Chapter 88

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In the large, quiet bar, the sound of an Irish whistle suddenly drifted through the air, accompanied by a deep female voice singing. This song had once been popular worldwide, and the people in the bar could easily recognize it. However, this was an underground strip club, and such a song seemed out of place.

Seth Rogan, after giving a tip, returned to the second floor. Many guests suddenly looked up, and from the dance floor, they could see the side of the large booth by the railing, where a fat man stood.

The fat man had his eyes closed, his arms stretched out horizontally, as if he were soaring in the wind or waiting for something.

A very handsome young man appeared behind him. He was dashing and had a slightly rogue-like smile, making him look exceptionally charming.

The sound of the Irish whistle gradually rose, and the deep female voice also became more intense.

"Come on!" Murphy shouted towards the railing, "James, what are you waiting for!"

James Franco took a step forward, tightly pressing against Jonah Hill's back, his hands gripping the thick, barrel-like waist. Using his height advantage, his head poked out from the right shoulder of Jonah Hill.

He stared at Jonah Hill's side face.

"Oh! Wow..." The bar erupted in cheers.

Most people were watching the affectionate pair on the second floor, eager to see what they would do next.

The exhilarating alcohol, the teasing from Murphy and Seth Rogan, and the cheers from the bar gave the somewhat timid James Franco the courage. He shouted loudly, "Do you trust me, Rose?"

Jonah Hill turned his head, looking at him with deep affection, "I trust you, Jack."

"Step up," James Franco pushed his fat waist forward, "close your eyes, no peeking."

Jonah Hill extended his foot and stood on the railing. It seemed to tremble, probably due to his weight.

James Franco pressed tightly against his back, "Do you trust me?"

As he spoke, he grabbed Jonah Hill's two arms, and both made the gesture of soaring in the wind.

"I trust you!" Jonah Hill shouted loudly.

He opened his eyes, turned his head to look at James Franco, "I'm flying, Jack!"

James Franco was also looking at him, and as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes, he shouted, "Let's fly together, Rose!"

Their heads, eyes, and lips drew closer and closer.

The bar was filled with laughter and screams, the atmosphere reaching its peak for the night.

Just as the Irish whistle played its melodious accompaniment and their faces were only an inch apart, the two suddenly turned away. James Franco took a step back, turning to the left, while Jonah Hill jumped down from the railing, turning to the right.

Both let out dry heaves.

"You have bad breath!" James Franco pointed at Jonah Hill, who waved his hand, "You have halitosis."

The people who had been waiting for the show were disappointed and started to boo.

"This doesn't count, this doesn't count!" Seth Rogan shouted loudly, "You haven't kissed yet!"

Jonah Hill's dry heaves were not just because of the alcohol on James Franco's breath. He turned his head and flipped him the middle finger, "Go to hell, Seth!"

James Franco walked back, plopping down next to Seth Rogan, and drank the beer in his glass, feeling a bit better, "Seth, if you want to kiss Jonah, you can go. I can't stand his fat face."

"What's wrong with me being fat?"

Ignoring the booing from the bar, Jonah Hill also walked back, clearly unhappy with James Franco's words, "I'm better than you, you hypocritical, despicable scumbag!"

James Franco, Jonah Hill, and Seth Rogan kept spewing out dirty words and crude jokes, like mad dogs, mocking each other.

The four stayed in the bar until nearly 1 a.m., drinking countless beers. When they left, only Murphy, who had drunk less, was still relatively sober, while the other three were swaying.

In this state, driving was definitely out of the question. Outside the bar, Murphy called a taxi. The four leaned against his black Ford, waiting for the taxi to arrive, and continued chatting.

"Where do you live?" Murphy asked Jonah Hill, so he could drop them off separately.

Jonah Hill staggered a few steps, sat on the curb, and burped, "I... I... I live in West Hollywood, in a shared apartment."

He pointed to his chest, "I share with two other actors, and I sleep on the couch."

Seth Rogan walked over and sat next to him, patting Jonah Hill's shoulder heavily, "I also sleep on the couch, but in James's small apartment."

Their financial situations were not great. Murphy had some money but faced investment pressure. James Franco was somewhat famous, but at this stage, actors were far from the glamorous life they appeared to have, with often very high expenses.

They were all struggling in Hollywood, trying to make a name for themselves.

Perhaps due to the alcohol or their personalities, the impulsive James Franco suddenly clapped his hands, drawing the attention of Murphy, Seth Rogan, and Jonah Hill, and shouted, "I..."

"Burp..." He burped, "I have a proposal. I think we four are very compatible, and we should form an alliance. We can help each other when needed."

He was the oldest of the four but the least reliable.

Despite being drunk, Seth Rogan and Jonah Hill considered it, their eyes unconsciously turning to Murphy.

Compared to James Franco, they thought Murphy was more steady and reliable, better suited to be the leader.

Leaning against the driver's side door, Murphy looked at James Franco, Seth Rogan, and Jonah Hill one by one. They were all similar in a way—young, full of drive, simple-minded, and eager for the future...

Murphy straightened up, walked to Seth Rogan and Jonah Hill, and extended his hand, palm up. Due to the alcohol, his head was moving slowly, and he couldn't think of the right words, so he blurted out, "Form a gang, support each other!"

James Franco was the first to walk over and place his hand on Murphy's palm, followed by Jonah Hill and Seth Rogan, who also stood up and placed their hands on top.

"Form a gang, support each other!"

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