Chapter 253: A Stupid Thing
Chapter 253: A Stupid Thing
The secondhand Ford sputtered with several muffled clunks before abruptly coming to a stop. Although he was wearing a seatbelt, George Norson, sitting in the driver’s seat, still felt a sharp pain in his chest from the sudden halt.
After unfastening his seatbelt and getting out of the car, he lifted the hood, which was emitting faint wisps of smoke, and took a quick look inside. George Norson cursed several words beginning with “f,” then glanced around. The theater hosting The Others premiere was less than a kilometer away, so he had no choice but to muster all his strength to push the car into a roadside parking space. Afterward, he grabbed the shoulder bag containing his camera and tape recorder from inside the vehicle and hurried toward the premiere theater on foot.
George Norson no longer looked like the polished gentleman in a suit from half a year ago. He wore an unzipped dark-gray jacket over loose-fitting jeans, and the stubble he had failed to shave cleanly made him appear somewhat down-and-out.
Because the uproar surrounding the attack on Sleuth in July had spiraled out of control, George Norson, once a somewhat well-known film critic, had not only been blacklisted by most Hollywood studios, but had also lost his lucrative job.
Although before the incident George Norson had earned well over a hundred thousand dollars annually, like most Americans, he also had a habit of spending in advance. After losing both his job and the public relations income provided by film companies, that habit quickly drove him into complete bankruptcy within a few months. Not only had the bank repossessed his Beverly Hills apartment, but he had also been forced to sell his sports car to repay debts.
At the time, Premiere magazine had fired him under pressure from Columbia Pictures. As a result, other Hollywood-related magazines naturally no longer dared hire him either.
To survive, George Norson had no choice but to find work at a newspaper called Hollywood Online. The name sounded fairly impressive, but it could not even compare to publications like The Hollywood Reporter or The Hollywood Observer. In reality, it was just a gossip tabloid.
And George Norson’s current identity at Hollywood Online was that of a reporter. To put it bluntly, a paparazzo.
Although between his salary from Hollywood Online and the occasional payment he still earned from publishing film reviews, George Norson could still make over three thousand dollars a month, the exhausting income he earned from running around every day was not even one-fifth of what he used to make casually writing a few reviews.
Whenever he felt depressed because of the enormous gap between his former and current life, Nicole Kidman’s beautiful face would surface in George Norson’s mind.
If he had not met that hateful woman back then, he could still be living a respectable and comfortable life. How could he possibly have fallen this low—living in a tiny Burbank apartment and driving around Los Angeles like a dog every day chasing minor celebrities? Most of the time he spent an entire day running around without getting any useful scoop, only to be viciously cursed out by that pig-like editor afterward.
Whenever he thought of Nicole Kidman, George Norson naturally also thought of Eric.
Not long after that incident, Nicole had become the female lead in Eric’s new film. Although many newspapers praised how talented and lucky Nicole Kidman was, and some even detailed how Eric had selected the Australian actress from among many auditioning women, George Norson remembered very clearly what had happened that night.
Nicole Kidman had obviously known Drew Barrymore, which meant she could not possibly have been unfamiliar with Eric Williams either.
Because of that, George Norson had once desperately wanted to expose the truth to the media—that things were not what they appeared to be at all. That woman definitely had some unspeakable relationship with Eric Williams. The reason she got the lead role in Sleepless in Seattle was certainly because she had made some filthy transaction with Eric Williams.
However, for one thing, he had no evidence.
For another, it had not been long since he had been blacklisted for attacking Eric Williams’ Sleuth. Even if he exposed the story to the media, most newspapers probably would not believe him. And even if some gossip tabloids were willing to publish it, people would only think he was smearing the young director out of resentment over being blacklisted. At that point, he might even face the risk of being sued.
Thus, George Norson had no choice but to bury the matter deep inside his heart.
As he recalled everything that had happened over the past few months, George Norson reached the luxurious theater on Hollywood’s Sunset Boulevard after several minutes of walking. Tonight, the premiere of The Others would be held there.
Of course, George Norson could no longer sit comfortably inside the theater like the invited film critics, watching the movie and receiving a PR check afterward.
Now, he did not even qualify to attend the press conference after the screening. He could only squeeze together with countless paparazzi outside the red carpet, waiting for important figures such as the film’s director and actors to appear, hoping to luck into some kind of scoop.
If he had a choice, George Norson absolutely would not have attended this premiere. Because of his hatred toward Nicole Kidman, he had naturally developed no favorable feelings toward Eric either. Otherwise, he would not have stupidly redirected his resentment over Nicole’s “mockery” of him toward Eric’s Sleuth back then.
But today was already October 30, and he still had not completed his interview assignment quota for the month. If he failed to submit an article tomorrow, that harsh editor would definitely dock his salary without hesitation. Therefore, George Norson could only suppress the disgust in his heart and force himself to attend this premiere.
It was already six in the evening, and both sides of the red carpet laid out in front of the theater were packed densely with crowds.
Harrison Ford, Tom Hanks, Kim Basinger, Melanie Griffith, Julia Roberts…
One Hollywood superstar after another appeared on the red carpet, causing wave after wave of screams from fans.
Like the other paparazzi blocked behind the security line, George Norson shouted himself hoarse at the calmly strolling celebrities on the red carpet, hoping they might answer a few questions while posing for photographs.
Naturally, they received no response.
After wasting an entire roll of film without gaining anything useful, George Norson cursed irritably under his breath and loaded a fresh roll. Watching Demi Moore, intimately leaning against Bruce Willis as they finished crossing the red carpet, he secretly hoped the actress in the strapless evening gown would trip badly while climbing the stairs. Better yet, he hoped she would step on her dress hem and yank the entire gown down.
That way, he would finally have material for a news story and could go home instead of continuing to endure the crowd and noise here.
Unfortunately, no lustful passing angel granted him that “beautiful” wish. Demi Moore and her husband Bruce Willis quickly climbed the stairs and entered the theater.
Just as their figures disappeared, cheers and screams erupted again from the other end of the red carpet.
George Norson listened carefully and heard Eric Williams’ name.
Although an intense feeling of disgust rose uncontrollably in his heart, the hardships of the past few months had already ground away all his former pride. Thus, George Norson quickly perked up like the surrounding paparazzi, hoping to stop Eric Williams and get him to answer a few questions.
Eric Williams soon appeared around the corner, wearing a perfectly tailored black formal suit with a faint smile on his face, occasionally waving to the fans on both sides.
The petite woman with the exceptionally eye-catching chest linked to Eric’s arm was none other than Virginia Madsen, the female lead of The Others.
Before they were even within seven or eight meters, the paparazzi began shouting frantically toward Eric.
“Eric, can you stop for a picture?”
“Eric, over here! Over here!”
“……”
Eric walked with Virginia into the reporter area and appropriately stopped. He released the woman at his side so she could freely pose for photographs. Receiving a large amount of exposure would greatly help promote Virginia’s popularity.
“Eric, could you stand together with Miss Madsen for a photo?”
“Eric—”
The reporters and paparazzi shouted again, dissatisfied.
Standing on the red carpet, Eric merely smiled and shook his head. Even though many people already knew perfectly well about his relationship with Virginia, and many gossip tabloids recklessly fabricated scandals involving the two of them, Eric had no intention of proactively providing material for those people.
The clicking of shutters continued for a moment. Realizing Eric was about to leave, the sharper paparazzi quickly stretched out their tape recorders and began firing questions at him.
However, no matter what they asked, Eric behaved as though he heard nothing. He simply extended his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, linked it with Virginia’s again, and prepared to walk into the theater.
Seeing another excellent opportunity slipping away, George Norson suddenly had an idea and loudly shouted, “Mr. Williams, don’t you think releasing The Others on November 1 is an extremely stupid thing to do?”
Because he had used every ounce of strength in his lungs, George Norson’s voice instantly drowned out everyone else.
Eric paused mid-step, turned his head, and searched briefly before quickly locking onto George Norson.
Although Eric knew the name of the critic who had attacked Sleuth with his review back then, he had never actually seen the man in person. Therefore, interest appeared in Eric’s eyes.
Seeing Eric stop walking, the paparazzi behind the security line immediately went crazy again. Camera shutters exploded into rapid-fire clicking.
Eric released Virginia’s arm and walked several steps closer before asking George Norson, “Were you the one speaking just now?”
“Yes,” George Norson nodded slightly.
Although Eric was young, he completely possessed the imposing presence expected of a successful man. Because of what he had done previously, George Norson could not help feeling somewhat guilty deep down.