyone in the know could come up with such a reason.
She decisively called her agent, Jonathan, who seemed somewhat surprised by her account of what happened, but still confirmed the other party's story. He even advised her to take the role, claiming it could be a very wonderful experience for her.
Being signed under a top Hollywood agent had very obvious advantages, but the disadvantages were equally prominent.
At least, her agent, who had over thirty clients, had been extremely busy recently and didn't have much time to spare for her.
Since she wanted to make a name for herself in Hollywood, she was prepared to be patient.
During this time, she was even considering finding a part-time job to earn some living expenses.
Or returning to New York to perform in stage plays for a while.
She wouldn't just sit around and wait for an opportunity to fall into her lap.
Her family background was good, so she didn't have to worry about making a living.
In fact, most of the men and women who could stay in Hollywood for a long time had decent family support.
Those lacking acting fundamentals needed to study acting; every audition required careful preparation; to star in a film or TV show, they often had to attend various skill-building classes. All of these required a significant amount of time and money to maintain.
Therefore, while not absolute, it was indeed difficult for people from lower-class backgrounds to achieve success in Hollywood. They often had to spend most of their energy just to make ends meet, leaving little time to pursue their so-called dreams.
Many people couldn't persevere and even ended up in another equally massive, more explicit, 'film' industry in Los Angeles.
An industry located in San Fernando Valley.
Just like Sylvester Stallone before he became famous.
Speaking of which, she had secretly watched that video tape back then.
How embarrassing. A irremovable stain on 'Rocky's' life.
Since her agent confirmed it was fine, after a brief consideration, she agreed to meet him.
Sunday at 2 PM. The location was next to Douglas Park in downtown Santa Monica.
She arrived punctually in her brand-new Chrysler sedan, only to be stood up.
Damnit, this was too much.
She was about to leave, but after thinking it over, she sighed and made a call.
The phone was answered by an older man with the heavy Spanish accent, who mumbled a bit before passing it to Simon.
The voice on the other end was very apologetic, saying his tire had blown out and he was getting it fixed. He then gave her another address and offered to treat her to dinner that evening as an apology.
She considered the address; it didn't seem too far.
Forget it.
Considering how sincere your tone was, I'll do you a favour this once.
Restarting her car, she weaved through the streets of Santa Monica for a while, finally finding a motel near the southern edge of North Santa Monica.
Parking her car in the empty space in front of the motel, she pushed the door open and got out, scanning her surroundings.
Several cars were quietly parked nearby, none of them being repaired. However, under the motel eaves, an inverted bicycle was placed next to a relaxed old man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and beach shorts.
The young man behind the bicycle.
Hmm. That must be him, right?
So she strolled on over.
Seeing her appear, the relaxed old man patted the young man on the shoulder, giving him a heads-up.
The other person looked up, saw her, and stood up with a smile.
He was a very handsome guy when he smiled, very tall, very good-looking, with very healthy bronze skin.
He must be an actor too, right? She wondered why he was making a movie.
Anyways, boys did always like to tinker.
"Hello, I'm Sandra Bullock" she said, shaking the boy's outstretched hand. "We just spoke on the phone".
"Simon Westeros" he introduced himself, then added, "I'm really sorry, my tire blew out just as I was about to leave, and I was worried you'd leave if I was late and couldn't get hold of me, so I stayed at the motel to wait for your call".
Boys often act very generous in front of pretty girls.
And it would seem, girls are often the same in front of handsome boys.
Although she had been a cheerleader in high school, she knew she wasn't particularly pretty.
So, at this moment, she was feeling very generous.
"It's okay," she said, shaking her head cheerfully, then pointed at his bicycle: "So, are you fixing it yourself?"
"I only bought the tools after we spoke on the phone, it'll take a little longer," he explained, then made a 'please' gesture: "Let's talk over there".
Following him to the eaves of the motel, she politely greeted the old man who had brought her a chair.
The other person chuckled and nodded at her, then mumbled something to Simon Westeros, occasionally glancing at her, looking like an impudent old man winking and gesturing.
It sounded like playful bantering.
Hmm. The should be speaking in Spanish.
She grew up in Germany as a child, so besides English, she also spoke German.
But she didn't speak Spanish.
She could only sit down awkwardly next to him, letting the boy next to her mumble back and forth with the old man.
She felt they definitely weren't saying anything good.
However, although his skin was darker, it was clearly from tanning. From his facial features, he didn't seem to have Spanish ancestry; instead, he leaned more towards Germanic, yet he spoke such fluent Spanish.
He could also fix cars.
She wondered if he could fix pipes.
She still remembered when she was little, the pipes at home burst, and her father was in a frantic mess, only knowing to call workers, not even knowing to turn off the water valve first.
Thinking this, she sat on the stool, watching him pump up the tire, then rub it in his hands, slowly rotating it closer to his face.
The old man next to him grumbled a few more words, probably accusing him of using the wrong method.
Then came his rebuttal.
Unable to resist her curiosity, she asked, "What are you doing?"
He didn't answer. He rotated the tire in his hands for a moment longer, then stopped, and smiled at her, saying, "Lean your face closer."
She obediently leaned her face closer, and he brought the tire near.
A small stream of air puffed onto her face.
She felt inexplicably comfortable.
Before she could enjoy it enough, he quickly moved it away and said, "It's leaking right here."
As he spoke, he picked up a toothpick, carefully inserted it into the small hole he had just found, and began to rotate the tire again.
This time she understood; he was probably checking for any other leaks.
Watching him work so intently, she suddenly remembered what her agent had told her on the phone yesterday. Perhaps, this really would be a very interesting experience for her.