Chapter 617 I really don't understand music
While Du Caige was talking in the reception room on the second floor, in other parts of the mansion, the party continued.
Collidio held this party, just a routine, because he just won the second best director Oscar in his life.
By convention, he was obliged to throw a party to celebrate.
But in fact, at the party, he has nothing to accomplish.
So after a few simple words, he no longer controls the progress of the party.
Instead, let the guests socialize, make friends at will, or if someone is working on a fire, he also provides a room.
The party gradually became chaotic and chaotic. Some people got drunk and started to splash and shout; Smiles and mannerisms become grotesque under the influence of drugs...
This is the entertainment industry.
It seems glamorous, but in fact it is just a group of men and women who eat and drink together, and it is not necessarily noble.
Don't be surprised if you see a big star drunk here, running to the swimming pool, unzipping the zipper, ignoring the eyes of many ladies around, staggering into the pool water, turning on the faucet, and flying down three thousand feet. for his vulgarity.
If you see a beauty star here disheveled and walking out of a room holding hands with some handsome guy, don't be surprised by her debauchery.
But after all, the people invited by Colidio are not low-level, not unscrupulous street gangsters.
These people are also stars in size. Even if they are having fun, they are more or less measured, and they will not be completely reckless.
And there were also invited media people at the party.
So the party won't be too extreme, and there won't be too many unsightly scenes.
At the lively party, Claire walked around disappointed, listlessly greeting acquaintances.
Duan, this Bichi, secretly ran to have a tryst with her boyfriend, left her at the party alone, and said she was a good sister!
In fact, Claire was in a pretty good mood.
Even playing alone can be fun.
The fastest update mobile terminal:
But just now I met one of her swordsman ex-boyfriends, and they quarreled when they disagreed, and the point was that they lost the quarrel.
So at the moment, she was particularly irritable, panting, her eyes red like an angry heifer, pouting her hooves, as if she was going to fight a matador.
Those nodding friends who were not familiar with her felt inexplicably bad when they saw her expression.
I was about to go up to say hello, but my raised hand turned to another direction in time: "Hey, Cody/Judy/Wendy/Petty, long time no see..."
Claire stared, and became even more depressed. In fact, she just wanted to find someone to quarrel with and get back the lost place.
Just like a gambler who has lost money, he always wants to play another game and win it back with profit.
At this time, Claire heard a woman say: "...he is a sensational guy. If I want to say, those so-called songs he wrote are probably all bought by him. After all, he is a billionaire, rich."
Claire's ears perked up.
This is clearly referring to her new friend Hemingway!
Immediately her alertness increased and she was ready for battle.
"Who knows. Maybe he's a billionaire. After all, he's Chinese, and Chinese people are thieves, robbers, prostitutes, and liar clowns."
Claire turned her head and looked at the sound. Under a small palm tree, several dark-skinned men and women were holding wine glasses and talking red-faced.
"Hey!" Claire was both angry at what she had heard and delighted that she had finally found someone to fight with.
She walked quickly to the palm tree and pointed at them: "You people, listen to what you have to say? Are you too drunk? Or are you racists!"
Then she recognized two of them.
One was a talk show actor, Alan Smith, who was a chubby black guy. There is also a talent show debut rapper, Dennis Wright.
The rest she did not know.
"Yo, yo, Claire baby," Dennis Wright's tone was a little drunk, "where are racists? Niggers hate racists the most, er, and Chinese."
Claire's eyebrows stood upright, her eyes between green and azure were burning with anger at this time: "Yo you, who allowed you to call me baby? You racist bastard! You only dare to hide in other people's places. Are you talking bad behind your back?"
A strong black man who Claire didn't know stepped forward, his muscles tense and a threatening expression on his face: "Bichi, shut up and get to the side! No one here wants to talk to you."
Claire shouted fearlessly, "I don't want to talk to you either! Bastards! Racists! Your mom should be ashamed for giving birth to bastards like you! Get out of this party!"
Their quarrel has attracted the attention of some people. Tonight, Colidio's mansion was flooded with too many guests. The density was quite large, and it was almost crowded. collide.
So soon they were surrounded by people.
Some people tried to persuade, some people fanned the flames, and made a lot of noise. It was as if the vegetable market had been moved over.
Alan Smith said, "Forget it, stop arguing. Claire, go away first! We drank a little too much, and we speak without thinking, so don't bother with us."
Claire said loudly, "You owe Hemingway an apology! As long as you apologize, I won't bother with you."
"Apologize? What nonsense are you talking about," said a woman, and the voice was the one who slandered Hemingway before. "I didn't say anything wrong, why should I apologize!"
Claire stared at her. "You said that Hemingway's works were all bought. Do you have any evidence? Either show evidence or apologize!"
The woman sneered: "Evidence? Evidence is what the judge needs. We don't need evidence, as long as the basic logic is that he is a billionaire, how can a billionaire write good music? I bet he even has one Not even the most basic instruments."
Claire's eyes burst into flames: "Haven't you seen him play the guitar at the 'Grimace Band' concert!"
"Hehe, who knows if it's a fake bullet."
Claire was furious.
What fueled the fire even more were the whispers of the people around.
Claire has a pair of keen ears, she clearly heard, and many people whispered in agreement with the woman's words.
"That's right."
"It's a joke that billionaires can write songs."
"Maybe he didn't even write the book."
"Some people on the Internet have long said that the book was not written by him himself, and it is also a brush that can be on the bestseller list."
"That is, how can a Chinese person write so well in English? The fraud is outrageous."
"He knows shit about music!"
Claire wanted to say something, but her heart was so cold that she couldn't speak.
Is this the elite of the Stars and Stripes entertainment circle?
A bunch of trash, villains, Malavak.
How you were in front of Hemingway before, how you were scrambling to get his attention, to ask him to write you songs, to want his contact information, to even climb into his bed.
Now turn your back and use the most obscene language to slander him!
For a time, Claire felt really ashamed to be with them.
"Oh? I really don't know much about music."
A voice came from far away.
When everyone looked back, they saw director Mayer and Hemingway walking out of the house one after the other and walking towards the crowd.
Judging from the expressions of the two, it should have been a very unpleasant chat just now, and Mayer strode forward with an expression of anger still on his face.
Hemingway was walking slowly behind, and he was the one who just spoke.
"Well, you're wrong a little bit. I don't know much about music, but I can play a few instruments. Fran, do you have a piano here?"
Collidio came out of the crowd and laughed. "Of course. Hemingway, do you want to play a piece for us?"
"Right on my mind."
Collidio clapped his hands, called a few service staff, and whispered a few words.
The service staff went into the house, apparently to move the piano.
Claire also lost a little breath, and even smiled a little.
Although arguing with Shabi is very unpleasant, but to hear Hemingway play the piano live, it can forgive those unpleasantness.
She has purchased Hemingway's pure music, Luvletter, Flower, Summer, etc., which are all good songs that people will never tire of listening to.
Duan Xiaochen also came out Shi Shiran at this time, came to Du Caige's side, and took his hand.
"Do you want me to cooperate? I've almost practiced the song you asked me to perform at tomorrow's party. You can play the piano and I'll sing it." She asked in a low voice.
"No," Du Caige smiled nonchalantly and said, "It was prepared to surprise the four people at the Grammy Gala tomorrow, so don't announce it in advance, lest there will be no surprises for everyone tomorrow. I'll do it myself! Don't worry. , I can handle it."
Saying that, he patted Duan Xiaochen's delicate little hand, signaling her to feel at ease.
Soon, the service staff came out with a piano and set it up under a palm tree by the pool.
Du Caige walked to the piano and sat down, playing a few notes.
At this time, at least half of the people who attended the party rushed over. Around him, there were three floors inside and three floors outside, and the water was tight.
The expressions of those who slandered him were not very natural.
Some people shrank back, trying to hide from Du Caige's sight.
And everyone else is looking forward to what kind of song Hemingway will play and what his level will be.
Du Caige played with only his left hand, and after playing a few times, everyone could hear the tune.
Those who slandered him before showed a triumphant smile, while most of them showed disappointment.
Because the piece he played was too simple, it was the Gallic children's song "Fr. Jacques".
This piece is called "Two Tigers" in Dahuaguo, and it is an entry-level piece.