CAA, Creative Artists Agency.
Both Jenny and Chen Zhen had certainly heard of this name—CAA was simply too famous. Anyone with even a passing familiarity with the American entertainment industry would know its name.
Founded in 1975 and headquartered in Beverly Hills, Hollywood, CAA is indisputably the world's top talent agency, commanding a market share far exceeding its nearest competitor. Outside the U.S., securing a CAA contract is a source of immense pride, with signed stars inevitably boasting about it. Even within America, becoming part of the CAA family is considered exceptionally fortunate. CAA's departments cover every aspect of the entertainment industry, front and backstage. With just an idea and sufficient funding, CAA can assemble a star-studded team for any investor. If the budget is truly astronomical, they can even create an all-Oscar-winning team—from the lead actors and director to the producers, costume designers, and art directors. Naturally, the investment required would be equally astronomical.
Upon hearing the letters CAA, Jenny instantly understood why Fat Jim carried himself with such arrogance, even treating Dave—an assistant director whose status wasn't exactly low—with such disrespect. If Jim was the agent for some major star, then Dave was nothing but a fart in his presence.
Of course, it seemed unlikely that a major star's agent would drop by to see her perform out of the blue. But in Hollywood, anything was possible. Universal Studios wasn't just filming TV shows; it was primarily a hub for major motion pictures. Last time, the director's meeting had taken place in the studio's office building, where even A-list superstars frequently came and went. An agent showing up wasn't entirely out of the question. Since he'd seen her, taken an interest, and knew she was filming here, dropping by wouldn't be much trouble.
Jenny remained silent the entire way, while Jim, overcome with excitement, chattered nonstop. Most of it was meaningless babble—endless rants about Cesare's terrible temper, how precious this opportunity was for Jenny, and how she should carry herself around him.
"This is your chance," he said. "Girl, you don't understand how precious this opportunity is. You could skyrocket overnight. God, it's a match made in heaven—but you have to be flawless. Cesare is a deadly perfectionist. You should know I'm taking a risk bringing you here."
He began sweating, two damp patches soaking through his shirt. Even cologne couldn't mask the scent of perspiration, making Jenny feel slightly uneasy. She consciously moved away from Jim, afraid his excitement might cause him to drip sweat onto her, ruining her costume.
"Cesare," she said. "Jim, can I ask who Cesare is?" "
They were all in Hollywood. CAA wasn't far from the Universal Studios lot. Jim made a sharp turn and slammed on the brakes, pulling into a parking spot. He hurriedly opened the door and got out, grabbing his tie to wipe his face. He gestured impatiently for Jenny to hurry up. "Vigieri. Cesare Vigieri. You've never heard of him?"
"No," Jenny replied honestly. "Is he Italian?"
Jim scowled, making his signature look of utter defeat. "No, no."
He walked while talking on the phone. "Oh, please be there, please be there—Nara! Tell me Cesare hasn't left yet!"
Next, he ushered Jenny into the CAA building with his pass while still on the phone, frantically pressing the elevator button. Jenny didn't even have time to admire the CAA decor before being swept into the elevator. Jim pressed a high floor number—just two floors below the top.
"I need to explain something." In the blast of cold air, Jim seemed to regain some composure and rationality. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiping sweat as he spoke rapidly. "Since you don't know Cesare, I assume you're also unaware of CAA's internal rules. We don't use titles—only positions. No private meeting rooms, no private offices. We operate with a flat management structure. Externally, we claim all agents are treated equally, regardless of seniority." "
He stated it cleanly and efficiently. "Of course, that's all bullshit for public relations. Where there's a difference in ability and seniority, there's bound to be a difference in status. It's just that at CAA, status is reflected in the floor level. The higher the status, the higher the floor. The floor we're going to is the exclusive office floor for CAA's senior agents. There, very few people don't have their own office."
He took a breath before continuing, "So you understand why this opportunity is so precious? Even within CAA, resources are limited and competition fierce. Cesare is a 45th-floor man—once 45, always 45. Girl—"
"Jenny," Jenny said, frowning as she studied Jim thoughtfully. "I still have a lot of questions."
"You can ask later. Cesare leaves for the airport in an hour. There's no time now. All I can say is, you'd better do everything in your power to seize this opportunity." Jim said.
The elevator dinged to a halt on the 45th floor. Jim swept out like a whirlwind, while Jenny's pace remained unhurried. He spun back, glaring at her, but the curious stares from the cubicle offices silenced him.
"If you want me to make a good impression on him," Jenny stated matter-of-factly, "then I'll just have to keep my pace."
"Yeah, yeah." Jim choked, then muttered, "Come on, Cesare's office is this way."
Jenny followed Jim around the corner. He knocked on the door, exchanged a few hushed words with an assistant girl seated nearby, then approached the door again. His movements shifted abruptly from earlier fluster to cautious care, as if a sleeping lion lay within, and any loud noise might disturb its slumber.
"Come in." A curt voice came from inside.
Jim pushed the door open and gestured for Jenny to follow him in.
Jenny stepped into the room.
The next moment, she was startled—a rare occurrence for her.
...
Cesare Viglieri was a name steeped in European heritage. Viglieri was a French surname—thank goodness Jenny was a decent student, possessing some depth of knowledge in subjects that interested her—and Cesare was a common name in Southern Europe. Given Cesare Viglieri's status and position, Jenny had expected to see a man of Southern European descent, of medium build, slightly tanned middle-aged man. Given his years in the brokerage business, he should have been affable and perpetually smiling.
—Cesare Viglieri shattered every one of her assumptions.
He was tall, pale-skinned, blue eyes, a high nose, deep-set eyes, and short, pure golden hair slicked back with wax—though the roots were slightly darker, a natural phenomenon among blond-haired, blue-eyed individuals. It was common for adults with such coloring to have uneven tones, golden tips and faintly brown roots. Like Jenny, he was a purebred Germanic man.
And breathtakingly handsome.
Chen Zhen wasn't unfamiliar with beautiful men and women. This was the 21st century, with media at its peak. All manner of beauty bombarded audiences through television and film. Even setting aside the beauties glimpsed through screens, the former Chen Zhen frequently flew to Milan and New York for fashion shows, and was even more often invited to attend fashion industry dinners both domestically and abroad—she had truly seen many men and women who relied on their looks to make a living.
None of them could compare to Cesare Viglieri. Jenny thought: Even if this man were an idiot who couldn't deliver his lines, as long as he stepped onto the runway, with his physique and beauty, he'd rise to prominence within half a year.
Then curiosity struck her: Why would someone so strikingly handsome and young hide behind the scenes instead of stepping into the spotlight to earn astronomical sums? Agents might earn well, but they could never surpass the fortunes of the stars they represented.
Could she have misunderstood? Was Cesare Viglieri someone else entirely, merely another client he managed?
But Jenny's speculation was instantly shattered by Jim. He stepped forward, naturally—yet visibly nervous—and began pitching Jenny to Cesare. "You absolutely have to see this girl, Cesare. She's the best successor I've found. Look how beautiful she is, and that's not even her strongest suit—this girl can act! Trust me, man."
He shook his head in admiration, glancing at Jenny with a tone that was both intoxicated and persuasive. "She's the least rookie-like rookie I've ever seen, Cesare. She's just... God, I don't know how to describe it..."
Cesare pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Jenny.
Jenny felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. Cesare's gaze—honestly, it was that cold. His presence was suffocating, not just because of his striking good looks, but because of the innate coldness that seemed to radiate from every pore. This chill was like noble blood—overwhelming and commanding. Jenny believed anyone caught in his gaze would instantly feel intensely awkward, convinced they were utterly inadequate and completely out of place from head to toe.
She was no exception. Under Cesare's gaze, she thought of how she'd been running around in the scorching sun for hours, her makeup likely smudged. She wore a costume that didn't quite fit right, held together by several pins at the back. She thought of the mere three thousand dollars in her purse and how, after this opportunity, who knew when the next role would come. Under Cesare's gaze, she felt an urge to curl up into a ball, a natural impulse that made resistance seem utterly futile.
Yet Jenny Jane wasn't just Jenny Jane. She was also Chen Zhen—the former young mistress of the Chen real estate empire.
Under Cesare's intense gaze, instead of shrinking, she straightened her spine and offered him a casual, faint smile.
Cesare's eyes narrowed.
"She's pretty. I'd give her a 90," he suddenly remarked, still locked in eye contact with Jenny. "But her presence is bland. How do you convince me she has the potential to be a superstar? I've told you before, you have to read people with your heart."
Jim was caught completely off guard, missing his chance to defend her. Cesare turned back to his desk and continued organizing his papers. "Pretty face? Fine. She can shoot magazine covers. She's model material. Good acting skills? That's fine too. With looks like hers and decent acting, she could star in a TV series. She might even have a future in film. But we're talking about a superstar, Jim. Do you even know what we're talking about? I know you've always been a womanizer, willing to pull any cheap stunt to pick up girls. But barging into my office like this?"
His tone paused briefly before resuming, his voice utterly unchanging—except Jenny realized Cesare Viglieri could become even colder, even more unapproachable. "This is a new low for you."
Cesare organized the papers on his desk and turned to face Jim. "You have two minutes to convince me not to fire you. The clock is ticking."
"Cesare, I know what you mean." Jim was already sweating buckets, and the moment he got his chance, he launched into a torrent of words. "Yeah, I admit I was just messing around at first. I noticed her the day she auditioned at Universal. When I heard she was joining the shoot this week, I dropped by to see—you know, play that card—'Hi, I'm a CAA agent.' Anyway, I went over, but the moment I saw her in front of the camera—God, I knew she was out of my league, Cesare. You should see it. You'd understand. She's like Marilyn Monroe reborn—no, better than Monroe, younger, more stunning, but that presence, that command of the room—" Monroe reincarnated. No, better than Monroe. Younger, more stunning, but that presence, that command of the room—"
Cesare's gaze shifted back to Jenny, taking her in from head to toe. A faint flicker of emotion flickered across his usually hard, unyielding face.
"Tape," he said. Jenny noticed how sparingly he used words.
"Um—um—" Jim suddenly stammered awkwardly, likely realizing his oversight. "I—um—I know you're heading to New York soon, then on to Paris, and won't be back for two months. This girl stars in the first episode of the new CSI season. I—um—they haven't edited the final cut yet—"
Cesare closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose again.
"It's 10:43 now," he glanced at his watch. "I need to see her performance tape before 11:30. You have 47 minutes."
Jim glanced back and forth between Jenny and Cesare. Jenny waved at him, and as if receiving a command, he suddenly spun around, shoved the door open with force, and bolted out. The door swung wildly against the frame, and Jenny could hear his footsteps echoing in the hallway.
Cesare didn't watch Jim leave with her. When Jenny shifted her gaze back, he was already behind his desk, pulling open a drawer and taking out a bottle of air freshener.
He walked to where Jim had been standing, sprayed several times into the air, then meticulously replaced the freshener before gesturing to Jenny. "Sit."
It was still a single word—a concise, unadorned "sit." No "please," not even the relatively polite "have a seat." Cesare consistently held the upper hand in this situation, and he seemed perfectly content to abuse it.
Jenny decided that continuing this dynamic was highly disadvantageous for her. It wasn't just that she disliked being in the same subservient position as Jim. It was also because, for now, Cesare showed little interest in her.
Even though she remained quite confused about Cesare's identity and background, the behavior of Dave, Lynch, and Jim all pointed to one thing: Jim had been right all along. Cesare was a big shot, and this was Jenny's golden opportunity.
How could she possibly let it slip away?
"It's 10:44 now," she stated, settling into the visitor's chair opposite the desk. She crossed her legs, resting one hand elegantly on the armrest. "One hour and forty-seven minutes until 12:30. Mr. Viglieri, it's a pleasure to meet you."
She switched effortlessly into Marilyn Monroe mode, lowering her voice, shifting her legs, and letting a composed smile touch her lips as she fixed Cesare Viglieri with an almost mocking gaze. "Now, you have one hour and forty-seven minutes to convince me you're a good agent."
Cesare's demeanor remained utterly unmoved, as cold as ever. Only the tip of his nose rippled slightly, and his eyes flickered with an almost imperceptible shift. Yet Jenny knew she had successfully piqued his interest.
"Very well," Cesare said. "You've successfully captured my attention. Bonus points."
He pulled out a blank folder, snapped it open, and offered a cold courtesy, asking symbolically, "Now, shall we formally begin?"
Note: CAA is indeed Hollywood's most powerful talent agency, commanding over half the market share. Its reach spans both on-screen and behind-the-scenes roles in film and television, as well as artist representation and concert booking in the music industry. While its film and TV operations are detailed in the article, its expansion into the music market came later—yet it still holds over 35% of that sector. Among the top 100 concerts annually, 35 are represented by CAA.
In reality, CAA does adopt a flat management structure, though the floor-based hierarchy is fictional. Their headquarters is indeed located in a Century City skyscraper. A distinctive CAA practice is cross-departmental representation: top talent isn't assigned to a single agent but managed by multiple agents handling different aspects of their business. This prevents agents from poaching clients when they switch firms.