"Simon, you're definitely just flattering me on purpose. In Once Upon a Time in America, the female role everyone remembers most is the young Deborah."
"This is absolutely not flattery, Ms. Fluegel. I can't quite explain why, but I'm often drawn to these inadvertent lines from women in films. Maybe it's a 'sorry' with a particular lilt, or a plea to 'have mercy.' In that moment, they just seem utterly captivating."
In the Coldwater Canyon neighborhood on the western edge of Beverly Hills.
At the party at Jonathan Friedman's house, the agent had clearly pulled out all the stops to woo Robert De Niro, specially inviting some WMA clients who'd worked with him in the past.
The Hollywood actress Simon was chatting with now was Darlanne Fluegel, who played De Niro's girlfriend Eve in Once Upon a Time in America.
Darlanne Fluegel was in her early thirties, with blonde hair and blue eyes—a classic German beauty, though her looks and vibe carried a touch of Naomi Watts.
Hearing him say this, she gazed at him with interest. "So, what about me, Simon? Which line of mine caught you?"
Simon teased her a bit. "Guess."
Darlanne Fluegel didn't have much screen time in Once Upon a Time in America. She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't know."
At her reply, Simon's lips curved into a smile. "That's the one—'I don't know.' At the start of the film, when those thugs burst into Eve's place demanding Noodles' whereabouts, she says, I don't know. Twice. Ever since I first saw Once Upon a Time in America and heard those two 'I don't knows,' I've been utterly convinced that Eve is the most captivating woman in the whole movie."
"Oh, Simon, you're so observant—and quite the smooth talker," Darlanne Fluegel said, her striking blue eyes flickering. "So, do you think I could audition for Mia in Pulp Fiction? I submitted my resume, but I got passed over."
Westerners didn't beat around the bush; hearing her pitch herself, Simon just smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but Mia needs to be around 180 centimeters tall."
Darlanne Fluegel found his use of metric for height a bit odd but didn't give up easily. "What about heels?"
"Mia's barefoot most of the time in the film," Simon explained, then added, "But I think we'll definitely have a chance to work together. Maybe you could leave me your contact info."
Darlanne Fluegel looked at the harmlessly smiling young man before her, her expression turning slightly hesitant.
After a brief silence, just as she was about to speak, a white man in his thirties jogged over from the villa. Reaching them, he slipped an arm around Darlanne waist and eyed Simon uncertainly, asking her, "Darling, what are you two talking about?"
Sensing the shift in Simon's gaze, Darlanne forced a smile and gestured between them. "Simon, this is my husband, Michael Small. Mike, this is Simon—Simon Westeros."
With two smash-hit films in a row, Simon had gained massive fame. But he wasn't the type to seek the spotlight, so it wasn't surprising that Michael Small hadn't recognized him right away.
At his wife's introduction, Michael Small's face lit with recognition, and he extended a hand enthusiastically in greeting.
They chatted a bit more before Michael Small led Darlene Flueger away.
Simon lifted his glass to his lips for a sip of cocktail, then headed toward Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves, who'd been standing nearby chatting the whole time.
Seeing Simon approach, Keanu Reeves just nodded hello and turned to leave.
Simon watched Keanu's retreating figure, clearly bottling up some emotion, then glanced at Sandra, who wore a half-smile, half-not. "What happened?"
"Nothing," Sandra said, shaking her head, though her grin only grew. She couldn't hold back. "I just... I overheard a line that left quite an impression."
Simon made a helpless face. "Didn't peg you for an eavesdropper."
Sandra shot him a look. "Keanu and I were standing right here before you cornered that woman to chat her up, okay? I'm not deaf."
"Fine," Simon shrugged. "My bad."
Sandra gave him a 'damn right it is' look, her smile lingering as she eyed him. "Aren't you going to guess which line stuck with me?"
Simon countered, "Is there a prize if I get it right?"
Sandra asked boldly, "What kind of prize do you want?"
Simon didn't answer, but he narrowed his eyes and deliberately scanned her up and down.
The party theme was casual—no formal attire required.
Sandra wore a fitted black wool sweater and white slacks; the high-neck style exposed her rounded shoulders, adding an unexpected touch of allure.
Noticing his gaze on her shoulders, Sandra suddenly felt self-conscious. She wiped the smile from her face and glared at him fiercely. "What are you looking at?"
She regretted it instantly.
So unladylike.
"Just... it reminded me of a joke," Simon said, pointing to her off-shoulder sweater. "And then I got this urge to sew up the shoulders on your top."
Sew them up?
Sandra puzzled over it for a second, then framed a square in the air with her hands. "You're so square."
Simon watched her gesture and laughed. "You've read the Pulp Fiction script?"
Sandra's motion was exactly Mia's in Pulp Fiction, mocking Vincent for balking at the Jack Rabbit Slim's. In old cartoons, characters would draw a square to call someone a square.
"Yeah," Sandra nodded, her eyes holding a hint of playful grievance. "Even though you didn't invite me, I still wanted to see if there was a role for me."
"I actually thought about giving you Bunny. But on second thought, that part wouldn't help your career—it'd clash with the image you built in Run Lola Run. So I dropped it." Simon felt a twinge of regret, then added, "Oh, and I heard Back to the Future 2 is on hold. How'd your audition for the lead go?"
Sandra had considered Bunny herself.
She wouldn't have minded the impact if it meant being in Simon's new film.
But hearing he'd thought the same and nixed it for her sake melted her minor resentment away.
To his last question, she nodded. "Universal's in a rush—they threw out several production plans—but Robert Zemeckis realized he couldn't juggle Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Back to the Future 2. So it's pushed to next year. But they've offered me the lead contract; they want to shoot both sequels back-to-back. Jonathan's still negotiating my pay."
Simon smiled at her news. "Congratulations, then."
After Run Lola Run, adding two surefire Back to the Future hits would cement Sandra's status in Hollywood. As long as she avoided string of flops, she could hold her A-list spot for a decade or two, no problem.
Sandra knew the stakes too, beaming happily, but then she recalled the earlier exchange and fixed him with a dissatisfied stare. "You almost distracted me—the line. Guess or not?"
Simon sighed. "'This is my husband.' Happy now?"
Seeing his glum look and recalling the scene, Sandra burst out laughing again, covering her mouth as giggles escaped, tears welling up.
After a while, she asked him with gleeful schadenfreude, "How do you feel now?"
Simon fished a business card from his pants pocket and waved it in front of her, grinning. "Not bad at all. Someone slipped this to me on the sly—I'm still debating."
Sandra stared at the card for two seconds, then lunged for it.
Simon dodged her hand easily, tucking it back leisurely. "Can't give this to you. If it turns into woman stealing from woman, us guys would lose all face."
Sandra's eyes followed the card into his pocket. "You're not really going to call, are you?"
"You heard it—if there's a fitting film, I'd love to work with 'Eve.' Strictly professional."
Sandra eyed his righteous tone with scorn. "You think I'll buy that?"
"That's why there's no point explaining to women—you won't believe it anyway," Simon said, laughing. Noticing Jonathan and De Niro emerging from the villa and glancing his way, he told Sandra, "I'm going to chat with them. Oh, want me to drive you home later?"
He nodded at her wine glass as he spoke.
Sandra almost said no—her assistant Gina was at the party and could take her.
But after a beat, she said, "Sure."
"Alright then."
Simon didn't think much of it, nodded, and headed toward the approaching pair.
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