Chapter 61: Exclusive Restaurant

"Chef, give me a steak. I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow."

Henry arrived at the restaurant in the set's break area, where the production team had hired a dedicated chef team.

The head chef was a large Black man, of a build so broad his waistline likely equaled his height. Anyone seeing him for the first time couldn't be sure if he could cook, but they'd be certain he knew how to eat.

This giant chef emerged from the break room, adjusting his chef's hat. Even though not a single hair remained on his scalp to fall into his food, he meticulously tidied his appearance.

The big man spotted Henry and laughed heartily. "Henry, you're only done shooting now?"

From the overflowing donut counter, Henry picked several flavors and piled them high on a plate. He poured himself a cup of black coffee. "No choice—the director demands perfection. One wrong step and we redo it."

"Every time someone flubs, the prop crew has to reset everything before we can shoot again. Do that a few times, and it's strange if we finish on time."

As he flipped the steak, the chef grinned. "You wouldn't be the one dragging everyone down, would you?"

"If I were dragging everyone down, I'd still be getting yelled at by the assistant director. The fact that I'm here eating with you? You know why."

The chef asked curiously, "Could it be those two groups causing trouble again?"

Henry stuffed his mouth with donuts, mumbling, "There are three producers. Unless Mr. Seeger steps in, nobody will yield to anyone else. In chess, the pieces suffer—that's just how it is."

Besides the lead actor and producer, Shi Difen, the other two producers each had their own supporters. They might not dare openly defy or sabotage, but giving the other side's people trouble? That never stopped.

"Then how come you're untouched? Stronger backing? Tell me."

"Do I have some undersea volcano backing me? I'm just a background actor hired through the actors' union—a nobody. I don't even qualify as a chess piece. Why would anything ever touch me? Besides, no one watching me? That's better."

Henry spoke pure truth. As a set nobody, he happily freeloaded off the boss. Thinking back to his dream before he crossed over—doing nothing all day yet still getting paid—he'd already achieved it. Why complain?

So as a background actor with no connections or protection, Henry was ignored by everyone, excluded by all—and yet, like sitting in the best seats, he watched the drama unfold.

His treatment couldn't get any lower anyway. Even if every single shot of him got cut, as long as he stayed on the actor's team one more day, he'd get paid for one more day!

The chef flipped the steak with his fork, then asked, "I heard Erica Alenick joined the cast today. Did you see her? Is she as hot as Shannon from Baywatch?"

Henry gulped down his coffee and swallowed the donut. "Oh my god, you have no idea what it's like seeing her in person."

"It's like she's right there—so close you feel her breath, see the pulse beneath her skin. A turn of her head, a flick of her hair, a frown, a smile—everything unfolds vividly before your eyes."

"You can't get this from any screen—TV or movie theater. You have to see her with your own eyes to feel how alive she is."

"No wonder so many rich, powerful men aren't satisfied just watching her on screen. They pay huge prices just to touch her."

Henry wasn't exaggerating. Even he, who'd seen every D-catalog goddess before crossing over, was stunned by her stunning face and perfect figure when he met her on set.

It was a real lesson for Henry, who thought he'd seen it all. What you see on screen is nothing like seeing the real person.

The chef pressed the steak down with his fork, sizzling loudly. He grinned. "Motherfucker, just hearing you describe her, I'm getting hard."

"You know, when Erica first appeared in Steven Spielberg's sci-fi epic E. T., playing the schoolgirl who shares the lead's first kiss, I thought, this girl is so cute."

"Then when she became a Playboy Playmate in July '89 and loudly announced her return to entertainment, I was thrilled. Shannon from Baywatch? That's when I truly fell for her."

"Too bad I've never seen her come to eat here. If she had, I'd serve her my signature dish—she'd fall for me the moment she tasted it."

The chef placed the cooked steak on a plate and set it before Henry, who'd already devoured most of his donuts.

Since this wasn't a formal meal, there were no side dishes besides the steak. If you wanted vegetables, the salad bar had everything.

Henry neatly cut the steak, shoved a bite into his mouth, and launched into his usual complaint. "I don't mean to be picky, Chef, but did you learn your cooking from the British or the Germans?"

The chef grinned, revealing a dazzling row of white teeth. "Even if your mouth is pickier than a Michelin secret inspector's, my Le Cordon Bleu certificate isn't fake."

Still chewing, Henry sneered. "So Le Cordon Bleu taught you this crap?"

Looking around, the table was piled high with carbs. Whether tasty or not, it was filling. Even the steak was cooked in a rough cowboy style.

If a Michelin three-star chef saw this, he'd have a stroke on the spot.

The chef scoffed. "Come on. In America, no matter how bad the food, you can swallow it with ketchup. You think I serve escargot au gratin, it'll be more popular than your donuts?"

"So you just slap this together? Are they paying you too little?"

The chef said seriously, "Honestly, the pay's quite good. But I'm puzzled—I usually cater for billionaires, handling everything from wine to premium ingredients."

"This is my first time as a dedicated chef for a film crew, working 24/7. If the pay were low, I wouldn't have taken this job."

Henry asked, "Didn't one of the producers hire your team?"

"I've met them all, but their circles wouldn't hire me. At first, I thought I might run into an old client here, so I put real effort into cooking for a few days. But I never saw anyone I knew. So honestly? I'm even more confused than you are."

(End of Chapter)