Chapter 150: Celebrity Entourage Companion

"Sorry, sir." Duke was stopped just as he reached the backstage entrance. "You can't go in here."

"I'm a director..."

"I'm sorry..."

It was obvious the man had no idea who he was. This was the tragedy of being a director in this era. Unless a film was actively dominating the box office or generating explosive gossip, the general public rarely paid attention to the people behind the camera. It was perfectly normal for fans to love a director's work yet have no clue what they looked like.

Duke felt a bit helpless. After accompanying his mother here the previous night, he had specifically checked the posters for 42nd Street, confirming that a familiar name was indeed listed. He had carved out time to visit again tonight, only to be blocked at the door.

"I'm a director, and I'm looking for one of your actors to star in my project."

It was the honest truth, but the guard clearly didn't buy it. He had probably seen his fair share of con artists try to use that exact excuse to sneak backstage.

"Who are you looking for? I can pass on a message."

"I'm looking for Miss Jones." Duke handed over a card. "This is my business card."

"Duke Rosenberg?"

The man wasn't particularly shocked. Instead, he sized Duke up with a skeptical gaze, seemingly unwilling to believe the director who had made such massive waves over the summer could be so young.

"Please wait a moment." Perhaps the business card had worked. The man muttered a few words to his companion and turned to walk inside.

The theater's backstage area was far less glamorous than the stage; it was actually somewhat dilapidated. Inside a cramped dressing room, several young women were busy wiping off their heavy stage makeup. The fastest among them had already cleaned her face and was carefully applying a light, everyday foundation.

She knew her own strengths and flaws perfectly. A suitable touch of light makeup was all it took to make her look radiant, whereas going bare-faced left her appearing pale and washed out.

A knock suddenly rang out. One of the girls cracked the door open, poked her head out to exchange a few words with someone in the hall, and pulled back inside.

"Kate, this is for you."

The woman, who clearly didn't share the warmest relationship with her, casually tossed a card onto the vanity in front of Kate.

"Another admirer?"

Another young woman nearby, who possessed a voluptuous figure and seemed to be on better terms with Kate, reached over and snatched the card up. "Kate, your past admirers always tucked their cards into bouquets and gifts. I can't believe someone would be tactless enough to send just a bare business card."

"No matter what they send, it all goes to the exact same place."

The woman named Kate didn't seem to care in the slightest. "The trash can. Isn't that right, Rachel?"

"That's only because the person capable of moving you hasn't appeared yet."

Rachel shrugged. As she turned back around, a fleeting sneer crossed her lips. She knew perfectly well that despite the woman beside her having failed to make it in Hollywood, her ambitions remained sky-high.

"Who knows? Maybe the guy who sent this is a big Hollywood director!" Only Rachel herself could hear the biting sarcasm layered into her own words.

But as she flipped the pristine white card over and read the front—which bore nothing but a name, a profession, and a phone number—her eyes went wide in disbelief.

'This can't be real, can it?' Was a famous Hollywood director—the most prominent rising star in the industry—actually waiting outside for the woman sitting right next to her?

Subconsciously, Rachel wanted to toss the business card straight into the trash can at her feet.

But as clever as she was, Kate wasn't an idiot either. She leaned over casually. "Whose name could possibly shock you that much?"

As she spoke, she snatched the card back.

Before Kate could even read the name, Rachel suddenly shouted, "Hey, ladies! I have some incredibly good news! Kate just got a business card from the Hollywood director Duke Rosenberg!"

No gasps of shock erupted in the dressing room, nor were there any heartfelt celebrations of sisterly love. The other girls simply froze, casting looks of doubt or utter disbelief in their direction. But beneath that shock, their eyes were swimming with cold, bitter jealousy.

"Congratulations, Kate. Looks like you have another chance to make it in Hollywood."

The voice that chimed in sounded congratulatory, but it dripped with undeniable malice. "Let's hope you actually come back a success this time."

Kate acted as if she hadn't heard a thing, though her gaze swept over Rachel's face like a needle. With just one sentence, that woman had turned her into the public enemy of the dressing room.

Furthermore, no one even knew if the business card was real. If it turned out to be a fake, these women would mock her relentlessly for it.

"Kate, I didn't mean anything by it..." Rachel put on a perfectly innocent expression.

Offering a terse nod, Kate gathered her handbag, slipped on her coat, and headed for the door. The moment she stepped out of the dressing room, the clatter of high heels echoed right behind her. Rachel had actually followed her.

"Let's walk together." She put on an act of deep sisterhood.

"Excuse me, Miss Weisz," Kate said, turning right back toward the dressing room. "I forgot to grab something."

Watching Kate disappear back through the door, Rachel muttered a low "Bitch" before pressing onward. If the business card was real, the Hollywood director would undoubtedly be waiting by the backstage exit...

"Director Rosenberg, please have a seat."

The theater manager shook Duke's hand and barked an order to an assistant nearby. "Hurry up and fetch Miss Jones!"

Just moments ago, the manager had spotted Duke while passing by the backstage exit. After a brief moment of hesitation, he had gone over to strike up a conversation. The moment he confirmed Duke's true identity, he had immediately invited the director into his office.

"I never expected you to be interested in our theatrical productions."

Accepting the man's flattery, Duke replied with equal politeness, "It's a fantastic show. This is actually my second night coming to see it."

They had barely exchanged a few pleasantries before a knock sounded at the door. A woman walked in, wearing flat shoes and standing at roughly 5 feet 6 inches tall.

She had flowing, dark brown hair so deep it bordered on black, along with a pair of captivating amber eyes. She possessed a naturally romantic aura, and her exquisite features struck a perfect balance between classical elegance and wild allure. Even bundled up in a fitted coat, her figure was the absolute epitome of beauty and sex appeal.

When she stood there quietly gazing at Duke, she radiated the poised elegance of a classical British lady; yet the moment she stepped forward to shake his hand, an undeniable, fiery wildness seemed to pour from her.

"Hello, Director Rosenberg..." she greeted, sounding slightly flustered. "I didn't expect... I didn't expect it to actually be you."

"There's no need to be so polite, Miss Jones."

Having directed so many films—and considering that she hadn't yet developed her future Oscar-winning acting chops—Duke could easily tell that her reaction wasn't an act. "I watched your musical numbers both yesterday and today. I was deeply impressed."

"Thank you." She glanced at the theater manager before taking a seat on the sofa next to Duke. "Just call me Kate, or Catherine."

"I'll leave you two to talk." The theater manager stood up. "I still have work to attend to."

Once the manager left, Duke observed her without batting an eye. She sat there in total silence, the very picture of an elegant British lady.

"Kate, your song and dance performances are incredibly infectious." Duke didn't have time to waste, so he cut straight to the chase. "Tell me, do you have any plans to develop a career in Hollywood?"

"Hollywood?" She hesitated for a moment before answering. "Actually, I went out to Los Angeles in '92, but I couldn't get anything off the ground, so I ended up coming back to London."

She knew exactly how hard it was for foreigners to break into Hollywood. If she hadn't been British—if she had hailed from mainland Europe instead—she wouldn't have even landed the handful of minor roles she did.

"You come from a background in musicals, so you should be familiar with Chicago?"

Seeing her nod, Duke continued, "I currently hold the film adaptation rights for Chicago. I plan to bring it to the big screen within the next year, and I've been keeping an eye out for the right actresses."

It was true; the film adaptation rights Duke had recently purchased from Broadway were indeed for Chicago.

The right actresses?

Catherine Zeta-Jones froze for a moment before the realization hit her. For the director sitting in front of her to be searching for a "right actress," it had to mean one of the two female leads. A surge of joy washed over her, instantly followed by a jolt of shock.

Joy, because this was the chance of a lifetime to land a leading role. Furthermore, it was an adaptation of a Broadway classic. She came from a musical theater background, having learned to dance since she was six and even winning a national tap-dancing championship in Britain. There was simply no role better suited to launch her Hollywood career.

As for the shock...

That stemmed directly from the reputation of the director sitting across from her. If he personally directed a film like this, what kind of terrifying final product would it be?

Zeta-Jones genuinely couldn't fathom it. If word got out that Duke Rosenberg—a man dubbed an explosion maniac by media and fans alike—was going to direct a musical, how would the world react?

Would eyes pop out in shock? Would people laugh until their teeth fell out? Or would it just feel like the end of the world?

"Could I do it?" she asked tentatively.

"If you're interested in auditioning, take some time to study the character Velma."

The current Catherine Zeta-Jones was a far cry from the star she would one day become. Duke wasn't naive enough to assume she already possessed her future acting prowess, and he certainly wasn't going to make any guarantees. "Your foundation in singing and dancing is exceptional. Personally, I think you're a great fit for the role—provided you can meet my standards."

After observing her for two nights, Duke had total confidence in Catherine Zeta-Jones's musical abilities, but her acting left much to be desired.

He checked his watch, estimating that his mother would soon be returning to their hotel from visiting her friends. Standing up, he said, "If you're interested, give me a call."

"Mr. Rosenberg..."

Catherine Zeta-Jones, who had been deep in thought this whole time, seemed to finally reach a decision. She reached into her purse, pulled out her own business card, and handed it to Duke. "When the film enters pre-production, could you please have someone notify me? Thank you!"

The female leads' performances would be the absolute core of this movie. Duke considered it for a moment before replying, "Your singing and dancing aren't a problem, but your acting needs improvement. I hope to see an outstanding performance from you when it comes time to audition."

With that said, he didn't linger. He walked out of the theater and hurried back toward his hotel.

Back in the manager's office, Zeta-Jones was already dialing her agent's number, asking how she could possibly improve her acting skills as much as humanly possible in just one year.