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Hunting in Hollywood

A continental director from many years in the future unexpectedly returns to Hollywood in 1986, and so begins his legendary journey to take step-by-step control of the center of the world's largest film industry. ----------------------- It's 1 chapter per day at 1 p.m. (Arizona) in every novel I upload. 3 daily chapters in each novel on patreon! p@treon.com/INNIT ----------------------- DISCLAIMER The story belongs entirely to the original author.

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Chapter 96: The Second Time

Robert De Niro, not one to linger at parties, left soon after arriving.

Simon Westeros continued to mingle with the guests until nearly ten o'clock. He was about to leave when Meg Ryan suddenly appeared, blocking his path by the buffet table. "Simon, we need to talk," she said.

Simon looked at the slightly swaying figure before him, her eyes blurry. He took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the table before walking to a quieter spot.

Meg Ryan followed closely until she bumped into him, stopping abruptly.

Staggering backward slightly, she looked up at him with her tongue slightly twisted, "Simon, you don't like me, do you?"

"I was looking forward to this initially, but I'm disappointed with your current state," Simon replied honestly.

"But this is me, this is how I am," Meg Ryan pressed her chest with her hand, her eyes wide with a touch of grievance. "Mr. Westeros, since you don't like me, can you let me go? You're a big deal now, and just one word from you cost me a promising role. Isn't that punishment enough?"

Simon frowned, looking at the woman before him who seemed about to fall over. "Miss Ryan, you're not at the stage where I would like or dislike you because we're not close. I have no interest in punishing you. If you're satisfied with your current state, then you're free to do as you please."

After saying this, Simon turned to leave.

Meg Ryan, clearly still wanting to say something, desperately reached out and grabbed the hem of Simon's coat. She was suddenly jerked away, falling to the ground.

"Not again," Simon muttered, resignedly stopping. He helped Meg Ryan up and seated her at a nearby table. Fortunately, they were on a grassy patch, which cushioned her fall, preventing any injuries.

The commotion naturally attracted attention from others.

However, seeing that it was Simon Westeros dealing with a woman, although curious, everyone restrained themselves from approaching, and some even pretended not to see.

In Hollywood, such scenes were all too common.

Simon, uninterested in others' thoughts, waved for a waiter to bring some tissues, which he handed to the still somewhat dazed woman. He ended up wiping her face himself and asked the waiter who had accompanied her that evening.

Robert Redford soon noticed the disturbance and came over. After inquiring, he learned that Meg Ryan had come alone that night. Simon then promptly called CAA to pick her up.

After the ordeal, Meg Ryan gradually regained her composure and apologized awkwardly to Robert Redford, the host.

Half an hour later, her agent Josh Liberman arrived to pick her up.

As Meg Ryan slipped into the car, she looked out at Simon and Robert and others standing outside, her clarity returning. She apologized again and then, with a pitiful look towards Simon, whispered, "I'm really sorry, Mr. Westeros, I was a bit out of line. Tomorrow, can I still go to Daenerys Studios?"

Feeling several pairs of eyes on him, Simon reluctantly nodded.

After sending Meg Ryan off, Neil Bennett arrived to pick Simon up, and they left together.

Descending the Hollywood hills to return to the Century Building in Century City, Simon stepped out of the Chevrolet SUV. Neil Bennett also exited the driver's side.

Intending to enter the building directly, Simon stopped when he saw Neil following him. He looked at the man in his forties and asked, "Neil, is there something you need?"

Neil Bennett, thinking of recent events, appreciated how well Simon had handled everything. Simon, a young celebrity, was not only well-behaved but also took great care of his mistress and those around him.

Last month, Simon had even offered to help their families move to Los Angeles, arranging for jobs for their wives and schools for their children. The decision was welcomed since Melbourne's prospects couldn't compare to Los Angeles.

After some back and forth, when the protagonists of his guard had inexplicably broken up, an old man obsessed with his daughter's future had been ranting for days about how his daughter was finally getting married. Simon's background had been thoroughly vetted and sent back to Melbourne.

Despite his young age and some concerns about his mental health, there were no other reservations.

Unbeknownst to Simon, if it weren't for Janet's repeated explanations and warnings, a horde from Australia would have already been on their way, as the furious old man on the phone had declared: "The Johnston family is not to be trifled with."

Now, as if they were splitting marital assets in a divorce, Neil Bennett had become Simon's regular bodyguard and driver, while Ken Dixon was responsible for Janet. The additional assignments from Australia had left both middle-aged men utterly exhausted.

Seeing that Simon was waiting for an answer, Neil quickly snapped back to reality and said, "Mr.

 Westeros, will you call Miss Janet later?"

"It's quite late now, and Janet isn't one to stay up," Simon replied with a smile.

"Just give her a call; she's probably looking forward to it," Neil suggested awkwardly, then opened the car door and added, "Mr. Westeros, I'll be on time tomorrow."

Watching Neil drive away, Simon turned and entered the building, returning to his apartment on the 22nd floor.

Having moved several times within a year, Simon was tired of it. His spacious apartment was mostly empty except for the study and bedroom. He had transformed the living room into a private screening room with a projector, large screen, and a row of sofas.

The apartment was somewhat messy, not due to Simon's inability to do household chores, but because he was too busy and uncomfortable with strangers entering his home, so he rarely called for cleaning services.

At that moment, video tapes and various documents were scattered all over the living room—on the sofa, the floor, and the coffee table.

Removing his shoes, Simon walked across the floor in his socks as usual to the telephone.

There were no messages today, but the fax machine held a summary of last week's box office figures that had been released that morning. Simon had been too busy to check them earlier. Now, pulling out the summary, he loaded a video tape into the projector, turned it on, and settled comfortably on the sofa.

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