Chapter 144: Trap
Chapter 144: Trap
More than two hours later, inside a Beverly Hills hair salon, Nicole looked at her new appearance in the mirror and finally understood why Eric had looked so disgusted earlier.
Compared to before, the woman in the mirror was practically a completely different person.
If her original appearance had merely been that of a somewhat attractive young woman, then now she looked like a glamorous modern beauty.
The woman’s hair had been dyed a beautiful golden brown, and the originally tacky fluffy curls had been straightened. A slanted fringe rested over her forehead, making her look more mature and intellectual.
“Miss, compared to your previous hairstyle, this one makes you look much more elegant. Your boyfriend really has good taste,” the hairstylist girl standing behind Nicole praised while doing the final touch-ups.
“He’s not…” Nicole softly tried to explain, but after glancing at the figure in sunglasses reading a magazine in the lounge area behind her, she stopped herself.
If only he really were her boyfriend.
But now, the woman felt more like a Barbie doll, being dressed up entirely according to that awful man’s preferences. So although she undeniably looked far prettier now, Nicole did not feel much excitement in her heart.
“Sir, what do you think?” After everything was finished, the woman stood up and walked toward Eric. The hairstylist girl followed behind Nicole and asked the man in sunglasses, who somehow looked strangely familiar.
Eric lifted his head and examined Nicole before nodding toward the stylist.
Nicole’s hairstyle had been created according to the look Eric remembered from The Interpreter. Among all the Nicole Kidman films in his memory, Eric’s favorite styling of hers was the one from The Interpreter.
Intellectual yet glamorous. Strong yet sensitive.
In The Interpreter, after experiencing a horrific explosion, the image of the heroine Sylvia Broome walking down the steps in a professional suit with a backpack slung over her shoulder, a scar from shrapnel etched across her cheek, had left a deep impression on Eric.
If not for the similarity between the aura Nicole displayed in that scene and the moment in Sleepless in Seattle when Meg Ryan stood across the street looking at Tom Hanks, Eric would never have given her the female lead role in Sleepless in Seattle.
Thinking about Sylvia from The Interpreter, Eric could not help lifting his hand and gently touching the left side of the woman’s cheek, even though there was no scar there at all.
Many classic roles unknowingly carved themselves deeply into viewers’ hearts.
The hairstylist girl interpreted Eric’s actions as intimacy between lovers and quietly giggled before tactfully retreating into the distance.
“Eric, are you touching me?” A woman’s sensitive intuition made Nicole ask the question almost instinctively.
Eric withdrew his hand and smiled. “Of course. What else did you think?”
“But I feel…” The woman gestured vaguely with her hand but could not find words to describe the strange feeling she had sensed just now.
“Your feeling isn’t wrong,” Eric said as he looked her up and down. “You might be Nicole Kidman. Or Sylvia Broome. Or Grace Stewart, Gillian Owens, Alice Harford, Ada Monroe, Virginia Woolf.”
“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head in confusion.
“Alright, let’s go,” Eric did not explain further. He signaled the waiter and handed over his credit card. After paying the bill, the two left. Although Nicole had wanted to pay herself, Eric stopped her.
After finding another restaurant and finishing dinner, Eric finally drove the woman back.
During the drive home, Nicole remained unusually quiet.
Only after stepping back into the villa’s living room did she softly ask, “Eric… do you want me to put it on for you again?”
Eric sat down on the sofa and asked, “No need. There’ll be plenty of opportunities in the future. You must’ve read the contract today, right? Have you made your decision?”
Nicole nodded guiltily, then ran upstairs and brought down the two signed contracts.
Eric merely glanced at the woman’s signature before finding a pen and signing them as well. He handed one copy back to her.
“Spend this period preparing for the script properly.”
After saying that, Eric did not chat much more with the woman and instead headed upstairs toward the study.
He needed to finish writing the scripts for Friends.
Although Jeffrey and John Aniston had previously suggested forming a writing team specifically responsible for writing Friends, with Eric only needing to provide story outlines, Eric had rejected the suggestion.
While this was common practice for all television dramas, Eric still wanted to personally write the entire first season to ensure the show retained its original flavor.
After all, no matter how talented a screenwriter might be, they could never fully understand Eric’s intentions. Only Eric himself, with all the original images stored in his mind, could completely recreate it.
Moreover, Eric also intended to appropriately revise the first season using several classic moments from memory, making the season even better.
In his memories, the second season of Friends had achieved the highest ratings. Besides the constant celebrity guest appearances, the most important factor was simply that the second season’s scripts were exceptionally good.
Coincidentally, Eric had watched the entirety of the first two seasons, so he decided to fully merge the content of both seasons together, creating a brand-new Friends that still completely retained the flavor of the original.
In any case, according to the conventions of American television dramas, once the first season succeeded, future ratings were already largely guaranteed. At that point, he would simply need to spend more time polishing the scripts.
This television series was also an extremely important experiment for both Eric and Firefly.
If Friends could become famous, then Firefly would no longer need to worry about selling future American dramas.
The television market was actually not much smaller than the film market. It only seemed quiet because the industry was highly closed-off. But if Eric could successfully break into that circle, he would be able to turn all those classic series stored in his memory into real wealth.
The typewriter in the study had already been replaced by the latest IBM personal computer.
Although the text editing software was still very primitive compared to Eric’s previous life and somewhat cumbersome to operate, it was still far more convenient than a typewriter. Eric also rediscovered the familiar feeling of working in front of a laptop from his previous life.
The rapid clacking of the keyboard continuously echoed throughout the study.
After writing each section, Eric would stop and think for a while. Combining two seasons’ worth of content was not an easy task. Many times, Eric felt the urge to simply copy the original first season directly.
There was no helping it. People were naturally lazy creatures.
Nicole knocked on the study door while carrying a tray. After receiving permission, she entered and gently placed the coffee pot and cup onto the desk. Seeing Eric intently staring at the monitor, she quietly began looking around the spacious study.
During the day, she had also wanted to come in and take a look.
Not because she had any ulterior motives, but purely out of curiosity.
Unfortunately, unlike the other rooms that opened with a simple push, this room had remained locked. Even Drew’s bedroom had not been locked, and Nicole had even seen a framed photo of Drew and Eric on the bedside table.
But this room was an exception. Presumably, only Eric possessed the key.
The most eye-catching things in the study were still the large writing board and the black piano, which felt completely out of place amidst the study’s chaotic atmosphere.
The writing board was densely covered with A4 papers.
Some contained rough storyboard sketches.
Some contained blocks of text.
Some were filled with completely incomprehensible scattered lines.
Others displayed square-shaped characters.
Nicole had seen them in Chinatown before. They should be Chinese characters, supposedly one of the hardest writing systems in the world to learn.
As if drawn by some invisible force, the woman walked over and carefully examined the papers. She even removed one A4 sheet covered in Chinese characters and seriously studied it for a while.
Naturally, she could not understand any of it.
But she could tell the Chinese characters had all been handwritten. Though she had no idea what they meant, they looked beautiful, carrying a kind of flowing elegance.
Carefully pinning the paper back onto the board, Nicole could not help turning to glance at Eric, who was still rapidly typing at the keyboard.
This really was a man shrouded in mystery.
According to rumors, he was not even nineteen years old yet, yet he already knew so many things.
Not to mention directing films. He was simultaneously an actor, a screenwriter, and had even published two bestselling novels.
And now, inside this study, Nicole had discovered that he also clearly understood painting and music.
He could even write those beautiful and mysterious pictographic characters.
Calling him extraordinarily talented would not be an exaggeration.
More importantly, he was also incredibly wealthy. Rumor said his fortune had already surpassed several hundred million dollars.
Women naturally admired strong men. This was an instinct carved deep into their genes through millions of years of evolution.
As Nicole thought about all of this, she unknowingly fell into a certain emotional state. Every movement Eric made in the distance began appearing more and more pleasing to the eye.
If Eric had turned around and seen the woman’s expression, then with the experience from his previous life, he definitely would have teased her:
“Hey, girl, why are you acting lovestruck?”
Unfortunately, he noticed none of it.
He was completely immersed in planning the Friends script and had not even touched the coffee Nicole brought in.
The woman silently watched his back for a while before finally coming back to her senses and realizing something strange about herself.
A faint blush unconsciously spread across her cheeks.
She lifted her foot and walked toward the piano in the corner.
Her slender pale fingers brushed across the glossy black lacquer. She picked up a handwritten music score resting atop the piano lid and looked through it.
“Could he have written this himself too?”
The woman stared at the rows of musical notes. Though she could not understand them, she still felt they looked impressive.
Unknowingly, her fingers drifted toward the black-and-white piano keys and pressed down entirely absentmindedly.
Ding ding dong dong…
A string of crisp notes suddenly rang through the previously quiet study, startling Eric out of his script planning.