Chapter 96 – The Party
Guided by a server, the two of them followed the wide gravel path, circled around the main building's corridor, and entered the vast backyard.
The lawn, ablaze with lights, was packed with dozens—maybe even hundreds—of guests clustered into groups. Beautiful men and women in stylish, often revealing outfits moved fluidly among them. Servers glided through the crowd with trays of free-flowing drinks.
As they stepped into the space, Nicole Kidman—who had been playing host—approached with a warm smile.
"Hi, Nami!"
"Good evening, Nicole."
Naomi Watts let go of Wayne's arm and stepped forward to hug Nicole Kidman. Just like she'd said earlier—regardless of what went on in private—they genuinely looked like friends at this moment.
"Good evening, Director Garfield," Nicole turned from Naomi and extended her hand to Wayne. "So glad you could make it."
"Good evening, Ms. Kidman." Wayne shook her hand lightly, studying the woman in front of him.
In the early 1990s, Nicole Kidman practically glowed—tall, striking, and impossibly fair-skinned. Her physical presence was commanding, the aura of a queen impossible to miss.
Setting aside any hidden agendas, she was undoubtedly one of the most stunning actresses in Hollywood. Even decades later, she'd still be able to compete with the next generation.
"Let me show you in," Nicole said, leading them toward the poolside. She waved down two waiters, raised a glass with Wayne for a brief toast, then returned to the front to continue greeting new guests.
"She's a very confident woman, isn't she?" Naomi's voice had an odd tone as she caught Wayne watching her fellow Aussie a little too long.
"You two walk very different paths," Wayne replied, pulling his gaze back. He wasn't ogling—just marveling at how stunning the former screen goddess had been in her youth. "Mrs. Cruise might be a shortcut—but she comes with major risks."
"Huh?" Naomi blinked, confused.
Wayne sipped his champagne, scanned the crowd to ensure no one was listening, then leaned in a little closer. "Yes, she took the fastest route to fame. But that doesn't mean it's a safe one. As long as Tom Cruise remains a megastar, she'll always be Mrs. Cruise. She'll never get to build her own identity, no matter how talented she is."
If you were to ask modern audiences which Hollywood actresses were least liked by North American fans, Nicole Kidman would undoubtedly rank near the top. Outside of the brief post-divorce window, she was often seen as a box office liability.
Especially when paired with her husband onscreen—none of their co-starring films were ever hits. From Far and Away to Eyes Wide Shut, not a single one found real commercial success.
And yet, when Tom Cruise wasn't acting opposite his wife, his box office power returned in full force. That awkward contrast said it all.
Ironically, the few successful films Nicole did have were likely helped by the post-divorce sympathy factor—fans rallied behind her public image as the wronged woman. But how much of her success was genuine? No one could say for sure.
"You know," Naomi murmured, a note of respect in her voice, "she's probably the smartest one out of all of us. If I hadn't met you, I'd still be stuck playing extras—or worse, already back in Australia with my tail between my legs. What she did, most people wish they could do."
Naomi Watts was no fool. She knew exactly why her rise had been so smooth. Without Wayne casting her as the lead in two back-to-back hits, she'd still be working at a convenience store and hustling for background roles in auditions.
She understood clearly—this man meant far more to her than any so-called boyfriend ever could. She had simply been lucky. Lucky to have met a down-and-out Wayne in that run-down apartment.
"Ha, Nami, you should be thanking yourself for your own hard work." Wayne didn't want to dwell on the past. Some people were simply irreplaceable. He was sure—there would never be another Naomi Watts by his side.
"The boss is here!" Naomi gently patted his arm and nodded in the direction behind him.
Wayne turned to see Tom Cruise, sharply dressed in a tailored suit, holding a glass of champagne as he walked toward them.
"Hi, Director Garfield!"
"Hey, Mr. Cruise."
The two shook hands, exchanging pleasantries.
Tom glanced at Naomi and asked, "Mind if we find somewhere quieter to chat?"
Wayne shrugged and gently patted Naomi's hand. "Go have some fun. I'll talk with Mr. Cruise for a bit—I'll call you later."
Tom nodded politely at Naomi, then led Wayne to the edge of the backyard. The two sat on a white bench under a palm tree.
"Director Gree—"
"Call me Wayne, Tom."
"Alright, Wayne. I suppose we've had a few... misunderstandings," Tom said with a wry smile.
Wayne raised his glass in a casual toast. "It's all water under the bridge. This is Hollywood—I get it. There's nothing personal between us."
Tom took a sip of his drink and nodded. "Honestly, I admire you. In some ways, you're a damn genius. I've rarely seen a director turn that kind of movie into something both watchable and commercially successful."
Everyone likes to be praised, and Wayne was no exception. He replied with a smirk, "You know what I'm proudest of? It's not those damn box office numbers. It's that I beat Tom Cruise at the box office. That's practically a miracle."
His tone was light and self-deprecating. Tom laughed. The tension between them visibly eased with every passing minute.
Tom shook his head with a grin and asked casually, "I heard you pitched a new project to Warner Bros.? When are you planning to start? I want to make sure I don't end up competing with you again."
Of course there were no secrets in this town, Wayne thought. It had only been two days since he'd submitted the pitch, and word had already reached Tom.
"No fixed date yet," Wayne replied. "It seems Warner has some concerns about the project—it hasn't even entered formal review."
"Come on, Wayne," Tom said, incredulous. "Hollywood greenlights projects based on a director's commercial track record. And your past three years have been golden. If they stall you now, they're practically pushing you into a rival studio's arms."
"The budget this time is much bigger—it's not a small indie production like before." Wayne understood the stakes. His past two films were his best leverage, and he was confident Warner Bros. would come around.
"I heard your film has real thematic weight. Honestly, if I hadn't signed on to Sydney Pollack's The Firm, I'd have auditioned for your lead."
That reminded Wayne—The Firm wasn't even co-starring Tom's wife. He recalled that film: Tom Cruise, Gene Hackman, and Jeanne Tripplehorn. It was one of the year's big box office hits. He'd have to avoid a direct scheduling clash if he wanted to dodge a painful box office standoff.
"Tom, we'll work together someday," Wayne smiled. "But honestly, your style doesn't quite fit my films. Unless you're willing to play a lunatic—and I doubt your fans would go for that."
"There'll be time," Tom chuckled. "Your filmmaking leans toward the awards circuit. We'll cross paths again, I'm sure."
The two men stood and shared a brief hug. Their goals had both been met—especially Tom's.
No one in Hollywood turns down the chance to get on good terms with a director who just keeps winning. And Wayne wasn't just a flash-in-the-pan kind of talent—he was powerful, respected, and had a track record.
Even as a top-tier Hollywood star, Tom Cruise—rare as he was—knew how to play the long game. He was proud, but he wasn't stupid.
Back at the party, Tom gestured at the glamorous girls milling around the room. "Enjoy yourself, Wayne. You're safe here."
Wayne shrugged and went to look for Naomi Watts. His purpose at the party had been fulfilled. He'd spend a little time with her, then head home.
Nearby, by the poolside, a pair of eyes had been watching him.
"There, that kid," muttered Mel Gibson.
"Come on, Mel, don't be bitter. His film didn't just beat yours—he's cozying up to Cruise, too," said the stony-faced man across from him.
That man was Sylvester Stallone. The two had a decent relationship, though Mel's infamous drinking and tendency to speak out of turn had cost him many allies in Hollywood.
Stallone had no interest in continuing the conversation. He and Wayne both had Jewish roots, and this wasn't a topic he wanted to explore.
"Mel, maybe we'll work together sometime. I've got something to take care of." With that, Stallone stood and walked toward party host Tom Cruise.
Wayne found Naomi among a group of Australian actors. Even Nicole Kidman had joined in. Clearly, the center of the group was split between the two Aussie actresses.
"Naomi, aren't you going to introduce us to Director Garfield?" someone teased.
Naomi just smiled, hooked her arm around Wayne's, murmured a polite "sorry," and led him away.
"F**ing btch."
"Climbed up by sleeping with men."
Nicole Kidman had been smiling, but her expression hardened immediately. That last line could've just as easily applied to her.