Chapter 91 – California Lust
Cameron Diaz glanced around the balcony from the corner of her eye, confirming no one nearby was paying attention. Then she tilted her head up and rose onto her toes.
Their kiss was fiery, and she could feel the heat radiating from him. The way his hands moved over her body sent a thrill through her heart.
Getting into this party had come at a steep cost—but if it led to something happening with this man, then every bit of effort had been worth it.
Meanwhile, in a quieter corner of the party, Nicole Kidman walked gracefully toward Naomi Watts, a glass of wine delicately held in her hand. She gave her fellow Aussie a once-over.
"Congratulations, Nami."
"Thanks."
The two women clinked glasses and exchanged polite smiles.
Nicole Kidman stood tall—taller than most of the men in the room. She lowered her chin slightly, narrowing her eyes as she studied Naomi.
"There were quite a few Aussie get-togethers you missed lately. Everyone's been asking about you."
Naomi took a small step back, subtly adjusting for the height difference as she smiled. "I'll definitely show up next time. You know how it's been lately—nonstop chaos. I just wrapped two films back-to-back with barely any rest in between. And once Get Out hit theaters, the promotional tour started immediately. Honestly, the fans have been intense. I'm still catching my breath."
The mention of Get Out caused a brief flicker across Nicole's face, her smile faltering just for a moment before she quickly recovered.
She tilted her head slightly and smiled again. "Of course. I can imagine how tiring that must be. I also heard you stayed at Garfield's estate for a while? It's funny—we both live on Mulholland Drive, but we've never had a chance to catch up."
At that, Naomi's smile went cold.
The meaning behind Nicole's words was obvious—she knew Naomi had been kicked out of that mansion, and another woman had moved in.
Naomi swallowed her frustration and met Nicole's gaze evenly. "That's fine. There'll be plenty of chances to catch up, Nicole. I'll be buying a house of my own up there soon enough."
"Then I'll look forward to your housewarming party," Nicole replied with a raised brow.
Before the conversation could continue, Pat Kingsley approached them, cutting Nicole off.
"Miss Watts, would you mind helping us get an introduction to Director Garfield? Mr. Cruise would like to have a word."
Naomi turned to look at the legendary CAA agent and smiled politely.
"Right now? I'm not sure where he went, but if I see him, I'll let him know."
She gave a small nod and walked off.
Naomi circled the banquet hall, but Wayne was nowhere to be found. It wasn't until she got near the balcony that she heard... strange sounds.
Tilting her head, she peeked in—and her expression instantly shifted. Seeing no one else around, she clicked across the floor in heels and stepped onto the wide balcony, still holding her wine glass.
There stood Wayne, leaning against the marble railing, a cigarette in one hand and a champagne flute in the other.
"Wayne! Someone's looking for you!"
"Hey, Nami!" Wayne responded with a slightly awkward smile. He quickly set his drink down and gestured outside the balcony. "Give me a second. I'll be right out!"
Naomi rolled her eyes and turned to walk away. She swore to God—that woman in there definitely wasn't Halle Berry. She'd just seen Halle elsewhere a moment ago.
Curiosity got the better of her. Naomi paused, then turned back, determined to see just which vixen had managed to latch onto Wayne during a simple trip to the restroom.
Wayne dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe. From his inner pocket, he pulled out a business card and handed it over, saying in a low voice:
"I've got something to take care of. Here's my contact—feel free to call anytime."
"Of course, darling. You're amazing," the girl replied sweetly, clutching the card like a prize. "I'll give you a call soon."
She turned and walked out, completely unaware that Naomi Watts was eyeing her with a very specific kind of scrutiny.
"Ahem... Nami, who's looking for me?" Wayne cleared his throat, trying to cover the awkwardness on his face.
"Pat Kingsley—Tom Cruise's agent. She said the superstar wants to meet you."
Naomi sighed silently to herself, but on her face was that same sweet smile Wayne liked. As for the girl who'd just left? She acted like she hadn't seen anything at all.
After all, this was Hollywood—and what happened at parties like these was hardly a surprise to anyone.
The party was swarming with beautiful people—especially young women in revealing outfits gliding through the crowd, their eyes always searching.
Just like every other Hollywood insider party, there was never a shortage of attractive women. Some were hired by the event planners, but many had found their way in through friends, agents, or industry connections.
The latter had a clear purpose.
At a party like this—packed with directors, stars, producers, and studio executives—landing a major role wasn't the only win. Just getting a cameo or a few lines could be the start of a new career. And since nearly everyone invited was wealthy or well-connected, this was also a chance for some women to rewrite their lives using nothing more than their looks.
"Naomi, how'd they get in? Isn't this Warner Bros.' private celebration for Get Out?" Wayne asked, a little puzzled.
"I'm not sure," Naomi shrugged, then added with a sly smirk, "But let's be honest—if they want an invitation, it's way easier for them than for those girls. At least they don't have to get on their knees and…"
"Hey, Naomi!"
Wayne chuckled as they playfully bickered and made their way to a quiet corner of the hall. From a distance, he immediately spotted the unmistakable figure of Nicole Kidman.
Compared to her, Tom Cruise—her husband—looked almost a head shorter. When they noticed Wayne approaching, they both stood up, glasses in hand.
"Wayne, this is Tom Cruise and his wife, Nicole Kidman," Naomi offered a quick introduction.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Garfield," said Tom with a warm smile, extending his hand first.
"Pleasure's mine, Mr. Cruise," Wayne replied as they shook hands firmly.
The two men subtly evaluated each other.
Young Tom Cruise, aside from his short stature, truly was a top-tier idol. His dedication to his craft surpassed many no-name actors, and from his breakout in the '80s to the turn of the millennium, he had been a consistent box office draw. His failures were rare—but Far and Away just happened to be one of them.
"Mr. Cruise, I'm actually a big fan. After watching Top Gun, I almost enlisted in the military—if my mom hadn't stopped me!"
Wayne's voice carried just loud enough for nearby guests to hear. He had no issue playing the game, exchanging pleasantries and polite flattery with ease.
"Please—call me Tom, Wayne." The compliment made Cruise visibly more relaxed. "Congratulations on your film's success. You're a genius."
Both men conveniently ignored the smear campaign from just a few days ago. Neither of them mentioned it, as if it had never happened.
In Hollywood, only the smart survive. And even if someone wasn't sharp themselves, they'd certainly have a savvy agent who was. What happened before was just business—pure competition. And with Universal pulling back on their promo budget, the battle for the box office was effectively over.
Hollywood may seem vast, but it's a small world. You never know who you'll be working with tomorrow.
"Well then, Wayne, we should get together sometime. Come visit the estate—we practically live next door," said Tom, wrapping up the exchange with another friendly smile.
"Absolutely." They shook hands again, this time with more warmth. Then Wayne turned with Naomi and made his way to the lounge area to sit down.
"This is Hollywood," Naomi sighed, sipping her drink.
Wayne looked over at the blonde beside him. "Yeah. This is Hollywood. Anyway, it's getting late—I think I'll head out. You?"
He waved over at Halle Berry, who was watching from across the room. As she approached, he stood and adjusted his jacket.
Naomi's gaze narrowed as she locked eyes on the stunning Black actress. "You're not getting serious with her, are you? When is she moving out?"
"Soon. Probably before the movie finishes its run. The African-American audience is still riding high on the buzz."
As Halle Berry slipped her arm through Wayne's, he asked Naomi, "Need a ride?"
"No, don't worry about me. I'll have my agent drop me off." Naomi gave a brief glance at the radiant woman next to him, clearly not in the mood for drama.
Wayne simply shrugged and headed out with Halle. Their driver, Sergei, opened the car door, and the vehicle quietly pulled away toward Beverly Hills.
What surprised Wayne the most that evening wasn't Tom Cruise's appearance—but rather Tim Burton.
It was clear the gothic filmmaker had full confidence in his upcoming release, Batman Returns. But Wayne knew better.
That film would—at least partially—shatter the expectations of many longtime Batman fans.
And it served as a valuable reminder: not every film needs to be deep and stylistically offbeat. Overdoing it could come with consequences.