In front of Simon's mountain mansion in southeast Park City.
Another black SUV, suitable for mountain driving, slowly came to a stop. The window rolled down, revealing a beautiful woman wrapped in a thick down jacket, handing an invitation to the guard at the gate.
The guard was polite as he took the invitation, glanced at it, and looked back at the couple in the car. "I'm sorry, this invitation is for Mr. Tom Noonan. The note clearly states he can bring one guest, but he must be present. Neither of you are Mr. Noonan."
The young man in the driver's seat responded calmly, "Buddy, you must be mistaken. I am Tom Noonan."
The guard simply made a turning gesture, "Please don't question my professionalism. Please turn back."
The woman in the passenger seat, with her pretty blue eyes, looked pitifully at the guard and pleaded, "Sir, we're friends of Tom. He gave us the invitation because he couldn't attend. Please let us in."
The guard remained unmoved by her plea, "Invitations are non-transferable. I'm sorry, but please turn back. There are other guests waiting."
The woman still didn't give up and took out her phone, "We can call Tom to prove he gave us the invitation."
The guard, unimpressed, repeated his gesture, his tone a bit firmer, "Miss, please don't make this difficult for us."
By this time, three more cars were waiting behind them.
Faced with the guard's insistence, the young man in the driver's seat glanced at the unguarded gate and the brightly lit villa on the hilltop, hesitated briefly, then obediently turned the car aside.
Forcing their way in seemed easy, but doing so would destroy his plans to break into Hollywood from the music industry. It might even end his career.
The consequences would be severe.
He regretted demanding the small director's invitation just to bring his girlfriend, not expecting the guard to identify the discrepancy despite the lack of photos and the director's obscurity.
As the SUV turned around in the spacious courtyard, the young man glanced again at the burly guard. Did he remember what all the guests looked like? That didn't seem reasonable.
"Mark, what should we do? Should we call Nancy Josephson? I heard she's in Park City too. Or, since you model for CK's men's underwear, maybe you can contact CK. CK is under Melisandre, which is a Westeros company."
Mark, frustrated by his girlfriend's oblivious chatter, thought about how much he stood to lose. This party, hosted by Simon Westeros, was a golden networking opportunity. Missing it meant missing out on meeting industry heavyweights who could accelerate his Hollywood career.
Now it was all ruined.
As they lingered, they noticed another car being turned away. It became clear they weren't the only ones trying to crash the party.
It made sense.
Tonight's invitations were mainly given to emerging filmmakers at Sundance. Yet, given the high-profile nature of Simon Westeros' party, even Hollywood A-listers would be eager to attend. The invitees, many of whom had just made a couple of films, were likely pressured to give up their invitations or bring uninvited guests.
Realizing this, Mark drove down the mountain, feeling dejected.
Inside the mansion, the party grew livelier as more guests arrived, making security at the hilltop estate a serious task.
Besides those attempting to impersonate guests, there were also fake invitations and those trying to force their way in—all turned away.
But these were minor issues compared to those climbing the snowy slopes to reach the estate.
The slopes around Park City weren't steep, and despite the thick snow, it wasn't difficult to climb. But these trespassers triggered the outermost alarm system well before reaching the stone wall marking the property boundary, finding guards already waiting for them.
With his growing wealth and power, Simon became increasingly cautious about his personal safety, preferring to prevent incidents rather than react to them.
Inside the mansion, the spacious first floor accommodated about 200 guests without feeling crowded.
Alison, accompanied by a few maids, brought two cases of red wine from the cellar and locked the door before heading upstairs. She noticed a guard named Baker entering urgently and intercepted him.
"What's going on, Baker?" Alison asked.
Baker stopped and explained, "Ms. Norris, we've caught over twenty intruders climbing the slopes. I need to ask Mr. Westeros what to do with them."
Alison was momentarily taken aback, "Climbing the slopes?"
Baker pointed northwest, "Yes, those slopes."
Alison was speechless. The western and northern slopes connected to Park City, and climbing up from the base was a five to six hundred meter journey through snow. While not too dangerous, it wasn't easy either.
Since they had climbed up, they couldn't just send them back the same way, as any incident could be troublesome. However, allowing them into the party was out of the question, or more would try the same in the future.
"Follow me," Alison said, leading Baker through the living room. She paused near the stairs, where a Mexican woman was arguing with a maid, trying to go upstairs.
"Ms. Hayek, is there a problem?" Alison asked.
The petite but curvy Mexican woman was surprised Alison knew her name. Seeing Alison's higher rank indicated by her black suit, she didn't dare cause trouble and explained, "I need to use the bathroom, but the ones downstairs are occupied."
Alison responded, "I'm sorry, Ms. Hayek, but the upstairs is off-limits. If it's urgent, I can have someone take you to the next villa."
Embarrassed, Hayek hesitated before shaking her head, "No, I'll wait."
Alison nodded, watching Hayek walk away before continuing with Baker through the crowd to a private bar at the eastern end of the mansion.
The bar, over a hundred square meters and equipped with various entertainment facilities, was crowded. Amid the soft music, some danced, others played darts or chatted at the bar.
In the corner by the pool table, Simon chatted while playing pool with Robert Redford, Steven Deutschman, and Madonna.
Madonna was also there.
Park City had attracted more musicians in recent years, and Daenerys Entertainment's new boy band, the Backstreet Boys, was here to promote their upcoming Easter album. They had been invited to the party.
Madonna, always one for excitement and having a decent personal relationship with Simon, wouldn't miss the party.
The pool cues were in the hands of Madonna and Redford.
Alison found the sight of the serious Robert Redford playing pool with Madonna somewhat surreal.
Her boss could get along with anyone, but Redford was different.
Indeed, when Madonna missed a shot and tried to cheat for another turn, Redford, not wanting to bother, gestured for her to continue. Finding Redford uncooperative, Madonna handed her cue to her young boyfriend and, with her glass of wine, squeezed herself beside Simon on the couch, pushing Natasha Henstridge aside.
Simon had been quietly discussing something with Deutschman. With Madonna sitting beside him, he paused, noticing Alison and Baker.
"What's up?" Simon asked.
Alison stepped forward and explained the situation outside.
Simon wasn't surprised and smiled, "Have Ken send some people to drive them down the mountain. Make sure nothing happens."
Alison nodded and left with Baker.
The slopes were a few hundred meters, but the winding road was three kilometers. Making the trespassers walk down at night wasn't an option.
Simon's professional bodyguards were divided into two groups of eight, but they couldn't leave the villa. Fortunately, the party company had prepared some drivers who could help.
Alison briefed Ken Dixon and saw the group of trespassers before heading back inside.
The party had started at 7:30 PM and it was now 8:30 PM.
Entering the living room, Alison remembered the afternoon's task and hurried to the adjacent lounge.
The lounge was also crowded with several familiar Hollywood faces drinking and chatting—Alec and William Baldwin, the sexy actress Daryl Hannah, and Kelly Lynch, who starred in Tom Cruise's Cocktail.
Smiling and nodding to them, Alison nonchalantly collected the Cutthroat Island script and other signed scripts and magazines from the coffee table. Noting that the top script had been moved, she realized someone had indeed looked at it.
Even if it wasn't the four on the couch, they couldn't have missed it from their seats.
Hugging the pile of scripts and magazines, Alison quickly left the lounge, sensing many eyes on her.
It was easy to imagine that news of Simon Westeros personally reading the Cutthroat Island script would spread, piquing many interests.
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