Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion-Chapter 550 - 423: New Song for the Script

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Honk honk!

Hearing the sound of a car horn outside the window, Link glanced over and saw Bob's black Mercedes sedan slowly pulling out of the parking lot.

Thinking of Bob, he curled his lips into a smirk. Rumors had it that a major reason for Harvey's rapid downfall and conviction was his own brother, Bob, who had stabbed him in the back by submitting key evidence.

Link didn't know whether Bob did this to save his own skin from being tarnished by Harvey's scandal or if he genuinely had a grievance against Harvey and chose justice over blood.

It didn't matter.

As long as Bob was willing to cooperate, there were plenty of ways to exploit that.

"You smile like the arch-villain in a movie."

Suddenly, someone across said.

Link's face darkened as he withdrew his gaze to lock onto the girl opposite him, Christine Stewart.

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While chatting with Bob just now, he had sensed someone surreptitiously glancing at him from the side. At first, he thought it was just a fan and didn't mind, but after Bob left, he realized it was her.

Christine was dressed in a white T-shirt, denim shorts, and slippers, her golden brown hair cascading down in medium-length waves, her expression still indifferent. With her pale, delicate cheeks, she resembled an emotionless vampire.

"What are you doing here?"

"If you can come here for coffee, why can't I?"

Christine said, her face expressionless.

"Where did the guy sitting in front of you go? He looked somewhat familiar. Is he your boyfriend?"

"Are you, a grown man, that gossipy?"

Christine propped her cheeks and asked as she looked at him.

Link smiled faintly, stirring his coffee with a small round spoon, allowing the aroma of the coffee to waft through the air.

"Why aren't you talking?"

Christine flicked a sugar box toward herself.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, we've both changed a lot. You're now a worldwide teen idol, and I'm the notorious playboy. I don't know what kind of impression you have of me now, so I'm not sure how to speak to you without angering you since your temper isn't too good."

"Hmph, you're now a Hollywood mogul, and I'm just a little actress. Even if you were to hit me, I wouldn't dare get angry at you."

Christine said, curling her lips.

"I'm talking to you as a friend right now, not as some Hollywood mogul. If I were talking as a movie company boss, I would use my finger to tip your chin up and tell you to smile sweetly. Could you do that?"

Link joked.

Christine pursed her lips, staring at him with ill intent.

"Is your job at Lionsgate to lift the chins of female actresses and force them to smile at you?"

"No, I have no job at Lionsgate, nor do I meddle with casting decisions. That kind of behavior would only be for you."

Link shrugged his shoulders.

"Scumbag!"

Christine shot him a glance and slumped over the coffee table, saying lazily, "The guy sitting here earlier was Bob Weinstein? Rumor has it you guys are archenemies, so how come you're having coffee together? Okay, I'm just curious, you don't have to answer."

"There are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests. Palm Beach Films is doing well, and the Weinstein brothers want to collaborate with me,"

Link said.

"Now I remember, lately everyone in the circle has been talking about Palm Beach Films producing sleeper hits two years in a row, saying you've found the right method for investing in movies. Many actors hope to be in your next project. How did you become so formidable?"

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Christine rested her chin on her arm, looking up at him with bright eyes.

"Want to know? Give me a smile first,"

Link said with a smile.

Christine looked at him expressionlessly, her cheeks cold as ice, just like Director Allen had said, she was suited for disaster films.

Link smiled lightly, about to discuss the matter of investing in films with her, when a middle-aged man in a polo shirt came down the aisle, looking at him with an intense gaze.

"Mr. Baker, I'm honored to meet you here. I am a formal screenwriter and director in the Writers Guild, and I have a new script. Could I ask you to take a look?"

The middle-aged man asked nervously and eagerly.

"Sure!"

----

More than half an hour later, Link left the café, got into the business van, and Christine followed, sitting opposite him, looking at him with a very surprised expression.

Link handed her a bottle of ice water but said nothing further, leaning back in his seat and flipping through the script in his hand.

Christine held back for a good while before finally asking:

"Link, do you really want to shoot this script?"

"Of course, this story is quite good,"

Link shrugged his shoulders.

"Is this how you invest in films? Just sitting casually in a café, buying any script that someone comes up to sell, and the movies made from these scripts can make money?"

Christine inquired.

"They should,"

Link nodded affirmatively.

The script in his hand was titled "The Vow," a love story based on a true event.

It told of a newlywed couple whose happiness came to an abrupt halt after a car accident left the wife in a coma, with the husband caring for her unwaveringly.

However, when the wife woke up, she had lost five years of memories, including everything about her husband and their marriage. She didn't know how she had come to love her current husband and married him, nor did she remember what had happened in the past.

The husband was in pain knowing his wife had lost those memories, but he didn't want to give up on her. He confessed to her again, trying to slowly win back her heart.

Link had seen this film; it was one of Rachel McAdams's signature works, said to be one of the top three highest-grossing films she had starred in.

Rachel McAdams, a Canadian actress, had starred in "Mean Girls," "The Notebook," and "Sherlock Holmes," with North American box office revenues exceeding one hundred million dollars for each film.

From this perspective, the box office potential for this film should be quite good as well.

Additionally, inspired by the story of the script, he remembered an English song, "What Are Words."

This song became popular during the tenth season of "American Idol" and was a hit, but now that "American Idol" had already reached its eleventh season, he had never heard of the song. After searching on his phone multiple times, he could not find any lyrics that matched.

This made him wonder if the Butterfly Effect had somehow erased this song from existence.

"What Are Words" was a piece by American singer Chris Medina. Medina was originally a Starbucks barista. He got engaged to his girlfriend in 2007, but his fiancée was involved in a car accident in 2009, suffering severe brain damage; after recovering physically, her mental capacity was reduced to that of a two-year-old.

Medina stayed by his girlfriend's side through it all. To raise money for her treatment, he auditioned for the tenth season of "American Idol" in 2009 and was eliminated in the top 24. This song, which he performed during the competition, was a momentary sensation.

But now, there was no news of it.

Link hadn't really thought of it at first, but after seeing "The Vow" script, he suddenly remembered the song and someone editing the movie into a music video for the song, and his memory clarified a bit, prompting his decision to invest.

Christine, unaware of his thoughts, saw him finish reading the script and immediately called the production department at Lionsgate Films, asking them to come and purchase the adaptation rights to the script.

From seeing the script to buying it, the time he spent deliberating was less than twenty minutes, which seemed too hasty, so Christine was quite surprised at his approach.

"Are you that confident? Before, 'Scandal Plan' and 'Bridesmaids' had nearly a tenfold difference in box office revenues. Can this one do the same?"

Christine continued to ask.

"As long as we can control the cost, there shouldn't be a problem."

Link thought for a moment before he replied.

Christine blinked, feeling utterly incredulous. Was investing in movies really this simple?

Just randomly meeting someone at a cafe to pitch a script, not asking too much, only looking at a synopsis and then casually buying it, and even planning to invest tens of millions into production.

Could such a movie make money?

Christine would never believe it, as making movies was definitely not that simple.

"Link, I bet this movie will definitely lose money,"

Christine stated confidently.

"Oh? What are we betting?"

Link set down the script, his eyes traveling from her creamy legs up, passing her slightly full chest, to her pale and delicate cheeks, asking with interest.

Christine knitted her brows in thought for a moment before saying they'd bet a thousand lollipops. Whoever lost would buy the other a thousand Mars lollipops.

"No problem."

Link drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair and said, "While reading the script just now, a song suddenly came to mind. It seems perfect as the theme song for this movie. Do you want to hear it?"

"Are you serious?"

Christine asked in surprise.

Link nodded, picked up his guitar from the back seat, tuned a few strings, and began to play and sing.

Anywhere you are, I am near

Anywhere you go, I'll be there

Anytime you whisper my name, you'll see

How every single promise I keep

Cause what kind of guy would I be

If I was to leave when you need me most

...

Christine watched him quietly, her lips slightly parted, feeling utterly astonished.

The song was very nice, and the lyrics seemed to fit the storyline of the script, as if it was tailor-made for it.

Did Link really just come up with this?

Was this guy perhaps a bit too impressive?

She blinked her eyelashes, sizing up the man opposite her. He had a playboy's face with a pair of clean, deep blue eyes, and sharply defined cheeks.

He looked more rugged and masculine than the likes of Leonardo and Orlando Bloom, more manly, and even had a bit more of a literary quality than the recently popular Henry Cavill, appearing more refined and more deceptive.

Christine didn't want to keep staring at him, but each time she lowered her gaze, within two seconds, she'd inadvertently return to his face, and his body.

At the moment, Link was wearing a loose pale blue shirt, ordinary jeans, his physique both muscular and slender. He sat cross-legged, cradling the guitar, playing and singing with a clear and magnetic voice, combined with the touching melody, it felt like tickling her ears.

Christine shook her head, suddenly understanding why Emma and those foolish women knew Link was a scumbag but still liked him. It was primarily because of his charm; his appearance was very deceptive, which made it easy to forget the fact that he was a playboy when seeing him.

What are words

If they're only for good times

Then they're done

When it's love

Pling!

He stopped singing there, pressing down the guitar strings, not continuing.

"Why did you stop?"

Christine blinked in confusion and asked.

"I haven't figured out how to sing the rest yet,"

Link shrugged.

"Is this a song you just wrote, and you managed to write such a nice song after just one look at the script?"

Christine questioned.

"I'm not sure if I wrote it. I just remembered such a song while reading the script. Maybe it's an old song. Have you heard it?"

Link spoke.

"No!"

"Then I need to properly check and see if there's a similar old song. If not, I'll finish it and then sing it to you."

Link put down the guitar and took a sip of mineral water.

Christine looked at him. After seeing how hastily Link snapped up 'The Vow' script and decided to invest in its production, she felt that this film was likely to lose money. But having heard his song, she became somewhat less certain.

Because Link was a miraculous person.

He had become an Olympic champion and world boxing champion, achieved top singer status, and in less than two years, became the boss of Lionsgate Films. Just now, he managed to write a very moving song after merely glancing at the script.

With someone as outstanding as him, if he was confident about making this film a hit, the likelihood of success was also very high.

"Christine, I'm heading over to Muscle Beach Gym for training. Where are you planning to go?"

Link asked, looking out the window.

"I don't have plans for the afternoon. Can I come to the gym and watch?"

Christine said, swinging her long, slender legs.

Link nodded and asked Bob to drive straight to the Muscle Beach training facility.