[Chapter 315: A Chance Encounter]
Eric pondered for a moment before saying, "Since your father asked you to audition for the role of Mary Corleone, I assume you've already gone through the audition process?"
"Of course," Sofia Coppola nodded.
"So, how did your dad rate your audition?" Eric probed gently.
Upon hearing the question, the young girl showed a hint of insecurity. "Dad said I played... pretty well."
Sofia's hesitation gave Eric the opportunity to steer the conversation with ease. "You grew up on the Coppola set, you've seen countless actors perform. Surely you have an understanding of your own acting skills?"
"I think if I rehearse more while filming, I can meet the expectations. Plus, Dad said that even if I don't do well, it's okay since it's my first time," Sofia seemed to recall her father's encouragement, lifting her head to meet Eric's gaze with newfound confidence.
Eric reflected, "From that, you can see how much your father loves you. You know better than anyone what the Godfather series means to him. It's Francis Ford Coppola's pride as a director. I can't imagine him saying 'it's okay if you don't perform well' to anyone else in Godfather III, only to you. With that in mind, you should think more about your father. Godfather III is the conclusion of the trilogy, and I believe no one in the Coppola family would want it to be marred by the performance of any actor, right?"
Sofia fell silent, bowing her head in thought.
Eric gently patted her back, continuing, "In Hollywood, as a Coppola, you have more opportunities than most. If you are genuinely interested in acting, I think it would be best to start small, like your cousin, and gradually hone your craft."
After a moment, Sofia raised her head, and Eric could tell she had made a decision; he smiled slightly at her.
But Sofia wasn't quite in the mood for that, brushing her hand against Eric's waist in mild annoyance, she said, "Eric, everyone says you're a playboy. Shouldn't a playboy charm women with sweet words? Your response was completely off."
The abrupt shift in topic left Eric momentarily speechless.
Noticing Eric's silence, Sofia's expression dimmed, and she spoke with a touch of self-doubt, "Okay, I know I'm not that pretty, but you don't have to act like that."
Eric quickly shook his head. "No, Sofia, you're beautiful. If you don't believe me, ask your father."
"My dad would never say I'm not pretty," the girl rolled her eyes at him but dropped the subject.
As the music ended, people began leaving the dance floor, and Eric took Sofia's hand, leading her outside.
"Eric, I've decided to take your advice and start with smaller roles," the young girl said, raising a glass of red wine toward him. "I hope we can collaborate in the future."
"Absolutely," Eric replied, maintaining his cheerful facade while thinking to himself, "As long as you don't become an actress."
"Well, I'm off to find my dad and tell him about this," she said before turning away.
After she left, Eric looked around but didn't spot Famke Janssen. He thought she must have stepped outside the villa.
With another matter on his mind, he resolutely headed out.
He needed to confirm a few things first.
As he navigated through the guests who had come to greet him, Eric quickly made his way to the garden.
...
"No, I don't want any more, Mr. Blanton," the girl protested weakly, feeling everything spinning around her before she started to sway.
Tony Blanton swiftly caught her, leaning Jennifer Connelly against him while greedily caressing her soft waist. If there hadn't been other guests nearby, he might have lost control and groped her.
While some saw the scene of Tony getting the girl drunk, such occurrences were common at Hollywood parties. Besides, Jennifer didn't seem to resist much, so the guests naturally assumed it was a consensual act.
"Miss Connelly, Miss Connelly?" Tony whispered in her ear. Jennifer's hazy eyes found him for an instant, as if realizing her state. She instinctively pushed against the middle-aged man but lacked any strength.
This encouraged Tony to speak loud enough for the surrounding guests to hear, "Miss Connelly, let me take you back."
Of course, the girl didn't respond, and some male guests who overheard Tony looked on with a hint of envy, while the female guests simply furrowed their brows without intervening.
Just as Tony was about to hoist Jennifer over his shoulder and take a shortcut outside, a cold voice interrupted him. "Sir, where are you taking her?"
Tony's body stiffened, cursing the meddler under his breath. He had no choice but to set the girl down on a nearby chair. He turned to see Eric, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of red wine, expressionless as he surveyed the space between himself and the girl.
"Oh, Mr. Williams, what a pleasure! I'm Tony Blanton, a director as well," he quickly composed himself, extending his hand toward Eric.
Eric merely glanced at the outstretched hand, then jerked his chin toward Jennifer, asking, "Where are you taking her?"
Tony awkwardly retracted his hand, eyeing Jennifer behind him. If he let go now, perhaps there wouldn't be a scene.
Unfortunately, he had also indulged in some drinks while getting Jennifer tipsy, and the alcohol blurred his judgments. "Mr. Williams, you mean Jen? She's my girlfriend; she accidentally got drunk, and I was planning to take her home."
A wave of discomfort passed over Eric as he clenched his jaw, glancing at the drunken girl. He couldn't help but say, "She's drunk, and sure, you can say whatever you want. But I absolutely don't believe she would be your girlfriend."
Tony blinked in surprise and then found it absurd, throwing up his hands. "Mr. Williams, Jen came with me..."
"Shut up! Don't call her Jen!" Eric's voice rose suddenly, as if provoked.
Tony trembled at Eric's outburst, the alcohol buzz fading away. But because of Eric's last remark, curious guests began to gather around, some recognizing Eric's identity. They noticed the tension between him and Tony but ultimately opted not to stick around to see what happened.
Feeling cornered as the crowd thickened, Tony raised his voice, "Mr. Williams, you are being incredibly rude. Miss Connelly is with me; she's drunk and needs rest. Why are you interfering?"
With a crack--
A highball glass snapped in half, the sound of glass hitting the stone ground startled those nearby.
Eric stared blankly at the cut on his hand from the broken glass, murmuring, "You can't take her away; at least wait until she wakes up. If she admits to being your girlfriend, then... I'll apologize."
Tony, seeing Eric looking down, assumed he was backing down and shouted louder, "Mr. Williams, you have no right to do this. Miss Connelly is drunk and needs rest."
After Tony's declaration, he shot Eric a fierce glare. He turned back to help Jennifer once more, but the crowd parted to reveal several anxious faces pushing through.
"Eric, what happened to your hand?" Famke Janssen, having come with Francis Ford Coppola, rushed over upon seeing Eric's bleeding hand. She grabbed his wrist to examine it, quickly pressing down on the wound to stanch the flow. Sofia Coppola had also approached, hastily untying the silk scarf from around her neck to help wrap Eric's bleeding hand.
Seeing Eric was relatively fine and observing the charged atmosphere, Francis called over someone. "Corey, what's going on?"
The guest named Corey had just caught sight of Tony in the act of getting the girl drunk. Looking closer at Francis's daughter and the tall girl attentively helping Eric, he quickly pieced things together and detailed how Tony had gotten Jennifer drunk, embellishing the story for effect.
The moment Francis entered the scene, a bad feeling washed over Tony. The bravado he had built up evaporated, as the alcohol buzz wore off entirely.
Before he could think of a way to salvage the situation, Jennifer, still slumped, weakly murmured, "Water... I need... water."
Even in her drained state, the voice drew everyone's attention.
Sofia, recognizing Jennifer's beautiful face, felt a pang of jealousy as she recalled what she had read about her in the papers and told Eric, "Wow, Eric, another girlfriend of yours!"
Sofia's offhand remark momentarily stalled Famke, while Tony felt the ground drop beneath him, almost collapsing.
Francis was aware of Eric's infamous ways but, unlike his daughter, was less concerned with the gossip. Having learned the situation from Corey, he hadn't known how to approach it either. After all, while Tony's methods may have been dubious, if Jennifer hadn't been willing, she wouldn't have gotten tipsy so easily. He initially thought Eric had only taken action because he had an interest in Tony's companion.
However, upon hearing his daughter's words, Francis became convinced and chastised Tony sternly. "Tony, how could you do this?"
"Mr. Coppola, this is a misunderstanding! Miss Connelly just drank too much by accident. I was just going to take her home."
Francis was incensed at Tony's continued attempts at defense, "With so many people here, you still want to lie?"
"No, I didn't--" Tony waved his hands in denial. Then turning to Eric, "Mr. Williams, this is truly a miscommunication. If I had known..."
Eric sighed, ignoring Tony's protests. He stepped forward to lift the fully intoxicated girl off the chair. "I apologize for the trouble, Mr. Coppola."
"This is nothing," Francis replied, turning to his daughter. "Sofia, take Eric to a room and let this... lady rest. There should be sobering soup in the kitchen."
"Eric, come with me," Sofia said, leading him out through the crowd.
Eric had just taken a few steps when he suddenly remembered something. He turned back, looking at Famke. "Famke, you come too."
Relief flooded Famke's expression, having thought she would be left out of this awkward situation; she quickly squeezed through the throng to follow. The guests who saw it couldn't help but feel envious, as Eric indeed was living up to his playboy reputation, carrying one girl while not letting the other go.
Once Eric disappeared from sight, Francis turned to Tony. "Tony, you should leave. Don't come back."
"No, Mr. Coppola, it's truly a misunderstanding. I didn't--" When he noticed Coppola turning to leave, Tony clamped down on his arm in desperation, "I'm sorry, Mr. Coppola. I was wrong; I really was wrong! I'll go apologize to Mr. Williams and Miss Connelly. Please give me another chance!"
Francis shrugged off Tony's grip, clearly irritated. "Tony, leave, get a different leading lady, and finish your movie. If you keep bothering me, I'll call Cliff."
On hearing Francis refer to the investor in his film, Tony let go at once, and once released, Coppola didn't look back as he walked away.
The onlookers spared a sympathetic glance for the despondent middle-aged man. Word of the incident -- being dismissed by Francis Coppola himself while also crossing paths with the new Hollywood player, Eric Williams -- would spell trouble for Tony in the future. After all, who would want to work with him when they'd be reminded of the Coppola family or Eric Williams? In Hollywood, there were plenty of options, and few would be willing to take that risk.
...
"Eric, lay her on the bed. I've already sent a servant for sobering soup," Sofia said as she led Eric upstairs to the villa, opening a room for him to enter.
"Thank you, Sofia," he replied, setting Jennifer down gently on the large bed. Looking around, he then asked, "Is this your room?"
Sofia hurriedly shoved some personal items into a closet, her face flushing as she explained, "Yes, it is."
Sensing her embarrassment, Eric refrained from looking around further, sitting at the bedside instead. He noticed the girl's flushed face; in the year since last seeing her, Jennifer had lost a little weight but gained an enchanting allure as well.
A middle-aged maid appeared at the door, tray in hand. She peeked inside, and Famke, who had been standing there, took the tray from her. "I'll handle it."
The maid nodded, handing the tray to Famke before leaving.
"Eric," Famke said as she handed him the sobering soup.
Eric accepted the bowl, glancing up at the girl. "Sorry, Famke."
Famke offered a strained smile. "It's fine."
...
In a hazy state, Jennifer Connelly felt herself placed on a soft bed. Fragments of memories from before she drank came back, stirring uneasiness within her. She tried to get up but felt utterly without strength.
Before long, she felt someone lifting her gently. A familiar yet strange voice reached her ears, and as she fought to open her eyes, a hint of self-deprecating laughter emerged on her lips.
*****
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