I am Hollywood

[Chapter 1096: Cruel Youth]

"I," Carmen Kass's eyes flickered for a moment, but she quickly regained her resolve. "I certainly know, but I am just targeting Gisele Bundchen."

The man sighed inwardly, realizing just how naive this girl was. Dealing with Gisele wasn't going to be simple at all.

Thinking this, he nodded without hesitation, reached for the envelope filled with money, and said, "Alright, I'll help you."

"Wait," Carmen quickly pressed down on the envelope, looking at the man. "Give me your business card and your contact information."

The man hesitated for a moment, then smiled, nodding as he rummaged through his coat pocket to pull out a business card.

Carmen still held one hand over the envelope protectively while using the other hand to take the card. She glanced at it before pulling out her phone from her purse and dialing the number on the card.

Moments later, the classic ringtone of a Nokia phone rang out. The man smiled, pulling out his phone and waving it at Carmen. "So, Miss Kass, are we in agreement?"

Carmen pressed her lips together, reluctantly releasing her grip on the envelope. She made an effort to sound more assertive, saying, "She might fly to Europe in the next few days, and you'll need to follow her. I'll call you every day to check on the progress."

"Of course, you should trust my professionalism." The man nodded again, putting the money envelope away as he stood up and extended his hand toward her. "So, Miss Kass, let's have a fruitful partnership."

Carmen ignored the outstretched hand, leaning back against the booth, turning to gaze out the glass window.

The man shrugged, retracting his hand nonchalantly as he walked towards the bar exit.

What a proud girl.

Ignorant yet boastful.

After the man left, Carmen stared absentmindedly at the vehicles and neon lights on the street outside, remaining silent for quite a while before finally rising to leave the bar.

...

Even if women didn't particularly like each other, they could occasionally find common ground on certain views.

Like at this moment.

At the Gramercy Hotel during the closing party of New York Fashion Week, Cindy couldn't help but whisper, glancing at Eric, who was chatting with a stylish woman in a black low-cut evening gown, "Linda is such a fool."

Gisele, feeling a bit gloomy, nodded in agreement. "What an idiot."

The girls surrounding them, including Qusie Gauff and her friends, didn't dare voice their thoughts quite as openly, but their faces reflected similar opinions.

Moments later, Linda returned, looking rather lonely. She took a champagne glass from a server and gulped it down, then turned to the girls, mumbling, "I'm so stupid, really."

Cindy couldn't help but jab, "Even if you were so eager to meet your childhood idol, you could have just gone up by yourself. Why drag Eric along? Don't you know his personality yet?"

Linda replied defensively, "I didn't think that much."

Qusie Gauff, overhearing Cindy, became curious and asked, "Eric what kind of person is he?"

Cindy shot Qusie a glare, "What kind of silly question is that, little girl?"

Gisele, Fernanda, and a few other girls burst into laughter, but none felt inclined to explain.

After Cindy finished, she glanced over to where Eric was, thought for a moment, and walked over to the bar to grab two shots of vodka. She handed one of them to Gisele, saying, "Drink up, fast."

Gisele took it, puzzled, and smelled it. "This will get me drunk."

"That's the point. Once you're drunk, Eric will have to take you home personally."

Gisele caught on but wasn't too happy about it. "Then why aren't you drinking?"

"I wish I could, but what if he asks that fool Linda to take me home?"

Gisele looked towards Qusie and the others. "I too have friends, you know."

Cindy, embodying a queenly presence, waved to disperse the other girls. "Alright, drink up, then we'll head over to Eric."

Gisele reluctantly sipped a bit, scrunching her nose as the harsh liquid went down. But then, she hesitated, finding excuses, "What if Eric notices?"

Cindy replied, "He can't just leave you here."

That seemed somewhat reasonable.

Fine.

...

Meanwhile, Eric was chatting animatedly with the elegant woman before him. He thought about how, even though some women often aged quickly, there were always those who seemed completely untouched by time.

"Ms. Severance, if Linda hadn't told me she had a poster of you in her bedroom, I would have guessed you were the same age as her. It's hard to believe."

"I also didn't expect to catch the attention of Ms. Ivangeline," the woman said. "But Eric, you can just call me Joan."

Eric nodded. "So, your full name is Joanna Severance?"

"No, just Joan. Joan Severance."

"What a lovely name," Eric said, not probing further, smiling as he nodded again. "So, Joan, did you come here all by yourself today?"

"Yes," Joan Severance nodded, discreetly shifting her wine glass to her other hand, bringing it to her lips for a sip while her striking blue eyes openly gazed at Eric.

With a smile, Eric admired her unadorned, delicate hand. "Your hands are beautiful. I like women with pretty hands."

"Oh, Eric, you're so straightforward."

"Then," he casually placed his glass on a passing server's tray, "Joan, would you care to dance?"

Joan Severance nodded, placing her wine glass on the tray, graciously extending her arm. "Of course, but I'm not very good at it."

"I love dancing with women who aren't great dancers."

"Why's that?"

"It's easier to take the lead."

"Eric, you've already got the lead."

As the song ended, Eric and Joan Severance stepped out of the dance floor and spotted Gisele.

Having guessed what was going on, Eric shot a fierce glare at Cindy, who was eyeing them from across the room. Cindy carried no sign of guilt, instead smirking with satisfaction.

It was getting late, and seeing Gisele slightly tipsy, Eric decided to dismiss other thoughts and take her home.

...

In an upscale apartment near Central Park on Sixth Avenue, the soft, winter sun filtered through the curtains into the bedroom.

Eric opened his eyes to find Gisele missing from his side.

After getting dressed and washed up, he headed downstairs and heard some noise coming from the kitchen, so he walked over.

Gisele was standing by the counter, phone in hand, speaking to someone. Upon seeing Eric, she yelped and flung the phone away, which landed with a splash in the sink.

Watching Gisele clumsily fish her phone out of the water, Eric approached her, smiling. "So guilty! Are you doing something behind my back?"

"No way," Gisele vigorously shook her wet phone, dried it with a towel, and held it to her ear. Of course, there wouldn't be any sound now. She shrugged, explaining nonchalantly, "It was my sister calling from Brazil."

Though he couldn't hear clearly, Eric discerned that Gisele had spoken in English.

Thinking back to when they first met, Gisele had been so embarrassed over a missed English word; he doubted her sister could converse in English with her that well.

Nonetheless, Eric nodded, not calling her out. After all, everyone has their little secrets.

After bringing home a tipsy girl last night, Eric considerately did nothing. At this time, looking at Gisele in her T-shirt and comfy pants, revealing her slim waist, he felt compelled to approach her and wrapped his arms around her shapely figure.

Gisele, sensing his feelings, turned to him, and they kissed.

As Eric lifted Gisele and set her on the counter, her long legs naturally wrapped around his waist.

However, as Gisele moved, Eric stiffened slightly as a reflex, mechanically leaning toward her ear and softly saying, "Stop. Don't do that."

Gisele looked confused but cleverly loosened her legs, playfully nudging her cheek against Eric's face, her slender body sliding slowly down until she knelt on the cool wooden floor.

...

After New York Fashion Week, the major European Fashion Weeks followed right after.

Alessandra and Miranda had already traveled to London before Eric arrived in New York. As the New York Fashion Week concluded, Gisele didn't linger too long either. She played in New York for a day with Eric before hastily boarding a flight to the UK.

With tasks wrapped up on his end, Eric usual headed to East Hampton.

Originally, he only planned to stay two days before heading off to San Francisco. But just as he arrived in East Hampton, his little boy had a bit of an accident at school. Thankfully, it wasn't serious; he just ended up with a Band-Aid on his forehead.

Eric actually liked that the boy was getting rough and tumble; a bit of clumsiness was fine. Virginia, however, was heartbroken. After hearing Eric's viewpoint, she exploded in anger, berating him for being an irresponsible dad who only cared about work while their son was hurt. By the time she was done, she ended up in tears.

With his heart heavy for both her and the children, Eric cancelled his original plans and decided to stay in East Hampton for a week or two.

...

Initially, even with facing challenges, she had still received work through WM's connections.

But suddenly, she felt like the entire world had forgotten her.

Each day was just a mindless stroll around the streets of Manhattan. Once a lively person, she had snuck out of her house as a child just to attend school parties.

Recently, she had lost interest in everything.

Staying inside her apartment like a hermit, she had even fired Camila. With her impending unemployment looming over her, she couldn't afford an assistant anymore.

At first, she thought she might have been scammed; that fifty thousand dollars seemed like a lost cause.

However, that paparazzo named Mark hadn't deceived her. He was seemingly a man of professional ethics, contacting her daily with updates about his "work."

She ended up buying a computer, awkwardly learning how to receive emails with pictures attached.

With nothing to do, she unknowingly grew accustomed to surfing the net.

Online, chatter flowed about the Blair Witch rumors in Maryland, mentioning missing university students.

What idle lives Americans led was her first impression. Upon opening Yahoo's map portal, she discovered Maryland wasn't far from New York, and she found herself tempted to visit.

She thought about it and felt that perhaps being killed by a witch in the woods wouldn't be too bad either.

Lost in such thoughts, she stumbled upon the purpose of Yahoo Maps and then began to look up her hometown.

To her surprise, she could see her house on the satellite map. Although it wasn't very clear, there it was, unmistakably: her home, a brown wooden house with white birch fences. The last time she returned, they had a puppy, just three months old. She wondered how it was doing now.

Suddenly, she felt a wave of homesickness.

But there was a sense of unwillingness about returning home after everything she had been through.

...

The paparazzo had done an efficient job. In just a little over a week, he returned from the Milan Fashion Week that had just kicked off.

They met at the same bar as last time.

Feeling too lazy to wear sunglasses, she arrived at the bar with a bare face.

Once they sat down, the paparazzo wasted no time with idle chit-chat, handing her a folder, saying, "Miss Kass, here's what you need."

She quickly opened the folder to find a stack of photos.

Flipping through them, she recognized one of the subjects as Gisele Bundchen and another as Alessandra Ambrosio, who also seemed to be Brazilian. In most pictures, the two looked very intimate, and some even showed them kissing at a nightclub.

Though she had just started shaking off her status as a nobody in the past six months, having been in the fashion industry for a while, she had picked up a few insider gossip tidbits. It appeared that both women had a close relationship with Eric Williams.

So, she thought, what good would just having their pictures do?

After flipping through the pile, she remained silent, then looked up, waiting for him to explain further.

The paparazzo picked up the photos, coaxing her by showing them. "Miss Kass, don't you see? The relationship between those two girls is unusual."

She couldn't hold back, rebutting, "They are both Eric Williams's women. Did you think I didn't know that?"

*****

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