Hollywood Road

The black Ford sedan headed north, passing through Burbank, known as the media capital of the world, gradually approaching the northern part of the Los Angeles Basin. Here lay a valley urbanized like Burbank, equally famous and soon to be globally renowned—the San Fernando Valley.

Although it was only the early 2000s, the adult industry in the San Fernando Valley had already grown to a significant scale through years of development.

Entering the valley, Murphy slowed down slightly, turning into Coldwater Canyon between Burbank Boulevard and Oxnard Street. Both he and Jessica Chastain, sitting in the passenger seat, began frequently looking to the sides.

On the walls along the road was a 2,754-foot-long mural, considered one of the longest in the world.

However, Murphy didn't stop to admire it. At the next intersection, he turned onto Ventura Boulevard, driving straight towards the northern edge of the San Fernando Valley.

Murphy required a house for filming that had to be away from the bustling downtown area. A man with a secret that he wished to keep hidden wouldn't live in a busy area.

Such houses weren't hard to find in Los Angeles, but affordable ones were rare. So, when Jessica Chastain contacted a real estate agent about a property far from downtown, Murphy immediately made time to check it out.

"The real estate agent said the house is often used for filming..."

Flipping through the materials sent by the real estate agent yesterday, Jessica Chastain introduced some basic information to Murphy, "Because it's frequently rented out for filming, the owner has specially modified it, with many spots reserved for camera placements. It's also very secluded, with the nearest neighbor almost a thousand feet away. These conditions are quite suitable for our shooting needs."

Murphy glanced at her, "Sounds good."

Jessica Chastain did have some abilities, but what she lacked most was social experience. For instance, she didn't ask what kind of films or TV shows had been shot in this house.

But Murphy had made some inquiries. Most films shot here were the specialty of the San Fernando Valley.

"By the way," Jessica Chastain seemed to remember something, "there's another crew shooting there now."

"What?" Murphy frowned, "Why didn't you mention this earlier? Can we get in?"

Despite the questioning tone, Jessica Chastain explained, though somewhat displeased, "The real estate agent has already contacted the crew. They're allowing us in as long as we don't disturb their shooting."

Murphy nodded, saying nothing more, and continued driving north.

Jessica Chastain glanced at him, her curiosity once again piqued. She knew this guy was so broke a few months ago that he couldn't afford food and had to work as a loader in a small auto repair shop with no guarantees. How did he suddenly come up with $300,000 to make a film?

How did he manage to raise such a large sum in such a short time?

Honestly, working for someone with less education, age, and work experience than herself made Jessica Chastain feel unbalanced. At times, she even thought her abilities surpassed his, believing he was just thick-skinned and cunning.

Yet, this person had the opportunity to make a movie, while she, a top graduate from the Juilliard School, had to work under him...

"Jessica!"

The familiar voice broke her thoughts, and Jessica Chastain quickly snapped back to reality, "You called me?"

Murphy quickly glanced at her, "Have you got the photos of the girls I asked for?"

"Almost done," Jessica Chastain exhaled, "I've collected photos of twelve girls. Robert, the lawyer, has also signed authorization agreements with their guardians. There should be no issues using them in the film."

Turning the steering wheel, the car entered a secluded road. Murphy nodded. This was an expense; without authorization, any issues arising later could be troublesome.

With the crew just formed, expenses had already reached tens of thousands of dollars, from salaries to rent to authorization fees, making Murphy's brows furrow tightly.

Luckily, according to the signed agreements, apart from the advance payment of about a third of the personnel salaries, the rest would be paid after shooting began and upon completion. This meant the money could stay in his bank account for a while longer.

Following Hollywood's usual practice, mainstream crews often paid the final third of the salary after the film was off-screen in North America. But no one would be foolish enough to sign such a contract with Murphy, as they knew very well that the film might not even make it to theaters.

Hollywood produced over a thousand films annually, but only about a third ever reached theaters, and many of those only had short runs of a week or even just three days.

"Jessica..." Murphy asked again, "You studied drama at Juilliard, right?"

"Yes," Jessica Chastain nodded, feeling a sense of foreboding.

"Then you've certainly studied acting."

Seeing her nod, Murphy lightly tapped the steering wheel, "Great, Jessica. I've prepared a role for you in the crew."

A role? And a special one? Jessica Chastain wasn't dumb. Having read the script, she immediately realized her role would likely be the female neighbor with only one scene.

She tentatively asked, "What about the pay?"

"Pay?" Murphy looked surprised, "Do crew members need to be paid for cameo roles in the film? We're a team!"

Hearing this, Jessica Chastain closed her mouth, inwardly grumbling, "I knew it! This cheapskate intends to squeeze every bit of value out of everyone!"

Feeling both sad and helpless with such a boss, the opportunity to gain practical experience in a film kept her going, like a carrot on a stick.

If he had a budget of millions, Murphy wouldn't be doing this. But with only $300,000 and many expenses to cover, if he didn't manage the budget carefully, he might not even complete the project.

Big projects have big plans, small projects have survival rules.

The trees along the road grew taller and more numerous, and the surroundings became quieter. Besides the hum of the Ford's engine, no other sounds could be heard. After driving for about five more minutes, a typical American suburban community came into view.

The community wasn't large. From a distance, the twenty-plus houses were scattered beneath a small hill. They were spaced far apart, with the outermost ones having gaps of nearly a thousand feet. One of these was Murphy's target.

The black Ford sedan stopped near a gray bungalow. Murphy got out of the car and first looked around. The environment here was excellent. Behind the house was a small forest, and the front was an open garden, offering a view of a shimmering lake in the distance.

Quiet, secluded, and far from other houses… these external conditions met his requirements.

Jessica Chastain had already taken out her phone and dialed the real estate agent's number. Within half a minute, a Latin man in his thirties opened the bungalow door and walked out.

"Hello, Ms. Chastain." He greeted Jessica first, then quickly approached Murphy with an outstretched hand, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Stanton. You're the youngest director I've ever met."

Murphy shook his hand, "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Wayne."

After a brief exchange, the real estate agent, Wayne, led the way, "Let's take a look around outside first, and I'll introduce the basic situation."

Following Wayne, Murphy observed the house's exterior. Wayne began his routine sales pitch, "This house was built in 1995 with a brick structure. The original owner was an adult film company owner. Considering potential filming here, he chose a location far from other houses. The interior has dedicated camera spots..."

After a thorough inspection, Murphy was generally satisfied.

"Mr. Stanton," Wayne asked, concerned, "When will your crew start shooting?"

Murphy thought for a moment, "At the earliest, next month. Definitely by the 10th."

"October 10th," Wayne checked his notebook and said, "After this crew finishes, two more will shoot here. It'll be available by the end of the month, just in time."

He asked, "How long will you need it?"

"At least a month," Murphy's estimate was optimistic.

Wayne checked his watch, "They should be finishing a scene inside. It's probably break time now. Let's go in."

He opened the door, gesturing for them to enter. After Murphy and Jessica stepped in, he closed the door and followed.

Beyond the foyer was a large living room filled with various equipment like light blockers, spotlights, and cameras. A sturdy man in a baseball cap was directing people to set up, presumably the crew's director.

On a large sofa in the living room sat a heavily made-up blonde woman, with a makeup artist attending to her.

As Murphy and Jessica entered, the blonde glanced their way, and Murphy recognized her face—definitely a super star.

Despite the fact that the blonde woman seemed to be wearing nothing under the blanket draped over her, Murphy didn't linger but followed Wayne to inspect the house.