Chapter 142

"Are you done talking?"

As Ian Bryce walked away, Nicole approached with two cups in hand, offering Martin a glass of juice.

"The conversation's over."

Martin nodded, still lost in thought over Ian Bryce's parting words.

Spider-Man…

As one of Marvel's most iconic characters, Spider-Man could indeed propel Martin's career to new heights. Yet deep down, he'd always dreamed of playing Iron Man.

But the timing was off. Iron Man was slated for release in 2008, when Martin would barely be in his early twenties. Playing a middle-aged man at that age wasn't realistic. Even if he argued that his acting skills were up to par, no one would buy it.

Still, Spider-Man wasn't a bad alternative.

A smile spread across Martin's face. Maybe Little Spider's popularity could surpass Iron Can's.

In Martin's view, Spider-Man's appeal was no less significant than Iron Man's. The disparity in their fanbases wasn't about the characters but the actors playing them.

Tobey Maguire, Andrew Garfield, Tom Holland—they were all talented but lacked the overwhelming personal charm of Robert Downey Jr. As the saying goes, a "little brother's" likability is no match for a "big uncle's" commanding presence.

But Martin was different. He could be both charmingly sweet and irresistibly salty.

He was confident he could infuse the Little Spider with a unique allure—snarky, playful, and undeniably captivating.

Nicole settled onto the sofa opposite him, sipping wine as she watched Martin, engrossed in his thoughts.

It was hard to believe that such a tall, strikingly handsome young man was only 14 years old. While his facial features retained a hint of youthful innocence, his calm and composed demeanor completely overshadowed it.

He was beautiful.

The longer Nicole looked, the more captivated she became. Suddenly, she cleared her throat, snapping Martin out of his reverie.

"Martin, Tom isn't home tonight. Want to come over?"

"Malibu?"

"That's right."

"Sure."

The premiere finally began.

First, Alan Ryder Jr., president of 20th Century Fox Film Company, took the stage to deliver a speech.

Ryder was a tall, lean, middle-aged man with a sharp appearance and commanding presence.

Then, the film's largest investor—Martin himself—stepped up to the podium.

"Hello, everyone!"

A cheeky grin lit up his face.

"This is probably the last time I'll greet you all so casually. They say entering high school means stepping into the adult world. In the past, we could do this and that. Now, we can't do this, and we can't do that—"

Laughter rippled through the audience.

Martin shrugged. "So, from now on, it's going to be, 'Ladies and gentlemen, good evening!' Growth sure has its costs!"

The crowd burst into laughter again.

"Since this is my last chance to act like a kid, I'll indulge one last time. Mr. Alan Ryder, your speech was so long and boring I almost fell asleep."

The room erupted with laughter.

Alan Ryder smiled helplessly, raising his glass in mock surrender.

"So, I'll keep it short. Just one last thing—"

Martin lifted his glass of grape juice.

"I hope our movie's a massive success, and I hope I win an Oscar! Mr. De Niro, please don't mind. After all, you've already won one."

The crowd roared with approval.

"And lastly, I wish all the ladies here eternal youth and beauty!"

The audience clapped enthusiastically, and Martin's reputation as a "friend of women" was solidified.

With the speeches over, the audience moved into the grand theater adjacent to the banquet hall.

For the first time, Martin wasn't seated in the second row but in the prestigious first row—a mark of capital's influence.

Naturally, Robert De Niro also occupied a seat in the front row—a mark of being an industry titan.

Nicole Kidman, attending as Martin's date, also claimed a front-row spot.

The arrangement felt strange to Nicole. She was accustomed to sitting here with her husband, but this time…

As the lights dimmed and the 20th Century Fox logo appeared on the screen, Nicole discreetly reached over and clasped Martin's hand beneath the armrest.

Her palm tingled as Martin lightly traced circles with his fingers. Though the sensation was subtle, it sent a wave of warmth through her chest.

The screen transitioned to display the Meyers Films logo—a panda in a bamboo hat, striking a kung fu pose. It was an unmistakable nod to the protagonist of Martin's debut novel, Panda Po.

Suddenly, she felt Martin's hand slide behind her back, pressing gently.

Her heart raced. This little rascal is so bold! What if someone notices?

On-screen, Robert De Niro appeared, crying over the lifeless body of his wife in a bathtub. The camera slowly panned out, revealing Martin standing ominously in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Nicole let out a soft gasp and shot Martin a glare in the dark.

He flashed a mischievous smile.

From the corner of her eye, Nicole confirmed no one had noticed. All eyes were glued to the screen.

As the movie progressed, Martin's character became darker and more unsettling. The eerie grin he flashed at the psychiatrist elicited gasps from the audience.

Nicole, meanwhile, found her face heating up. Her palm felt damp, but to her surprise, she didn't dislike Martin's advances. If anything, she… anticipated them.

Yet Martin didn't push further.

On-screen, Martin's child character lay on a bed, introducing his imaginary friend Charlie to De Niro's character. The scene sent chills down the audience's spines, leading many to misjudge the movie's ultimate twist.

Nicole shifted in her seat, trying to suppress her restlessness, then caught herself, her face burning with embarrassment.

Martin leaned closer, whispering, "Nicole, patience. Let's finish the movie first. Be good."

His coaxing tone ignited a peculiar warmth in her chest. To her surprise, she enjoyed it.

"You little rascal," she murmured playfully. "Whose fault is this?"

"My bad," he replied with a smirk. "I'll make it up to you tonight."

Nicole chuckled. "We'll see if you're up to the task."

Martin withdrew his hand, leaving Nicole feeling an unexpected emptiness.

The two whispered quietly, unnoticed by the rest of the crowd, who remained engrossed in the unfolding drama on screen.

[•———•——•———•]

𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧