[Chapter 974: Let's Place Another Bet]
After some light banter, Eric heard the announcement of the next Best Cinematography award in the hall. Following that would be the Best Director and Best Picture awards. He turned to Judy and said, "I bet you can't think of a suitable wager tonight. So take your time; we should head outside."
Judy Foster nodded. Just as she stood up with Eric, a tall woman walked over from the crowd near the stage exit. It was Brooke Shields, who had just presented the Best Cinematography award.
"Since you found your muse, I'll take my leave," Judy winked at Eric and nodded at Brooke Shields before walking away. Truth be told, Judy was just around 5 feet 3 inches tall, and although she didn't mind her height, facing a woman who was already 5 feet 11 inches tall and wearing high heels like Brooke Shields made her feel a bit pressured. She didn't want to linger around any longer.
"Good evening, Eric," Brooke said, smiling as she gave Eric a light hug. She then looked in the direction of Judy's departure and added, "I saw you here and thought I'd come say hello. I hope I'm not interrupting you."
"Not at all. We were just chatting," Eric replied, shaking his head as he gestured to the sofa beside them, allowing them to sit again.
Eric wasn't really the social type, and since their standing had drifted apart over time, he hadn't seen Brooke Shields much since they wrapped up work on the film Running Out of Time.
...
This chance encounter wasn't just a coincidence. Brooke Shields, who was presenting the Best Cinematography award tonight, was also promoting her upcoming film, Austin Powers 2, which was set for an Easter release. She was the movie's female lead.
At the Oscars, the core guests typically numbered between two to three hundred, most of them award nominees, while a small subset consisted of special or presenting guests. The latter usually didn't attend the Oscars purely for the love of the art; rather, they often had new films hitting screens that year. Brooke Shields was, therefore, a prime example of this latter group.
Ultimately, the Oscars were an event entangled in economic interests.
After the success of Running Out of Time, Brooke Shields had landed several films, briefly igniting her career. However, her talent had been somewhat limited, and in recent years, her star had begun to wane. The roles she managed to get were often those of glamorous eye-candy.
Not long ago, when she had entered backstage for the awards, she had noticed Eric and Judy chatting. After presenting the award, and seeing that they were still there, she felt compelled to greet Eric.
Even as she sat across from Eric, who radiated a calm charm, Brooke Shields couldn't shake the recognition that Eric had transformed dramatically since they first met; he was no longer the young director just making a splash in Hollywood. He was now a figure on top of the Hollywood pyramid.
...
Eric admired the exquisite aquamarine evening gown Brooke Shields wore and sensed her initial hesitation about what to say. Being thoughtful, he initiated a topic: "You look stunning tonight. Which brand is that gown from?"
"Thanks," Brooke Shields sighed, relieved that the conversation moved forward, "It's Givenchy's Haute Couture from the spring-summer 1997 collection."
"Oh, I wouldn't recognize that. I'm not sure how those guests and hosts can name off brands on sight. What's the secret?"
"There is one," Brooke Shields replied, loosening up and adding a playful tone, "It's all about rehearsing your lines with them in advance."
"..."
Eric chuckled at the realization of how those presenters seemed to know just what to say -- those lines were all basically advertisements. Eric had moved up too quickly in Hollywood, and as a director, he had long since disengaged from brand collaborations, so it was only now he learned that "secret."
"Haha," Brooke laughed lightly and tried to engage him further, "So, Eric, what were you just discussing with Miss Foster?"
Hearing the announcement of the Best Director award in the hall, Eric decided against going outside and shrugged casually, "We had a little bet, which I lost."
Brooke Shields looked intrigued. "What were you betting on?"
"Well, being here, it was obviously about the Oscar results."
"No, I meant," Brooke gestured slightly, her voice dipped with curiosity, "What was your, um, wager?"
Sensing her curiosity, Eric's expression shifted. "Do you really want to know?"
Noticing the mischievous glint in Eric's smile and feeling her heart race a little, Brooke nodded, a mix of apprehension and excitement in her demeanor.
Eric paused dramatically before revealing, "The thing is, I forgot to set the stakes with Judy. Thus, right now, I've effectively lost her a blank check."
This certainly wasn't what Brooke Shields had expected, but Eric's answer surprised her even more, her eyes widening in envy as she exclaimed, "Wow."
In the hall, there was no suspense when Anthony Minghella won Best Director for The English Patient, and after he finished his thank-you speech, Eric noticed Brooke's envious expression. He added playfully, "So, the Best Picture is about to be announced. Want to place a bet of your own?"
Brooke Shields's eyes sparkled at the suggestion, but she wasn't completely oblivious to the Oscar scene and responded, "But it's pretty clear who's winning now."
"Higher risks lead to higher rewards. Look, I'm betting Best Picture will be The English Patient. Do you want to bet on another film for a surprise win? A blank check, mind you; I rarely make such promises to anyone."
When Brooke Shields heard the Best Picture presenter had begun to speak, she hesitated for just two seconds before asking, "Eric, what if I lose?"
"I'd take a blank check as well -- that's fair."
"That's not fair at all! You have the upper hand," she retorted.
"Do you think the odds of winning $500 million and $5 on a lottery ticket are remotely equal?"
"Well," after contemplating for a moment, and hearing the introduction for Best Picture commencing, Brooke Shields nodded decisively, "Okay, I'm in."
With those words, the award ceremony was approaching its climax, and while Brooke Shields slightly turned her head to the hall outside, Eric picked up a chocolate from the coffee table and relaxed back against the armchair.
..
"While it's unfortunate for four films not to win tonight, there's no denying they were all outstanding movies. Now, let's see who the last lucky one of the night will be," Francis Ford Coppola's voice echoed, pausing for a moment before saying again, "The Oscar goes to The English Patient, Saul Zaentz -- congratulations."
...
Applause erupted, and with their expectations dashed, Brooke Shields took a glimmering look at Eric, her mind swirling with thoughts.
Eric stood up immediately, "Come with me."
"Huh?" Brooke Shields jumped, surprised by the abruptness.
Not yet clear if she didn't want to refuse, didn't wish to, or was simply too timid to decline, Brooke Shields found herself standing up from the sofa, walking a few steps after Eric before mustering up the courage to ask softly, "Eric, are we going to the Vanity Fair party?"
Eric shook his head. "No, I'm tired. I plan to head home early."
Countless reporters were waiting outside the Grand Civic Hall, hoping to catch the winners for immediate interviews -- it was the liveliest moment of the event. Yet, Eric didn't join in, instead leading Brooke Shields straight out of the hall, where they hopped into a luxury car and departed.
...
The black Rolls-Royce merged into the not-so-crowded traffic of Los Angeles at night. Eric glanced at Brooke Shields, who seemed like a little lamb under the weight of a lion, and joked, "Alright, I was only teasing you. I just instructed the driver to take a detour by the art center. I can drop you off there."
Brooke Shields stared, momentarily confused, glancing out the window.
The Rolls-Royce headed north, and tonight's Vanity Fair party was held at Beverly Arts Center, conveniently on that route. If Eric intended to return home to Malibu directly, they should have been headed west on the LA 10 Freeway.
She had recently thought Eric was going to take her home directly. While she didn't have much resistance towards that idea, she still felt uncomfortable. Nevertheless, she began to feel a hint of uncertainty: "Eric, you aren't really planning to head straight home, right?"
Eric shook his head, "No, I genuinely plan to go home early for some rest."
"Well," still fiddling with her purse, Brooke Shields stammered quietly, "maybe we don't need to take the detour."
...
A little over half an hour later, they arrived at the shell villa.
As Eric guided Brooke Shields into the vast circular hall, brightly lit, she couldn't help but comment, "This place is enormous, but..."
Eric led Brooke to the sitting area by the glass wall, inviting her to sit at her leisure. He then went to the small bar to pour two glasses of juice, returning to hand Brooke one and asking, "But what?"
"It's just too big and also too empty," Brooke replied after accepting the juice. "Eric, don't you feel that way?"
Eric shook his head, "Not at all. I enjoy spacious places. If a space feels cramped, I feel a bit uneasy. Perhaps it's a psychological hang-up from the past."
Brooke Shields took a small sip of her juice but found herself intrigued, "Do you still have psychological hang-ups?"
"Well, I believe everyone should have at least a little bit of a psychological hang-up. Don't you?"
Brooke pondered for a moment, and though it seemed she was on the brink of recalling something, she simply smiled and shook her head, putting her cup down and adjusting her dress. After looking around hesitantly, she added, "Eric, could you help me find something to change into? I need to return this dress tomorrow."
"Wearing my clothes should be fine," Eric nodded, standing up. "Follow me."
Brooke Shields got up but noticed Eric wasn't heading upstairs or into any of the other rooms downstairs. Instead, he was moving toward the entrance of the outdoor swimming pool.
...
"Eric, what are we doing here?" Once outside through the side door leading to the pool, Brooke Shields surveyed the area and involuntarily walked to the railing, leaning over to gaze into the dark ocean under the night sky.
Eric followed her over, explaining, "There are some of my clothes in the changing room behind, and you can choose whatever you like. Or, do you want to swim? There are swimsuits in there too, and I can also heat the water for you."
"Haha, sure," Brooke nodded but didn't immediately leave. She pointed at the low cliff under their feet and asked, "Eric, aren't you worried someone might climb up here?"
"Sure, I am, and more than once people have tried climbing up," Eric nodded. "But they never succeeded."
"Why's that?"
Eric didn't reply right away but pointed below, "Take a closer look."
Peering down, Brooke Shields couldn't see anything particularly noteworthy due to the lighting.
Eric glanced down where she was looking, seeing nothing special either, before offering an explanation, "There are alarm systems and cameras down there. If anyone gets too close, even from underwater, they'll be spotted quickly."
"Oh," Brooke nodded, feeling content with his explanation, setting aside any further inquiry on such a private security matter. She wouldn't harbor any ill intentions, but she understood it was wise to avoid any suspicion. "Alright, I'll go change then."
Watching Brooke Shields walk toward the changing room, Eric suddenly recalled a thought he had long forgotten. Her perfect figure and face made him picture the beauty wearing a mermaid tail, gliding through the pool -- such an image felt stunningly lovely in his mind.
March in Los Angeles isn't cold exactly, but it's not particularly warm either. With these thoughts lingering, Eric moved away from the railing and headed toward the pool's smart control panel, starting to adjust the water temperature.
*****
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