Chapter 216: I'm Finished

"Cheers!"

The crew of Saving Private Ryan sat around the table, raising their glasses in a shared toast. Duke had just finished the champagne in his glass when Robin Grande stood back up.

"To tonight's victory, I propose another toast!"

"Agreed! Cheers!"

Most of the crew members attending the Oscars tonight had won something. As the center of this vanity fair, they were riding a wave of excitement. Ben Watts went around refilling everyone's champagne glasses. The group clinked their glasses together, ignoring the spilled liquor, and downed another round.

This was the Beverly Hills Hilton Hotel, and the crew was attending the Oscar Night celebration party hosted by Vanity Fair.

"Duke missed out on Best Director," Zack Snyder said. "To console him, I need to have a drink with him."

John Schwartzman leaned in as well.

"Don't forget about me! I need to thank him for helping me win Best Cinematography!"

"Duke gave me a lot of suggestions during set construction. I wouldn't have won Best Art Direction without him," Hannah Serena said, having no intention of letting him off the hook either. "To show my gratitude, I need to have a drink with him too!"

"Don't forget about me." Mike Dawson refused to be left out. "I used to be just an ordinary editor in Hollywood. Since meeting Duke, I've received three Best Film Editing nominations and won a Best Film Editing Golden Statuette. I definitely have to have a drink with him."

Sofia bumped Duke's shoulder and raised her glass, signaling that she wouldn't let him off the hook either.

The clamor in the banquet hall—the clinking of glasses, the sounds of men and women flirting—merged into a chaotic symphony. Duke looked at the members of his production team, realizing they had probably been waiting for this day for a very long time.

"Then I'll have a drink with everyone."

Beside him, Catherine Zeta-Jones had already refilled his champagne. Duke stood up and raised his glass.

"I should be the one toasting all of you. May our collaboration always be a success!"

With that, he took the lead and downed his champagne.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" the others echoed, downing their own drinks.

"Wait, that's not right!" Putting down his glass, Zack Snyder suddenly came to his senses. "Each of us was supposed to have a drink with Duke!"

"Hold on!" Duke burped, already feeling the alcohol rushing to his head. "You all know I can't hold my liquor. If I drink any more, I'll be drunk."

"Are you afraid no one will take care of you if you get drunk?" John Schwartzman asked, gesturing across the table with his chin toward Zeta-Jones. "I don't think Kate would mind looking after you."

"Darling," Zeta-Jones chimed in immediately with a smile. "I'd be more than happy to."

"Whoa~"

The overly excited group let out a chorus of jeers and catcalls.

Zeta-Jones turned her head, raised her full glass of champagne, gently clinked it against Duke's, and drained it in one gulp.

"Alright, enough with the teasing!"

Seeing that they were actually going to follow through, Sofia Coppola spoke up to remind them. "Don't you all need to socialize? If you get wasted now, how are you going to pick up women? Or do you want to spend this night of revelry all alone?"

"One last toast!"

Duke stood up and raised his glass first, egging them on. "The Vanity Fair party is the favorite stomping ground for beautiful models. Don't say I didn't warn you!"

Glory, money, fine wine, and beautiful women—these were the eternal themes of Oscar Night. After that drink, most of the group left the dining area to search elsewhere for their targets.

The people at the table quickly dwindled. Even Sofia Coppola went off somewhere else, leaving only Robin Grande and his wife whispering to each other across the table.

"You've had quite a bit to drink."

Zeta-Jones picked up her handbag and looked at Duke with concern. "I brought some hangover pills for you. Do you need them?"

"Not yet."

He hadn't eaten any dinner at all. Duke picked up his knife and fork, cut off a piece of steak, and stuffed it into his mouth. Zeta-Jones had already poured him a glass of juice; she handed it over once he had finished a quarter of his steak.

Taking the juice, Duke drank a large gulp. He could tell she was a very thoughtful woman with a rather smooth and experienced way of handling things. Even though both were lead actresses in Chicago and rehearsed in the same dance studio, Naomi Watts was the target of jealousy from many female backup dancers and character actors, while Zeta-Jones had won over quite a few people. Even their dance instructor, Lily Fred, had mentioned to him more than once that she was a very humble and hardworking actress.

"Someone's coming," Zeta-Jones whispered.

Hearing Zeta-Jones's reminder, Duke turned his head slightly. Vanity Fair's editor-in-chief, Tina Brown, was walking over.

"Hi, Duke. Congratulations on winning Best Picture." She glanced at Catherine Zeta-Jones, didn't recognize her, and immediately shifted her gaze back to Duke. "Can we chat for a moment?"

"Of course." Duke gestured to the chair beside him. "Please have a seat, Tina."

Sitting diagonally across from Duke, Tina Brown offered a polite smile. "There aren't many young, talented directors like you. I hear your new film is getting ready to shoot? Would you be interested in an exclusive interview with Vanity Fair?"

"No one would refuse an invitation from Tina Brown, would they?" Duke started with a polite pleasantry before adding, "But I can't make decisions like this on my own. Tina, you should probably contact my publicist and agent."

"No problem." Tina Brown stood up and took her leave.

It was getting late. Checking his watch, Duke was also getting ready to leave. But before he could even stand up, he noticed Mel Gibson sitting all alone at the Braveheart table a few dozen feet away. The man was looking in their direction, seemingly hesitating.

"What does he want?" Catherine Zeta-Jones had noticed him as well. Grabbing Duke's sleeve, she asked with a hint of nervousness, "Should I call security?"

Shaking his head, Duke turned and stared right back at Mel Gibson. He was actually quite curious to see what this Australian wildman wanted to do.

Mel Gibson hadn't had a single drop of alcohol tonight, and no one had sought him out for a drink. Everyone who saw him treated him like a housefly, wishing they could get as far away from him as possible. Having lost his shot at the Oscar for Best Director, he had become an absolute loser in this circle that solely chased after winners.

Looking across the room, his emotions were incredibly complicated. That young director had also lost out on Best Director, yet he was still surrounded and fawned over. No matter where he stood, he was bound to become the center of attention, as if the whole world revolved around him.

Lowering his head, Mel Gibson dodged that seemingly calm but genuinely piercing gaze. He reminded himself of his purpose for attending this party. He wasn't here to accept everyone's mockery; he was here to search for a new opportunity in the midst of a desperate situation.

Walk over and apologize. Earn the man's forgiveness, and then try to spin it in the media. That would alleviate his current predicament to some degree.

None of that was hard to say or do, so why did his heart resist it so fiercely?

Mel Gibson looked at Duke again. He knew that no matter how sincerely he apologized, deep down, he would still harbor absolute hatred.

But hatred couldn't solve his problems. It couldn't change his circumstances. And so, Mel Gibson stood up.

He had been waiting. Just like how Duke had once bided his time, he was waiting for the right moment.

Finally, a dozen or so people gradually made their way over to the Saving Private Ryan crew. Tom Hanks and his wife had also sat down at that table to talk with him. Seeing this, Mel Gibson took a heavy, agonizingly slow first step.

That step was painful and difficult. It made him feel as though someone had just slapped him viciously across the face.

However, the first step was always the hardest. Once it was taken, the rest would be much easier.

Mel Gibson took a deep breath. Ignoring the contemptuous glares of the people around him, he strode toward Duke.

"Mel Gibson is coming over."

Hearing someone's warning, Duke wrapped up his conversation with Hanks. He turned his head and watched the man's tall figure approach, step by step.

"Don't do anything reckless, Duke," Sofia, who had just returned to the table, hurriedly whispered. "You need to stay calm. He's already finished."

Duke nodded. Of course, he wouldn't be stupid enough to initiate anything.

The Saving Private Ryan table was already located in a highly conspicuous spot within the banquet hall. Mel Gibson's actions instantly drew countless eyes, with an untold number of people eager to watch a good show.

Mel Gibson didn't care about the stares, and neither did Duke.

Stopping five feet away from Duke, Mel Gibson looked at him. The words he wanted to say almost morphed into a torrent of rage. Taking a deep breath, he managed to suppress it.

A few people nearby glanced at Duke. Ben Watts and Zack Snyder had unconsciously positioned themselves on either side of Mel Gibson, seemingly guarding against any reckless move the Australian wildman might make.

Mel Gibson's temper was known throughout all of Hollywood. No one believed he came with good intentions.

Duke looked at Gibson and asked directly, "Is there something you need, Mr. Gibson?"

"I..." It seemed to take every ounce of Mel Gibson's strength just to speak. "I'm here to apologize."

Apologize?

Everyone around who heard this, including Duke, was stunned. Mel Gibson was taking the initiative to apologize?

"I did some stupid things at the last Golden Globe Awards party." Mel Gibson's voice was exceptionally loud, as if he wanted everyone in the banquet hall to hear him. "I feel deeply guilty about it, so I came over specifically to apologize to you."

Following that booming voice, many people's eyes landed on Duke. Mel Gibson's apology looked very sincere. What would he do?

'A very clever approach, isn't it?' Duke chuckled inwardly. Was Mel Gibson sincerely apologizing? He didn't know, nor did he care to know. The man was a veteran actor; when he wasn't drunk, his acting skills were absolutely above par.

Mel Gibson stared over with genuine sincerity, seemingly trying to move Duke. As long as the victim was willing to forgive him, there would be plenty of ways to spin the narrative afterward.

After just one second of silence, Duke gave his answer.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Gibson, but I don't accept your apology!"