Chapter 290: Conflict in the Waiting Room

Chapter 290: Chapter 290: Conflict in the Waiting Room

Britney took a bite of her sandwich, and her eyes suddenly lit up as if she had remembered something important. Putting down her food, she said,

"Oh, Irene, I forgot to tell you! The organizers of Victoria’s Secret Night invited me to be a guest performer next March. They know I’m working on a new album and specifically hope I can bring a new song to the stage!"

"Really? That’s wonderful!" A flash of surprise instantly crossed Irene’s eyes. She put down her fork, her tone unable to hide her excitement.

"The attention on Victoria’s Secret Night is growing higher and higher, with the whole world watching. This is a fantastic exposure opportunity. What specific day in March is it set for? I’ll definitely be there to cheer for you!"

"The date hasn’t been officially confirmed yet; we’ve only reached a preliminary agreement." Britney shook her head with a smile, then showed a somewhat conflicted expression.

"But I’m a bit undecided right now. Which song do you think I should choose to perform? I love all the songs on the new album, but the Victoria’s Secret stage is so unique; I have to pick one that best fits the atmosphere."

Upon hearing this, Irene put down her water glass and began to think seriously.

The songs on Britney’s new album had various styles, including lyrical ballads and upbeat dance tracks, but the Victoria’s Secret stage required something that could drive the atmosphere and fit the rhythm of the supermodels’ runway walk.

The melodies of several songs quickly flashed through her mind, but in the end, she still leaned toward her personal favorite, "SexyBack."

In her previous life, it was precisely by performing this song on the Victoria’s Secret stage that Justin left behind a classic iconic moment, further expanding the song’s influence and making "SexyBack" a signature work.

Now, Britney’s version blended sexiness and playfulness just right. If it could be performed on the Victoria’s Secret stage, it would surely bring a different kind of shock and could even permanently imprint the song with the name "Britney," rewriting its original trajectory.

But this thought only flashed through her mind before she quickly suppressed it.

Music was Britney’s passion. Ultimately, Britney herself should decide which song to choose; Irene didn’t want her personal bias to influence her friend’s judgment.

"I suggest you choose a song with a strong rhythm," Irene said thoughtfully, her tone objective and balanced.

"The Victoria’s Secret runway is all about rhythm; the drumbeats must be clear and the melody catchy. This way, the supermodels can better hit their marks, and it can instantly ignite the atmosphere. As for which specific song to choose, it’s still up to which one you like best; your state of mind during the performance is what matters most."

Britney nodded repeatedly, and the conflict on her face gradually faded.

"You’re right; a song with a strong rhythm is indeed more suitable for the Victoria’s Secret stage. I’ll listen to them carefully with my team again and also discuss it with the Victoria’s Secret side to see if they have any suggestions."

"That’s the way." Irene reached out and gently stroked Britney’s head, her eyes full of a tender smile.

"Everything can be discussed; don’t put too much pressure on yourself. My girl has grown up and is becoming more independent now. I’m really happy for you."

Being praised like this by Irene, Britney’s cheeks turned slightly red, and she revealed a shy yet proud smile. "It’s only because I have you by my side to give me advice."

Lunch ended in a relaxed and pleasant atmosphere. By the time Irene said goodbye to Britney, it was already one in the afternoon.

As Irene got into the car, Vera handed her a glass of warm water. "Boss, the candidates for the interview are already waiting at the studio, and Robert has arrived as well."

Irene took a sip of water, put away the gentle smile on her face, and her gaze became focused and determined once more. "Let’s go and meet our future new colleagues."

The waiting room at Echo Pictures was decorated in a simple and elegant style, with light gray sofas placed along the walls. Sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows made the interior bright and airy.

Six young people who had recently graduated sat scattered about, the air filled with an unconcealable excitement and a subtle hint of tension.

Most of them were dressed in decent but slightly immature formal wear, their eyes hiding aspirations for the future. They occasionally conversed in low voices, and the topic always revolved around the name "Irene Coppola."

"I can’t believe I have the chance to meet her in person. Echo Pictures is a dark horse in the industry now, and Irene’s vision has never been wrong."

Elias, wearing a white shirt, adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, his tone carrying an unmistakable sense of superiority. Beside him, Celia nodded slightly, her gaze sweeping over the two people sitting opposite them as a faint, imperceptible sneer curled her lips.

Elias was a Yale University graduate, while Celia came from Princeton University; the two of them automatically formed a clique as soon as they entered, and the looks they directed at Evan and Taylor were full of contempt.

"I don’t know what’s going on with Echo Pictures this time, letting any old riff-raff come for an interview," Celia’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for everyone to hear.

"Even we Ivy League graduates have to line up to submit our resumes, yet some international students from third-rate schools dare to join the fray?"

Upon hearing this, Evan’s hand holding his water glass paused. He was from Stanford University; although its reputation wasn’t as loud as the Ivy League domestically, its status in academic circles was by no means inferior.

Taylor, who sat beside him, had graduated from the University of Chicago and was relatively introverted; he simply frowned and said nothing.

"Third-rate school?" Evan put down his water glass and looked up at Elias and Celia, his tone calm yet sharp. "I wonder if a Stanford diploma counts as third-rate?"

He paused, then turned his gaze toward Elias, changing the subject. "On the other hand, why would a top student who graduated from Yale apply for a ’word processing staff’ position?"

Evan gave a light chuckle, his eyes filled with unabashed mockery.

"The requirements for this job are nothing more than being proficient in typesetting and organizing files—any intern off the street could handle it.

For a top student from a prestigious school like you to condescend to do it, could it be that you can’t find a better path after graduation and are just settling for a way to make a living?"

Elias’s face instantly flushed red, his previous composure vanished, and his chest heaved violently.

"Settling?" He suddenly stood up, his voice rising a few notches and drawing everyone’s gaze. "What do you know? We’re not here for this crappy job!" Celia tried to pull his sleeve, but he brushed her off.

Elias stared fixedly at Evan, his eyes churning with resentment and arrogance, as he simply blurted out what was on his mind.

"Who is Irene Coppola? She is the top producer in the industry right now. As long as one can stay under her for a year or so, even if it’s just serving tea and water, their worth will double in the future!"

He gave a cold laugh, his tone full of disdain. "This job is just a springboard; we’re here to pad our resumes! Once we get Irene’s recommendation letter, we can have our pick of top film companies and investment institutions. Unlike you, who actually treats this low-level job like a treasure?"

The air in the waiting room seemed to freeze. Marcus, sitting to the side, stopped his pen mid-air and raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement appearing in his eyes as he looked at Elias.

Taylor frowned slightly and pulled Evan’s arm, signaling him not to argue further.

The smile on Evan’s face faded, replaced by a touch of coldness in his eyes. "So that’s how it is—relying on the halo of a prestigious school to take shortcuts, and doing so so self-righteously."

He stood up and adjusted his shirt cuffs. "Unfortunately, what Irene Coppola values is likely not the opportunism of ’resume padders,’ but people who can actually do the work."

"Who do you think you are!" Elias wanted to retort further, but Celia pulled him back firmly. She advised in a low voice, "Don’t stoop to his level; the interview is more important!"

Elias took a deep breath and glared at Evan before sitting back down unwillingly, though his chest was still heaving.