Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 296: Paparazzi

Chapter 296: Paparazzi

Sunset Beach on the northern shore of Oahu is now the most famous spot for tube waves. Every year, countless tourists come here to either take a snapshot, try their hand at the legendary tube waves, or show off—Sunset Beach is like the Stanley Kubrick of directors, a must-have tool for those pretending to be profound.

For many true experts, however, Sunset Beach has become rather mundane. If you travel west along the northern coastline, you can find three or four hidden beaches, where you can enjoy a private space free from disturbance. But for commercial contests, it's the perfect venue.

Surfing competitions generally start around eight or nine in the morning and continue until three in the afternoon. This is partly because the weather can become unpredictable and dangerous after dusk, making surfing unsuitable. Additionally, surfers need time to wait for the right wave, as not every wave is suitable for surfing. Each surfer gets a thirty-minute waiting time plus breaks, so the competition naturally lasts longer.

When Renly and his party arrived at Sunset Beach, it was just past ten, but the parking spots nearby were already full. Today's driver, Andre, had to circle around for a while before finally finding a spot under a distant palm tree. They successfully parked and then made their way towards the competition area.

The coastal road in Hawaii is wide and winding, offering beautiful scenery with occasional glimpses of cliffs and solitary lighthouses. Gradually, the noise of the crowd broke the tranquility beneath the palm trees, making the air feel more restless.

The beach was packed with at least seven to eight hundred people. The golden-brown sand, though somewhat coarse, felt comfortable underfoot. The bustling crowd was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Beautiful women in bikinis paraded back and forth, soaking up the rare sunshine. Nearby, a two-story observation platform had been set up for commentators and guests, whose commentary echoed over the beach through loudspeakers, introducing the competitors and the conditions of the waves and wind.

"We should come here in the evening," Andre said excitedly, "Sometimes there are parties here with bonfires, bikinis, surfboards, and whiskey. If you're lucky, you might even get to try skinny-dipping."

Paul looked at Andre in surprise, "Here? The waves at night can be pretty dangerous. You might not come back." Paul, a fervent surfer who knew Oahu well, had never heard of a midnight party at Sunset Beach.

Renly, however, was convinced, smiling as he said, "Trust me, if he says it's true, it probably is. You're looking at a nocturnal animal."

In response to Renly's teasing, Andre smiled and nodded, acknowledging the compliment with good grace. "Exactly because it's dangerous, it's more exciting. Those who are willing to participate are true adventurers. That's why such parties are so much fun—reckless and unrestrained."

Paul was stunned and looked at Renly, who nodded back with a smile, giving a confirming answer. This made Paul cast an incredulous look at Andre: Who exactly is this guy?

Finding a spot on the beach, Paul took out the binoculars hanging around his neck and handed them to Renly, who looked out towards the distant sea. Without the binoculars, the surfers appeared no larger than peanuts, barely visible against the waves.

The first round of the preliminaries was still underway, and the surfers' skills were already impressive. The North Shore is definitely not a place for amateur surfers to challenge easily. With Paul's explanations, Renly gained a new understanding of surfing.

"I heard you encountered some setbacks recently," Andre said casually as he shifted the binoculars from the waiting surfers to two bikini-clad girls frolicking by the shore.

Renly, who had just put down the binoculars, was taken aback by Andre's words, trying to recall, "What setbacks?"

Andre lowered the binoculars and looked at Renly before focusing them again. "Rumor has it that during a commercial film audition, you competed with a friend, used some unsavory tactics, but ended up losing."

Renly raised an eyebrow slightly, showing a playful smile. The rumor was indeed quite interesting. His voice rose with suppressed amusement, and his smile widened, "So that's what happened?"

Andre shrugged. "I know it sounds absurd, but that's what I heard. I was wondering if someone might have done something bad behind your back."

Having grown up together, Andre knew Renly was a prankster with endless quirky ideas. However, Renly was also straightforward and disdainful of underhanded tactics. Even if Renly wouldn't admit it, there was still a noble pride in him.

Renly smiled slightly, "This is Hollywood, filled with lies and betrayals. I won't be shocked like you."

"Just like London," Andre replied, causing Renly to pause, a hint of amusement in his eyes. They both chuckled, as if returning to their school days.

If Renly's guess was correct, the commercial film might be "Thor." However, this kind of rumor probably wasn't spread by Chris himself but rather by Chris's publicist or PR team, suggesting that they were already starting to prepare defenses. Does this mean "Thor" has wrapped up?

"Where did you hear these rumors? I thought you weren't interested in Hollywood." This rumor hadn't been mentioned by Andy to Renly, possibly because Andy had handled it himself or because the news hadn't spread yet, posing no threat, so journalists wouldn't catch Renly off guard.

Whatever the reason, it was quite strange that Andre had heard such news.

Andre slightly smirked. "I'm not interested, but that doesn't mean it won't come to me."

Although Andre appeared to be a laid-back playboy on the surface, in reality, he owned the Dalmore Scotch whisky from the Scottish Highlands, one of the finest and most expensive whisky brands in the world. Much like top-tier wines, Dalmore isn't just for drinking but also for collecting, especially for those aspiring to the upper echelons of society.

As a country lacking historical and cultural heritage, the US has always admired the royal cultures of Britain and France, which is why British noble titles granted each year hold such strong allure. Thus, it's easy to imagine the appeal of Dalmore, a top-tier product circulating among the nobility, for Hollywood's elite.

Renly chuckled, "Dalmore shouldn't need the Hollywood market."

Dalmore is a high-end whisky brand with a fixed clientele and doesn't need to expand its market. This is one of the reasons why Andre can remain so relaxed.

"No need," Andre said bluntly. "But we occasionally host private parties in Hollywood. You know, like the Queen's investitures, inviting a bunch of people who crave connections with the aristocracy to spend a dull evening."

"That's at least better than parties in London," Renly's comment made Andre nod in agreement.

"If you need help, just ask," Andre added, sensing Renly's meaningful look. He then added, "I know you might not need it, but you have my phone number."

Renly could sense Andre's goodwill. Unlike the pretense between nobles, the simple and somewhat casual remark still carried undeniable sincerity in the eyes. Maybe many things had changed, but some things remained the same.

"No, I don't know your phone number." Renly's unorthodox response made Andre turn around, looking at him in surprise. After a few seconds, he couldn't help but laugh.

It was, of course, a joke.

The two had lost touch for years and hadn't communicated by phone. Typically, nobles rarely change their phone numbers, as they usually have two numbers—one for social use and one for close friends—so there's no need to change them.

Renly's teasing was merely about how long they hadn't been in touch, and it was possible that Andre had changed his number.

"Well, you should contact my butler," Andre said with a serious tone, making the formality and politeness of London's social circles seem amusingly out of place against the backdrop of the beach, sea, and bikinis.

As Renly was about to speak, his peripheral vision caught sight of a strange figure in the crowd, about fifteen steps diagonally in front of him. The figure wore a Hawaiian floral shirt, beach shorts, and flip-flops, with a large straw hat and a big camera hanging around their neck.

Such figures are common on the beach, as many professional photographers are capturing the surfing competition, along with numerous amateur enthusiasts with complete gear. The scene of long and short cameras is impressive, rivaling even a film premiere.

However, the person had turned around twice, pointing the camera lens directly at him—was it just his imagination?