"Lance, Lance" sounded behind Lance in the trivial and noisy voices. He stopped and turned around. Then Lance saw Terence Cox's tall and burly body. He nodded to the others who stopped beside him, and walked quickly through the crowd in the direction where Lance was. "I thought you would go backstage to celebrate Tom."

The award ceremony is over, but the winners are not over. They will first go to the backstage to wait for their little golden man to engrave their letters, then hold the little golden man to accept photos from the media, and finally the direct interview session of the media on-site, which takes at least thirty minutes to an hour.

In order to show respect, many people go to the backstage to express their congratulations to the winners before leaving the Kodak Theater.

Lance's eyes fell on Terence and looked at it carefully. The deep-sense eyes did not trigger any special reaction from Terence. On the contrary, he widened his eyes, as if asking "Is there anything wrong?" But Terence's embarrassment and restraint in his heart gradually turned into anger. He did not like Lance's eyes, calmly and exploratory, but could taste a hint of sarcasm and joke, as if mocking his embarrassment.

"I thought Tom would want to enjoy a little personal space." Lance did not let the torture continue, and stopped when he saw it was better, and said with a smile.

Terence's words stopped and recalled the rebuff he had just been in the backstage. After the award ceremony, he immediately entered the backstage and reminded Tom that he should pay attention to in the next interview session, including paying tribute to the public relations team and agency team, and a series of image projects. However, he saw Tom's rare emotional collapse and his tears could not be stopped.

Terrence knew that this was absolutely a devastating blow to Tom's image. He could be excited, he could be out of control, he could be moved, but he could not cry like a sissy. Terrence quickly took Tom to the corner of the stairwell, trying to stop Tom and regain his self-control, but Tom stopped him directly and even drove him away fiercely. He had never seen Tom get such a big fire.

Raising his eyes, Terence seemed to want to find clues from Lance's eyes. What did Lance's words imply, but unfortunately he failed. Lance's smile-like eyes made him feel urge to swing his fists, but he knew this was a public place, and countless eyes were watching his every move: as a senior agent of the innovative artist agency, his every move would be remembered by the public. Don't look at everyone talking on their own and leaving one after another, but countless eyes fell on him and Lance. It can be imagined that after the conversation ended, gossip would begin to spread.

"If he sees you, he will be happier." Terence did not let his thoughts surge, and immediately continued, as if Lance's words were ordinary, "Actually, I came here specifically to invite you and Tom to attend Oscar Night. I believe that the reporters will be very happy to see you appear at the same time."

This invitation is not only for Oscar Night, but also Tom wants to introduce Reims to the top of Hollywood's pyramids as he is, which is of great significance.

Although Lance has proved himself now that Warner Bros. and Disney values ​​it the most direct expression, it is still a long way from entering Hollywood's power list. If Tom is willing to be a referee, it would be better. Think about it carefully, this is also the best time: the success of the three works, Chaos Pictures' future plan, "Borrowing a knife to kill someone" to help Tom ask for the tripod

"Of course." Lance showed a modest smile, "This is my honor." Lance politely closed his jaw, "Then I'll go back and prepare for it first, if it's a little while."

Before Lance finished speaking, Terence automatically answered, "Tom will send a car to pick you up." Lance suddenly realized, "Then I will say goodbye first. I don't want to miss tonight because of being late." After that, Lance nodded to Terence again, turned around and took a step.

Terence's eyes fell on Reims' shoulders, thinking.

Two years ago, George Clooney introduced Lance to him. He didn't care too much at the time. He was just an ordinary director. But two years later, things seemed to have gone far beyond expectations. He knew Lance was a potential stock, but he also thought Lance was the spike in the chrysanthemum. So, if he did it again, he would still make the same choice.

But what he was even more curious about was that George and Lance were not good friends? So, why didn’t George consider being the referee of Lance? Or did George mention it before, but Lance refused?

Tonight was definitely an emotional night for Tom, but he didn't expect that he was still thinking about himself, which surprised Lance. Because Tom was not the kind of college student who had just left society, he was grateful for his little favor. After rolling in Hollywood for twenty years, Tom knew better than Lance's operating rules. But even so, Tom still offered an invitation.

It was an hour later when Tom's extended car arrived at the styling shop on Santa Monica Avenue. When Lance walked out, he saw Tom open the car door and greet him with a smile. After sitting in the back seat, Tom handed Lance a glass of champagne, "This is yours."

At this time, Tom had gradually calmed down, regained his usual elegant and handsomeness, and put on the idol mask that Americans knew about. However, his slightly red and swollen eyes still failed to dissipate in time, and even his thick makeup could not be completely covered, showing clues that happened in the past hour.

"I thought the moment that belonged to me has passed." Lance refers to the moment of glory that should have belonged to Tom, but most of the content about Lance is.

Tom laughed and did not answer directly, but raised the little golden man on the small table next to him, everything was silent. So Lance raised the champagne glass in his hand and responded.

After taking a sip of champagne, a thought flashed through Lance's mind, so he asked directly, "Tom, where is your hometown?"

"Syracuse, a small town in New York." Tom said without hesitation, "Later I tried to find development opportunities in New York, but unfortunately the stage play was obviously not suitable for me." Tom said half-jokingly, but then he saw Lance's thoughtful expression, and then realized that this was not a topic of chatting, "What's wrong? Why did he suddenly be curious about my hometown?"

Lance frowned slightly, and he thought about his tone, "Because Martin asked me this question at the end of the ceremony." Tom paused slightly, then picked up the champagne and took a sip. This simple action made Lance see the clues, "So, do you know why he asked this question?" This is not a question, but a affirmative sentence.

Instead of speaking immediately, Tom played with the champagne glass and thought about it, as if he had made up some determination, then he asked, "Where is your hometown?"

"San Francisco." Lance gave the same answer.

Tom showed a puzzled look, "San Francisco? I didn't expect this answer. I always thought you were a New Yorker." Tom shrugged, "And it wasn't from a small town in New York, nor from New Jersey, or from New York." Lance not only did not get the answer, but became more and more confused. "I'm not saying you look rich or something, but your style. Your work style, your style of conduct, including your extreme paranoia for scripts, and the way you direct films, everything looks like you are from New York."

A little cold sweat suddenly oozed out of Lance's back. He did not expect that this random question would point directly to his soul: Although Lancelot had studied in London for many years, as Li Jin, as Lance after the soul fusion, in his previous life, he had soaked in New York for thirteen years, and every cell of his cell was affected by New York.

Since his rebirth, no one has ever noticed the deepest secret in Lance's heart except Ian. Even Ian, he was just a little suspicious. However, he did not expect Tom to point out this secret directly. What's even more terrifying is that it is not just Tom, but Martin. Does that mean that there are other people?

Lance tried hard to remain calm, but his right hand holding the wine glass became cold. "Oh? Why do you say that?" Lance smiled calmly, trying his best not to reveal any flaws. "I'm a little confused. Can I take this as a compliment?"

Tom chuckled and waved his hand, "Of course, you can treat it as a kind of praise. You must know that New York's status in the film industry is irreplaceable, and even has a greater influence than Los Angeles. Because people will regard Hollywood as synonymous with commercial films, but New York!" Tom paused, "New York is a land that nurtures culture, ideas, and art. So, of course, this is a kind of praise."

He raised the champagne in his hand, and Tom's eyes showed a hint of respect, "Give you a hint that Martin Scorses is from New York, he lives in the Little Italian district of Manhattan, and Woody Allen is also a New Yorker. He is so enthusiastic about that city that he refuses to enter the Los Angeles circle."

Lance felt aware, "The media always associates you with Woody, not just because of your screenwriter talent." Tom's words answered many things, "In fact, it's not just me, but many people in Hollywood think you are a New Yorker. You know, the City of God, killing people with a knife, the City of Sin, and even the day after tomorrow. In you, the imprint of New York is deeply imprinted."

Shocked! Lance truly felt the shock deep in his soul. To be continued.

...
Chapter completed!