Chapter 175: Why is it Black?
Chapter 175: Why is it Black?
At the main entrance of the Fox studio lot, a tall Black security guard glanced from time to time at the two men standing not far from the gates. Sheltering under the shade of a tree, both men stood well over six feet tall. Although they were dressed quite respectably, the younger one—with his broad forehead, large jawline, and tightly furrowed brow—did not look like a good person no matter how one sliced it. Furthermore, out of the two, only the older-looking man carried a backpack, and neither had brought a camera, so they didn’t fit the profile of paparazzi. Because of this, the Black security guard secretly heightened his vigilance and informed his partner to prevent the pair from slipping inside while they weren't paying attention. Although such occurrences were rare, they were not entirely unheard of. Major stars filmed at the studio constantly; if someone slipped inside and harassed them, then regardless of whether any damage was caused, guards like them on duty would have no choice but to pack up and leave.
However, the two men had remained completely well-behaved without any improper conduct, so the guard could find no justification to drive them away. They had been waiting there since before ten o'clock, and even as it neared twelve o'clock, they showed no intention of leaving, periodically glancing at the studio gates and the adjacent road as if waiting for someone.
At approximately 11:50 AM, a yellow taxi finally pulled up near the studio gates. The car door opened, and a petite, fair-skinned girl wearing a pink little T-shirt and denim hot pants stepped out. Sporting a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses, she carried a small canvas bag and held a sun umbrella in her hand. Upon seeing the girl, the two men quickly hurried over. During their conversation, the slightly older-looking man sycophantically snatched the girl's sun umbrella to hold it up for her, and the three of them finally walked toward the main entrance.
Watching the approaching fair-skinned girl whose skin was as white as milk through her sunglasses, the Black security guard felt a sense of deja vu. It wasn't until she stepped up to the pedestrian access gate that he intercepted the trio. "Excuse me, you three, please show your passes."
The two men looked at Drew together. The girl slipped off her sunglasses. "I'm looking for Eric Williams. Sir, do you think I can go straight in?"
"You... you're Miss Drew Barrymore," the Black guard recognized her the moment Drew removed her sunglasses. His vigilant expression relaxed into a polite smile, revealing a row of white teeth. "Of course, no problem. However, according to regulations, you cannot enter directly without a pass. Miss Barrymore, could you wait a moment? I will call the soundstage where Mr. Williams is working and have them send someone to pick you guys up."
"Then thank you, Mr... Creek," Drew said, glancing at his nametag.
At noon in August, the Los Angeles sun was blazing, and the temperature exceeded thirty degrees. Consequently, the big fellow escorted Drew and the other two into the lounge next to the gates before placing the call.
Stepping into the lounge, the girl made herself right at home by finding a chair to sit on. She fished a piece of chewing gum out of her bag to chew in her small mouth, then took out a compact mirror to touch up her hair before smiling at the two large men who stood nearby, unable to find a place to sit. "Lawrence, have you guys been waiting a long time?"
"Of course not, Drew. We only arrived half an hour earlier than you," Lawrence Bender said with a smile. Hearing Lawrence Bender's words, the Black security guard who was currently on the phone merely glanced over, having no intention of exposing the truth.
Seeing how both of their shirts were soaked through with sweat, the girl did not press any further, giving her small shoulders a shrug. She had told them to come after eleven o'clock, but by the looks of it, they had arrived exceptionally early. Perhaps they were afraid of being delayed by a traffic jam or something similar on the way; at any rate, the girl didn't care much about such details.
Standing next to Lawrence Bender, Quentin Tarantino had remained silent the entire time. It wasn't out of shyness, and of course, it was even less likely to be a fear of strangers; by comparison, he was actually much more talkative than Lawrence Bender. It was just that this gentleman kept surreptitiously stealing glances at the girl's small bare feet exposed inside her sandals, feeling somewhat uncomfortable in his heart. Those fair and tender little feet were as delicate as a pair of artworks, but why on earth did she have to paint her toenails with black nail polish? Why did they have to be painted black! Quentin, whose heart felt as though it were being clawed by something, even developed an impulse to rush forward and scrub the black nail polish clean. Naturally, he could certainly not act on it in reality.
Drew chatted with Lawrence Bender for a few words before turning toward Quentin. As chance would have it, she caught Quentin's gaze just as he was stealing a glance at her little feet. The girl didn't get angry; instead, she flashed a smile at Quentin, wearing a playful expression that said, I caught you.
Quentin hurriedly shifted his gaze away awkwardly, while covering his mouth to let out a couple of light coughs in an attempt to alleviate the awkwardness.
The girl, however, had no intention of letting him off the hook. She lifted her foot to look at it, asking quite directly, "Quentin, is there something wrong with my feet?"
"Uh... cough cough, no, of course not, Miss Barrymore. Your feet are very... very beautiful," Quentin replied incoherently. Soon, feeling a sharp jab from Lawrence's elbow against his waist, he instantly snapped out of it. "No, that's not it, I mean..."
"Giggle..." Seeing his flustered state, the girl burst into lighthearted, heartless laughter.
Lawrence Bender also stared speechlessly at his best friend. What kind of occasion was this? If the young lady before them were a bit narrow-minded, this hard-won opportunity of theirs could have gone down the drain.
Fortunately, a crew member who arrived from the set to welcome Drew's trio dissolved Quentin's embarrassment, and the three of them rode an electric golf cart together to the soundstage of Friends.
Stepping into the soundstage, Drew headed straight toward Eric, with Lawrence Bender and Quentin Tarantino quickening their steps to follow behind. Soon, they saw Drew throw herself toward a young man wearing a blue T-shirt. Eric shared an embrace with Drew, helplessly letting the little girl nuzzle against his face before releasing her and walking up to Lawrence Bender and Quentin Tarantino.
"Hello, Mr. Tarantino, Mr. Bender," Eric shook hands with the two of them. Quentin had originally thought Eric would greet Lawrence first; after all, looking at the two of them, Lawrence certainly appeared to be the lead driver. However, Eric had indeed walked toward him first. This gave Quentin a sudden, fleeting illusion of being flattered by the unexpected honor. Although Quentin was consistently a rather narcissistic guy in his friends' assessments, narcissism naturally depended on the setting. Facing a director who—despite his young age—had already achieved over a billion dollars in global box office