"You look sharp," Cesare remarked politely as Jenny pulled up in her car at CAA.
"Thanks." Jenny suddenly noticed Cesare was also wearing a black suit today, and they had coincidentally chosen the same accessory—he wore pearl cufflinks and a tie clip, while she had picked pearl earrings.
This detail made her slightly uncomfortable. "Seriously, your fashion sense is straight out of the 1920s. Is there another agent in this city who wears pearl cufflinks with everyday attire?"
"An agent with taste would." Cesare's gaze lingered briefly near Jenny's ear, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Are those fake pearl earrings you're wearing? I thought I made it clear to Lilian that day—I'd pick out something presentable for you, and I'd pay for it."
"Trust me, if I'd let her have her way that day, you'd be bankrupt by now." Jenny sensed Cesare's suspicion that Lilian was being stingy and quickly clarified, "What difference does it make if pearls are real or fake? Most people can't tell anyway."
The real problem was how perfectly their outfits matched—it might give Robert the wrong idea... But then Jenny reconsidered. Perhaps there was no need to avoid the misunderstanding. In fact, letting Robert continue to believe it might prove surprisingly useful.
"But I know you're wearing fake pearls," Cesare said coldly, clearly still bothered by it.
"Can't you stand any kind of fake, fish-eye-in-pearl-mimicry?" Jenny asked, inwardly chuckling: this was probably one of Cesare's rare moments of human vulnerability. "What about when you go to Manhattan? The number of socialites wearing fake jewelry there would probably drive you completely mad."
Cesare snorted through his nose, refusing to answer Jenny's question. This only spurred her on. As they stepped into the elevator, she continued, "Of course, if you can't stand my earrings, you could hook me up with some paying gigs instead of musicals. At the rate my auditions are going, the day I can afford real pearl earrings is still a long way off."
"Could you please shut up?" Cesare said quietly.
"Okay, okay." Jenny realized she'd gone too far. Truthfully, Cesare had done remarkably well—even if he hadn't immediately landed her lucrative gigs, that was down to her career choices. Had she pursued a different path, she could be making serious money now. —A supporting role in a B-movie, or the lead in a low-budget R-rated film, could net hundreds of thousands. But if she started her career this way, she'd likely be stuck in the hundreds-of-thousands range for her entire professional life. Deals worth millions would remain a mirage, let alone Golden Globes or Oscars.
Silence hung between them until they reached the parking lot. Jenny had driven her own car, but she changed her mind. Instead of heading to her vehicle, she walked with Cesare toward his Bugatti Veyron.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Facing Cesare's puzzled gaze, Jenny explained, "We might drink tonight. I can't hold my liquor. You wouldn't want me driving drunk, would you?"
Cesare offered no objection. They settled into the car together. During the drive, he instructed, "Don't bring up the audition right away. Wait for my signal."
"No problem," Jenny replied.
"Rob isn't a vegetarian, so don't be too eccentric. Tonight isn't the time for dieting." Cesare was meticulous about details. "Don't dominate the conversation. Stick to your role."
Jenny agreed to everything.
By coincidence, Rob's car arrived almost simultaneously. The three exchanged greetings at the restaurant entrance, took a window table, and ordered their meals—Rob and Cesare both went heavy on the dishes. After some thought, Jenny chose a main course and dessert, naturally including a salad.
Given that Jenny wasn't particularly close to either man—Cesare being robotic in nature and Rob a perfectionist control freak—the meal should have been awkward. Surprisingly, it wasn't. Jenny witnessed firsthand what Cesare meant by "I can be polite and witty when necessary."
He truly was polite and witty, and the entire meal unfolded amid laughter, without a single mention of the Chicago musical audition.
"Indeed," Rob said, taking his last bite of salad. "Indeed, I must admit I'm starting to miss Broadway. California's weather is too hot, and you know I never drive myself in New York. But in California, public transportation is practically non-existent. I think I might be the only exception in the city—everyone in New York wants to escape immediately, while I'm thinking about returning to that high-risk city to keep working."
Cesare and Jenny both laughed: his words might seem strange looking back over a decade later, but in the months after 9/11, there was indeed talk that the next wave of terrorist attacks would target New York City again.
"Due to the impact of 9/11, this year's Broadway fall/winter box office is expected to open at a low point." "Cesare took a sip of wine. "Honestly, you should be grateful you came to California now. Advertisers don't care about 9/11—they just yell at the theater managers, who then, of course—"
"Take it out on the poor directors and choreographers," Rob said, spreading his hands. "So who can blame the director for being in a bad mood?"
They both laughed again. Rob glanced at Jenny. "To be honest, when you first mentioned that thing to me, I was pretty conservative about it. But today, my view has changed. These days, we need actors with a professional attitude, not picky, arrogant divas."
He wasn't just talking about Broadway. Cesare's eyes flickered. "I hear Renee's been complaining nonstop behind the scenes."
"She's a bitch." Rob took a big gulp of his drink, his words sharp. "Catherine too, and Richard especially—for God's sake, what gives him the right? If Marlon Brando hadn't turned down the role, we wouldn't have considered him at all. I even opposed Harvey's decision—Richard's voice is terrible. I'd rather have someone younger than him."
The Harvey he referred to was Harvey Weinstein, the film's primary investor and future Oscar powerhouse—Weinstein Company productions had a higher Oscar win rate than other studios, with their entire corporate strategy built around the Academy Awards.
"Who doesn't go through that with their first film?" Cesare reassured Rob. "James Cameron spent every night dissing actors and studios in bars while shooting Piranha II. Things only improved after The Terminator—not because he mellowed, but because no one dared cross him anymore. Rob, all you need now is a film to prove yourself. Trust me, Chicago will do just that."
Rob was in a remarkably good mood tonight, showing none of his usual set-side irritability or nervousness. He smiled broadly at Jenny. "Cesare was key in convincing Harvey to increase the budget. After reading the script, he gave it high praise and pitched you directly to him. I relayed his pitch back to Harvey, which led him to make significant concessions during our budget negotiations. —Honestly, if it weren't for Cesare's introduction, Harvey might not have even noticed me back then."
"I didn't know Cesare handled directors besides actors' film careers," Jenny remarked.
"He doesn't," Rob shook his head. "But he's incredibly helpful, always willing to lend a hand. In Broadway, plenty owe him favors. The guy's like a fucking angel."
"Only to those with potential," Cesare countered. "I don't enjoy helping people—I enjoy helping tomorrow's stars, making sure they owe me big before they take off."
This flattery was masterful. Rob was delighted, raising his glass for a light clink with Cesare's before turning to Jenny. "Tomorrow's stars. Cheers."
Amidst the banter, the trio finished their main course, swiftly moving to the meal's highlight: wine tasting, light drinks, and dessert conversation.
After a pleasant dinner, Rob was clearly in good spirits. He tactfully steered the conversation without prompting, shifting away from Broadway personnel disputes and production gossip to praise Jenny's performance to Cesare. "You know, when Catherine first approached me, I was really uncomfortable. I mean, this is my first film—I wanted everything to be professional. And then, of course, when I found out she was your artist, I felt even worse. Given our friendship, you didn't have to go through Catherine at all. But later, I realized—you were saving that favor for now, to help me get her into the musical theater audition."
Robert's words might seem puzzling, but Jenny understood perfectly: Americans are more direct about such things than the Chinese. Cesare had acted as a go-between for Robert and Harvey Weinstein, securing a chance for Robert's script to be filmed. Robert owed Cesare a favor—the phrase "I owe you a favor" here is a straightforward expression of indebtedness. Once Rob repaid this favor, no further obligation existed between him and Cesare. Their future dealings would be strictly professional, avoiding the Chinese workplace practice of repeatedly repaying a single favor. (Of course, if Rob and Cesare were close friends, no favor would be owed—it would simply be mutual support.)
Thus, Cesare initially asked Catherine to pull strings for Jenny's interview to avoid cashing in this valuable favor. Later, when Robert chose Jenny for the role of 'Gitty,' Cesare facilitated it but the decision ultimately rested with Robert—not a reluctant concession out of obligation. Hence, it had nothing to do with the favor.
Tonight, Cesare wants Robert to leverage his influence to push Jenny—a candidate clearly lacking qualifications and professional background, who should have been eliminated in the first round—into the final auditions for the musical Chicago. This is a genuine favor, one that would repay the debt Robert owes Cesare. Of course, if Jenny were unattractive or overweight, Rob would have refused this clearly unreasonable request, even if it meant deferring the favor to another occasion.
From Rob's tone, it was clear he was quite satisfied with Jenny and eager to use this favor for her. He had even proactively arranged the dinner to facilitate settling the debt. But Jenny could read Cesare's attitude: he was reluctant to expend this favor here. He hoped to impress Roberto during dinner, persuading him to arrange the audition for other reasons—saving this favor for future use.
Some of this insight came from piecing together tonight's conversation, subtle expressions, and body language. Some she'd sensed all along. Now, with Robert's blunt words, all the puzzle pieces fell into place, revealing the full network of favors. Jenny took a sip of wine to mask her thoughts, paused for a second or two, then lifted her head with a confident smile and interjected, " Actually, Rob, Cesare does intend to use it. But I persuaded him to hold off on cashing in this valuable favor for now, so I could try convincing you."
Rob genuinely liked her. Far from being annoyed by her playful banter about him and Cesare, he smiled with interest. "Finally, I hear your voice, Jenny. Looks like it's your time to shine?"
Up until now, Jenny had merely been a competent listener in their conversation—knowing when to laugh and when to agree, never feeling out of place or disrupting the mood. But she wasn't yet familiar enough with Broadway to actively participate. So when Robert said he'd finally heard her voice and willingly handed her the baton of conversation, it was clearly an opportunity for her to shine.
"It's not a performance time. I don't plan to 'win you over' with my charm." Jenny made air quotation marks with her fingers near her ear, drawing a soft chuckle from Rob. She sensed Cesare observing her with interest too, but chose to ignore it. "What I want to convince you of, Rob, is that I am worth this interview."
She leaned forward slightly, a posture Cesare often used to heighten pressure and persuasiveness. "And I'm worth you investing a favor in, Rob."
Rob's movements paused briefly before he burst out laughing. "Cesare, your little girlfriend is quite something—she certainly doesn't look like the kind of starlet who'd be satisfied just marrying you, does she?"
Sure enough, he'd misunderstood. Jenny breathed a silent sigh of relief: the coincidence of the pearl cufflinks and earrings had worked. Not only did it prove Robert paid attention to detail (which wasn't surprising—Jenny had noticed that during their three-hour ordeal), but it also meant he definitely wouldn't make any sexual innuendos tonight.
It wasn't that Rob was inherently sleazy, but such behavior might be considered standard practice within Hollywood circles. For instance, if Rob had been persuaded today to recommend Jenny without Cesare having to call in a favor, Jenny would owe him an enormous debt. She'd have to greet him with a smile whenever she saw him afterward. Later, if he suggested continuing the night at a bar and their conversation flowed smoothly, a single flirtatious glance from him would leave her with little room to refuse—at least not without causing awkwardness. But now that he assumed she was Cesare's girlfriend, everything changed.
It all depended on Cesare's response.
"Rob, you know I don't get involved with my talent," Cesare said—his tone casual and relaxed, tinged with a hint of amusement—"It's unprofessional for the company."
Rob laughed and raised his hands. "I get it, I get it. Okay, I won't say anything out of line. Alright, Jenny, I already know you can act. You're dedicated, able to endure take after take—that's crucial for theater. More importantly, you're beautiful. Hollywood and Broadway are full of handsome men and beautiful women, and talented actors are everywhere too. But someone who combines both? That's a rare resource. I admit it, Cesare admits it—otherwise he wouldn't have signed you. I trust Cesare isn't blinded by romance, and I wouldn't have cast you in Chicago either."
He took a bite of angel food cake. "Your singing is good, your dancing is good—I've seen it all. Yes, you can compete for Roxie. You have the credentials. But what I want to know now is why you want to play Roxie."
"You mean—" Jenny looked confused.
"Musicals won't make those earrings real, dear. "Nor will it turn you into Angelina Jolie overnight. The pay is limited, the impact is limited. Why are you doing this? Don't tell me it's Cesare's arrangement—that won't convince me. There's a world of difference between playing Roxie because someone else arranged it and playing Roxie because you genuinely yearn to embody her. If you don't want me to recommend you just out of obligation, you'll have to convince me that my endorsement will genuinely elevate the musical. Remember, I'm not in charge of casting for Chicago. To recommend you, I'll have to pull some strings."
Though he'd had a few drinks, his gaze remained sharp and clear, betraying the particular discernment of a perfectionist. Jenny knew this was the crux of the matter tonight—the issue that would determine her success or failure.
She took a deep breath.