Chapter 68: The Wolf's Den
[Chapter 68: The Wolf's Den]
In the room, Paris Hilton sat at the foot of the bed, propping herself up on her arms, lounging with her legs crossed. The nail polish on her toes shone in a vibrant pink, even brighter than Taylor's light pink shade. Ryan found himself facing her after being "invited" into Paris's room by her security in a rather "friendly" manner, all part of Paris's plan.
"Can I leave now?" Ryan asked carefully.
"No way!" Paris quickly shifted her legs, something flashing by. In fact, a towel lay quietly on the floor; she was wearing nothing but some jewelry.
"Are you messing with me? Is this funny? The only way to leave is if you satisfy me!" she chuckled lightly, clearly trying to make Ryan yield.
After a moment of contemplation, Ryan stood up.
'That's right.' Paris smiled, leaning back slightly, her legs spread apart, getting into a more playful stance.
But instead of engaging, Ryan turned and walked towards the door.
"Come back! Stop right there! I count to three..." Before Paris could finish, Ryan had already disappeared.
'A good-looking but useless guy.' Paris smirked, assuming Ryan was simply lacking in that department. In reality, Ryan's restraint stemmed from spending the previous night gathering intel on several guests, not only revisiting the content of A Night in Paris but also discovering that the 27-year-old Paris Hilton had had 44 publicly acknowledged boyfriends. And that was just the known count; if you factored in the unknown or unacknowledged ones, the number could double -- her personal life was outrageously colorful.
...
Just as Paris contemplated finding a new party partner, she heard a knock at the door. After throwing the towel back on, she opened it only to find Ryan standing there again.
"Are you serious?" Paris said, unintentionally allowing her towel to slip as she let go of it.
Without a word, Ryan shut the door and locked it, pacing the room as if searching for something.
"Are you blind or what? I'm right here," Paris quipped with annoyance.
"Is there another exit?" Ryan asked, stepping onto the balcony. He realized they were on the top floor of a mansion, with a hard landing below, then glanced at the curtains, imagining scenes from a Hollywood action flick.
At that moment, Paris walked over and playfully hugged Ryan from behind, cheerfully saying, "Once you enter this door, don't even think about getting out."
Ryan quickly assessed that even if he managed to tie the curtains together, there wouldn't be enough length for a jump. Given the tight security around the estate, trying to escape through unconventional means seemed impossible.
Hearing Paris's words sparked an idea in Ryan. He spun around and lifted Paris into his arms.
Paris giggled, adeptly beginning to remove Ryan's shirt.
...
Just then, a knock sounded again.
"What is going on?" Paris furrowed her brow and insisted that Ryan put her down, opening the door for the third time.
Standing outside was a bald Black man accompanied by two Black security personnel, asking questions about Ryan.
"He's in my room, what's up?"
"Nothing much, just checking in," the bald man replied.
"Make sure the front door is locked. From now on, no one is to knock on my door, got it?" Paris warned.
The bald man nodded.
...
Paris sharply shut the door and turned back to Ryan with a smile plastered across her face.
"Who was that outside?" Ryan asked.
"Are you talking about that bald, baby-faced guy? That's Harve Pierre, Sean Combs's right-hand man and an executive at Bad Boy Records," Paris informed Ryan as she moved closer.
Ryan nodded, recalling this was the guy who first mentioned "cheese pizza" to Rachel.
"Were you interrupted?" Paris teased, seemingly in the know.
It's even more exaggerated than that. Ryan had mistakenly wandered into what could only be described as a "freak party" earlier, where a group of people were dining -- not an issue in itself unless the food was presented on a person.
Ryan swiftly left, but was spotted by a bodyguard, immediately attracting their attention.
Watching Paris lunge at him again, Ryan seized the opportunity to excuse himself to the restroom, where he gave Scooter a call.
"You're at the mansion... pissing her off is not a good idea. I'll come and get you out," Scooter stated. After hearing about Ryan's experience, he promised to help him escape. After hanging up, Ryan exited the bathroom to find Paris laying on the bed, looking like she was waiting for him. For Ryan, it felt like escaping from the tiger's mouth only to fall straight into the wolf's den.
Ryan sat at the edge of the bed, and as Paris lunged at him, he quickly grabbed her arm. Panicking, he blurted out, "You seem pretty close with Rachel, huh?"
"Rachel? You mean that 'dog whisperer'? Forget it," Paris laughed, shaking her head.
"How did you meet her?" Ryan seized the opportunity, steering the conversation to distract her.
"Once at an art exhibit in New York, she claimed to be an artist. She graduated from Brentwood School, where many of my friends went," Paris casually remarked.
Brentwood School was known as a prestigious preparatory school in Los Angeles, attended by many children of entertainment industry figures, including the sons of Jimmy Iovine, founder of Interscope Records, and Arnold Schwarzenegger.
"She's a part of the Chandler family, who controlled the LA Times for years but pulled out in the '80s," Paris continued.
"Then how did she get linked up with Sean Combs?" Ryan curiously asked.
Paris gave Ryan a knowing smile before mentioning another detail, "She showed me old photos with Clinton on a plane, and also some with Eminem."
...
Another knock came, and Ryan knew help had arrived.
He had initially prepared to open the door but was pulled back by Paris, who wouldn't let go, nearly dragging Ryan to the floor.
With no other option, Ryan had to give her his phone number, suggesting they reconnect later. Paris, savvy as ever, called the number to confirm it was real, and insisted on adding him on Facebook, expanding Ryan's social circle to include yet another socialite -- not that it was a bad thing, given Paris's extensive connections.
...
After being whisked away by Scooter from Sean Combs's mansion, Ryan met up with Joel. This unexpected white party venture had finally come to an end.
Surprisingly, Scooter left with Ryan too. In the car, he confessed, "I was only responsible for the daytime parts of the party."
He also added that payment would come in the next few days from an entertainment company, and Ryan needed to give him a ten percent commission. At least Scooter maintained professionalism, not taking advantage of the situation.
As for Joel, Ryan was just joking at the time, but he didn't expect him to rush to the bed with Paris in his arms.
"Making money and scoring a girl -- next time, you better take me along!" Joel laughed heartily, looking dim-witted but clearly clever beneath those glasses; he surely recognized Paris Hilton.
"No next time. This was my apology for you; otherwise, you'd have spent the night in jail," Ryan reminded him.
"What kind of weapon did you use to apologize?" Joel asked with a mischievous grin, drawing Scooter's inquisitive glance.
If Ryan claimed he did nothing, neither of them would believe it.
...
The three checked into a hotel in Manhattan. Just after dropping their bags, Joel eagerly invited Ryan to grab a drink at a nearby bar. Having made money and resolved his work issues thanks to Taylor, he was enjoying life without a care in the world.
"You're such a buzzkill," Joel waved his hand dismissively.
"Think of it as helping you out; what woman would want to look at you when I'm around?" Ryan chuckled, half-joking.
Another reason was that a college student in New York had seen the news about Ryan coming to New York and had messaged him earlier while he was at the white party.
...
Ryan took a cab to NYU, entangled in Manhattan traffic for nearly forty minutes. After a quick dinner with Elizabeth Olsen, Ryan encouraged her with more talk about pursuing her ambitions.
After their meal, he walked her back to her campus and passed a small theater.
"Do you want to go inside for a bit?" Elizabeth Olsen noted Ryan pausing at the poster outside.
"Do you know this guy?" Ryan pointed to the poster featuring a Black artist in a tilted fedora, dressed in a vest and shirt, looking distinctly jazz-inspired.
"Aloe Blacc?" Elizabeth Olsen read the name aloud, shaking her head. "There are plenty of unknown artists like him in New York."
So why would an unknown artist turn down his collaboration invitation? Ryan recalled Robin Thicke's smile earlier, and Scooter's timely appearance pointed towards a likely connection...
"Wait." Elizabeth Olsen's face flushed as Ryan dragged her into the bar against her will.
*****
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