Chapter 144: Trapped

[Chapter 144: Trapped]

A little over two hours later, in a Beverly Hills hair salon, Nicole looked at her new appearance in the mirror and finally understood why Eric had been dissatisfied with her. The woman in the mirror was completely transformed compared to before; if her previous look had been that of a cute girl with some charm, now she resembled a glamorous modern woman.

The lady in the mirror had dyed her hair a beautiful golden-brown, and her formerly frizzy curls were now sleek and straight, with a side-swept bang that added a touch of sophistication and maturity to her look.

"Miss, compared to your previous hairstyle, this one really makes you look so much more elegant. Your boyfriend has great taste," the stylist said, standing behind Nicole and making the final touches.

"He's not..." Nicole started to defend herself quietly, glancing over at the familiar figure in sunglasses reading a magazine in the waiting area, but she held back her words. She wished he truly was her boyfriend. Yet now, looking at herself, she felt more like a Barbie doll, made to suit that annoying guy's preferences. Although she looked beautiful, Nicole didn't feel particularly excited about it.

"Sir, what do you think?" After everything was done, the lady walked over to Eric, the stylist following her, looking at the man in sunglasses who seemed somewhat familiar.

Eric glanced up and assessed Nicole, nodding at the stylist. The hairstyle was inspired by the character Nicole Kidman played in the movie The Interpreter; in Eric's memory of all those films, the look he loved the most was the one where she appeared sophisticated yet stunning, strong yet vulnerable.

He vividly recalled a scene from that movie where the character Silvia Broome, portrayed by Nicole, had a scar on her cheek from shrapnel after a brutal explosion, walking down the stairs in a business suit with a bag slung over her shoulder. If her demeanor in that scene hadn't reminded Eric of Meg Ryan staring into Tom Hanks' eyes from across the street, he wouldn't have considered her for the lead role.

Thinking of Silvia, Eric couldn't help but reach out, gently touching the left side of Nicole's cheek, even though there were no scars there. Many iconic characters were etched deeply in the hearts of viewers without them even realizing it.

The stylist misinterpreted Eric's action as a show of affection, and with a little giggle, she stepped back discreetly.

"Eric, are you... touching me?" Nicole asked, almost instinctively, her sensitivity picking up on things.

Eric withdrew his hand, chuckling, "Of course, what did you think?"

"But I feel..." Nicole raised her hand to gesture, uncertain of how to describe what she had just felt.

"You're not wrong about your feelings," Eric said, appraising Nicole from head to toe, "You could be Nicole Kidman, or Silvia Broome, or Grace Stewart, Gillian Owen, Alice Halford, Ida Monroe, Virginia Woolf."

"I don't understand," the lady shook her head in confusion.

"Alright, let's go," Eric said, not bothering to explain further. He called for the waiter and handed over his credit card before they left. Nicole wanted to pay but Eric stopped her.

After finding a restaurant to have dinner, Eric drove them back home.

...

On the way, Nicole remained somewhat silent. Once they arrived and stepped back into the living room of the villa, she quietly asked, "Eric, do you want me to... try it on again for you?"

Eric settled onto the couch and asked, "No need, we have plenty of time. You must have read the contract today, have you made a decision?"

Nicole nodded, a bit sheepish, and ran upstairs to bring down the two signed contracts. Eric simply glanced at her signature before taking out a pen to sign as well. He handed one of the copies back to her, stating, "Use this time to prepare the script well."

...

After saying that, Eric didn't delve into further conversation with her and headed upstairs to the study. He needed to hurry up with writing the script for Friends. Although Jeffrey and John Aniston had suggested forming a writing team solely for the task, Eric wanted to ensure the originality of this show. So, he decided to write all the scripts for the first season personally.

After all, even the best screenwriter couldn't fully grasp Eric's intentions. Only Eric, with the entire vision stored in his mind, had the ability to replicate everything accurately.

Additionally, he planned to modify the first season based on some iconic scenes he remembered, aiming to make it even better. His recollection told him that the second season had the highest viewership ratings. Besides the occasional celebrity guest stars, the key was that the script for season two was exceptional. Since he had seen the complete first two seasons, he resolved to merge the best elements from both, creating something entirely new that still captured the essence of the original show. According to the trends in American television, if the first season succeeded, future ratings would be a lot more promising.

This series was a crucial attempt for both Eric and Firefly Films. If it could get off the ground, Firefly would have no trouble selling any future shows. The market for American television was actually not that much smaller than for movies, but it felt muted because of how closed-off it was. Breaking into this arena would allow Eric to turn his cherished memories of classics into real wealth.

The typewriter in the study had been replaced with the latest IBM personal computer. Although the word processing software was still quite primitive compared to what it would become, the functionality was far more convenient than typing. Eric rediscovered the feeling of working at a laptop from his past life.

The rhythmic clicks of the keyboard filled the study as Eric focused intently on his writing. Each time he penned a segment, he would pause to think; merging the two seasons' content was no easy task. He often found himself tempted to merely copy the original first season directly. The human tendency toward inertia made it all the more challenging.

...

Nicole tapped the tray against the study door. Upon getting permission to enter, she brought in a coffee pot and cups, carefully placing them on the table. Noticing Eric deeply absorbed in his screen, she started to survey the spacious room curiously.

During the day, she had considered checking the room herself, purely out of curiosity, but this space was closed off unlike the others, even Drew's bedroom wasn't locked down. Nicole had even caught a glimpse of a photo of Drew and Eric on the nightstand.

Still, this room was an exception; only Eric likely had access to its key.

The most striking feature in the study remained the large writing board and the black piano that seemed out of place with the room's aesthetic. The board was filled with A4 sheets, some containing rough storyboards, others snippets of text, and some jumbled lines that made little sense. 

Nicole couldn't help but glance back at Eric, who was still rapidly typing away. He was such a mysterious man; she'd heard he was not yet nineteen but already knew so much. He was a director, an actor, a screenwriter, and he'd even published two best-selling novels.

Moreover, in this study, she sensed he was likely also skilled in art and music. To describe him as talented would not be an exaggeration. More importantly, he was incredibly wealthy, rumored to be worth several hundred million already.

Women had always had an instinctive admiration for strong figures, a trait ingrained deeply within their genes through millennia of evolution. As thoughts of all this filled Nicole's mind, she unknowingly fell into an emotional sway, finding every movement of Eric's increasingly pleasing to her eye.

If Eric had turned his head to see Nicole's expression at that moment, his experiences would have prompted him to tease, "What's got you daydreaming, girl?"

But he didn't notice anything amiss; he was fully immersed in his scriptwriting process, neglecting even the cup of coffee Nicole had brought in.

After a while, Nicole snapped back to reality, suddenly aware of her own unusual feelings as a hint of color rose to her cheeks. She stepped lightly toward the black piano in the corner. Her delicate fingers glided across the glossy surface, and she picked up a handwritten score resting on top to glance at.

"Could he have written this himself?" she wondered as she stared at the notes, incomprehensible but striking, making her feel somewhat impressed. Without realizing it, her fingers found their way to the black-and-white keys, pressing down unconsciously.

Ding, ding, dong...

The initially quiet study was filled with a series of clear, ringing sounds, startling Eric from his contemplations about the script.

*****

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