Chapter 92

Terry Hill Avenue, New Jersey.

In a quiet middle-class neighborhood, a small, old wooden villa stood, its walls echoing the hum of daily life.

Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling... The phone rang.

"Hello, hello, who are you looking for?"

"This is Anne Hathaway," the young woman replied, her voice shaky.

"What? The audition results? Am I in? Or did I lose?"

A surge of anger mixed with disappointment flooded Anne Hathaway's heart. She had worked so hard for that role, even subsisting on only fruit for an entire week to maintain a "thin" appearance. Why? Why wasn't it her? She remembered the girl she had competed with—plump, nothing like the role required. How could she have won over her?

The tears flowed freely as the phone call continued. Before it ended, she couldn't help herself. "What's that girl's name? How could she win against me? The director was obviously so impressed with me!"

Surprisingly, the voice on the other end responded, "Scarlett Johansson? The decision was made above. Cruise's phone number? She's a good friend of Hollywood's prodigy, Martin Meyers?"

In an instant, the girl's emotions switched from sadness to intense hatred.

Anne Hathaway, born into a wealthy middle-class family, had always been expected to succeed. Her father was a lawyer, and her mother, a stage actress, had influenced her choice of name—Anne Hathaway, after Shakespeare's wife. As a child, Anne had wanted to become a nun, but at fifteen, when she discovered her brother's homosexuality, she let go of that dream.

In high school, acting became her focus under her mother's guidance, and she honed her skills on stage, even performing in the renowned "Golden Dust World" play. However, entering the professional acting world was another story. Despite her talent, she found herself cast in insignificant roles—background characters with no lines or pity parts—and she couldn't understand why others, seemingly less skilled, got better opportunities.

Her mother always told her that connections were key in Hollywood, but despite introductions, like the one to Jennifer, the casting director for American Rhapsody, Anne still lost out. She lost to Scarlett Johansson, who had a much stronger backing and connections, with Martin Meyers helping her behind the scenes.

Martin Meyers was the person she now hated.

...

Meanwhile, Martin Meyers, unaware of Anne Hathaway's growing resentment, was enjoying his time. Robert De Niro, ever the jokester, joked, "Martin, the movie's done, why don't we all go for drinks? Oh wait, you're underage!"

The group laughed, and Martin stood among them, observing how easily Americans could find humor in small things. Suddenly, he cleared his throat and climbed onto a box containing equipment. The crowd quieted, curious.

Martin started his own joke. "One day, Mr. Robert De Niro walked into a bar and asked for a drink."

"He finished it, looked in his shirt pocket, and asked for another drink."

"After finishing the second, he looked again in his shirt pocket and asked for another."

"The bartender, curious, finally asked, 'Robert, why do you look in your pocket every time before asking for a drink?'"

De Niro's reply was classic: "I have a picture of my wife in there. When I drink until she looks like a beauty, then I'll go home!"

The room was silent for a moment, before a burst of laughter erupted. De Niro, still laughing, clapped his thighs and shouted, "Thank you, Martin! I'll be sure to tell my ex-wife—hopefully, she won't curse you!"

...

Once the filming of Hide and Seek was done, Martin didn't rush back to Los Angeles. Instead, he recorded a new single, "That Girl," in New York.

"Wow, this song is really special!" Music producer David Maguire couldn't help but praise Martin after hearing the track. The melody was soothing, gentle yet emotionally resonant, perfect for a quiet night at home with a cup of coffee.

Maguire, being a gay man, sensed the underlying emotion in the song—something for a girl. Little did he know, Martin's song was actually meant for a group of girls, all filled with emotions that were personal yet universal.

Martin, always quick in the studio, finished the recording in no time. But instead of dealing with the release, he flew straight back to Los Angeles for a brief two-day stay before heading off to New Zealand for a much-needed vacation.

This time, he traveled alone except for his bodyguard, Gordon.

...

Meanwhile, in a cluttered studio in New Zealand, Peter Jackson was on the phone with Harvey Weinstein.

"Harvey, I've sent you the Lord of the Rings script, but I haven't heard back. Have you read it?"

"I've seen it, Peter. It's just that the script you sent is based on The Hobbit. Where are the rings? Where are the battles?"

"Harvey, I believe a story like Lord of the Rings should be told as a trilogy—"

"No, no, Peter, it's my decision. You have to understand, I have the final say on this movie."

"Yes, yes, of course," Peter Jackson reluctantly agreed, realizing there was no room for negotiation.

Harvey cut him off before Peter could say more. "Remember, there's no The Hobbit. There's only The Lord of the Rings."

"Okay, I'll change it," Peter sighed, knowing he had no choice but to comply.

[•———•——•———•]

𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✨ • 𝗘𝘅𝗰𝗹𝘂𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗔𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀: 𝙂𝙚𝙩 𝟲𝟬+ 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚.