"Lily Collins?"
Murphy immediately remembered. She was the young actress recommended by Bill Rossi to play James Franco's daughter. She was supposed to come in for rehearsal today, but why was there this strange noise in the dark?
Once she recognized the voice as Lily Collins, Carey Mulligan lightly patted her chest, her heart settling back into place. However, the hand that was clutching Murphy's arm didn't let go. Instead, it tightened as she followed him down the wide corridor toward the source of the sound.
Carey Mulligan's expressive eyes were already smiling, clearly aware of something Murphy didn't know.
She was not just a simple good girl.
Turning a corner, the sound became clearer. It was unmistakably a girl's moaning. Murphy frowned. Lily Collins was only twelve years old. Could it be...?
The set, surrounded by props, was right on the other side of the warehouse wall, with an entrance left for the camera. Murphy hesitated at the entrance. Although he had never heard such sounds in person, he knew what they might signify.
Are white girls really this precocious?
Just as he hesitated, Carey Mulligan squeezed past him, sticking her head through the props for a quick peek inside. She swiftly pulled back, her expression exaggerated.
Murphy glared at her, then questioned her with his eyes. Carey Mulligan deliberately pouted and mouthed, "James Franco!"
Franco? Murphy's eyes widened in disbelief. When had this usually timid guy become so bold?
He took a step forward, blocking Carey Mulligan behind him, and quickly peeked inside. The scene was not what he imagined at all.
On set, Lily Collins sat in a tall, high-backed chair, one leg stretched out with her pants rolled up to her knee. Her shoes and socks were off, and her foot rested on the bent leg of James Franco, who was sitting on a low stool across from her.
James Franco was holding Lily Collins' ankle with one hand, while the other slowly massaged up from her sole. The girl seemed to enjoy the game, making strange noises each time Franco's hand touched her foot.
"Remember?" James Franco squeezed a toe, "This little piggy went to the market."
His hand moved to the next toe, "This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy had roast beef. This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried 'wee wee wee' all the way home."
Lily Collins giggled, "I like this."
From what they said, it seemed like they were rehearsing, but Franco's enthusiasm and Collins' laughter didn't quite match a typical rehearsal.
Murphy shook his head, deciding to leave. As he turned to go, he heard Lily Collins urge, "Don't stop, Daddy! Keep going."
Murphy shivered involuntarily, grabbed Carey Mulligan, and left without heading back to the office, directly exiting the warehouse.
"Why are we leaving?"
Carey Mulligan took out a sunhat from her bag and put it on, still holding Murphy's arm. She complained, "That was such a good show. It's a shame not to watch."
Murphy dragged her toward the car, exasperated, "Do you want me to get you a chair so you can sit at the door and watch?"
"That would be too embarrassing," she followed closely behind him, "Though I've seen them together before..."
She suddenly stopped talking.
"Before?" Murphy turned to her by the Ford, "When was that?"
Carey Mulligan quickly shook her head, "I don't know. Once, I left the set early and saw those two whispering in a corner, very close."
"Since then, I've felt something was off about them," she continued as she moved to the passenger side, "You know what James Franco is like. He wouldn't miss out on someone like Lily. Oh, and..."
She seemed to know a lot that Murphy didn't. Once he was in the car, she opened the passenger door, sat down, and fastened her seatbelt, "I once asked Lily what she thought of James, and she said he was great, just like her... dad."
"Uh..."
Murphy started the car but didn't move, stunned.
After a moment, he realized that James Franco wasn't as dumb as he seemed. It looked like he had found Lily Collins' weak spot.
If he remembered correctly, Lily Collins had been separated from her father from a young age, and now she was calling James Franco 'Dad'...
"What a messed-up relationship."
This thought flashed through Murphy's mind as he drove away. Hollywood had too many messy affairs. He didn't want to think about it anymore. From his time with Franco, he could tell that the actor was actually smart, knowing what to do and what not to do. Even if he wanted to do something inappropriate, he would choose the right time and place.
"What are you thinking about?" Carey Mulligan's voice brought him back as the Ford rejoined the main road, "You'll crash if you keep spacing out!"
Murphy quickly focused, "Nothing."
Carey Mulligan loosened her seatbelt, "In a few days, I'll be able to drop out."
Murphy glanced at her, surprised, "Your parents agreed?"
"I don't want them to control me!"
Seeing Murphy look over again, Carey Mulligan nodded seriously, "I've already convinced them."
The word "convinced" sounded strange. Murphy, driving, didn't notice. He didn't try to persuade her further. After all, her parents had agreed.
He knew there were things he didn't understand, but the Mulligan couple had compromised once, so another compromise wasn't surprising.
Seeing Murphy silent, Carey Mulligan puffed her cheeks, turning to him, "Don't you have any suggestions?"
"Suggestions?" Murphy thought seriously for a moment, then said, "Carey, have Bill arrange an acting school or training class for you."
"I just quit school to gain freedom," Carey Mulligan pouted, "And you want to send me back to school."
"Sweetie," Murphy gently prodded, "Remember? You said I would be a great director, and you would be the best actress. I'm working hard now."
Carey Mulligan lowered her head, "I understand. I have to work hard too."
Murphy reached out and gently patted her head.
The car entered Venice's city center, and they had a fun-filled afternoon.
After some relaxation, the crew regrouped for the final shoot.
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