At eight o'clock in the evening, the Palisades estate was already teeming with guests.
On the cliffside terrace, amid psychedelic lights and music, David Copperfield—who had skyrocketed to fame in recent years—followed a series of dazzling magic tricks by conjuring from beneath a silk cloth a birthday cake taller than a person, its candles already lit. The chorus of well-wishes rose in harmony with the brilliant fireworks exploding in the sky nearby.
The fireworks extravaganza lasted a full half hour, pushing the party's atmosphere to its zenith right after the birthday song.
Since his rebirth, nearly every party Simon had attended served some ulterior motive—whether celebration, networking, business dealings, or PR. This one, however, was pure revelry, a lavish whirl of indulgence.
Endless drinks, an array of sumptuous foods, dazzling fireworks, captivating performances, pulsating music, sizzling beauties...
The air itself seemed saturated with a decadent haze of hedonism.
Janet had organized the party, and Simon hadn't meddled in a single detail—he'd simply signed a check for ten million dollars beforehand. In 1988, that sum could buy a top-tier mansion on New York's Fifth Avenue, and every penny went into this bash.
Wandering through the crowd at one point, Simon's mind drifted to Gatsby—the great Gatsby.
Yet he knew full well that he was no Gatsby.
Gatsby's dream had shattered.
His ambitions were only just beginning.
After ten o'clock that night, the older guests and those with work the next day began trickling out. Hundreds of men and women still lingered on the estate, and the party would rage on through the dawn.
In the mansion's front yard, Simon and Janet escorted Disney Studios CEO Michael Eisner and his wife to the exit. Spotting the frequent camera flashes beyond the wall, Simon waved over a waiter and instructed, "Have some food sent out there—no alcohol, though. That way, we might earn a few kind words in tomorrow's papers."
The waiter nodded with a smile and was about to depart when Janet waved him off. "Stay put," she said. "I'll handle the arrangements myself."
The pair headed back to the villa. Janet hurried to the kitchen, where a team of chefs worked nonstop to supply the party with food.
Simon wove through the villa's throng and emerged once more into the still-raucous backyard.
The swimming pool directly opposite the villa's back door shimmered with multicolored ripples under the lights. Simon chatted with those who approached him, eventually finding himself at the pool's edge without realizing it, regretting that this glittering scene lacked a few mermaids to complete it.
Seeing Simon at the poolside, momentarily alone, several tall women nearby sauntered over to say hello.
Simon eyed the familiar face with a mole at the corner of her mouth. Without waiting for introductions, he smiled and gestured toward the pool. "Fancy a swim?"
The women all froze.
The one with the mole recovered first and countered, "Simon, are you joining us?"
Simon shook his head. "I'll watch you swim."
"Hehe, then we're staying dry."
"How about this," Simon proposed. "If I can name each of you, you'll take a dip and swim for me."
The women paused again, exchanging glances, unsure whether to agree.
But Simon was already smiling as he pointed to the woman with the mole. "You're Cindy Crawford."
The women immediately looked astonished. One of them said, "You must have spotted her earlier, Simon. Cindy's face is impossible to miss."
Simon turned to the blue-eyed speaker. "You're Helena Christensen, from Denmark."
The women let out another small gasp of surprise. Simon pressed on without pause, pointing to the other two. "You're Stephanie Seymour, and you—Paulina Porizkova. I have to say, you bear a striking resemblance to Audrey Hepburn. If I'm right, you're all signed with John Casablancas's Elite modeling agency."
Cindy Crawford, Stephanie Seymour, Paulina Porizkova, and Helena Christensen were among the most renowned supermodels of the nineties. Though they hadn't yet reached their peak fame, Simon recognized them all with ease.
Hearing Simon reel off their names one by one, Cindy wore an expression of surprise tinged with subtle excitement, but she quipped, "Simon, you must have seen us in some magazine. And anyway, we didn't actually agree to anything."
Simon glanced at the other three women. "Cindy's welching on the deal. What about you?"
The other three nudged each other lightly, dissolving into giggles. Suddenly, Stephanie Seymour asked, "Simon, is there a reward if we go in?"
Simon nodded. "Of course."
Stephanie Seymour eyed the pool. "Do you have swimsuits here, then?"
Simon regarded their evening gowns and shook his head. "Nope. If you want to get in, you'll have to improvise."
With that, Simon stepped aside a few paces and settled into a lounge chair by the pool, smiling at the still-hesitant beauties. The women kept giggling, but Stephanie Seymour soon shot him a glance, her tone turning serious. "Mr. Westeros, don't forget your promise."
Her words barely out, Stephanie Seymour, still in her black evening gown, slowly descended from the pool's edge into the water. Many guests nearby noticed and turned to watch.
Stephanie paid no mind to the stares. Once fully submerged, she glided toward Simon like a true mermaid. Then, with bold flair, she slowly peeled off her black gown, scooped it from the water, and piled it at his feet. Leaning against the pool's edge, she giggled. "Simon, you wouldn't let a lady climb out of the pool without a stitch on, would you?"
The yard's lighting was soft, but from this close, Simon could clearly see that Stephanie's gown had concealed nothing underneath. Many others around the pool had obviously noticed too. A few gentlemen edged closer instinctively, though decorum kept them from crowding Simon's prime vantage point.
Seeing Stephanie in the water—and Simon's face registering clear checkmate—the other three shed their reserve and followed suit.
Leaving a lasting impression on Simon Westeros—a young tycoon with boundless wealth, the clout to launch careers, and the rare bonus of striking good looks and physique—was something they had no qualms about.
Soon, all four women were in the water. The other three mimicked Stephanie, deliberately shedding their sodden gowns underwater and stacking them at Simon's feet by the poolside.
The once-serene pool, now graced by four mermaids, suddenly brimmed with boundless allure.