Chapter 532: Not pretty enough!

As Martin gazed across the lush, manicured lawn of Tommy's grand estate, he caught sight of David Beckham and Victoria, their silhouettes elegant and poised, striding confidently toward them. The golden hue of the setting sun cast a warm glow on the scene, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. Martin couldn't help but think, with a hint of amusement, that his unvarnished truths wouldn't easily slip past these two.

Victoria, ever the astute observer, seemed to be the guiding force of the pair. She approached Martin with a graceful ease, her voice tinged with curiosity. "Your earlier conversation was quite intriguing," she remarked.

Caught slightly off guard, Martin, who had never envisioned himself as a cult leader akin to Scientology, responded with a self-deprecating laugh. "Oh, I'm merely an actor at heart, skilled in the art of improvisation."

Victoria appeared momentarily taken aback, her sharp eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and thoughtfulness. "Uh..."

David, with his characteristic calm, chimed in. "Martin, your honesty and integrity are well-known in Hollywood."

Martin, his expression a blend of humility and resignation, replied, "Tommy's invitation was hard to refuse. I wasn't keen on coming, but sometimes, you have to explore different paths."

The couple, it seemed, were also here at the behest of Tom Cruise. Victoria, direct and candid, shared, "We're not particularly fond of these events either." She leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. "Might we join your Coca-Cola Cult?"

Martin blinked in mild surprise before smiling. "Of course! The Coca-Cola Cult is an inclusive community. No courses, no soul purification, no fundraising. Just buy a commemorative Coke, register online, and you're part of us."

David nodded approvingly. "We'll join as soon as we return."

Victoria, her mind always strategizing, queried, "Does our Coca-Cola Cult hold regular gatherings?"

Martin paused, considering. "Not at the moment."

Victoria's eyes sparkled with an entrepreneurial glint. "Many are interested in your Cult. Regular gatherings could be a wonderful opportunity for networking."

Her suggestion struck a chord with Martin. "That's worth serious consideration."

After a warm handshake and exchanged goodbyes, Victoria and David departed, their figures gradually blending into the evening's shadowy embrace.

Later, as Martin and Bruce drove back, the quiet hum of the engine filled the space. "Bruce, what do you think about establishing a more structured framework for our gatherings?" Martin asked, his tone contemplative.

Bruce, who had always seen Martin's ideas as whimsical, chuckled. "Starting a movement, are we? This could be the beginning of something big."

Martin nodded thoughtfully, the seed of an idea taking root. "It could become a platform for networking and resource exchange." He jotted down this thought, planning to discuss it with Coca-Cola's team.

Upon their return to the villa, Elizabeth greeted them with a mixture of surprise and delight. "You're back early."

Martin wrapped her in a warm embrace. "I want to spend more time with you before you leave tomorrow."

Sensing the need for privacy, the housekeeper and Bruce discreetly retreated, leaving the couple alone.

Carrying Elizabeth, Martin ascended the stairs, each step echoing softly in the grand hallway.

Meanwhile, Bruce, standing by the ornate fountain outside, dialed a number on his phone. "Hi, Khloe..."

The voice on the other end cut in eagerly. "Hey, are you coming tonight? Kim's here too."

Bruce's voice was firm yet light. "I'm heading over now." The call ended, and he strode off into the night, the gentle sound of the fountain's water a serene backdrop to his departure.

The evening air was thick with tension, the city's pulse quickening under the shroud of darkness. It was a night destined to be punctuated by gunfire, a stark reminder of the fragility of peace.

As dawn broke, Martin found himself at the airport, bidding farewell to Elizabeth. His mind still clouded with the night's events, he soon found himself navigating the bustling corridors of Warner Studios to meet with Christopher Nolan.

The studio, usually buzzing with creative energy, was somber. The recent shooting incident on set had cast a pall over everything. Tom Hardy, the actor involved, was in the eye of the storm, with the LAPD restricting his movements within Los Angeles.

Thankfully, the victim's injuries were non-critical, though discussions of compensation with the crew and insurance company were ongoing. Nolan, when Martin finally met him, had a pragmatic view. "Filming won't resume until next week. But, oddly, the incident has drawn more attention to the film," he mused, a hint of irony in his voice.

Martin, leaning against a meticulously crafted set piece, nodded. "Chris, you have a knack for turning adversity into opportunity, steering public opinion like no other."

Nolan, with a wry smile, replied, "I've learned from the best, Martin. Your publicity strategies have been invaluable."

"The safety of our crew and props management must be our priority now," Martin insisted, his concern evident.

"I agree," Nolan said, his gaze firm. "I'm bringing in Anderson for this. His track record in handling real-life drama is unparalleled."

Martin remembered Anderson, the screenwriter with a flair for the dramatic, and nodded in agreement. "He's the right choice."

Nolan's gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts wandering to the recent events in Morocco. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was a deeper connection, possibly linked to the Jewish community.

Later, as the sun reached its zenith, Martin received a call from Thomas, inviting him to a golf game at the Los Angeles Country Club with Ari Emmanuel. Upon arrival, Martin was greeted by the sight of Ari, Thomas, and Natalie Portman, clad in a chic white sun hat and light golf attire, reminiscent of the actresses Martin knew from his past life.

Greeting Ari with a fist bump, Martin quipped, "Golf, the one sport I'm least adept at."

Ari chuckled. "Exactly why I chose it. I'm guaranteed a win against you." He gestured towards Natalie. "Martin, meet Natalie. Nat, this is Martin."

Natalie extended her hand, her smile warm. "Matilda from 'Leon' was an idol of mine as a child."

"I admired your portrayal of Padmé Amidala just as much," Martin responded, his tone genuine.

Ari directed them towards a golf cart. "I'll drive," he announced. Their equipment was loaded onto a trailing cart, driven by Bruce.

As they headed across the vast, verdant lawn, Ari spoke up. "CAA's been pressuring Nolan. Apparently, they're unhappy about the Morocco incident."

Martin, curious, asked, "Why?"

Ari pondered briefly before replying, "Nolan's personal intervention in the kidnapping case in Morocco has stirred up some controversy." He shrugged. "Had he been with WMA, I would've applied pressure too."

Martin, maintaining a calm exterior, couldn't help but reflect on the dynamics at play. Both Ari and Natalie were Jewish, and with Ari's brother Rahm being the White House Chief of Staff, the influence of the Jewish community was undeniable.

Remembering the backlash against Mel Gibson, Martin asked, "Shouldn't CAA be backing Nolan?"

Ari glanced at him, "You might not be aware of the intricacies. They're also Jewish."

The conversation lingered in the air as they continued their drive across the sprawling landscape of the country club, each lost in their thoughts under the California sun.

Ari leaned in, a knowing glint in his eye, as he spoke softly, "As long as you understand the situation."

Martin's expression cleared, the realization dawning on him. "I get it now, don't worry."

Ari nodded thoughtfully. "Take your time. When you're ready, introduce me to Nolan. I'd like to have a word with him."

Martin hesitated for a moment before responding, "Considering the recent shooting incident on set, it might not be the best time. Let's wait until the film wraps up."

"There's no rush," Ari agreed, just as the golf cart rolled to a stop at the practice area.

As they disembarked, it was clear that Martin and Natalie were not seasoned golfers, their swings unpracticed but enthusiastic. Thomas, on the other hand, played with a comfortable ease.

The four of them spent more time in lively conversation than focusing on the game. Natalie's face lit up with joy as she swung her club, sending the ball flying. "The skills are good, have you practiced before?" Martin inquired.

Setting up another ball, Natalie responded, "I played a bit during my time at Harvard, then less so when I studied in Jerusalem."

Martin, unimpressed by academic boasting, casually mentioned, "I haven't really practiced golf. My expertise lies more in shooting."

At that moment, Ari approached, resting a club on his shoulder. "Seems like you two are getting along. What about a collaboration? Imagine our top male and female stars in the same movie."

Martin set down his club, intrigued. "Do you have a project in mind?"

"Not exactly, but you might," Ari said, referring to the adaptation of "Gone Girl" that Martin was working on with David Fincher. "Fincher's looking for his leading lady."

"That's true," Martin acknowledged.

Ari, standing behind Natalie, added, "Our Nat could be perfect for the amazing Amy."

Natalie chimed in, "Amy's character is fascinating. Her high education and IQ, somewhat like mine, really draw me in."

Martin now understood her earlier references to Harvard and Jerusalem.

Thomas gave Martin a slight shake of the head from across the green, signaling his unawareness of this development.

Martin smiled diplomatically. "This project involves multiple investors and a director of Fincher's caliber. It's not solely under my control. I'll mention Nat to the team and Director Fincher. She can proceed to the third round of auditions, but the final decision will depend on collective agreement."

This was the outcome Ali hoped for – a fair chance, but no guarantees.

"Thank you, Martin," Natalie said appreciatively.

"You're welcome, but I can't promise anything," Martin replied, thinking to himself that Natalie might not embody the intricate, captivating essence of Gillian Flynn's Amy.

In Hollywood, where appearances were critical, Natalie's vegan lifestyle and unassuming looks might not meet Fincher's exacting standards. Even Reese Witherspoon, a friend of Fincher's, had been turned down for not fitting the part perfectly.

Ari then brought up another project. "What about Ridley Scott's 'Robin Hood'?"

Martin was direct. "I can't adjust my schedule for that."

Ari accepted this with a nod.

Martin wasn't overly concerned. He knew Ridley Scott's pattern: a flop in epic films often led him back to science fiction to regain his footing. That would be the time to discuss potential collaborations.