"I heard you often have parties with Leonardo? Can I join?" Jack Nicholson asked Martin with a mischievous grin, winking at him.
Martin looked at him in surprise, then glanced down. "You? Can this old guy still keep up?"
Jack Nicholson's face darkened. "Who are you looking down on? The things you all do now are just stuff I did ages ago. One day, I'll throw a party and show you how it's done."
"Alright, it's a deal." Martin smiled. "I'll let everyone know the good news."
Jack Nicholson was taken aback.
Wasn't he planning to crash their party? Why did it suddenly turn into him paying to host it?
Scorsese, who had been speaking, noticed the two misbehaving guys whispering to each other but didn't say anything, as if they weren't there at all.
After Scorsese finished speaking, it was time for everyone to analyze their roles.
As usual, Scorsese skipped over Martin and Nicholson, making it clear to everyone that two people in the crew had special privileges.
After the meeting, everyone scattered.
However, Martin, Leonardo, Nicholson, and Matt Damon stayed together.
"Guys, Nicholson just said that we're all playing with stuff he's already tired of, so he's planning to throw a party to show us how it's done," Martin said.
"Tired of it?" Leonardo laughed. "Oh, oh, oh, then let's see how much fun this old guy can have."
Matt Damon then said, "I heard you and Marlon Brando were neighbors. Did you really play a party relay for 22 straight days, with you hosting one party and him hosting the next? Is that true?"
Matt Damon's emotional intelligence was impressive, and this question hit a sweet spot for Jack Nicholson.
The old man showed a nostalgic look and said, "Yeah, I was still under forty at the time, just starting to get some fame and money, so I moved to the Hollywood Hills on Mulholland Drive."
"Then I found out the guy next door was that bastard Marlon Brando."
"We hit it off immediately and turned the place into a party haven."
"Money, alcohol, beautiful women... we never lacked beautiful women, and we never lacked girls willing to spend the night with us."
"That was a fun time."
As Nicholson reminisced, he got more excited, continuing, "At the parties, I met many like-minded friends, including Roman Polanski, a guy you both love and hate."
"You might not know this, but he really knew how to party. A lot of the stuff Marlon and I did, we learned from him."
"But this guy's a bit twisted, you all know about that case that made him a fugitive. He brought a 13-year-old girl to my house, drugged her with mind-altering substances, and then got her drunk on champagne before... you know what he did."
"Dammit, some media even said I was involved, but I didn't touch any little girls! I went skiing at the time and gave the keys to my friends so they'd have a place to party."
"Did you know I also attended the trial for Polanski's wife Sharon Tate's murder? That Charles Manson guy really had an incredible gift for gab. No wonder he attracted so many followers. When he talked about killing Sharon Tate, his cold, indifferent eyes brought up a fear in me that I couldn't shake. From then on, every night I had to put a hammer under my pillow before sleeping."
At this point, Martin could feel the fear buried deep inside Nicholson. Over time, it seemed that fear hadn't disappeared. Instead, it had been built up by Nicholson with layer after layer of imagination, making it even more obscure and deep.
Maybe this old guy's eccentricities, his habit of scaring people, stemmed from that fear, Martin thought.
Matt Damon and Leonardo were engrossed, as they had never experienced the Hollywood of that time. It existed only in the stories of these old-timers, who described it as strange and fantastic, which only made them more fascinated.
…
That night, Martin saw a woman enter Jack Nicholson's room. From the back, she looked a lot like Meryl Streep.
Rumor had it that these two were old bedfellows, and it seemed true now.
But wasn't Meryl Streep married?
Ah, this is Hollywood!
Martin chuckled at his occasional silly thoughts.
…
"Fuck, can you be quiet for a minute?"
Leonardo was unable to sleep due to the noise coming from the next room, banging on the wall angrily.
Jack Nicholson's smug voice came from the other side. "Little guy, now you know if an old guy like me can keep up, huh?"
"Fuck, it was Martin who doubted you, why are you torturing me?" Leonardo yelled.
"Is that so? I forgot. I suggest you call Martin over to listen. I need to show that kid what I'm made of."
Nicholson showed no sign of stopping, and the banging grew louder.
Leonardo rubbed his chin, seemingly considering Nicholson's suggestion.
It was that guy's fault, so why should I suffer!
Just as he was about to take action, he finally remembered Martin's exceptional strength and stopped his impulsive thoughts, avoiding a potential beating.
The banging continued.
Leonardo glanced at the clock on the wall.
Has it been this long?
That old guy must be on something, he thought. It's the only explanation!
Then, Nicholson's voice rang out again. "Hey, did Martin come? Did he hear about my bravery? Is he impressed now? Does he still dare to look down on old men?"
"Fuck, it's just me here, no Martin. Fuck, fuck!" Leonardo cursed loudly.
"Then it's your bad luck. I told you to call Martin!" Jack Nicholson was also annoyed, feeling like he had shaken the bed for nothing.
Meryl Streep, sitting on the couch by the bed, lit a cigarette, silently watching the old man shaking the bed, then said, "If Martin's not here, are you still going to keep shaking?"
"Shake? Leonardo's definitely going to tell Martin everything he heard tonight. I need to let him know how powerful I am. I can't let that kid look down on me!"
Meryl Streep glanced at the time, joking, "So you only lasted four minutes with me, but you've been shaking the bed for over ten minutes. It looks like you're more interested in the bed than in me!"
"Fuck, what four minutes? It was six minutes, and I had to cut it short because I had something to do. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gotten out of bed!"
Meryl Streep put out the cigarette in the ashtray, walked behind Nicholson, grabbed him by the crotch, and said, "Stop shaking it. While you still have the energy, let's have another round, so I can't get out of bed."
"Fuck, no more shaking, but if you're ready, let's go!" Nicholson's little buddy perked up.
Three minutes later...
"Shit, I must've shaken the bed too much just now, really, Meryl, believe me."