Chapter 67: Vera Farmiga

[Chapter 67: Vera Farmiga]

"I've heard about you, Charlie Corleone. You've been making quite a stir in Hollywood these past few months. But I didn't expect you to be so young."

After a brief moment of noise, the bar returned to its quiet ambiance.

In a corner, Charlie sat across from a woman at a small wooden table.

The warm orange light highlighted the table's rustic texture. The woman rested her elbow on it, her eyes curious as she spoke softly.

"So, you're in the entertainment industry? Normally, the average audience doesn't pay much attention to a producer." Charlie smiled warmly. "Do I look young? Not many say that."

The woman shook her head, picked up the cocktail the waiter brought, took a sip, and teased, "Your demeanor and style don't feel young at all. Like all those successful but insufferable men, grumpy and fond of toying with their prey. But when you sang, I really saw that you're not that old!"

Charlie was caught off guard. This woman was tricky, pointing out his nasty habit of teasing others.

Quickly, he changed the subject, shrugging, "Alright, maybe you misunderstood. I'm just a impulsive kid who broke when a beautiful lady sang with such sorrow. If you don't mind, I'd like to be a quiet listener. Talking about your inner troubles can lighten the load. By the way, I don't know your name yet."

"Vera Farmiga," the woman reached out, smiling brightly. She seemed to enjoy Charlie's awkwardness. "A stage actress."

"Oh? I can tell you have a unique aura," Charlie looked down, eyes filled with intrigue. "Is your current job singing in bars?"

Vera's smile froze, her eyes reddened. She took a deep breath, shook her head fiercely, smiling painfully, "Is it funny? You've succeeded in tearing off my armor to see a woman break down. Must be comforting for big shots like you."

Without waiting for Charlie's defensiveness, she continued, "Just days ago, I debuted on Broadway's finest theater alongside Daniel Massey!

I'm in my final year at Syracuse University, majoring in fine arts. My play, The Seagull, just won the Kennedy Center American College Theater Festival's top award.

In my first year after graduating, I joined the American Music Theatre and played Miranda, the only female role, in The Tempest!

I truly thought I'd become a great artist."

Charlie's smile softened but internally he was skeptical.

Broadway? London's West End wouldn't agree with your story.

Seems like you just had an easier walk and got a rude awakening from reality.

Feigning praise, he said, "Oh, that's great. You must be an excellent stage actress. I know The Tempest -- it's Shakespeare's last solo play."

Vera looked up surprised, "You're a young film producer interested in theater?"

"Maybe. I just want to know about the plays you star in," Charlie said with a grin, earning an eye-roll from her.

He surrendered, seriously, "I haven't achieved much for my age, maybe just luck or something else.

Only I know how hard I've worked. I didn't go to college. I had to learn everything about the industry myself, especially when facing all the noise and applause.

There are connections between theater and film. Watching a play is a different experience. The actors' exquisite performances deliver to the audience a close, immersive feeling.

Understanding theater helps in filmmaking!"

Vera's sapphire eyes reflected Charlie's figure. She listened earnestly, smiling gently.

"I've never met such a young man like you. You have the ruthless nature of those at the top, the madness of youth, and the scholarly demeanor.

You make me feel inferior. You can't be much older than me. I imagine the sweat and struggles behind your achievements. You fought and won. While I just tend to wallow in self-pity..."

Charlie laughed, "No, don't say that. Think about your performance just now: with tears in your makeup, confidently facing the crowd playing guitar, you already conquered your inner self. Like I said, you're the savior of your own life."

Vera couldn't help but laugh, touched her cheek, smiling coquettishly with a white eye, "You're so annoying! Women always want to face the world looking their best. Your crazy act just threw me off.

Thinking back, I'm really a bit embarrassed."

"You should thank me for helping you release your resentment," Charlie grinned. "For women, or anyone, the most beautiful part is their inner strength! How soft is your hand?"

Suddenly, Charlie grabbed Vera's pale fingers resting on the table. She jerked them twice but then blushed and gave in.

He gently toyed with them, looking into her eyes warmly, "You should also thank yourself, or I should thank you. At first, you almost slapped me, but in the end you bravely overcame your fear. You kept your head high and your composure. In that moment, I almost saw an angel!"

This was cheesy. Vera blushed, avoiding Charlie's gaze under the soft light.

"I was close, really close to breaking down. Your sharp words could've cut into my wound and made me a screaming lunatic in public."

"But it's all over now," Charlie moved closer, grasping both her hands. "So, what are your plans now? Are you going back to the American Music Theatre, or thinking of trying film acting? I'd be happy to offer some help!"

Vera looked confused, "I don't know. I was kicked off that Broadway theater and barely got a chance at the American Music Theatre again. But the looks from former colleagues..."

...

Meanwhile, Daddy Kirk's face contorted with frustration and anger.

Damn, that bastard never stops. We're trying to negotiate business, and he's off chasing girls, already holding her hands.

Damn it!

"I'm leaving! Damn it! Tell Charlie, Monday at 8 a.m., we're signing the contract at Morgan Law Firm!" Kirk stood up, yelling at Ophir and Mord with no patience.

Then, without looking back, he left with his men.

*****

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