Chapter 31
1698 Words
The Oscars have just ended, and many of the celebrity guests who attended the ceremony are flocking to the Governor's Dinner.
The much-anticipated dinner employs a culinary team of 350 people.
Not only did they have to feed thousands of movie industry celebrities, but they also had to set up the entire menu in line with the art of cinema, showcasing vintage and modern Hollywood glamor.
Not only the Governor's Dinner, but also major media companies, such as Vanity Fair Magazine, which annually hosts a gala party next door to the Governor's Mansion, attracting a large number of celebrities.
The bigger the celebrities, the more influential the organizer is in the industry.
As one of tonight's Academy Award winners, Margaret could only hold her glass in her hand as she made her way through the evening's several parties, accepting congratulations from the crowd.
The end of the Oscars symbolizes the end of this year's awards season for Margaret, as she can finally say goodbye to her diet and feed her belly.
One of the classic dishes at the Governor's Dinner is smoked salmon cut into little gold men with caviar.
Margaret sliced off a small piece and popped it into her mouth when Leonardo approached her with two Oscar-winning gold leaf chocolates in his hand, "Would you like one?"
Margaret looks at the gold foil chocolate and raises an eyebrow, "Luckily, I have a real one."
The classically beautiful blonde boy rolled his eyes, "You are wicked."
"I've heard that since the cruel Oscars didn't recognize your performance, angering tens of millions of fans, the nominations provoked hundreds of phone calls and nearly 200 emails on the day they were announced in Los Angeles." Margo sent a mouthful of cold vegetable soup to her mouth.
Leo shrugged, "I was nominated for an Oscar once when I was nineteen."
Not only that, but he had won the Berlin Film Festival two years earlier.
As the hottest superstar in the world at this point in time, Leo obviously doesn't care that much about the Oscars.
He's still young, isn't he?
Margaret propped her chin on her finger, "I agree with critic Owen Graberman that your performance in the movie is underrated, Jack Dawson is no homerun."
Mr. All-American Maniac, who was often struck by this girl, was obviously a bit flattered, "You really think so?"
"Seriously, Leonardo DiCaprio, in person, is much more charming than Jack Dawson." Margo's voice was soft as she pulled a small Oscar-winning gold-foiled chocolate out of his hand.
At the same time, Leo felt something being shoved back into his hand.
A bit cool to the touch of metal.
The brunette beauty stood up from the banquet table and before she left, she raised the gold foil chocolate in her hand at Leo, "Thanks for the after-dinner dessert."
Her figure swayed delicately, and at five feet four inches, she could even be considered petite in Hollywood.
But the proportion is extremely good, shoulder and back curve is nearly perfect, thin waist, long legs, breasts white tender, full of unique charm between the female flavor and the fragrance of young girls.
But at the same time there is a fascinating sense of distance, you seem to be able to only look at her back to leave, there is nothing you can do.
At least that's what Leonardo is doing at the moment.
As Margaux's back walked completely out of the Governor's Hall, Leo looked to his palms.
It was a gold statuette necklace, and dangling from it was a 35-centimeter-long Oscar gold statuette, engraved with a string of words-
Leonardo Wilhelm DiCaprio.
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As awards season comes to a complete close, Margaret's energies return to the filming of The Matrix.
The cast of The Matrix, which was transferred to Sydney, Australia for filming from April through the end of August, was very demanding, but the filming process was described as smooth.
However, to our surprise, Margaret accidentally sprained her ankle on the day of wrapping because of a prop error.
Director Wachowski brothers, though, took the matter very seriously and immediately sent Margaret to the hospital to deal with the injury.
But this is already the last scene, Margaret can only temporarily tolerate the pain, in a simple treatment to reduce swelling, the next day back to the crew to shoot the final scene.
Under the black attire, she skillfully demonstrated the dazzling power of the body, with a "Good!", Margaret was directly by Brian Lord, who rushed to the scene, on the private plane back to Los Angeles.
He even had a wheelchair for Margaret.
Margot should be glad she wasn't on a commercial flight today, or I'm afraid she'll be in the headlines again tomorrow.
Upon arriving in Los Angeles, Margaret, sitting in a wheelchair, thought she'd be taken straight to the hospital, but instead she heard her agent say--
"Back in Beverly Hills, I've hired a personal physician for you."
Often referred to as a health gatekeeper, a personal physician plays a guardian role similar to that of a health butler.
Doctors in the United States are divided into two main categories: specialists who work full-time in hospitals, and private doctors who run their own clinics.
The private doctors Brian mentions are actually better known as super private doctors.
They exist outside of the health insurance system, are extremely expensive, and are generally hired by the wealthy elite.
These super-private doctors can be professorial specialists who work at prestigious medical centers throughout the United States, or they can be private doctors with more free time.
Los Angeles super-private doctors have always been well-paid, and most of their clients are Hollywood celebrities.
The reason why these movie and sports stars choose private doctors is that good privacy is like a core competitiveness, apart from the excessive time spent on hospital visits.
It is assumed that every private doctor who frequents Beverly Hills is in possession of an amazing list of drug addictions and even sensitive diseases.
Margaret, who didn't have any hidden problems with getting high, was obviously a very sweet and wonderful client.
As Margo sat in her wheelchair, after being wheeled into the Beverly Hills villa by Grant Ward, she saw the man in the smart suit.
He was tall and straight, with a cool face, and those charming eyes were extremely attractive as they took on a gray, green, or blue effect depending on the light.
Margaret blinked-
Her new personal physician was this bad-tempered, long-faced man?
She'd sprained her ankle, not broken her head, so why had Bryan made this renowned neurosurgeon M.D. her personal physician?
Margaret looked at Dr. Steven Strange, who had been hailed by outsiders as "God's gift to the surgical community" for his superior medical skills, "I didn't get shot in the head."
He seemed to be in a state of displeasure at all times, "Your ankle is swollen like a piece of Russian brown bread."
Dr. Stephen Strange, the nationally known Dr. Stephen Strange, always of a superior nature, looked at Margaret's red and swollen ankles with a dangerous look that was downright frightening.
Strange grimaced as he re-treated Margo's sprained ankle, kneeling on one knee in front of the girl and having his warm breath spill over the skin of her bare leg.
Margaret stared at the top of his head and inquired without fear of death, "Will it be back to normal in a month? I need to travel to Paris to get into the crew for a new movie."
As soon as her words left her mouth, she instantly felt the cold air coming in-
No, it was the dangerous look in the long-faced, cold man's eyes.
"If you don't take this seriously, it will likely lead to old wounds and new ones, creating habitual recurring sprains," Strange was icing her, "I'll be coming in every night for a month to treat you."
Margaret could only nod obediently for now, after all, this was a professional doctor's advice to his patient, wasn't it?
She now suspected that Brian had hired this personal doctor for her in order to exact revenge on her.
The thought of meeting with this Mr. Bad Temper every night suddenly made Margaret feel a little bleak about life.
She had become disabled, so why couldn't her life be filled with love and peace?
This Mr. Stephen Strange, he looks a lot like a traditional theater super-villain.
Albeit a beautifully ascetic type of villain.
And it seems that it's also the type whose mouth says it's disgusting but whose body has already given an answer, such as at this moment--
Strange lifted Margaret from her wheelchair with a cold face, but his movements were extraordinarily gentle, smooth and reliable as he sat her down in the sofa.
Margo took the script of "Obsession" in her hand and unfolded it once more for study.
In fact, the recent intense shooting schedule, along with the accidental injury, had left her a bit tired at this point.
However, there was only one month of preparation time left before the new movie started.
Time is running out and Margaret clearly wants to make the best of every role.
Even with the shadow of exhaustion under her eyes, it's the building of Anna's character in Obsession that's more important to her.
Margot excels at internalizing romantic gravitas and portraying complex alter egos, and she performs with a masterful sense of proportion that can't be separated from the pre-commitment, even calling it wasted.
At this point, for example, when she has the script in her hand, she completely forgets that it's already dinnertime.
Strange set the silver tray with dinner on it directly in front of her eyes with a thud, "I'm afraid you're suffering from some kind of disorder, such as not knowing when you're tired and hungry."
Margaret raised an eyebrow, "Mr. Strange, I sprained my foot, not limped in the head."
The cold and charming MD frowned, "Are you going to keep calling me Mr. Strange?"
"And Dr. Strange?"
The dark-haired classical beauty had a crystal voice, a serious tone, and a touch of charming dominance -
"How about Bad Temper Chickie?"
- Writer
