Bigstar

Chapter2

Josie stalled for two whole hours.

It was not until the friend who was the only one she could remember the phone number of came rushing over.

The young man with short dark hair first sized up Josie, then flipped through the medical records clipped to the side of the hospital bed.

"It's an honor that I'm finally remembered by you," he said in a slow tone as he pulled up a chair and sat down while looking at the records. "Concussion and multiple abrasions? Your new life on the West Coast is quite eventful, Ms. Josie Horton."

He raised his head, revealing a well-defined face. With dark hair, black eyes and a classic Jewish nose, he always looked as if he hadn't woken up. He was dressed in a black printed T-shirt, loose dark jeans and Converse sneakers, a typical hip-hop teenager of the moment.

Josie felt much more at ease when she saw the guy's face full of sarcasm yet showing concern.

She smiled and said, "Hi, Mark. I'm so glad you could come. I thought you wouldn't want to see me again."

The young boy named Mark was three years older than Josie and was almost a grown-up.

Before moving to the Upper East Side, the Ronson family's six-story mansion had been next door to the Horton family's, and the two of them used to play together. After entering the clearly divided society of the Upper East Side, the Upper West Side had become a taboo for Josie...

Now, looking at the other's face, Josie surprisingly felt no sense of strangeness at all.

Mark calmly returned her gaze and said indifferently, "That's all in the past, Josie."

Josie's smile deepened. She blinked and tentatively asked, "So, we're still friends?"

Instead of answering, Mark sat there and asked, "Tell me, which jerk did this to you? Maybe I can pay for a one-way ticket to hell for him."

"The agent introduced to me by Janet Mills," Josie said in a slightly lowered voice. "He arranged a not-so-clean party for me. Steven Seagal, that celebrity. I smashed his head and ran out, but then I fainted on the street."

She felt a bit of a headache again as she spoke. Holding her forehead, she said, "Although I'm really grateful to that kind person who saved me, I can't say 'Thank you so much, sir' sincerely when I think of the huge bill I'll have to pay."

The bill generated by the ambulance and the emergency room this time... Just thinking about it made her feel pain all over.

"It seems that your Hollywood life is quite expensive," Mark actually laughed, but the smile flashed by quickly. He frowned and asked, "But what the hell is going on with that agent? You didn't know about the unspoken rules in advance, did you? That's not the normal procedure."

Unspoken rules?

No, that was the game rule in Hollywood.

The higher one's position, the easier it is to obtain s****l resources. But they usually negotiate with the girls through agents in advance and offer money, gifts or opportunities in exchange.

This was the unspoken rule in the circle.

Josie's former agent either didn't know the ropes or was a maverick. In any case, he wasn't a good guy.

After thinking for a while, Josie just said, "This is still a minor matter. Relax. I think I can handle it myself."

Mark's temper flared up all of a sudden.

Oh, she always said she could handle it herself. Even when she was bossed around by a group of Upper East Side snobs, she only thought it was her own problem!

He tried to help her, but what did he get in return?

She shouted at him for meddling, having a strong desire for control and ruining her new life!

God knew how long they hadn't been in touch since then. He shouldn't have rushed here because of a phone call!

Mark gave Josie a cold glance and curled his lips. "What did I say? You can do it on your own and don't need anyone. But if it wasn't for... I wouldn't care if you were taken advantage of by an old man or being pushed around by an old woman!"

Josie panicked and instinctively grabbed Mark's hand. "No, no, no. You misunderstood me. I just want to deal with them myself. I have to let out this pent-up anger— and I have something more important that I need your help with, I swear!"

Mark stopped in his tracks.

He gave Josie a sidelong glance. Only when she let go of his hand did he say condescendingly, "Go ahead."

Josie glanced at him and said, "I need to get in touch with my custodial guardian, John Trist. I'm sure that everything Janet Mills told me is a bunch of nonsense. She said that to be an actress, you have to learn how to fit into the circle first, but I clearly have privileges, so why not use them— most importantly, I want to kick them out of my house. I've had enough of them!"

She seemed a bit agitated. As if remembering something, she tugged hard at the bed sheet underneath.

Only then did Mark sit back in the chair. He habitually reached for the cigarette pack in his pocket but remembered that he was in the hospital and had to give up.

He was a bit suspicious that the concussion might have also shaken out the water in Josie's head, so he said, "Did I hear you right? You said the word 's**t'... You're a bit different now."

Josie was startled, but on the surface, she just gave him a shy smile, the kind that was very reserved.

Only at this moment could Mark find the shadow of the little girl he used to know on her face.

— Perhaps Hollywood had really changed her life.

He thought.

Mark's doubt flashed by, and then he asked, "Well, it's something that can be solved with just a phone call. Why did you have to make me come all the way here? Didn't you consider the situation where I'm not in LA?"

"But I only remember your phone number," Josie said confidently. "And I need a trustworthy agent. I know you have a way."

Josie wasn't confident enough to think that her beauty was so great that there would be a large number of agents for her to choose from. In fact, beauty was the least valuable thing. And Mark's stepfather was a famous musician who had status and connections in the industry.

Not taking advantage of the connections but just to prove the illusory strength and the self-esteem of an adolescent, "Josie" had foolishly fallen into the hands of d**k Good under the matchmaking of Janet Mills.

Naive, but unnecessary.

Mark sneered and didn't comment. "You're really not being polite, Jo. Do you think I'm your assistant?"

His attitude visibly softened, and he even casually called Josie by her nickname.

— It seemed that the matter was settled.

Josie blinked and asked, "Oh, Mr. Ronson, how much is your daily salary? You know I don't have much money now. For the sake of being old acquaintances, give me a discount, please."

Mark waved his hand, looking as if he was impatient.

"Okay, that's enough of the witty remarks." He adjusted his sitting posture to make the conversation more serious and asked, "Do you really want to make acting your career? You'd better think it through. Hollywood is not that easy to break into."

Throughout history, at all times and in all countries, this circle has always been full of filth.

The only difference is that with the development of the times and communication, people pay more attention to their public image. In fact, the moral bottom line behind the scenes hasn't changed much.

And the bottom line of these people is probably: there is no bottom line.

The unspoken rules are the basic gameplay. For advanced players, "s*x" more often represents power rather than sensory stimulation, because those stimulating parts have long been common. For example, that little mouse that sells fairy tales is actually a paradise for pedophiles.

The movie mecca of Hollywood just looks glamorous on the surface.

As naive as Josie Horton, it's really not a wise choice to plunge headlong into this big dye vat. But she was already sixteen years old, and no one could be responsible for her life except herself.

Mark waited quietly for Josie's answer.

Soon, Josie said, "I'm absolutely sure."

The acting career was actually quite interesting.

And Josie didn't think she needed to repeat high school and college and then run around struggling to pay the bills.

She liked a comfortable and affluent life and also liked to be the center of attention. And being a Hollywood star was a good choice, which was also "Josie's" wish.

Rely on the family trust to support herself? Come on, that's so lame.

The first thing Josie did after being discharged from the hospital was to contact a real estate agent to put the house that the Mills mother and daughter were living in up for rent. She believed that someone would soon notify them to move out.

She herself moved into a house left to her by her grandfather.

To be fair, this Mediterranean-style villa was very beautiful. It was said that Mrs. Horton had spent a lot of time in her girlhood here. But the problem was that this place was a bit of a reminder of the past, and it almost had been put up for sale.

But Josie didn't mind that now.

She really liked this big house with six rooms. Especially after learning about the price level in the surrounding areas of Hollywood, the villa fully managed by the Northern Trust was really great. Not to mention that there were several collectible antique cars in the garage.

"This Cadillac is really beautiful," Mark couldn't help but reach out and touch it. He looked quite envious and began to tell the story of this car in detail: "You know, this color has a charming name, 'Elvis Presley Rose', which first appeared in his famous song 'Baby, Let's Play House'."

Josie flipped through the brochure in her hand and found the history of this car. "I think you know Aretha Franklin. It says here that this is the car in her song 'Love Highway'."

Mark looked resentful. "Sell it to me... Forget it. Don't tell me the price. I can't afford it for now."

Of course, Mark also had a substantial family trust, but he wasn't the kind of rich second generation who relied on his ancestors to live. He earned his college tuition by DJing in nightclubs.

"There's also a Jaguar. It's perfect," Josie said as she walked around as if inspecting her territory. "Wow, I really like this 1964 Mini Cooper. Can it still run?"

"It can, but do you have a driver's license, ma'am?" Mark wasn't very interested in this model.

Josie rolled her eyes and tentatively said, "As long as I drive well, the police won't bother me..."

Mark bared his teeth at her and sneered, "Don't even think about it."

One could get a driver's license at the age of sixteen, but Josie obviously hadn't put this matter on her agenda yet.

Josie spread her hands innocently.

After they had toured the house, Mark said he was going to the airport to catch a flight back to New York and emphasized that he didn't need Josie to drive him there.

Before leaving, Mark left the contact information of the agent, Martha Miller. Whether Josie could really get this agency contract depended on her own performance.