"Name."
"Jenny Jane Jefferson."
"Age."
"Twenty."
"Education."
"High school."
Cesare looked up from his folder and glanced at her. Jenny said, "What? I'm an orphan, my SAT scores are terrible, and instead of going to some fly-by-night college, I figured I'd come to Hollywood sooner. At least now, my age is still an advantage."
"What accident killed your relatives?" Cesare seemed to ignore Jenny's subsequent explanation. She realized he constantly sought to dominate the conversation through any means, disregarding her words perhaps to disrupt her rhythm.
But this was an interview, not a wrestling match. Appropriate sharpness could pique Cesare's interest, while relentless confrontation risked crossing the line.
"My father is a federal felon. I barely knew him from the time I can remember. He's in Alabama State Prison, serving 129 years without parole." She said it meekly, showing no embarrassment at revealing her background. Though she possessed Jenny Jane's memories, Chen Zhen hadn't inherited her emotions. "My mother left home when I was a child. I lived with my grandmother until I was a little over ten. She passed away, the bank foreclosed on the house, and I was sent to social services. I grew up in foster care until eighteen, graduated high school at nineteen—started a year late for various reasons—and then I came to Hollywood."
"Any acting experience before this cameo?"
"None."
Cesare raised his eyebrows for the first time—not dramatically, but enough to signal surprise for him. "What about drama club?"
"I went to a cash-strapped public high school," Jenny said. "Honey, there were hardly any decent clubs there. Even if there were, I didn't have time for them. I had to work—the welfare agency didn't cover my pocket money."
Cesare set down his pen, that cold, appraising gaze returning. Jenny felt like a piece of dead meat in his eyes, as if he were weighing her carefully in his mind, calculating her worth.
"Let's lay everything out on the table." Cesare wasn't overly arrogant, actually. Considering most people's reactions to Jenny's background, he could even be called quite open-minded. It was just—just that his coldness completely overshadowed any other virtues. Jenny felt he embodied the phrase "strictly business" to its absolute extreme. "Jim was practically an idiot, no question about it. But he managed to worm his way into this floor of CAA, so he must have had some skills. I assume you still have some acting talent left."
"I believe I just demonstrated that," Jenny replied.
She activated her Monroe mode—though now, she could channel the icon without needing empathy, perhaps a side effect of too much emotional investment. Leaning back slightly, eyelids lowered, her posture alluring yet restrained, lips parted, her voice deepened. "Is that so, Mr. Vijay?"
Faced with this performance that could have crushed George, Cesare merely tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Not bad. You've got a decent grasp of this type."
He shifted his tone. "But what I need isn't just a sexy vase—what I lack now is a rather scarce resource."
Jenny felt a twinge of confusion—in truth, she'd been puzzled all along. Jim was already a CAA agent himself. He could easily negotiate with the company to sign him, or seek out another seasoned agent for a more convenient assessment and advice. Why did it have to be Cesare? Why the urgency to approach him?
She sensed she was getting closer to the answer.
"I thought an agent could never have too many clients," she said, giving Cesare an opening.
"That's not my style," Cesare replied, hands arched flat on the table, his tone matter-of-fact. "Right now, I only need the best clients."
"You mean the most famous?" Jenny asked. "Tom Hanks? Meg Ryan?"
"No," Cesare said. "I need the most talented clients now. My last major client was Jennifer Bell. You should have heard of her."
"Pearl Harbor!" Jenny blurted out.
It was one of the things that surprised her most about this world. In her own memory, Kate Beckinsale had starred in Pearl Harbor. But in this version, Beckinsale hadn't taken the role—it had gone to Jennifer Bell, the reigning sweetheart of Hollywood. Over the past few years, she had become one of the most captivating faces in America, starring in several diverse films. Her career was undeniably on the rise, posing a direct threat to the established leading lady Meg Ryan.
"Yes, Pearl Harbor," Cesare said. "I advised her against taking that role, but she didn't listen. Anyway, she's no longer my client."
"She left CAA?" Jenny was surprised. Typically, unless an actor had achieved major success and completed their first contract term, it wasn't easy to terminate that initial agency deal.
"CAA has a system where superstars aren't handled by just one agent—it's called cross-handling," Cesare said, sounding detached as if discussing someone else's business, his handsome face utterly unruffled. "Jennifer entered the A-list ranks early this year, becoming our top-tier client. She now has several agents, and they don't mind sharing."
"But you do," Jenny said, feeling her words were practically stating the obvious. Cesare clearly looked like the type who wouldn't even share a pizza.
"I wouldn't share a pizza," Cesare said. Jenny couldn't help but frown—this was the second time Cesare had mirrored her expression. "And I certainly won't share my clients. About me, this is the first thing you need to learn: I don't share."
"Okay, you don't share," Jenny said indifferently. "Got it. So, you're looking for Jennifer's replacement?"
"No, I'm looking for a specific type. Jennifer just proved she doesn't fit my requirements by taking on Pearl Harbor." " Cesare corrected her. "We'll discuss that later. Back to the point: I'm not looking for a sexy actress. To be precise, the person I seek can't just have one type of acting skill or one face. As for you, I doubt you even possess acting skills yet. You only have two personalities—the one you are now."
He gestured toward Jenny as if to encapsulate her current dullness and mediocrity. "The other is the sexy version of you—possessing a certain star quality that could fuel a modest career as a niche actress, maybe even land you a few tailor-made B-movies on the big screen. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But that quick facial shift doesn't prove you have acting chops. And that's precisely what I need to confirm now."
This man was remarkably methodical, never rushing.
Jenny thought, but she didn't resent Cesare for it—because she was even more methodical and unhurried than he was. Though she wasn't entirely sure she had any real acting talent, she knew one thing: if she played by her own rules, she couldn't lose this game.
"You want to test me," she said, unable to suppress a smile. "Bring it on. Seriously, Mr. Vijay, no need to hold back. How about this: name a few roles from blockbusters released in the last two or three years. Of course, ones I've seen—you know, I'm not exactly rolling in cash, so I skip some niche films at the theater."
Cesare pondered for a moment.
"Titanic. Rose Buckett." Predictably, he chose a film Jenny absolutely couldn't have missed.
Jenny smiled.
Truthfully, given how often she'd practiced with Titanic, she could have pulled off her own style even without empathy. But to be safe, she activated it.
In that instant, Rose's entire life washed over her. She surfaced and sank in the icy sea, each breath carrying the salty, bitter sting of cold. Death breathed its icy mist at the back of her neck, while her lover lay dying, his life slipping away to the freezing depths. His handsome face was frosted over, and she could feel his life freezing in that moment, forever frozen in this sea of ice.
But he told her not to let go, never to give up. "Don't you do that," he said. "Don't say your goodbyes."
"I'll never let go," she murmured, summoning a courage bordering on defiance from deep within. They had journeyed through this together—though it had been only a few short days at sea—and it meant more to her than any doctor could ever explain. She could never let go of this. Not after Jack had taught her the joy of living. For him, for herself, she must—yes, no matter how hard it was—hold on until the very last moment.
Tears welling in her eyes, she vowed to the lover in her mind, "I'll never let go, Jack."
Then Jenny disengaged her empathy, pulled a tissue to dab her eyes, and flashed Cesare an open-handed gesture. "Ta-dah."
Cesare's expression finally shifted subtly, though he maintained his composure. He glared at Jenny for over ten seconds before lowering his head, scribbling and muttering to himself. "Overly intense acting, bordering on excessive. Undoubtedly an experiential actor. No formal training, but highly talented. With practice, significant room for improvement."
Highly talented, highly talented—Jenny couldn't help but say, "I didn't know you knew how to compliment people?"
"This isn't a compliment, it's stating the facts." Cesare set down his pen and suddenly challenged her, "Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall."
Jenny flustered for a moment. Of course she'd seen the famous series, though she'd never mimicked Professor McGonagall before. After a brief adjustment, she found herself instinctively clasping her arms, straightening her back, and scanning the young wights before her with an uncontrollably weathered, wary gaze—who knew what trouble they might bring? First years were always the most troublesome...
" "Welcome to Hogwarts—" she began, but Cesare cut her off. "Stop."
He tapped again. "Ghost, Susan Parrish."
The rapid empathy shifts were giving Jenny a headache. Worse, she had no recollection of this film—not even the iconic scenes. Choosing one on the spot? There simply wasn't time. Rarely flustered, she stumbled, "Um—could you give me a moment? I need to adjust."
"So you still have confidence in yourself?" Cesare countered.
Jenny nodded calmly.
"Then you needn't try," Cesare declared unexpectedly. "I already know you're not one to make empty promises. What time does your shoot start this afternoon?"
Cesare's topics shifted rapidly, always jumping abruptly from one point to another. Jenny began to understand why Jim feared him so much—Jim clearly wasn't a methodical, quick-thinking person.
But she was.
"1:15 PM," Jenny glanced at her watch. "It's 11:25 now. You have one hour and five minutes to convince me."
For the first time since Jenny had met him, Cesare smiled—though it was more like a puff of air from his nose, his lips did curve upward. "Let me tell you how we'll arrange this. You go back to the set now, eat, change clothes, get your makeup done. I'll leave to handle business matters. I'll come see your performance this afternoon. If you pass the test, I'll tell you over dinner why you should let me be your agent. Any objections to that plan?"
"But aren't you flying to New York immediately—" Jenny was taken aback.
Cesare pressed the intercom button. "Nara, cancel my flight to New York. Tell them I'll go tomorrow."
Before Nara could respond, he released the button and continued with Jenny. "It's true I was supposed to go to New York."
"Am I worth you changing your plans?" Jenny countered.
"You are worth me changing my plans." Cesare stood up, gesturing for Jenny to follow him out. "But let me remind you—this isn't something you can use as leverage."
Jenny only now realized Cesare had genuinely been moved by her so-called "talent." Truthfully, she still couldn't quite accept it. Cesare had seemed utterly indifferent moments ago. Even now, as he praised her—or rather, made overtures toward her—she still didn't feel he truly appreciated her performance.
"So—" She followed Cesare out of his office toward the elevator. "Jim, I mean, aren't you waiting for him?"
Cesare opened the elevator door for her and stepped inside alongside her. "This should be the second piece of knowledge about me, Miss Jefferson."
He glanced at his watch. "I'm very mindful of time."
The elevator doors closed. Jenny stared at the smooth metal panels before glancing at the digital display on the wall.
In one corner, a blinking number informed her it was 11:32.
She looked back at the tall blond man beside her, still texting.
Cesare Viglieri was damn punctual.
Note: Regarding Hollywood's A, B, and C lists, I'll explain and clarify this concept later. It's somewhat vague and controversial, so this is just my take.
Additionally, Pearl Harbor was budgeted at $140 million, touted as a rival to Titanic. Yet it ended up grossing $198 million in North America and $250 million globally—a near-total financial disaster. The careers of its leads suffered significantly as a result.
Also, due to plot requirements, some original characters in the film replace real-life actors. Please understand this isn't because I dislike the original actors—it's simply more convenient for the narrative. I actually quite like Kate Beckinsale, the female lead in Pearl Harbor; she was great in Underworld.