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In the end, the underwater server was completed after all—just in time, before the short-term warehouse lease expired. It was lowered into the sea, connected to the undersea communication cable, and finally brought online.
This was done during the hours when Charlize was at her part-time job, combined with the leftover time after Henry finished running between the Screen Actors Guild and various film crews to handle agent work—plus a lot of sneaking around and working late at night. Calling the construction process "full of twists and turns" would not be an exaggeration.
The finished structure was roughly the size of a medium twenty-seat bus. Under cover of night, Henry transported it into the sea, placed it at the predetermined seabed location, and linked it to the undersea communication cable.
Its purpose hadn't been fully decided yet. For now, it was running self-monitoring programs, continuously transmitting log files back to the computer at Henry's rental apartment.
Since it was installed underwater, observation was essential—checking whether it could operate normally and whether any unforeseen problems might arise. Only after it proved stable could other uses be considered.
Otherwise, transferring important data over only to have it flooded and scrapped the next day would be heartbreakingly stupid.
In short, the underwater server project—pressured by the warehouse lease deadline—was temporarily wrapped up. Henry could finally devote all his attention to the future Oscar-winning actress.
The "off-the-board" tactics he planned to use were, of course, not things like wiretapping for information or breaking into some bigshot's house to beat them into submission.
Crime was unacceptable.
He simply used a break between Charlize's auditions to make a phone call he had never made before—testing whether his name still carried any weight. Fortunately, the response was positive. That meant he had passed the first hurdle.
When the disappointed girl returned to the car, Henry didn't need to ask to know the outcome. Just as he was thinking about how to comfort her, Charlize struck first.
As if venting her frustration, she slapped her own cheeks hard with both hands. The sound was loud and sharp.
It made Henry feel as if his own face hurt in sympathy.
He grabbed her hands and gently lowered them, cupping her flushed cheeks. "Look at you—you've already hit yourself red. What if it swells? Luckily you don't have any more auditions this afternoon. Otherwise, with that face, you'd need a cement trowel to apply your makeup."
"Oh yeah? Your face is the one that needs a cement trowel," Charlize snapped back, baring her teeth as she grabbed Henry's cheeks and tried to pull them outward. Unfortunately, she couldn't move his thick hide at all and had to give up angrily.
"Hey, if you want to vent, don't take it out on me. I'll buy you a punching dummy later. Punch it whenever you want—great for stress relief."
Charlize snarled and punched his arm twice. "I like punching this kind. No money required—and it screams."
"Ow, ow," Henry wailed theatrically, though his cries were so perfunctory that it only made her punch him once more. Then she folded her arms, turned her head away, and refused to look at him.
Henry sighed. "Relax. Strictly speaking, today's audition failing wasn't your fault."
At the same time, he started the car and headed back toward the apartment building. It was almost dinner time, and he needed to get home to prepare Kitty's meal. While he cooked, Charlize could watch the day's training film—first viewing—before the evening practice session.
The gentle vibration of the engine seemed to shake loose Charlize's stubborn silence. She turned back and asked, "How is it not my fault?"
"While you were waiting and auditioning, I walked around the crowd and overheard some gossip."
"What kind of gossip? That the female lead was already decided?"
"Exactly that."
"So what?" Charlize pouted, clearly unhappy.
"I saw the actress cast as the female lead. She's a completely different type from you. But more importantly, from her mannerisms, there was no trace of star presence. You know what that means, right, sweetheart?"
"Are you saying she's worse than me, or that she has her own strengths?"
Henry laughed. "I figured you'd think that way. I'm guessing that during your audition, you went all out—really showed your acting and impressed them. And then you still got politely rejected."
"Yes! Exactly!" Charlize burst out. "That's what I don't get—what did I do wrong?"
"Do you still not understand?" Henry said calmly. "Maybe the problem was that you did too well."
His steady tone helped cool the storm of emotions inside her.
Charlize Theron was no fool. Thinking back on what had just happened, she realized something and asked, "Even if I couldn't get the female lead, I was auditioning for a supporting role. Why didn't they want me for that either?"
"We don't know that lead actress's background, but I could easily come up with a hundred reasons why the production couldn't touch her. Now, if the crew picked a supporting actress who was better than her in every way, what do you think would happen?"
"They'd focus on the more capable one. What's wrong with that?" Charlize puffed her cheeks, speaking petulantly.
Henry smiled. "You yourself know that's impossible—that's why you're saying it like that. Casting has never been about choosing the best actor. It's about choosing the most suitable one.
"'Suitable' can mean looks, temperament, pay level, or the overall direction of the production. And personal connections are also a major consideration.
"To be honest, this one's on me. I didn't properly figure out this production's situation beforehand and warn you. And the truth is, this wasn't even a project that would really make you famous."
"But—" Charlize cut in, throwing him an irritated glance and waiting for what came next.
Sensing the death glare from the passenger seat, Henry laughed. "There is no 'but.'"
No forced twist—at least that made things feel a little better. Charlize turned her head away again, gazing out the window at pedestrians bundled in coats.
Los Angeles rarely saw snow. Her hometown didn't either. For no clear reason, she suddenly wanted to go somewhere snowy—somewhere she could roll around in the snow.
"Oh, by the way, sweetheart—"
Henry's voice made Charlize prick up her ears, though she didn't turn around.
"—Don't schedule any work for Christmas and New Year's. I'm taking you to meet someone."
The vague request made Charlize's body stiffen instantly. For a split second, she feared this man might be heading down the same dark road—offering her up to someone else in exchange for opportunities.
"We're going to Connecticut," Henry continued, "to meet Ms. Katharine Hepburn. I hear it's already snowing there. Do you have enough warm clothes? If not, we should buy some first."
Charlize snapped her head around so fast she nearly sprained her neck. She stared at the man driving. "You mean… that Katharine Hepburn?"
"Probably the same 'Katharine Hepburn' you're thinking of," Henry said with a grin. "The reason I became Audrey Hepburn's assistant was because Ms. Hepburn introduced me. So—are you in?"
Charlize's eyes went round like a hamster's, and she nodded frantically.
The first woman ever called the "Queen of Hollywood" was exactly the kind of figure Charlize dreamed of becoming. Given the chance to meet her in person, how could she possibly refuse?
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