"Darling, how did your conversation with Wendy go?" As soon as Monet returned, Nicole approached and inquired.
Monet waved his hand in frustration and replied, "Don't even mention it. That guy's completely brainwashed now. You'll see, when something goes wrong with this Rui Mei Coffee in the future, it'll all be blamed on him!" He then recounted his conversation with Wendy to Nicole.
"Tony, are you implying that after Arthur makes off with the money, Wendy will be left to face the angry investors who were deceived?" Nicole asked cautiously.
Monet nodded and said, "That's for sure. Otherwise, why would Arthur step out of the spotlight?"
"But according to what you said, he didn't even know Wendy before. So why did he choose her to be the unlucky one?" Nicole questioned, puzzled.
"The answer is simple. Wendy fits all the criteria for being a scapegoat—vain and gullible!" Monet was so certain because he had seen such things happen many times before he transmigrated. In these fraudulent companies, the legal person was always the one to take the fall.
Seeing Monet's expression, Nicole advised, "Tony, you've already fulfilled your duties as a friend. What happens to Wendy afterwards is no longer your concern. So, don't worry about it. How about this—tonight, Zigfei has a magnificent show. I'll accompany you to watch it and change your mood!"
In this era's New York Broadway, when it comes to watching musicals, naturally, one would choose Zigfei Dance Company's opulent musicals. Watching the young and beautiful girls in their extravagant costumes, singing and dancing on stage, telling interesting stories through their voices and movements, could undoubtedly provide an evening of enjoyment.
However, truth be told, Monet wasn't particularly interested in this kind of musical. Although the girls selected by the troupe's founder, Florence Zigfei, were indeed exceptionally attractive, they were covered from head to toe, and even their calves were hidden. What was the point?
If Monet could choose, he would much rather go to the Picong Theater at this time. The performances there were great; it was the Red Mill Dance Troupe from Paris performing, and they specialized in their renowned con-con dance. Con-con dance was great—it's what men liked. The girls on stage would lift their skirts from time to time, revealing their thighs and panties. How exciting!
Unfortunately, what he enjoyed wasn't to Nicole's taste. She even said he would surely enjoy tonight's show, so in the end, Monet had to give up his beloved con-con dance.
For Nicole, it was an enjoyable experience; for Monet, it was torture. Looking at the girls on stage, dressed conservatively, singing opera with melodious tones, Monet found his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. The drowsiness was becoming unbearable.
In the midst of this almost asleep state, Monet suddenly felt a hand sneak around his waist, carefully feeling for his belt buckle.
Startled, he opened his eyes, and in the dim theater light, he saw Nicole looking at him with a suggestive expression. Seeing him awake, she raised her finger to her lips, signaling him to stay quiet.
Sensing what Nicole might be up to, Monet's drowsiness vanished in an instant. With a hint of excitement, he turned his head to survey his surroundings.
The theater was quite populated with spectators. Despite being in a corner, not far from Monet's right hand and separated by just three seats, sat a young woman wearing a cap made of adhesive leather. Fortunately, most of the seats on Nicole's right were unoccupied.
Holding his breath, Monet put on an appearance of composure, leaning back against the chair's backrest and half-lounging.
"This fairy."
After leaving the theater, it was already past seven in the evening. Broadway's streets still glowed with neon lights, bustling with crowds. It gave off a hint of the never-sleeping atmosphere of the future's city that never sleeps.
Monet had Nicole's arm in the crook of his own, walking back to her place. New York's night seemed devoid of the daytime's heat, replaced by a sense of freshness. Walking along, he didn't feel fatigued at all.
When passing a café, Nicole suddenly suggested, "Let's go in and have a drink!"
As they sat in the café, sipping their coffee and chatting, the atmosphere in the entire café suddenly seemed to freeze. Monet and Nicole curiously turned their heads toward the source and found that a strangely dressed woman had entered the café. She wore a vibrant, voluminous skirt adorned with various eye-catching decorations, her face heavily made up to the point where her original features were nearly unrecognizable.
Since they weren't far from Broadway here, Monet couldn't help but murmur softly, "Is this lady an actress?"
Nicole nodded and said, "Tony's guess is correct. This lady must be an actress. And her attire seems to resemble Lady Polav's costume from 'The Silver King.' It's just that I wonder why she came to the café without removing her makeup; it's not very polite." ('The Silver King' is a famous play by the late 19th-century playwright Jones.)
Evidently, the café staff thought the same way. A waiter approached and asked, "Madam, your attire seems to..."
Before the waiter could finish, the woman interrupted, "I apologize sincerely. I'm an actress from the Princess Theater. Because I was in a hurry to meet a friend here, I didn't have time to change clothes. I apologize for any inconvenience this may cause."
Hearing her explanation, the waiter had no choice but to back down. She led the actress to an empty seat just across the aisle from Monet and then asked, "What would you like to drink?"
"Um, just a cup of coffee, please," the actress replied nonchalantly.
"Sure, please wait a moment." The waiter turned and left.
After a while, the actress suddenly stood up and hastily walked towards the exit. The waiter quickly intercepted her and asked, "Ma'am, where are you headed?"