制霸好莱坞

The restaurant where Jenny Jane worked was called Hollywood Star, which, as the name suggested, was located close to Hollywood. Though the place wasn't high-end—meaning the chances of a big star dining there were almost zero—it had been around for a long time and served decent food. A few celebrity photos hung on the walls, adding a touch of glamour. Chen Zhen believed that Jenny Jane chose to work here partly because of the old saying: Being close to the water, one gets the first access to the moon—in other words, proximity to Hollywood might bring opportunities.

As for Chen Zhen herself, she stayed at this job after her transmigration purely because the pay was decent. Over the past month, two self-proclaimed talent scouts had tried to strike up conversations with her, but she had zero interest. As someone who had attended film school and maintained connections with industry peers after graduation, she knew all too well that most stories of being "discovered by a talent scout on the street" were nothing but marketing gimmicks.

Maybe in the early days of cinema, when people had yet to realize how much fame could change lives, production companies did send scouts to find fresh faces on the streets. But in 2001? Even the adult film industry had fierce competition, let alone Hollywood. The film industry no longer needed talent scouts. It was more common in the music industry, where record labels still sought out new talent, and in the advertising and modeling industries, where scouts were somewhat legitimate. But real scouts left official company contact numbers and business cards. The so-called "talent scouts" hitting on her at the restaurant? They were just sleazy men looking for a quick hookup—or worse, a scam to trick women out of money.

This kind of scam had been around since at least the 1920s—just look at the upcoming film Chicago, where the protagonist Roxie gets deceived by a salesman claiming to be related to a producer. Yet, even today, such tricks were still common. Los Angeles was filled with self-proclaimed stars-in-the-making, all working in restaurants while waiting for their big break. Jenny Jane wasn't the only one at Hollywood Star with Hollywood ambitions. The restaurant's lead waitress had similar aspirations, though she was more practical—her plan was to break into advertising first, then move on to TV roles.

It wasn't a bad strategy. But for Chen Zhen, it was meaningless. She simply didn't have that much time.

She had transmigrated from 2014 to 2001, meaning she had exactly 14 years. After that, her biggest advantage—her knowledge of future hit movies—would disappear. To make the most of her foresight, she couldn't afford to start with TV shows and transition to movies later. After all, almost no female star had dominated Hollywood after starting in television. A successful TV show like Friends could last seven to eight years, permanently cementing an actor's public image. This was a major disadvantage for any aspiring film actress. The transition from TV to film was notoriously difficult.

Of course, no one had conquered Hollywood by being a model, shooting adult films, starring in reality TV, or singing, either.

The only path to Hollywood dominance was through movies. She had to start with films. It was her only shot at achieving at least 70-80% of her goal within 14 years. As for reaching the very top? Even she wasn't sure how to quantify that.

Even her short-term goal—simply landing a film role—was proving to be a major challenge.

Jenny Jane moved through the restaurant, flashing a sweet smile at customers and collecting generous tips. Once most of her assigned tables were busy eating, she took a moment to lean against the service counter, resting her sore legs while mentally strategizing her next move.

To become an actress, she needed an agent. Agents controlled access to auditions, knew about casting calls, submitted applications, and arranged opportunities. If an agent saw potential in her, they might actively promote her, increasing her chances of being noticed during auditions.

But the problem was that the best agents were extremely selective. With her current status, the best she could hope for was an agent who could get her TV roles—if she was lucky enough to be noticed at all. Otherwise, they'd push her into modeling or minor TV background roles.

She wasn't being picky—just realistic. In the film industry, the first role an actor takes is crucial. Even starring in a low-budget indie film that never gets released was better than taking a TV gig. Once an actor started in films, they had a higher chance of landing more movie roles. The typical Hollywood trajectory was: small indie roles → minor roles in low-budget films → leading roles in small films or supporting roles in big ones → eventually leading blockbusters. Unless someone had extraordinary luck or a powerful benefactor, this was the path that most Academy Award winners had followed.

And this created a frustrating loop: to land film auditions, she needed a good agent. But to get a good agent, she needed industry experience. She was stuck at square one, with no way to even showcase her acting skills.

It was just like the Screen Actors Guild dilemma—membership came with great benefits, like health insurance, wage negotiations, and better job opportunities. But to join, actors needed a high-paying contract. The catch? Without a SAG membership, getting such a contract was nearly impossible.

For outsiders without connections, breaking into Hollywood was insanely difficult.

Of course, that was to be expected. If it were easy, the industry would be overflowing with hopefuls. The higher the rewards, the higher the barriers to entry. The film industry, sitting at the very top of the entertainment pyramid, was especially exclusive. If she were willing to settle for modeling, things would be much simpler—she could just take a few photos, send them to magazines, and sooner or later, someone would give her a shot.

At noon, Hollywood Star saw a lunch rush. Jenny moved efficiently, smiling as she took orders and pocketed tips. In between serving tables, she continued calculating her path forward.

Her golden finger—her acting ability—wasn't at an instant-genius level. Breaking into the industry wouldn't be easy. If all else failed, she might have to start with modeling and transition to TV, using her acting skills to climb her way up.

Her son was the reason she wanted to return to her original timeline, but objectively speaking, her ex-husband treated their child well. With grandparents providing financial support and love, he wouldn't suffer too much.

Of course, that was her last-resort backup plan. If possible, she wanted to rise quickly and go back sooner. But without a breakthrough strategy, she had no choice but to bide her time—getting in shape for the camera while waiting for the right opportunity.

If nothing else worked, she could start with community theater. While competitive, stage acting had lower pay and lower barriers to entry. A few minor roles in community productions could lead to supporting roles in larger theaters. Even a background role would allow her to make connections.

When the lunch rush ended, Jenny got a short break. She ate a chicken salad—no dressing, no vinaigrette. Many women thought eating salad meant dieting, but they didn't realize that dressings often had more calories than a slab of steak. She wasn't going to let her efforts go to waste.

Johnny, the restaurant's pastry chef, frowned at her meal. "This extreme diet is going to make you faint, Jen. What's going on? You used to say my devil's food cake was the meaning of life. Now you won't even eat a burger."

Jenny smiled. "I've got an audition coming up, Johnny. So, I'm dieting."

Johnny sighed, patting her shoulder. "I don't know if I should wish you luck or hope you fail."

She laughed. This was Hollywood—no one was surprised when a waitress had acting ambitions.

Later that afternoon, as she served a familiar customer his usual coffee order, he introduced himself with a smile.

"I'm Dave."

"Okay then, Dave," she said with a wink. "Hope you have a great day."

As she walked away, she caught his lingering gaze in a reflective surface.

Good. She thought.

Maybe I should stick to day shifts for the next week.