Since 1994, when The Vanity Fair Oscar Party was held by Vanity Fair this extravagant party had clearly surpassed the Oscars itself, becoming the most important annual social event, attracting attention from all around the world. Accompanying this, the Sunset Tower Hotel, as the host venue, had become another landmark in Los Angeles. Countless movie enthusiasts would come here to visit, attempting to catch a glimpse of the gathering of stars behind the scenes.
The red color scheme combined with piano black decoration exuded a modern atmosphere. The soft yellow lights filled the hotel lobby with a lazy and intimate ambiance. People were seated on maroon couches on the left, talking in hushed tones. It made one couldn't help but wonder if a Hollywood superstar was waiting for their room key. Amid the tranquility was a trace of restlessness, youth, and vitality, even carrying a hint of naiveté. There wasn't much depth to feel, but it was enough to make young people's blood boil with excitement and fervor.
Clearly, compared to the hotel's own features, the reason why the Sunset Tower Hotel could host the Oscar party was mainly due to its unique geographical location. Following Sunset Boulevard eastward, in less than a mile, one could reach the renowned landmarks like the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Kodak Theatre, and the Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard.
Anthony Cliff was 36 years old this year. As the lobby manager, he stood by the counter, overseeing the entire scene. Every guest coming in and out was easily recognized, ensuring that every aspect of the service was accurate. And then, he spotted a group of people who had just walked through the entrance.
Leading the way was a man with a tall and slender figure. He was dressed in a light blue shirt and a light gray pullover sweater, revealing a touch of elegance in his casual attire. His slightly wavy short hair hung casually on his forehead, and his right hand was casually in his trouser pocket. He seemed to have walked straight out of the Cambridge University yearbook, exuding an academic and aristocratic temperament in his every move.
Behind the man followed luggage porters carrying a deep brown hand-woven wicker suitcase and a hat box. The details suggested to Anthony that this was undoubtedly an upper-class British aristocrat.
Behind the man, a baby-faced man dressed in a pullover shirt and jeans curiously examined the hotel's decor. A man wearing a work jacket and a white t-shirt surveyed his surroundings carefreely, seemingly assessing his situation.
They... should be actors. Anthony made his judgment. Los Angeles was not short of actors, from extras to top-tier stars, they were countless.
Just at that moment, the man at the front stopped in his tracks. His gaze slowly and politely surveyed his surroundings. Anthony's heart couldn't help but tighten. He could sense that the man was probably examining the paintings hanging in the lobby. True depth often revealed itself in small details such as paintings, vases, and tables.
However, at the same time, the baby-faced man also stopped and stood aside. The man in the white t-shirt didn't seem to notice and walked straight ahead. After walking a few steps, he finally snapped out of it and called out, "On the fourteenth floor, we can go straight up."
Anthony was somewhat surprised. So, that man was also an actor? Yet his mind couldn't recall any actor's name that matched the man's appearance.
In an instant, Anthony made his judgment and decision. He briskly walked forward and stopped his steps three paces in front of the man. "Good afternoon, welcome to the Sunset Tower Hotel. How can I assist you?"
This was the first time Renly had truly entered the heart of Los Angeles, stepping into the City of Angels, into the heart of Hollywood. The slight excitement amidst the unfamiliarity quickened his steps. In a daze, he felt as if he were participating in the Oscar party at this very moment. This strange and unfamiliar emotion made him involuntarily halt his steps.
However, the surging emotions within remained hidden. Whether in his previous life or this one, the education he received emphasized concealing emotions and maintaining a courteous and gentlemanly demeanor in public. Moreover, having attended countless aristocratic social gatherings since childhood, he was naturally at ease with situations like these.
Hearing the greeting, Renly redirected his gaze and politely inclined his head in response. His gaze fell on the name badge, "Anthony, I am here for the interview event related to "The Pacific". Am I late?"
Politeness didn't mean excessive familiarity. His response was concise yet revealing enough information. A casual air carried a hint of concentration. A simple answer unveiled distinctly different qualities and depths, one of the pronounced differences arising from the cultural gap between British and American actors.
"No, you're not late." Anthony showed no hint of neglect, maintaining his courteous manner. He initiated a welcoming gesture, "The makeup team from the production crew just arrived not long ago. They are on the fourteenth floor. Allow me to guide you. Sir...?"
Anthony left a pause, and Renly filled in, "Hall."
"Mr. Hall," Anthony said with a smile and then proceeded to lead the way.
Rami and James stood on the side, exchanging puzzled looks. They had no idea what was happening. Bafflingly, Anthony had taken the initiative to approach them with friendliness. He even led them to the fourteenth floor, arriving at the three rooms rented by the "The Pacific" crew—two for makeup and one for the interview. After delivering them to their destination, Anthony turned and left. Such treatment was definitely reserved for VIPs.
After tipping, Renly turned around and saw the bewildered expressions on Rami and James. "What's going on? Why did they personally escort us up here?"
Renly chuckled and shrugged, "You can think of it as excellent hotel service, or perhaps, the allure of the tip motivated them to put in extra effort." This explanation caused James to suddenly realize, while Rami felt something was amiss but couldn't put it into words. Watching as Renly had already pushed the door open and entered, he hastened to follow suit.
Anthony entered the elevator, and the luggage porter beside him held back for a moment, unable to hold back any longer. "Tony, was that a big shot just now? Why did you personally escort him up?"
Anthony's face lit up with a wide smile. "Even if he's not now, he will be in the future." This was an investment. Although his job wasn't directly related to the actors, as the lobby manager, he was the intermediary for inside information. The more influential figures he knew, the more valuable his job would become.
In his view, Mr. Hall from earlier had the potential of a superstar. Even though their conversation was brief, his intuition led him to such a judgment. So, he made a resolute choice.
The luggage porter suddenly had an epiphany, but then he asked with confusion, "But what if he doesn't achieve anything in the future?" "Well, then I haven't lost anything either." Anthony chuckled softly. The luggage porter contemplated for a moment, finally grasping the idea. Establishing connections was an exceedingly profound art.
"At the very least, he's a generous tipper," the luggage porter murmured, patting the ten-dollar bill in his pocket. Normally, it would be a five-dollar tip at most. For such a light suitcase, he earned double the usual income. Worth it.
As Renly and the others entered the room, they immediately caught sight of the lively scene. The room they entered was a makeup room. The tables were strewn with various makeup products, and several makeup artists were scattered around the different corners of the sofa, preparing for their work with readiness. Nearby were three chairs, hairstylists arranging their tools. Since nearly the entire crew was male, this area appeared far neater.
Through the hallway's bedroom, one could hear the voices of several people engrossed in discussions. These must be other actors preparing for promotional activities. It seemed many people had arrived early at the venue. Renly and the others were by no means early, but after a brief glance around, they still hadn't spotted Tom Hanks or Steven Spielberg.
"You three, two of you start with the makeup, and one person goes next door to change clothes." The production manager of the crew, Darin Rivetti, approached. His gaze settled on James without conflict or communication with Renly. "Your agents didn't come along, did they?" Darin confirmed. All three of them shook their heads in unison. They were all unknowns, and even if they had agents, they wouldn't be shadowing them. At most, they'd be remotely contacted by phone. "So, take a look at the framework of the questions yourselves. If you have any issues, ask Gary before the interview. Otherwise, if things go wrong, you'll be responsible for the consequences."
Gary Goetzman, the executive producer of "The Pacific", had followed the crew throughout the shoot.
Renly wasn't bothered by Darin's disregard. He turned to the other two, "How about I go change clothes first?" Having traveled such a long distance, he figured it would be best to freshen up with a bath while there was still time. Removing the travel dust was essential; otherwise, their first formal encounter with the media could leave a bad impression.
"No problem," James readily agreed, and Rami nodded in affirmation.
Just under two minutes after entering the room, Renly turned and walked out again. Next door was a changing room, and after closing the door, he turned around. Then, he spotted the figure of a young woman coming out of the room at the end of the corridor. That room appeared to be where the media took a break.
The young woman was tall and slender, her slim figure exuding an air of desolation and nonchalance under the faint, elusive lighting. Her sleek short hair partially covered one side of her face as it hung slightly downward. A glimpse of an earring, resembling a skull, peeked through her hair. She wore a white T-shirt paired with torn black jeans, a straightforward and clear-cut ensemble. Underneath a studded leather jacket, it outlined a rebellious and self-willed individuality.
The young woman raised her right hand and raked her fingers through her hair. As she turned her head, she noticed another unfamiliar person in the corridor. Her smoky eye makeup concealed her expressive eyes, and a hint of radiance appeared on her lips. "Renly Hall, long time no see!"