Chapter 314: Self-Destruction

[Chapter 314: Self-Destruction]

Francis Ford Coppola redirected his gaze and introduced, "Eric, over there is the garden. If you're interested, you can take a look later. There are ornamental plants transplanted from the jungles of South America."

"No, no, it's not that. I thought I saw someone I recognized, but I might have been mistaken," Eric recalled a fleeting figure he had glimpsed, seemingly holding the arm of a balding middle-aged man. Most likely, he had misunderstood; a girl like her, so proud and confident...

Shaking his head, Eric kept his thoughts to himself, offering a nonchalant expression to the others as he continued toward the villa.

...

Tony Blanton, who had been buttering up Jennifer Connelly, heard faint applause coming from the manor entrance. He inquired among those nearby and soon returned to Jennifer. "Eric Williams showed up! That young, overly ambitious director, I never expected to see him here."

The middle-aged man seemed to be reminiscing, unaware that the woman beside him nearly dropped her wine glass at the mention of Eric's name. Her thoughts became flustered.

"Miss Connelly, do you know Eric Williams? He's a truly remarkable young man. In less than two years, he made a huge name for himself in Hollywood. Being kissed by a lucky woman doesn't even begin to describe his good fortune. He's like the love child of Lady Luck," Tony chuckled at his own joke, breaking into a self-satisfied laugh.

Jennifer Connelly, however, found nothing to laugh about. Holding her glass, she lowered her eyes slightly as a series of numbers flashed through her mind -- Eric's phone number. She had only dialed it once, nine months ago, when Running Out of Time was released. She regretted not leaving a message.

But at that time, no one answered when she called. Afterward, as Eric's fame skyrocketed in Hollywood, her pride and insecurity made her too cowardly to dial that number again. She felt that by ignoring it, she could hold onto something.

Earlier that year, a scandal erupted linking Eric and several women. She had been caught up in it at first. However, the media's attention shifted to the Hollywood starlets who had risen to fame thanks to Eric. Like those brief encounters, she became just a name in a long list of gossip articles, overlooked and insignificant.

Perhaps that was why the middle-aged man had asked if she knew Eric Williams.

How ridiculous, she thought. Who in Hollywood didn't know him?

Soon, Jennifer spotted Eric walking alongside Francis Ford Coppola; he looked much the same as a year ago. However, he seemed to have a different woman by his side.

Though the woman wasn't as pretty as she was, she was tall, easily four inches above Jennifer. Yet, Jennifer forced herself to feel a subtle, fragile superiority -- at least she had held out while they had succumbed. Yes, just like that.

In her flustered state, thoughts scrambled in her head. Meanwhile, Tony was contemplating whether to approach Eric to make himself familiar with him. But given the current situation -- Francis beside Eric -- no one else approached either. It was clear that Eric had not reached the level where Francis would introduce him.

Maybe if he hung around, Coppola would mention him.

Tony couldn't help but notice Eric handing out business cards to others. He thought about how if he could get Eric's contact info, it might come in handy someday.

After this idea popped into his head, Tony felt a surge of excitement but soon faltered, lacking the courage to act.

Jennifer noticed the eagerness in the middle-aged man's eyes and quickly said, "Mr. Blanton, I remember there are benches in the garden. Why don't we go sit there?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Tony replied, feeling reassured by her suggestion and using it to psychologically give himself a boost.

Fearing that Tony might backtrack, Jennifer took his arm, gently pulling him toward the garden. After searching, they finally found a bench near a table filled with drinks to sit down.

Tony poured two glasses of red wine, handing one to Jennifer, and quickly brought up a topic to discuss. Yet, Jennifer appeared distant, sipping her wine without focus; within minutes, her glass was empty.

They had been there a while, and she maintained a restrained demeanor, only managing to drink two glasses in an hour. Noticing this, Tony subtly poured her another glass from the nearby table.

Lost in her emotions, Jennifer accepted the drink with a simple thank you, unaware of the increasing pace of her consumption. Minutes passed, and before she realized, she finished yet another glass.

Seeing Jennifer take the red wine eagerly from him brought a glimmer of excitement to Tony's face. His heart raced as he sneakily eyed the deep plunge of her strapless gown; he began planning how to play with the huge soft breasts inside the dress tonight.

After several glasses of wine, Jennifer seemed to grasp something, but her slight inebriation left her defenseless. Gradually, she allowed herself to sink into a state of reckless abandon; although she drank more slowly, she still accepted each new glass Tony presented.

...

"Eric, this is my daughter, Sofia. Sofia, meet Eric Williams, the youngest and most outstanding director in Hollywood," Francis said, having turned to introduce a young girl to Eric after showing him around the villa.

"Hello, Miss Coppola," Eric greeted warmly without changing his expression, enthusiastically acknowledging the curious girl.

"Hi, Eric! Can I call you that? I love your movies! It's hard to believe you're so young," Sofia Coppola exclaimed, looking more enthusiastic than Eric.

Eric's expression shifted slightly, recalling her mediocre performance in The Godfather Part III. He suggested, "Maybe you could make a great movie too; why not give it a try? I'm sure your father would support you."

Sofia glanced at her father before replying, "I can't!, I'm not a genius like you. I'm still so young. Plus, Dad has already decided that I'll play the Godfather's daughter in The Godfather Part III. I think I should follow my cousin's path and explore acting."

"Of course, youth is the perfect time to try everything, so you can find the path that suits you best," Eric continued.

"Wow, you sound much older than you are, more like a grandpa," Sofia couldn't help but remark.

"Sofia, don't be rude. I find Eric's words quite insightful," Francis playfully chided his daughter.

Sofia stuck out her tongue but stubbornly said, "I'm not wrong, though. Why would a grandpa like you agree with him? Hehe."

Francis looked at Eric, somewhat helpless.

The mischievous girl then turned to the tall woman beside Eric. "And this lady..."

"My name is Famke Janssen," she introduced herself.

"Well, Miss Janssen, can I borrow Eric for a moment to dance?"

Famke shrugged and looked at Eric. "Sure."

"Hey, I don't think I agreed yet," Eric smiled as Sofia pulled him toward the dance floor.

"Would you refuse?" Sofia asked, looking up at him. She was petite and even in high heels, she was still much shorter than Eric.

"Alright, I won't," Eric shrugged and gently held her waist.

...

As they danced, Sofia suddenly said, "Hey, you seem a bit distracted."

"Is it that obvious?"

"How could I not notice?" Sofia pouted, a hint of irritation coloring her face.

To be honest, her thick lips and the way one side of her upper lip curled made her appear awkward. Although plump lips might be considered attractive by some, Eric preferred a more subtle look.

"I'm sorry," Eric responded, losing himself in thought.

Sofia tilted her head and asked, "By the way, was there something implied in what you just said? Can you tell me what you meant?"

"Do you want to hear the truth?" Eric asked, focusing on her.

"Yes."

After thinking a moment, Eric decided that dissuading her from messing with the classic series could be beneficial. Remembering her performance in The Godfather Part III -- truly excruciating -- he knew that even with Al Pacino's Oscar-worthy presence, it still felt awkward. Winning two Golden Raspberries was no accident.

Since they weren't close, Eric had avoided bringing this up in front of Francis earlier -- crossing personal boundaries often led to awkwardness in social situations.

But now, alone with Sofia, he figured it wouldn't hurt to mention it, as long as he was gentle about it. They could laugh it off later as a joke, after all.

*****

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