Chapter 51: A Toast to This Damn Pressure

"Miss Twain, I expect you to manage your Mobile Phone!"

Hearing Duke's icy tone, Shania Twain's agent snatched the Mobile Phone from her hand, yanked off the back cover to pull the battery, and hurriedly said, "I'm sorry, Director Rosenberg."

Duke kept his eyes fixed on Shania Twain. She was not some inexperienced youngster, and she managed an embarrassed smile as she said, "I am so sorry..."

Though he had been on the verge of erupting moments ago, Duke restrained himself. He knew his anger should be directed at CAA, not anyone else.

He had never liked losing control.

"If another Mobile Phone rings on set," Duke said, his voice hoarse, ignoring Shania Twain as she walked over to apologize to the other departments, "I swear I'll nail the device to the wall!"

"Water?" Sofia handed him a cup of cold water at exactly the right moment. Duke took it and drank deeply, feeling his burning chest cool down. "Thanks," he said.

"I thought the volcano was about to erupt," Sofia said, looking at him in disbelief.

"Losing my temper won't solve anything," Duke said, shaking his head slowly. "And I don't want to lose control."

Sitting in the director's chair brought its own pressure. Even the best-tempered person would become irritable, and Duke was no exception. But he had no desire to turn into a set tyrant everyone feared, like James Cameron.

"Sometimes you don't seem like a twenty-something at all." Sofia took the cup Duke handed back. "My father used to say it wasn't until his forties that he learned to control his temper on set."

"If losing my temper could solve our problems and make the film a blockbuster, I wouldn't mind exploding ten times a day." Duke cracked a joke to settle his own mood. "But blowing up usually just makes things worse. If I turned into a high-powered blow dryer, would that magically finish the shoot?"

After a ten-minute delay, filming resumed. The crew's momentum hadn't been broken; they shot three consecutive takes, and the scene was finally declared a wrap.

The subsequent shooting was still bumpy, with unexpected problems constantly cropping up. Duke felt his temper threatening to rise again, and his voice noticeably thickened with volume, but he kept his emotions in check, ensuring the crew kept operating normally, however difficult it was.

Despite his decent self-control, hovering on the edge of a rage-fueled outburst was not a pleasant feeling.

"That's a wrap for today."

After the announcement, Duke found his dried shoes and changed into them. He sat behind the monitor, reviewing the day's footage with no intention of leaving.

"You need to rest." Sofia walked over, carrying her handbag. "Come on, let me buy you a drink."

Duke knew he needed to relax. Bearing tremendous financial and mental pressure, if he didn't find a way to relieve it, he might genuinely lose control.

He turned off the monitor and did a quick tidy-up before leaving the soundstage with Sofia. They drove a golf cart to the studio gates, then, without switching to a car, walked straight toward the left of the Warner Building. Less than a thousand feet away, they found a small bar.

It was still early, so the bar wasn't crowded. It played soothing music rather than noisy heavy metal. Duke walked straight to the counter and sat on a tall stool, and Sofia took the seat to his left.

"A dark beer, please."

Duke knew his alcohol tolerance was low, so he avoided trying any hard liquor.

"Cheers, workaholic."

Sofia clinked her glass of whiskey against his. Duke offered a helpless smile, took a sip, and asked, "Is that my image in your eyes?"

"Isn't it?" Sofia tilted her head playfully. "That's how most of the crew sees you."

"Let them talk," Duke said dismissively. "As long as I know who I am, that's enough."

"Extremely self-centered," Sofia said, glancing at him.

"It's confidence." Duke picked up his glass and took another sip. "If a director truly cared about others' evaluations, they wouldn't survive in this world. The spit of film critics alone would be enough to drown us."

"Let's not talk about movies." Sofia intentionally changed the subject. "How are things progressing between you and Naomi Watts?"

"Progressing?" Duke blanked. He hadn't even thought about the Australian woman recently. He held up two fingers to Sofia. "I've only been with her twice!"

"Then I wish you an early breakup." Sofia was clearly doing it on purpose.

Duke shrugged, too lazy to respond to Sofia's quip. He and Naomi Watts weren't even a couple, so how could they break up?

Just as they finished their drinks, a Mobile Phone rang inside Sofia's handbag. She pulled it out, answered it, and gave Duke an apologetic look.

"My mom." She stood up. "I need to head home, so I'll get going first."

Duke waved to her and ordered another beer, intending to leave once he finished it. As the workday was ending, the bar began to fill up. Among the crowd were a few familiar Warner employees; clearly, this bar near the Warner Building was a regular haunt for certain Warner staff.

"Hey, Duke."

"Hey..."

Whenever someone greeted him, Duke would wave back, even if he couldn't recall their name.

Slowly sipping the slightly bitter dark beer, Duke's thoughts habitually returned to the movie, calculating how to adjust the shooting schedule to make it tighter and more efficient...

"A martini, please."

Someone else had taken Sofia's former seat. "Hey..."

"Hey..." Duke nodded absentmindedly.

"What are you thinking about? You seem totally lost in thought." The person apparently knew him, her crisp voice chiming in. "You aren't still mad about this afternoon, are you? I apologized very seriously."

Hearing this, Duke turned to his left. Shania Twain had her brown hair tied back behind her head and wore a fitted jacket, looking stylish, fresh, and highly elegant.

"Surprised I'm here?" She pointed toward the Warner Building. "Warner Records is right next door."

"I accepted your apology." Duke raised his glass to her. "That means the matter is in the past."

"Do I need to say thank you?" She immediately drank half her glass.

Duke shook his head. "You're welcome."

"You like drinking alone?" Shania Twain turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Or is the pressure just too high?"

"You can tell I'm under pressure?" Duke looked right back at her.

"Don't forget, I've been to your set twice, even if no one would welcome me a third time..." She offered a self-deprecating smile, then steadied her expression. "I know what it feels like when that pressure leaves you breathless, and there's no one to share it with."

"So..." Duke tacitly agreed. "You've experienced this feeling too?"

"Constantly." Shania Twain clinked her glass against Duke's and downed the rest of her martini. "That's why I came here alone to drink."

"A toast to this damn pressure!" Duke also finished the rest of his beer.

"A toast to this damn pressure!" Shania Twain let out a bright laugh and snapped her fingers at the bartender. "Two whiskeys!"

"I've heard people from Warner talk about you."

Pushing a glass to Duke, she turned to face him fully. "Some say you're a genius, some say you're just lucky, but everyone says you're a fortunate guy."

"So I need to keep succeeding." Duke shifted to face her as well, tossing the afternoon's unpleasantness to the back of his mind. "Then they'll only say that Duke Rosenberg is a genius."

"To success!" Shania Twain raised her glass.

"To success!" Duke clinked his glass against hers.

"But you really are a fortunate guy." Shania Twain set down her glass. Seeing Duke's puzzled look, she rested her hands on her lap and said, "Even if you fail this time and lose your footing in Hollywood, with your background, you can still live a very good life."

"By your logic..." Duke thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. "I suppose I am."

"I'm different." She lightly tapped the name tag pinned to her chest. "If I don't succeed and my first album fails, Warner Records will cancel my contract. My agent will abandon me, my landlord will take back my house, and I'll just have to go back to Canada..."

"Oh, I'm a Canadian." Probably because of the alcohol, Shania Twain was noticeably more talkative. "I have five younger siblings to support. If I don't make it, I can only go back to singing in Canadian bars for twenty-five dollars a night. Maybe to make a living, I'll even have to strip."

"So..." She flipped her finger around, pointing at Duke through the air. "My pressure is greater than yours!"

"You'll succeed."

If what she said was true, this future pop diva was a classic rags-to-riches story. "Maybe this time next year, I'll be leaving Hollywood because my movie failed, and you'll already be a massive pop star."

"Not maybe." Shania Twain's slightly wild eyes shone with pure determination. "I absolutely will succeed!"

"I won't allow myself to fail!" she added.

Hearing words that sounded almost like an oath, Duke looked at her with a bit more respect. Someone fighting so hard to change her fate deserved respect.

Duke could even see some of his own traits in Shania Twain. They were both the type of people who locked onto a goal and pushed relentlessly forward.