Chapter 71: A Different Job Offer

He wandered through the Actors' Guild again, planning to tease Marian with his newly learned moves, and to check for any new casting notices.

But the clerk who always sat behind the counter was nowhere to be found today; in her place stood a man in square-framed glasses.

Henry, uninterested in teasing the man, reluctantly lowered his head and gave a silent nod as a greeting.

Whether disappointed or not, the bulletin board held no new suitable jobs, and the guild had no audition invitations. Another day, empty-handed.

Joining the Devil Warriors production team was meant to add a impressive line to his resume.

But being fired mid-project… that doesn't look good at all. Should he even list this experience on his actor profile? Henry wondered.

After buying ingredients for dinner, Henry, with no intention of reporting to the library, returned early to his long-neglected rental apartment.

It wasn't entirely unoccupied during the past month—when the film crew took breaks, Henry would come back, so the place hadn't gathered a month's worth of dust.

Using his super speed, Henry swiftly cleaned the apartment, then stored the newly bought items requiring refrigeration or freezing into the fridge. He casually pulled out a can of beer.

Henry didn't get drunk from alcohol—he just wanted something cold. Screw the theory about drinking warm water!

Sugary soda was an option, but some rural-brand beers were cheaper than cola or bottled water.

Of course, this was America!

After Henry's analysis, beer contained no tech-heavy additives. The only reason it was so cheap and failed to dominate the U. S. market was that it was bitter.

In short, Henry could only choose between sugary-sweet soda, bitter-chilled beer, or drinking straight from the tap.

It wasn't that tap water was poor quality—he rarely drank it because the apartment's pipes were old and always carried a rusty taste. To a Kryptonian with super taste, this was torturous.

Maybe he should buy a water filter—or build one himself, he thought.

Just as he was about to put on a vinyl record and immerse himself in music, embracing his lazy-fish lifestyle, the phone beside him rang.

"Hello?"

A voice came through the line. "Hey, Henry, buddy, heard you messed up big time."

"Qian Ning? Fuck, did word spread that fast? I just got back from San Diego this morning."

"This is Hollywood. The gossip reporters don't move faster than insiders," said the head of the stunt team he'd worked with, sounding smug.

"So now the industry's gossiping about uniting to blacklist me?"

"There's talk like that, since you caused such a huge mess. But the main party hasn't demanded it—so everyone's stuck not knowing how to proceed."

"Oh? Why not just kill me outright? Clean, efficient. No mistakes."

"You don't get it. Hollywood people never quite understand the Stark family. They've done this so many times—thought they got a hint, only to be mocked by the Starks."

"The Stark family?" That was what intrigued Henry.

Tony Stark was still in college—Henry hadn't realized the guy was actually pursuing a Ph. D. —unless this kid had started chasing women in Hollywood before he'd grown a single hair, he wouldn't have left any legends behind.

So the one who made Hollywood tremble must be Howard Stark.

According to his pre-transmigration knowledge, Howard Stark's design prototype was Howard Hughes, a real American billionaire.

He was a famous industrialist, pilot, aerospace engineer, philanthropist, and film producer who once ran RKO Pictures, one of the Big Eight studios of the 1930s—a true Hollywood insider.

Meaning, in this world, Howard Stark had a life remarkably similar to Howard Hughes.

As if to confirm Henry's guess, Qian Ning said over the phone:

"You don't think Stark Industries has zero ties to Hollywood, do you? The best camera equipment is still made by Stark Industries. The latest tech always starts there."

"The old Stark didn't just produce and shoot films—he even starred in cameos of his own movies. Not to mention how many golden-age beauties ended up on his gossip list."

Old Stark played wild, young Stark copied him—these two were definitely father and son.

"Alright. The Stark family are all weirdos," Henry concluded. Then he added: "So Qian Ning, you didn't call just to mock me, did you? By now, the rumors are everywhere—the truth doesn't matter anymore."

"Hey, buddy, of course not. Fixing your problem is simple: just apologize to Tony Stark, bow your head, and if he says nothing, it's over. You're not refusing even that, are you?"

Should he… agree? Henry pondered.

Logically, to show Kryptonian pride, Tony Stark would only see Henry's forehead after Henry delivered a headbutt to him!

But this wasn't how you operated in real society.

Based on over a decade of his pre-transmigration grind experience, bowing your head wouldn't kill you—it had nothing to do with whether he was Kryptonian or not.

Henry's concern was that while Iron Man might not have been a top-tier character in the original comics, in the movie universe's early phase, he was unquestionably the lead.

Getting close to such a person—wouldn't that violate his principle of sneaky growth?

But before considering all that, Henry asked curiously: "Qian Ning, you're saying you can arrange a meeting with Tony Stark? Otherwise, how am I supposed to bow and apologize?"

"Bro, don't joke. How could I possibly arrange something like that? You're overestimating me. I just happen to have an opportunity."

"What opportunity?"

Qian Ning said seriously: "My team occasionally works as receptionists or bodyguards at parties. I just got a job involving Caltech's wealthy students and their Silicon Valley alumni."

"They'll also bring in some minor stars and models. Tony Stark has a high chance of attending this party. Why not join as a receptionist? Seize the chance."

"This kind of opportunity…" Henry dragged out the words, clearly reluctant.

"Alright, I'll be honest. My crew is short-handed—so just come help me out. It's not tiring, you'll see hot girls, and you can sneak some drinks."

(End of Chapter)