America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz
Chapter 260: Chapter 257 Face Gang Foot Clan

Under the night sky, Nicholson's stretch Lincoln cruised along Sunset Boulevard, filled with men.

In addition to Martin and Leonardo, Wes Craven had also come.

The old man said to Martin, "You're something else, kid, another North American box office champ. 'Warrant Order' will inevitably make over a hundred million at the North American box office, following the last two films to cross the hundred million mark. It's like you're riding a rocket to the top."

Facing Craven, Martin was somewhat modest, "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants didn't make it past a billion."

Craven's opinion was entirely different, "You weren't the lead in that film, so strictly speaking, it shouldn't be counted in your total commercial box office, nor did the producers take it seriously."

Nicholson said, "The kid is good at stirring up hype."

Leonardo chimed in, "I heard Jolie call you 'teacher'? Martin, those stunts Jolie pulls with her publicity, you didn't teach her that, did you?"

The more he thought about it, the more he felt it was true, "Before Jolie joined the 'Warrant Order' crew, she was just a confused woman, not making any waves. But after she was confirmed as the lead at the beginning of the year, she changed into a different person, almost hyping herself up to be Mother Mary."

Of course, Martin wouldn't admit it, "It has nothing to do with me."

Nicholson pointed at his own eyes and said disdainfully, "Based on my experience, you and Jolie are definitely up to something, and it's that weird kind of relationship. Don't freaking deny it. Perverts know perverts best. This old pervert here can tell with just a glance that you two are little perverts."

Martin hit back, "If I weren't in such a good mood today, I would have thrown you out of the car, head down into the ground, to sleep with the asphalt overnight."

They arrived at the regular Night Color Club, and Craven made a call, allowing them to drive directly into the backyard.

The four men entered the club and each picked their favorite dancer.

When they came out, they bumped into a group of people.

Harvey immediately spotted the four exiting men and greeted them, "Good evening, Leo, Jack, Wes, and Martin."

Martin, pretending like nothing was amiss, smiled and nodded his head.

Behind Harvey were Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, and Brad Pitt.

Meeting by chance, they exchanged only a few pleasantries.

As they passed each other, and Martin lagged behind, Harvey suddenly said, "Congratulations, Martin, another box office champion."

In front of others, Martin was naturally quite polite, "Compared to what you've done, my success is insignificant."

Harvey looked at him and smiled benignly.

Pitt interjected, "You're doing pretty well."

Hearing this, Martin instinctively thought otherwise and glanced at Damon, saying, "Brad, thanks for the recommendation from Plan B for the 'Infernal Affairs' crew. Without your endorsement, I wouldn't have gotten the second lead role."

Damon's eyes immediately swiveled towards Pitt, but he said nothing.

Pitt responded calmly, "Plan B isn't just mine."

Martin nodded, "Anyway, thank you."

Pitt smiled charmingly.

Martin followed Nicholson upstairs.

When the four had ascended, Harvey called out, "Let's go pick our favorite girls. Quentin and Robert are waiting for us."

He patted Pitt and Damon on the back and added, "It's just a small thing."

Having worked together on a movie set before, the two were familiar with each other, and with a smile, they followed Harvey to make their selections.

Ten minutes later, they entered a VIP room.

Inside the room were four people, two of them men, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. Discover hidden tales at m v l'-NovelFire.net

The other two young ladies sat on the couch, their long legs raised to reveal pale soles, dressed as the club dancers.

The two renowned directors were busy.

Quentin was moving his mouth, while Rodriguez was busy with his hands.

Pitt saw clearly; the girl servicing Quentin seemed to have soaked her feet too long in the bath, her skin wrinkled up.

In comparison, Rodriguez was much more normal.

The dancers Pitt and the others had selected started arriving.

That's when Quentin finally lifted his head, his distinctive face and saliva at the corner of his mouth made his smile somewhat terrifying, "You all are here."

Pitt greeted the two directors.

Harvey took a seat on a sofa and said, "We've established a mutual aid team in Hollywood to support each other, sticking together all this way."

Pitt wasn't surprised; Hollywood was full of similar organizations, like The Rat Pack.

Harvey looked towards Pitt's group, "Today, we welcome a new member, Brad Pitt."

Pitt gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

Harvey continued, "Welcome to Pitt joining us, but before the official induction, there's a small ceremony."

Pitt, thinking it would be something like the Church of Scientology or the Cola Cult, said, "Let's get started then."

Harvey clapped his palms together, and the dancers who followed them up promptly kicked off their high heels, sat on the couch, and lifted their calves and feet.

Quentin, the pervert, spread his arms and said, "Enjoy all of this!"

Almost at the same time, in another VIP room farthest from there, Martin and Leonardo―four people―were having their faces rolled by car wheels.

The wheels were white, the rubber soft; it felt especially comfortable on their faces, even refreshing.

Leonardo said, "I'm almost addicted to this sensation, every time the wheel rolls over, I feel like my IQ has risen by 10."

Martin poked his mouth and nose out between the wheels: "Because your IQ is only 10, Leo!"

A large wheel rolled over his mouth, and Leonardo couldn't speak, so he just gave Martin the middle finger.

Nicholson suddenly slapped the butt of the white girl in front of him: "I finally understand why I didn't feel refreshed last time."

Craven didn't know: "Why?"

Nicholson said with a smile, "The color was wrong!"

Martin wouldn't let him continue: "Guys, let me ask you something, who is familiar with the British director Danny Boyle."

Leonardo raised his hand, waited for the wheel to roll past his mouth and nostrils, then cocked his head and said, "I worked with him on 'The Beach' in 2000. He's not a traditional British director; not that conservative and rigid."

He paused and then turned to ask Martin, "Why are you asking about him?"

Martin said, "I want to push forward a new project and need a suitable director. He offered himself."

"Ha, success and a box-office hit really make a difference!" Nicholson chimed in: "Even a greenhorn like you gets famous directors coming to your door."

Martin replied unapologetically: "Times have changed, man!"

Through the 'Infernal Affairs' project, Leonardo had learned quite a bit about Martin's situation. Martin could pull in tens of millions of US Dollars in investments, and with the backing of Pacific Pictures, promoting a medium-scale project wasn't too difficult.

He shared what he knew: "I don't know the type of your project, but if it's the kind of action movie like 'Wanted Order,' you're definitely barking up the wrong tree with Danny Boyle. If it's a more exaggerated drama, then he's the right choice."

Martin's new project concept included some action scenes, but with Chad as the action director and assistant director, that was sufficient; they needed someone for the narrative oversight.

Leonardo went on: "How can I put it? Danny's not like your typical Brit. You can tell from 'Trainspotting' that he has a rebellious streak, a mix of Kubrick and Quentin's defiance. He's very assertive on set and uses exaggerated body movements to demonstrate for the actors, never sticking to dogma."

Martin had watched 'Trainspotting' and '28 Days Later' that afternoon and agreed that Danny Boyle was indeed not a traditional British director.

At that moment, Craven asked, "The adaptation project of the novel 'Dark Domain' you showed me?"

"Exactly, that's the one." Martin had already let Craven read the novel and discussed some plot settings; the old man had directed, written, and produced too many films in his lifetime, and his experience was exceptionally rich.

Craven said, "Based on what you've told me, I think he's suitable. I've seen most of his works."

Martin decided to make private contact first: "Leo, you're familiar with Danny Boyle; how about inviting him out for a chat sometime?"

Leonardo replied, "How about this: when I have my party, I'll invite him."

He then extended an invitation to Craven.

Unexpectedly, Craven turned it down: "I haven't been feeling well lately, the doctor told me to take care of myself, so I'll pass."

Martin reminded him: "Go for a full body check-up."

Craven said with a smile, "I just had one last week. Nothing's wrong, just getting old and can't keep up the energy."

Martin asked Leonardo again: "When is the party happening?"

"Be patient," Leonardo said, "I want to prepare a bit more thoroughly; I can't just be outdone by your yacht party. It will definitely be a surprise, and you'll have a blast!"

Martin didn't ask further and continued to enjoy the face-washing service.

Half an hour later, the four of them left the VIP room and got into their car from the back yard.

As the stretched Lincoln started up, Martin saw through the car window that Harvey, Pitt, and their group were also leaving the club and heading into the backyard.

But compared to before, Quentin and Rodriguez had joined them.

For some reason, Martin noticed that Pitt kept wiping his mouth with napkins, looking rather strange.

Craven noticed too and remarked, "It looks like Brad Pitt has joined Harvey and Quentin's Foot Clan."

Martin was surprised: "Foot Clan? What's that?"

Having worked with the Weinstein Brothers multiple times back during Miramax days, Craven knew quite a bit about them and explained simply: "It's like a small group organization like The Rat Pack, centered around Harvey and Quentin because of Quentin's crazy foot fetish. I just gave them such a name."

Leonardo asked, "Wes, they didn't invite you to join?"

Craven plugged his nose: "I'm not into licking other people's stinky feet, even if they've been soaked in perfume."

Nicholson got interested: "They're called the Foot Clan; what about us? What do we call ourselves? We can't just be the Cola Cult. That's flattering Martin too much!"

The freaks always found common ground. Martin took over the conversation: "How about we call ourselves the Face Gang?"

Nicholson nodded: "That name sounds good, much classier than their Foot Clan!"

Martin laughed: "Then let's go with Face Gang."

The other three unanimously agreed with Martin's suggestion.