Nicky located the private room and confirmed her name was on the guest list with the server before pushing the door open. The soft thud of the door against the wall broke the room's quiet chatter. Under the gaze of everyone at the table, she flashed a bright, unbothered grin and waved. "Good evening, everyone! I'm here-have you ordered yet?"
Without a hint of awkwardness, she pulled out a chair and sat down, holding up her phone to show the screen: 8:00 PM sharp. "Right on time. Perfect timing, huh?"
"Nicky, over here." A man in a charcoal gray shirt stood up. It was Mark from Spark Entertainment's talent relations. A flicker of irritation passed through his eyes, but he kept his tone patient. Officially, this dinner was about discussing a potential project, but its real purpose was for Nicky to impress the legendary director. Her casual vibe suggested she'd missed that point entirely.
Nicky didn't move. Instead, she leaned forward and eyed the chair he'd offered with exaggerated curiosity. "Is this chair made of gold? Why so special?" She shook her head, feigning disappointment. "Guess it's true-there's no free lunch. I'll just stay here." And she settled firmly back into her seat.
Mark, cut off mid-script, froze on the spot. He could only watch as Nicky flagged down a server. "Can I see the menu, please?" It arrived. She scanned it quickly and ordered, "First, bring three bowls of rice. And add a plate of beef dumplings at the end." She then looked around the table. "Anyone else want extra rice?"
The seven other guests, spaced far apart around the large round table, instinctively shook their heads-who orders rice and dumplings first thing at a high-end industry dinner? Mark's eye twitched, but he swallowed his frustration. At least she was moving things along.
The moment the menus were taken away, Mark stood and approached Nicky, gesturing toward the man at the head of the table with newfound reverence. "Nicky, this is Mr. Spielberg."
Nicky stood up, polite but distant, and extended her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Spielberg. I'm Nicky-the one who's famous online for being a troublemaker, having no acting skills, and getting roles through family connections."
Across the room, Leo, who had just taken a sip of water, nearly choked. He coughed into his napkin-that was one hell of an introduction.
Lina, another Spark artist at the table, didn't even try to hide her smirk, exchanging a knowing glance with her agent. With that attitude, she thinks she can impress Spielberg? What a joke. Spark had sent them both; whoever made a positive impression would get the part.
Mr. Spielberg, however, didn't seem offended. He chuckled. "I like straightforward people." With that, Mark couldn't scold her. He turned to a nearby cabinet, pulled out two bottles-one whiskey, one red wine-and presented them. "Which one would you prefer, sir?"
He then turned to Nicky, his voice laced with unsubtle suggestion. "Nicky, propose a toast to Mr. Spielberg."
"No problem!" Nicky agreed readily. She picked up the whiskey, brought it to her nose, and her eyes lit up. "Single malt Scotch, nice." She expertly poured a modest amount for Mr. Spielberg, then filled her own glass nearly to the brim. She raised it. "First time meeting you, sir. I'll have three shots as an apology for any preconceived notions you might have."
Before anyone could react, she threw her head back and downed the first glass. Then the second. Then the third. Her face didn't flush; her breathing didn't change. She just smacked her lips appreciatively and reached for the bottle again. "A little whiskey warms you up-better for eating later." Three more shots followed. Her eyes seemed to sparkle.
"First meeting, I don't have much to offer. Let me toast you three more times!" She moved to pour again. Mark finally snapped, grabbing the bottle, his voice tight with panic. "Nicky! Did you just come here to drink?!"
"What are you talking about?" Nicky raised an eyebrow, utterly matter-of-fact. "I came here to eat, and drinking is a bonus. Besides, didn't you tell me to make a toast?" She looked at Mark, her tone teasing. "Mark, it's just a bottle-no need to be so stingy, right?"
Mr. Spielberg watched the scene unfold and suddenly laughed out loud. "Interesting. Much more real than those carefully managed celebrities." He picked up his glass and raised it toward Nicky. "I'll join you for this one."
Nicky's eyes lit up. She immediately refilled her glass and clinked it against his. "Thanks, Mr. Spielberg! Cheers!" She downed it in one go. Only then did she notice the main courses still hadn't arrived. She turned back to the server. "When will my rice be here? I'm starving!"
Mark watched the dinner spiral completely out of his control, his head throbbing. He'd expected Nicky to mess up-but not in such a spectacularly unhinged way in front of Steven Spielberg. Yet, judging by the director's reaction... he seemed to genuinely like her chaotic energy?