I am Hollywood

Chapter 57: Out of Control



[Chapter 57: Out of Control]

Workaholics often lacked any sense of balance, neglecting food and sleep. Eric and Kepler happened to fit this mold, and as a result, their situation turned into a tragedy.

They bought plane tickets to New York, hurriedly packed only the essentials, and boarded the flight. By the time they touched down in New York, it was already 7 p.m. on the East Coast. The moment they arrived, the chilly air hit them, a stark contrast to the spring warmth of Los Angeles, causing both men, dressed in only light jackets, to shiver simultaneously.

"It looks like we both need a personal assistant," Eric sighed, having just stepped out of a clothing store, now wrapped in a heavy coat.

Kepler playfully made a teasing remark, "That's you. UTA is still too small for me to hire any personal assistant."

"Don't worry, things will pick up soon."

Kepler merely laughed and asked, "Are you coming to the hotel with me, or are you going to find... your girlfriend?"

"It's been days since I last saw Jen. I plan to go to her place first. I've already given you the number to her apartment on the plane. You should contact Al Pacino to set up a meeting time as soon as you can."

"Alright," Kepler shrugged, "I hope you don't get kicked out. From what you said on the flight, I feel like, given her personality, that's a real possibility."

"Ha! No need for you to worry about that."

...

Following the address Drew had given him, Eric took a taxi and circled Manhattan for quite a while until he finally found the apartment where Aniston lived. Standing in front of the door, he fiddled with the bouquet of roses in his hand, straightened his clothes, then knocked. After waiting for a moment without response, he knocked a few more times, finally concluding that Aniston wasn't home yet.

Turning to glance at a large flowerpot beside the door, Eric couldn't help but smile. It appeared Aniston hadn't changed that little habit of hers. She always liked to keep a spare key outside her door. Eric had once seriously explained to her that it reflected a lack of security within her, but the strong-willed girl always refused to admit it, rattling off a list of reasons to counter his view.

Fishing the key out from the flowerpot, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. Flipping on the lights, he noticed the warm decor style, and the familiar scent of her perfume wafted through the air. Taking a deep breath, his mild longing quickly transformed into a rich stew of emotion. He wished desperately that the girl would appear before him so he could pull her into an embrace and squeeze her fiercely.

Having gone five or six hours without food, Eric opened the fridge and decided to whip up a late-night snack for both himself and Aniston. Donning an apron, he began bustling around the kitchen.

About twenty minutes later, as Eric was preparing the last dish, he heard the soft sound of a key turning in the lock. He dashed into the living room, grabbing the roses while hiding behind the door.

When the door swung open, Eric smiled, ready to speak, but all three of them froze in place. Yes, there were three people: Eric, Aniston, and... Brad Pitt.

"Eric, what are you... doing here?" Aniston finally broke the eerie silence after a few seconds, her mind screaming in panic: This is it; Eric is definitely going to misunderstand.

Eric shoved the roses into Aniston's hands and turned to Brad Pitt, forcing out a weak smile, though his eyes reflected bitterness.

"Hello, Mr. Pitt. Nice to see you again."

"Hello, Mr. Williams..." Brad Pitt extended his hand but quickly withdrew it as Eric showed no intention of shaking it, leaving him awkwardly hanging.

They had only met once during the audition for 17 Again, but Eric's meteoric rise to fame made it hard for Brad to forget the young man.

After their greetings, Eric didn't step aside to let him enter. Instead, he continued, "Mr. Pitt, thank you for bringing my girlfriend home. If there's nothing else, you can leave now."

That rude dismissal turned Brad's face a bit red. He glanced at Aniston, who had been dating Eric for several months, fully aware of the simmering anger emanating from him. Yet, Aniston somehow stood tall against the pressure and shot back, "Eric, you can't do this. Brad is my guest."

That casual "Brad" ignited Eric's fury. He suddenly raised his voice, shooting a glare at Aniston, "Shut up and go inside!"

This was the first time Aniston had seen Eric so enraged, and she instinctively recoiled. Feeling guilty for bringing a man home when Eric caught them, her previously built-up courage evaporated under his fierce shout. Lowering her head, she muttered, "What's with the temper?" but still obediently stepped inside.

Bang--

Without paying Brad Pitt any more mind, Eric slammed the door behind him.

"So, what's going on?" Eric tossed himself onto the couch, irritably pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag before speaking.

If it had been any other man, Eric might have taken a breath and calmly figured out the truth. But since it was Brad Pitt, and given their past, he simply couldn't keep his composure.

In the past, Eric would have risked a request to smoke in his own home, and Aniston would have long since gone crazy over it. This time, however, she only opened her mouth but refrained from stopping him.

"He's going to appear in the next few episodes of Tattingers; he just joined the cast two days ago. We only met a couple of days ago, and there's nothing serious," Aniston weakly

explained.

[T/N: Original was called, Mary in Action. I didn't find any related series, so I changed it to Tattingers.]

"You brought someone home after just two days of knowing him?" Eric scoffed.

"I finished work late today. He said it wasn't safe for me to go home alone and offered to give me a ride, and I... I don't have to explain myself to you," Aniston said, quickly realizing what she was saying, glaring at Eric, "We already broke up. It's fine for you to fool around with women, but I can't see someone else? You... ah!"

Eric crushed the cigarette and yanked Aniston into his arms, kissing her aggressively despite her struggles.

"Ugh... you can't do this; it's... it's harassment... ugh... I want... I'm going to sue you for rape... stop touching me there..."

After a passionate struggle, the little wildcat eventually relaxed, her body softening as she lay draped over the sofa, wrapping her arms around Eric's neck, her eyes squinting in pleasuren/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

from his kisses.

Smack--

Suddenly releasing Aniston, Eric delivered a playful smack on her pert behind, saying, "Alright, go take a shower. I've prepared dinner, and we can clean up afterwards!"

"Ow..." Aniston rubbed her rear, shooting Eric a mischievous glare, but she dutifully rose and headed for the bathroom.

...

Testing the water temperature, Aniston stood beneath the shower, letting the warm water cascade over her as she lathered herself with soap. She couldn't help but feel conflicted, questioning how she had found herself in this situation again. Hadn't she decided to break up with that jerk? Why had she lost herself so easily so soon after?

Though she had acted out in anger and written that breakup note after finding Drew with Eric in bed, now that she was alone in New York, her mind continuously wandered back to her memories with him, akin to an addiction -- like a bird that incessantly circled around her thoughts, chirping "Eric, Eric, Eric..."

At the same time, she unconsciously developed a habit of seeking out news about Eric in newspapers and on TV.

When someone criticized him, she felt angry; when someone praised him, she acted like a giddy schoolgirl; if someone plotted against him, she quickly forgot her anger and made a phone call to inform him immediately. Whenever rumors emerged of Eric with other women, jealousy would bubble up in her, causing her to angrily maul anything within reach -- so much so that the favorite plush bear she received for her tenth birthday ended up with a bald spot because she had unconsciously yanked at it in frustration, blaming it all on that guy. "Forget it, I'll just... forgive you one more time," Aniston finally convinced herself as she wiped her snowy-white skin dry. Maybe she had already persuaded herself deep down. After making that decision, she felt a huge weight lift off her shoulders and noticed how relaxed she felt. Twirling in front of the mirror, she admired her slender waist. After months of dedicated dieting, Aniston had transformed into a graceful beauty, and no one would ever associate the word "fat" with her again.

After slipping into a bathrobe and emerging from the bathroom, she found Eric on the phone.

"...Thanks, James. I'll take you out to dinner when we get back to LA... Of course, I know one

meal isn't enough... Haha, see you later."

"Eric, who are you talking to?"

Eric hung up the phone casually, saying, "James. I needed his help with something. Alright,

let's eat quickly; the food is getting cold."

*****

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