I’m in Hollywood

Chapter 264: Wolf of Wall Street

 

 

Eric sighed, “I can't explain it in a few words, but somehow, I'm just glad they didn't burn down my house these few days.”

Jeffrey on the other end of the phone laughed again, then said, “You must be feeling quite uncomfortable at home now.
Why don't you come over for dinner and meet Chris? It's dinner time now.”

Eric just wanted to chat with someone to pass his time, not wanting to disturb Jeffrey from enjoying his quality time, he hesitantly asked, “Is that okay?”

“Why not? It's a holiday, the more the merrier.
It's always so quiet here at my place.
It will be better if you come.
Oh, if you want, you can also bring those two girls.”

Eric thought that the two girls wouldn't fight with each other in front of strangers, so he agreed, “Then I'll come now?”

“Hurry up, it's nothing, the oven is still on,” Jeffrey said before hanging up without waiting for Eric's response.

Eric put down the receiver and went downstairs after changing his clothes in the bedroom.

Donald and Aniston, who were competing for the TV remote, saw Eric walking down the stairs formally and were wary at the same time.

“Eric, where are you going?” The two girls asked in unison.

Eric put on a displeased expression and said, “You two are too noisy, so I decided to go somewhere else for Thanksgiving.”

“No!” The two girls jumped off the sofa and walked up to Eric.
They grabbed his arms on the left and right, gave each other a glance, then said in unison, “It's all your fault!”

Eric rubbed his temples and said, “Alright, stop arguing.
Jeffrey just called and invited me over to his house for dinner.
Who's coming with me?”

“Me!” came the chorus of replies.

“Ok, ten minutes to get changed.
Whoever isn't ready won't come.”

A flurry of activity ensued as Donald and Aniston disappeared around the corner of the staircase.

……

Eric drove to Jeffrey's house.
He pressed the doorbell and the door opened soon afterwards.

A young man, wearing a suit and looking somewhat similar to Jeffrey but much taller, opened the door and gave them a faint smile.
“Hello, Mr.
Williams,” he said as he extended his hand.

“Just call me Eric,” Eric said as he shook the young man's hand.
“It's nice to meet you too.
Chris.”

Chris Hanson nodded at the two girls then took the bottle of red wine from Eric and said, “Come on in.”

Chris Hanson, Donald Trump, Ivanka, Aniston, and three other people walked into Jeffrey's house, which was still the same, or maybe even neater than when Eric had last visited, likely due to Jeffrey's son coming back home.

It was both Donald and Aniston's first time at Jeffrey's house, and seeing the apartment that was clearly not up to Jeffrey's current financial status, the two girls had a look of surprise.
Aniston was able to hold her tongue, but Ivanka was quick to say, “Jeffrey's so rich now.
Why is he still living here?”

Eric turned and gave Ivanka a warning look to not say anything else, but Chris Hanson stepped in and explained, “My dad is attached to the past.
He doesn't want to move out.”

“Oh,” the girl nodded, not daring to say anything else.

Three people sat in the living room and Jeffrey soon emerged from the kitchen with an apron tied around his waist.
Seeing Eric and his two companions, he said, “Eric, you guys rest first.
Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Do you need help?” Eric asked quickly.

Jeffrey shook his head, “No need.
Amelia can help me.
You guys talk to Chris first.” After finishing his sentence, he disappeared back into the kitchen.

Chris Hanson laughed awkwardly and explained, “When I was seven, I played around in the kitchen and got burned by hot oil once.
After that, my dad never let me near the kitchen again.”

Eric nodded with a smile and gave the two little girls a look.
The two girls obediently walked towards the kitchen.

Eric and Jeffrey exchanged a few words of deference in the kitchen, along with a pleasant female voice, which soon quieted to whispers.

The two men in the living room exchanged glances and chuckled.

Eric had been observing Chris Hansen since the start, and so far he hadn’t seen any signs of an academic prodigy like Jeffrey had occasionally mentioned—someone who got a full scholarship for four years at college, and worked at one of the four big investment banks, Morgan Stanley.

Eric could only gather from Chris’s meticulousness in even dressing up indoors that he was either a perfectionist or a little too rigid.
Of course, the former was more likely.

“What are you thinking about, Eric?” Chris suddenly asked.

Since he was Jeffrey's son, Eric naturally felt a touch of kinship towards Chris and candidly said, “Jeffrey said you work at Morgan Stanley.
I was wondering why you don't have a hint of the Wall Street wolf about you?”

Chris paused and then laughed and asked, “Eric, what do you think the so-called Wall Street wolf should be like?”

Eric thought for a moment and said, “At least it should be aggressive, but I see you more like a meticulous researcher from some laboratory.”

Chris shook his head and said, “Eric, you're wrong.
The more aggressive the so-called 'Wall Street wolf' is on the surface, the less aggressive it looks.
You can take a look at the photos of some of the famous investment bankers on Wall Street, and almost everyone looks ordinary, so much so that you can't even tell them apart in a crowd.

Eric raised an eyebrow when he heard this opinion for the first time and asked, “Why do you do that?”

“It's more of a disguise, to fool the enemy and make them lose vigilance,” Chris replied.

Eric nodded thoughtfully and asked, “By the way, what do you actually do for a living, Chris?”

“Whatever makes money, of course,” Chris said with a smile.

Eric chuckled and asked, “If The Firefly wants to go public, can I find you?”

Chris, upon hearing the question, slightly held back his smile and said, “Eric, whether you are joking or not, if the Firefly is really going to be listed, it must be left to me to operate.
You must know what this name means to me, and I hope it can develop better.”

Seeing Chris so serious, Eric also nodded seriously.