Vanity Fair is a magazine that throws some of the fanciest parties in the U.S.—think the Oscars after-party or the annual White House Correspondents' Dinner.
But Hollywood's the entertainment world, so their parties aren't as stiff as the White House gigs.
On paper, the Vanity Fair bash is super exclusive. You've got to be a nominated director, actor, A-list celeb, top-tier singer, billionaire, politician, or some big-shot socialite to get in. Regular first-tier actors? Nope, not good enough.
Then there's the flip side: scalpers sell tickets on the black market for a fortune, letting all sorts of randoms crash this star-studded shindig.
They just have to dress sharp and talk smooth—nobody can tell the difference.
Dunn runs into one of these gatecrashers.
She's a middle-aged woman, maybe in her forties, but she's holding up well. Heavy makeup, sharp eyes like a hawk, and a vibe that's got a whiff of cheap perfume and street hustle. Her voice is so syrupy it gives Dunn goosebumps. "Hi, Mr. Walker."
Dunn glances at her. "And you are?"
"I'm Jennie—Jennie Jane. I run Fire Phoenix Agency." She hands him a business card with a big, eager smile.
Hollywood's crawling with agencies, and Dunn can't keep track of them all. Assuming it's just another actor rep outfit, he takes the card with a casual nod. "Cool. If I get the chance, I'll toss some audition invites your actors' way."
Jennie's not thrilled with his brush-off. She beams wider. "Oh, Mr. Walker, I think there's a misunderstanding. We don't handle actors."
"Huh?" Dunn raises an eyebrow.
She glances around, then leans in all secretive-like. "We provide girls. Young, gorgeous girls."
Dunn freezes, then gets it—and he's pissed. He's about to lose it.
What the hell is Vanity Fair doing?
Letting every sleazy weirdo in!
This Fire Phoenix Agency? It's just a fancy brothel!
"I'm not interested!"
Dunn's face goes cold, and he's not polite about it.
Jennie's clearly used to this—she's got thick skin. She keeps grinning. "Mr. Walker, don't rush off. Hear me out. I'm sure you'll love what we offer."
"I said I'm not interested!" Dunn flicks his hand, grabs his drink, and starts walking.
But Jennie's not letting this big fish slip away. She sticks to him like glue. "Mr. Walker, just listen! Our girls are top-notch, all kinds—actors, models, office workers, flight attendants, lawyers, doctors, teachers, students—"
Dunn cuts her off with a sharp wave. "I told you, I'm not into it. Keep bugging me, and I'm calling security!"
Jennie's face flushes from the scolding, but she's got one last card. She drops her voice. "Mr. Walker, for someone like you, we've got a few very exclusive girls. A million bucks a night—special for high-end clients like you!"
"A million dollars?"
Dunn pauses. That's not chump change! What kind of girl demands that kind of cash? An A-list actress? A supermodel? Some famous writer babe?
"Who?"
Jennie smirks, sensing she's hooked him. This is her ace, and it never fails. She gets smug, shaking her head. "We protect our clients' privacy. No names unless they agree."
Dunn catches on fast, and now he's furious—teeth-grinding, humiliated furious!
What kind of scam is this crap?
He almost fell for it!
"A million bucks means these girls have to be huge—big names, not just randoms with status! Actors or models, right? Hilarious! Stars at that level don't need you to make money—they've got their own agents!"
Dunn glares at her, feeling totally played.
Jennie stays cool, shaking her head. "Mr. Walker, you're half right. They're famous, sure, but they're broke. They come to me. And the price? We can negotiate."
Dunn laughs, pissed off enough to swear. "Who the hell do you think you are? The world doesn't spin around you! Give me a list, or get lost!"
Jennie's used to rejection, but not this level of cussing. Her face sours. "Mr. Walker, watch your language! I won't hand over client names—that's confidential. But I'm not lying. That's my professional integrity!"
"Professional integrity?" Dunn snorts. "Trash like you talking integrity? Get out of my sight!"
Face dark, Dunn heads for the balcony to cool off. This Jennie chick's treating him like an idiot!
But then he bumps into this year's Best Actress, Julia Roberts.
"Hey, Dunn?" Julia's eyes light up, then narrow. "What's up? You look awful."
Dunn waves it off, still fuming. "Don't ask. Ran into a nutcase."
"What happened?" Julia doesn't know Dunn well, but in this circle, you're friends even if you're not.
Dunn hesitates, then spills it—everything about Jennie Jane.
Julia cracks up, doubling over. "Dunn, your reputation's really getting around!"
Dunn shrugs. "I don't care about that. I'm just mad that idiot thought she could scam me!"
Julia shakes her head, smirking. "A million bucks? She's got guts saying that! In Hollywood, that's A-list actress money. Everyone's got agents—who'd trust some shady Fire Phoenix outfit?"
She's on the same page as Dunn.
"Matchmaking" isn't new in Hollywood—big agencies do it too.
Take Penelope Cruz: she met Dunn through Michael Ovitz playing middleman. No cash changed hands, but Dunn got her fame and clout—worth more than money.
Hollywood's full of broke male stars—Marlon Brando's drowning in debt right now.
But female stars going bankrupt? Never hear about it.
Why? Simple.
Fame equals cash for them!
Big agencies hook them up with rich guys for a "romance," and boom—debt's gone!
A-listers do it. Top models too.
Fire Phoenix stepping in with a million-dollar price tag? Total nonsense.
"Forget it. Every forest has its weird birds," Dunn says, sighing. He glances at Julia, curious. "What're you doing out here? You're the new Best Actress—shouldn't you be inside schmoozing?"
Julia shakes her head. "Too many people. I don't like it."
She's low-key—doesn't even do interviews. Probably the most under-the-radar star in Hollywood.
Dunn smiles, finally checking out the '90s Hollywood queen.
She's in a bold red silk dress, low-cut, hinting at smooth, creamy curves. Her face is stunning, skin like snow. Past 30, sure, but time hasn't touched her beauty—flowing hair, sultry red lips, the kind of look that sends your mind wandering.
Julia catches his intense stare and freezes, a little thrown off.
This is Dunn Walker—big director, big deal—not some random guy hitting on her!
Dunn grins. "Miss Roberts, you look gorgeous tonight."
His tone says it all, and Julia gets it. This is Hollywood—they both know the game. She takes a deep breath. "Thanks."
"You've got this captivating charm—especially with that Best Actress glow. Makes it even hotter." Dunn's laying it on thick now, cards on the table.
He's into her!
Julia tries to stay cool, avoiding his eyes. "I'm not the only Best Actress out there."
Dunn laughs. "I only started hitting the Oscars in '97. Kate Winslet's my best pal! But the next two? Gwyneth Paltrow's too plain, Hilary Swank's too flat—neither's my type."
Julia sighs. "Dunn, are you always this blunt with women?"
"What's wrong with being direct? You need the French roses-and-wine romance thing?" Dunn shrugs, chill as ever. "I can do that—set up a date. Just worried the paparazzi'd catch us, and it'd mess with you. Hotel's safer, more reliable."
Julia's speechless.
Dunn keeps going. "You're what, 32? 33? Women hit that awkward age—last chance territory. Don't you want to be friends with me?"
Julia shakes her head. "Everyone wants to be your friend. It's just… this way of making friends—"
Dunn grins, shameless. "You said it—everyone wants in. I've got to filter somehow, right? No deep chats, how do I know if you're worth it?"
Julia bites her lip, hesitating.
At her level—$20 million a movie, fresh off an Oscar—she doesn't need Dunn's clout to climb higher.
But she's got a family of actors behind her.
Her siblings are in the game, and her little niece is itching to break in too. That takes connections—more than she can swing alone.
Being Dunn's friend? That changes everything.
"Can I have a few days to think it over?"
"Sure. Nat won tonight too—I'm heading home with her to celebrate. Even if you wanted to, it's off the table."
Dunn pauses, then adds, "I'm hitting the UK in a few days. If it works, come with me. We can seal the deal."
Julia nods. "Alright. Let me know ahead of time."
And with that, she's in.
Accepting the UK trip with Dunn? It's a done deal from there.
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