Invitation

Irene stood frozen in place. Earlier that day, she had been agonizing over the casting for Regina; the actresses auditioning tomorrow just didn't quite hit the mark, and she had even asked Shelly Ovitz to find more beautiful candidates.

Yet now, this perfect "Queen Bee" from her "memories" had been delivered right to her doorstep by an absurd shooting incident.

Rachel saw her too and clearly froze for a moment.

Her gaze swept over Irene's bathrobe, and she offered a slightly apologetic, neighborly smile, giving a small nod.

A police officer walked over at the right moment. "Is there anything else you need help with, miss?"

Irene offered a polite smile. "No, officer. Thank you for your help."

After the officer nodded and left, she saw that Rachel didn't leave immediately. Instead, she leaned quietly against a car, looking down at her canvas shoes like a homeless kitten.

The statements were finished, and the crowd dispersed. The street quickly fell silent.

Irene took a deep breath; it must have been fate guiding them to meet here.

"Hey," her voice was slightly hoarse from nerves, "are you okay?"

Rachel looked up, her beautiful eyes filled with genuine lingering fear. "To be honest, I haven't quite recovered yet. What about you? I heard a bullet went into your house. That's terrifying."

"I'm fine." Irene shook her head, trying to make her tone sound natural. "It's just a rental, and I'll probably be moving out soon anyway. The landlord is the one who should be having a headache. By the way, I'm Irene Coppola, a director."

"Oh, Legally Blonde!" The girl covered her mouth, her eyes filled with pleasant surprise.

"It seems you've heard of my film."

"I don't think there's anyone who hasn't heard of Legally Blonde this summer. I've even watched it twice. You look even prettier than in the newspapers," Rachel said sincerely.

"We're the same age, just call me Irene," Irene waved her hand, feeling like she'd aged ten years just from that honorific. "So, what about you? It looks like you don't have anywhere to go?"

"My name is Rachel, Rachel McAdams," the girl replied politely, carrying the humility of a newcomer. "I was dragged to a party by a friend. Actually, I was right there when the shooting happened. I never expected to run into something like this... Now my friend has been taken away, and I can't possibly go back..."

God is helping me.

Irene's heart beat a little faster.

"It sounds like you've had quite a scare tonight. Would you like to come in for a cup of hot tea to calm your nerves?" She paused, her gaze landing precisely on those eyes of Rachel's—eyes not yet fully defined by Hollywood, as if she could see the infinite possibilities of her future.

"Also, if you don't mind me being forward, I happen to have a script on hand. There's a role in it for which I've been searching for a new face with enough impact to interpret a complex youth. Perhaps you'd like to take a look?"

The night blurred the boundaries between reality and memory.

Rachel McAdams looked at the young director before her—who had just experienced a shooting and was wearing a bathrobe, yet was extending an audition invitation—a flash of astonishment crossing her face, immediately replaced by immense surprise.

"Okay," she said, her voice filled with irrepressible excitement. "It would be my honor, Director Coppola."

Irene stepped aside to welcome her into the apartment.

Rachel sat on the living room sofa, and Irene heated up a cup of milk for each of them. "If you don't have anywhere to go tonight, you can make do here. There's a guest room on the first floor."

"Thank you, Co... Irene." Rachel picked up the cup and took a sip; the mellow fragrance of the milk instantly soothed the nerves that had been taut since the shooting.

Irene found the script in her bag and placed it on the coffee table. "This is the script I mentioned. You can take a look at it first while I go tidy up the room and wash up."

"Wait, Irene, I can do it myself." Rachel hurriedly stood up, wanting to help.

"You're a guest; how could I let a guest do the work? You look at the script. The auditions are scheduled for tomorrow. Even though I felt you were perfect for the role the moment I saw you, you don't have any acting experience, so you'll definitely be questioned. Regardless, mastering the script is key." Irene pressed down on Rachel's shoulder, pushing her back onto the sofa.

Although she really wanted the other girl to play the "Queen Bee," everything had to be based on real ability. If she truly couldn't handle it, she couldn't gamble with the film.

The next day, Rachel wore clothes borrowed from Irene and accompanied her to the Fox Building for the audition.

"You found another beautiful new assistant?" Shelly walked over and saw them both. "A bit of a waste; this look is good enough to be a star."

"This is my agent, Shelly Ovitz," Irene said, introducing them without explaining directly. "This is Rachel McAdams, a friend I met last night. I thought she had a great look, so I invited her to audition."

"Audition for whom?" Shelly frowned and asked quickly.

"Regina."

"..." Shelly opened his mouth but didn't speak. He knew Irene was dissatisfied with the list of candidates for the "Queen Bee" audition today, but he hadn't expected her to be so dissatisfied that she'd go out and find someone herself.

"You can handle the rest of the 'Plastics' however you like, but I'm choosing Regina myself."

CAA had already taken the lead in deciding the lead actress; if she were to rashly interfere with the second female lead as well, it would inevitably cause resentment from Irene.

"I hope this young lady's acting skills can win everyone over. By the way, where did you meet such a beautiful lady? I should go for a chance encounter too."

Shelly was very sensible. As Irene became more and more successful, he would only obey, not argue; he knew his position very well.

"At the scene of a shooting," Irene said casually.

"?" Shelly's expression was indescribable.

"Believe it or not, there was a drunk shooting in our neighborhood last night. You can look up the reports."

Seeing that Irene didn't seem to be joking, Shelly quickly pulled her aside to check her over. "Are you okay? The security in that neighborhood is terrible; you should move immediately."

Irene waved her hand, her tone very relaxed. "If I were hurt, would I be here for an audition? I've already asked Vera to look for a new place for me. Don't tell my parents, or they'll definitely worry."

"I'll try not to, but if your parents see the reports themselves, there's nothing I can do."

They arrived at the conference room prepared by Fox. Besides them, there were staff members sent by Fox specifically to assist Irene.

Of course, it was called assistance, but it was really supervision. Although Irene had already had one success to prove herself, no one knew how much Francis Coppola had actually done behind the scenes. Now that Irene was taking the lead on her own, it was normal for Fox to be uneasy.

After the brief pleasantries and introductions, the audition began.