Chapter 516: Martin Takes the Director’s Chair

Leaving aside the mix of playful scheming and genuine innocence between Yang Mi and Liu Yifei—

Martin had just flown back from London to Los Angeles and returned to his Beverly Hills home when he found himself surrounded by a group of girls.

Lindsay Lohan, Scarlett Johansson, Rachel McAdams, and Amanda Seyfried encircled him.

"Martin," Lindsay said, hands on her hips, "you made Jessica a huge star with Step Up and High School Musical. You can't play favorites—we want to be just as famous!"

Since High School Musical, Jessica had skyrocketed to become America's teen idol, landing endless endorsements and film offers, her paycheck now hitting $8 million.

Seemed like the other girls in his collection—around Jessica's age—weren't too happy about it.

But Martin noticed Lindsay's evasive gaze as she spoke and immediately guessed she'd been pushed forward by the others.

Hmm. Rachel McAdams and Amanda Seyfried were probably just accomplices, but Scarlett? That little minx was definitely the mastermind.

Martin's eyes locked onto Scarlett.

Unfazed, she straightened up, accentuating her ample curves, and declared, "Martin, no favoritism!"

Tch. Spare the rod, spoil the child.

Martin wasn't about to indulge her.

In a few strides, he hauled Scarlett over his knee, flipped her facedown, and delivered a sharp smack-smack-smack to a certain uncooperative area.

Scarlett shrieked.

"Ahhh! Someone save me!"

But the other girls just giggled, making no move to intervene.

"You traitors! Wretched little bitches!" Scarlett cursed.

Lindsay smirked. "We're not traitors. You're not the empress here—we never swore loyalty to you!"

Rachel added with a grin, "Exactly. Martin's our emperor. If anything, we're his most loyal subjects."

"Mhm!" Amanda nodded, her face flushing.

Why was she blushing?

Well... Because Martin was fingering Scarlett in front of them.

Scarlett's jeans had already been tossed aside, leaving the girl red-faced.

Her protests soon melted into... other kinds of noises.

After disciplining his rebellious "ringleader," Martin indulged the girls' wishes and tossed two scripts onto the table.

Happy Death Day and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants?

The girls huddled together, poring over the scripts while Martin went to wash his hands.

"Oh my God, this is amazing! I love the Groundhog Day-style time loop!" Scarlett snatched up Happy Death Day, instantly dismissing the other script. She clung to it like a lifeline. "This one's mine! After what I just went through, I get first pick!"

"Fine, fine," Lindsay said magnanimously. "There's still the other script. We'll figure out who suits what. It's not like Martin's running out of ideas."

Rachel bit her lip in disappointment—she'd loved the Groundhog Day premise too—but since Lindsay had spoken, she'd let Scarlett have this one.

The three turned to The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, while Scarlett, grinning triumphantly, skipped over to the couch and nestled into Martin's lap the moment he returned.

"This script is perfect," she cooed. "I can star in it, right?"

"Of course."

Seeing the young future Black Widow撒娇ing in his arms, Martin barely restrained himself.

"Mm, you're the best."

Scarlett planted a loud kiss on his cheek, then dashed off to her room with the script, eager to study it.

But the moment she flopped onto her bed, she froze.

"...Wait. Did Martin just—?"

She scrambled up and bolted to the bathroom. The sound of running water followed.

Back in the living room:

"The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is an ensemble piece—so wholesome! We could all be in it!" Lindsay said.

"I love this script," Amanda admitted sincerely.

"But it needs four girls. We're one short," Rachel pointed out.

"What about Keira?" Lindsay suggested. "She called me yesterday saying she's free and planning to visit us in LA."

"Keira's perfect—great look, great acting," Amanda agreed.

Rachel nodded.

———

February 27, 2005: Oscar Night

The 77th Academy Awards ceremony unfolded at the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood.

Hosted by Chris Rock, the night belonged to Million Dollar Baby, which swept Best Picture, Best Director (Clint Eastwood), Best Actress (Hilary Swank), and Best Supporting Actor (Morgan Freeman).

Leonardo DiCaprio, meanwhile, found himself empty-handed yet again.

The Aviator had scored ten nominations but only won four: Best Supporting Actress (Cate Blanchett), Best Cinematography, Best Editing, and Best Costume Design. The big prizes—Best Picture, Director, and especially Best Actor—slipped away.

Leo's disappointment was palpable.

The night's other standout was Jamie Foxx, who took Best Actor for Ray.

Meyers Studios, despite dominating the box office the previous year, left the Oscars with nothing.

But Martin wasn't bothered.

Saving up luck for next year.

———

Back at Meyers Studios

Drew perched on Martin's desk in a deliberately tempting pose. "Martin, we secured the film rights to Aron Ralston's memoir Between a Rock and a Hard Place—$800,000."

Martin, unfazed, asked, "Any conditions?"

"Aron wants to review the script. Doesn't want his story butchered." Drew tilted her head. "But seriously, you're directing this?"

"Yes. Directing and starring. Simple premise, minimal locations—perfect for a first try."

Who was Aron Ralston?

An avid mountaineer.

In April 2003, while canyoneering in Utah, he became trapped when a boulder pinned his right arm. For five days, he survived by bracing against the canyon wall until his water ran out.

His only way out? Amputating his own arm with a dull multi-tool.

Six hours later, rescued by helicopter, doctors warned: One more hour, and he'd have bled out.

In 2004, Ralston published Between a Rock and a Hard Place, recounting the ordeal in brutal detail.

Now, Martin would bring it to the screen.