Chương 492: Chapter 492: Hefner's Party
The black, elongated Lincoln rolled to a gradual stop near Mount Holbey.
Beneath the starlit sky, a procession of car lights snaked up the road leading to the famed Playboy mansion atop the hill. Hugh Hefner's legendary annual party attracted a multitude of guests.
Sporting silk pajamas with a slightly unbuttoned shirt revealing his robust physique, Martin queried Nicholson, "You knew about this Playboy bash and didn't clue us in!"
Leonardo echoed the sentiment, "Yeah, we're pals, aren't we?"
Nicholson peered through the car window at the mansion perched atop the hill. "Truth be told, it's been years since I've been here," he reminisced. "A slight kerfuffle with Hefner—unclear issues, I'd say."
Martin's mind raced, "Did you... hook up with one of Hefner's gals? Not Pamela Anderson, right?"
Nicholson frowned, retorting, "Do I seem like that type?"
For the sake of clarity, Nicholson explained, "One night, with Marlon Brando and Warren Beatty, we got pretty soused. Marlon, God bless his soul, set loose all of Hefner's critters from their cages. The tragic result? Hefner's beloved cat troupe met its end at the paws of a rabbit..."
In a dramatic gesture, Nicholson slid a ring off his gloved hand, stretching his fingers to illustrate, "Henceforth, we were persona non grata. It wasn't until a bash last year that things seemed kosher again."
Leonardo, wide-eyed, gasped, "Hefner's rabbits were as fierce as the man himself?"
Martin concluded, "I should've paid a visit earlier."
"Never hurts to mingle at Hefner's dos," Nicholson advised. "It's not just beauties; you'll find industry bigwigs. A perfect opportunity to broaden your network. Sharing an escapade with a playmate can instantly solidify a connection."
Thinking of Thomas, Martin pondered aloud, "I've invited my agent. He needs more connections."
Leonardo concurred, "Your agent pales compared to the top brass like Ali and Bryan."
Martin dialed Thomas's number, urging, "Hey, buddy, I've got an invite for the Playboy Party. Aren't you joining?"
At his recently refurbished villa, Thomas eyed the invitation laid out on the table, contemplating, "I'll head there a bit later."
Grabbing the invite, he spotted the newly purchased addition: a set of pajamas.
As the bedroom door creaked open, Thomas's girlfriend Victoria emerged, leaning against the frame. "Darling, can't you stay here with me?"
Peering at the invitation, Thomas replied, "I'm sorry, it's work."
"Work?" Victoria's tone spiked. "Is attending Playboy parties and frolicking with bunny girls part of your job?"
Thomas calmly explained, "Martin just called me..."
"Martin again!" Victoria erupted. "Am I your girlfriend, or is Martin your sweetheart?"
She'd grown weary of hearing Martin's name since she'd started dating Thomas. "Can't you see? You're addicted to Martin. When you're with him, you're on cloud nine! And once you're away from him, it's like quitting an addiction!"
Frowning, Thomas realized this wasn't the Victoria he knew before they moved in together.
He admonished, "That's enough. Martin isn't up for discussion!"
Victoria fell silent, momentarily taken aback, before shutting her lips tight.
Thomas pocketed the invitation and made his way out.
Victoria, harboring thoughts of the seductive scene at the Playboy party, couldn't contain herself, "You better be back before 1 o'clock! If not, I'll hit the streets shouting, 'Super agent Thomas is going rogue!' Watch out, bros!"
Thomas found her incessant chatter rather taxing. He stepped out and entered the garage, his head shining bright under the luminous light.
Regret seeped in momentarily. Wouldn't it be simpler to indulge in a string of companions? Why did he lose his mind and settle for a live-in girlfriend?
As the time ticked by, he swiftly maneuvered the Cadillac provided by Martin and raced toward Mount Holbey.
At the Playboy Mansion gates, Nicholson rolled down the window. The security guard inspected their invitations and ushered them in.
Exiting the car, Martin beheld a sea of flawless limbs.
The gathering comprised mainly men, with women either being Hugh Hefner's Playboy darlings or attendees who'd splurged for their tickets.
Some donned lace pajamas while others sported bikinis, each flaunting a striking figure, a testament to the beauty of American women.
Martin exchanged pleasantries with familiar faces, Daniel from Warner, the esteemed Morgan Freeman with whom he'd collaborated, and Jim Witt from WMA, among others.
Navigating through, Martin spotted Hugh Hefner surrounded by a coterie of playmates.
With arms around a couple of stunning women, Hefner jested, "Jack, you've brought in fresh blood, but you didn't introduce them to me. Afraid my girls might gobble them up?"
Nicholson, with a playful air, boasted of his tax evasion, "I have two brothers, one holds the record for the shortest 100 meters, and the other for the longest marathon. I fear your girls might break them."
Hefner turned to Leonardo, "I heard if a model hasn't been vouched for by Leonardo, she can't be called a supermodel."
Then, addressing Martin, Hefner teased, "Moreover, if a model hasn't been savored by Martin Weiss, she's not top-tier."
Martin, at ease, spread his arms, "Mr. Hefner, I heard you have 2,000 Playboy girls. I can help you assess. How many are top-tier beauties?"
Hefner chuckled, "Ah, the appetites of today's youth! Martin, I took a shine to you from the start. I'll gift you one of my treasures!"
He motioned to a tall, blond-haired girl in a golden string bikini, "Holly, you'll accompany Martin tonight. Let him savor as he pleases."
Taking Martin's arm, Holly, towering and glamorous, rivaled the touch of Alexandra.
With an insincere wave to Leonardo and Nicholson, Martin quipped, "Best of luck, fellas."
Holly led Martin toward the pool, the hub of beauty and revelry. "I'm Holly Madison, a model. I graced the cover of Playboy last year," she introduced.
Straightforwardly, she inquired, "How many more girlfriends should I gather?"
Martin, no stranger to the scene, replied, "One brunette, one redhead, and one with dark brown hair."
Each man here was attended by at least two or three girls.
Holly summoned three stunning companions, their figures flawless, their presence elevating moods and fostering easy camaraderie among strangers.
Engaging with folks, Martin met representatives from Paramount, discussing the upcoming Cannes Film Festival.
Having attended the three major European film festivals, winning a grand prize was his aspiration.
"Benjamin," co-produced by Warner Bros. and Paramount Pictures, garnered robust support from Warner Bros. for Martin.
With David Fincher's recent lukewarm reception at the Oscars and European festivals, winning the Palme d'Or became a focus. The Cannes Best Actor award was also a fiercely contested spot.
As Martin engaged in conversation, Thomas hustled in. This task naturally fell under the purview of the agent.
As Martin basked in his role as the party's leading figure, he split the girls orbiting him, assigning two to Thomas, keeping only Holly and a brunette named Melissa by his side.
Some attendees were eager to leave, accompanied by the company they'd garnered at the party.
Holly and Melissa too harbored hopes of departing with Martin. Their readiness to join him was palpable.
Unperturbed, Martin merely toyed with the situation, not yielding to their intentions.
Engaging in conversation, he spent a few moments chatting with the renowned bald director Soderbergh. Their discourse veered toward the escort and San Francisco Valley industries, topics of mutual concern. Soderbergh expressed interest in exploring experimental films in this realm, to which Martin pledged sponsorship, assuring that the Korean funds wouldn't go to waste.
Soderbergh's prominence in Cannes and his substantial French connections piqued Martin's interest. They arranged to convene at the studio in two days for a detailed discussion before parting ways to revel separately.
Encountering Mene, the typically suave and charismatic figure, alone and devoid of any female companions, surprised Martin. Even Marcus, retired and noticeably portly, had a bevy of girls around him.
Disheartened, Mene expressed, "I'm ready to head out."
Martin, taken aback, queried, "Why the sudden departure?"
"I was hoping to encounter Pamela Anderson, but it's all young playboy girls," Mene lamented, visibly disappointed. "None above 35!"
Surveying the scene, Martin noted the predominance of young women in their twenties.
Mene deemed Hefner's party unworthy of its reputation and bid farewell, mentioning a plan to dine with Emma outside. "This place..." He sighed and shook his head before waving to Martin and departing.
Observing the youthful and alluring atmosphere, Holly queried, "Isn't it good to be young and beautiful? Is he not appreciating it?"
"Don't be absurd," Martin defended his younger brother's perspective. "Everyone's sense of beauty varies. To me, you and Melissa are epitomes of beauty, but perhaps not in his eyes."
Martin's comment prompted Melissa to nestle closer, "Martin, could you take us elsewhere? Beyond our looks, both Holly and I have other strengths."
Subconsciously, Martin eased his embrace around them.
If not for the ongoing rumors about transsexuals at Hefner's, he might have entertained the idea of confirming it then and there.
Meanwhile, clad in dark blue pajamas, Tom Cruise roamed the party, seeking out Martin as his target for the night.
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