Night fell, streetlights illuminated the area, and neon lights flickered on the Santa Monica Pier, with the Ferris wheel glowing in dazzling, colorful brilliance.
Elizabeth walked along the beach path to the parking lot where Charles was already sitting alone in his car, on the phone.
"Boss, the film adaptation rights for the novel 'the sisterhood of the traveling pants' are with the producers. Warner Bros. is rumored to be interested in developing it, but it seems they haven't greenlit the script yet."
After Charles finished reading the novel, he called Donna at the company to check the copyright transaction records for the novel. All sorts of literary copyrights from after the 1970s are stored in copyright databases in the United States, making them easy to check.
And all kinds of transaction information, the rights holders are all recorded.
"Warner Bros., huh!" Charles thought, hearing that. Sure enough, as long as it's a bestselling novel, the film adaptation rights always get bought.
"Warner Bros. probably isn't very optimistic. The producer should still be lobbying. If other capital joins, it will speed up the process," Donna analyzed.
"Got it," Charles immediately hung up the phone. Did he need someone else to tell him that? The average development time for a movie project is two and a half to three years, and both the script and finding investment are processes.
Forget it. The budget for 'the sisterhood of the traveling pants' wouldn't be less than 20 million US dollars, after all, it requires filming in many different locations.
"Charles, did you finish the novel?" Elizabeth asked, approaching him after he finished his call.
Charles nodded, put his hand to his forehead, then spread his hands and said, "I was too engrossed; it got dark."
He opened the car door for Elizabeth and then asked with a smile, "Where are they? Still at the bar?"
Elizabeth settled in, adjusted her low-cut, tight t-shirt, and replied, "Just chatting and drinking there!"
Charles stroked Elizabeth's thigh while looking into the distance, "The night in Santa Monica is much more charming than the day!"
Elizabeth leaned in and asked, "What's more charming than the night view of Santa Monica?"
Charles turned his head and kissed the Lady. The sea breeze of Santa Monica couldn't disperse the hormones radiating from them.
By the time the two drove to the small bar they had been at earlier, it was already half an hour later. Charles took out his black card and led the group straight to the ACUP Club.
Nine people, a bill of 355 US dollars. Charles wrote 400 on the bill directly, making it a 45 dollar tip. How happy the waiter was.
The ACUP Club is located in the Santa Monica northern mountains near the Palisades. The beach villa Charles bought is also on the Santa Monica Palisades coast.
As the group entered the ACUP Club, the lively atmosphere was immediately palpable. A California-style band performed on stage, and three dance floors of varying sizes were distributed indoors.
Men and women of all kinds swayed and shook their hips to the music in the dim lights, while alcohol and smoke emitted an intoxicating aroma.
Vodka, champagne, tequila, and whiskey invigorated these students once again.
Watching them excitedly rush to the dance floor, Charles downed the whiskey in his glass. These guys didn't seem to drink much this afternoon!
"Camille, your book!" Charles returned the borrowed novel to the short-haired beauty.
"Why aren't you dancing?" Charles poured Camille a glass of champagne and himself a glass of whiskey.
"You're not going either?" Camille said, then winked at Charles,
"Need a break?"
"Huh?"
"When Elizabeth came back, she didn't wipe off what was on her mouth!" Camille reminded him, seeing that she had reapplied her makeup.
Charles leaned in and said, "When she came to find me, she insisted on having ice cream, and I was reading!"
Charles spread his hands. Believe it or not, this was the truth, and Charles himself believed it.
"By the way, how was the novel?"
"The novel, huh," Charles pouted, "It's indeed suitable for women. The deep friendship of growing up, expressed through a pair of jeans, is quite innovative!"
Camille is still a quiet girl who loves literature?
"Alright, indeed I can't discuss this type of novel with you," Camille stopped asking and changed the subject,
"What do you think of the current Iraq War?"
Damn, Camille cares about a lot of things? Both literary novels and current political affairs?
"War, America, haha!" Charles took another sip of his drink,
"Let me tell you a story."
"After an Iraqi civilian died, his soul met God. God asked him: Did you see clearly who killed you?"
"The man replied: I couldn't see them. They stood at the moral high ground, under a holy light, shining like you, so I couldn't see their faces!"
Camille looked at Charles intently, somewhat surprised, "Charles, you should go to a philosophy class!"
"Come on, have a drink, let's toast to those damn warmongers going to hell!"
Camille raised her glass, clinked it with Charles's, and took a big gulp.
"Phew, don't they need freedom? Is Iraq's leader very brutal?"
"Freedom?" Charles scoffed, "I broke your legs, gave you a pair of crutches, and then I made you stand up, giving you freedom!"
"Alright, let's go dance too," Charles really didn't want to discuss these topics with these people whose heads were full of 'freedom'.
He embraced Camille and entered the dance floor. In her sexy denim shorts and tight top, Camille pressed close to Charles, swaying with him.