The Malibu party was a celebration of Nicolas Cage’s box office success with National Treasure.
This movie was probably the most successful treasure-hunting film series since Indiana Jones.
Since the production was backed by Disney, Martin leveraged his status as a major shareholder to let his own Meyers Pictures get a slice of the investment.
The party started off as a huge success, especially after the girls arrived.
A group of party-crashing police officers ruined the atmosphere.
They weren’t here for the illicit substances in the house but for—
"Mr. Nicolas Cage, did you purchase a dinosaur skull last month?"
"Uh, yes, I did. Why?"
"That dinosaur skull was stolen from a collector six months ago. It is considered stolen property, so we need to take it back. We also have a few questions for you and hope you’ll cooperate with our investigation."
"What the f***?! How did this happen?"
The guests gathered around, whispering amongst themselves after hearing the police’s words.
Leonardo DiCaprio grinned with schadenfreude. "Hahaha, good thing that idiot Nicolas snatched up that dinosaur skull first. Otherwise, I’d be the one in trouble now—lucky me!"
Martin advised him, "Luck isn’t something you can count on. I suggest you stop attending those so-called ’secret auctions.’ Most of the items sold there have questionable origins, and the place is crawling with scammers. Honestly, I even suspect that at the last auction you and Nicolas attended, everyone else in the room was just a plant—except for you two morons."
Leonardo fell into deep thought—
Thinking back to that auction... now that he considered it, aside from himself and Nicolas, wasn’t everyone else a total stranger???
Could they really have been plants?
Martin didn’t know if his words would make Leonardo change his ways, but he had at least fulfilled his duty as a friend.
Besides, Leonardo wasn’t as reckless as Nicolas when it came to collecting and investing. He had a plan—allocating only 30% of his annual income to purchases. Though this was still a hefty sum, at least he wouldn’t end up bankrupt like Nicolas.
Nicolas Cage’s financial recklessness also gave his agent and accountant a golden opportunity. Instead of protecting his interests, these two conspired with outsiders to manipulate him into buying absurd, worthless collectibles at outrageous prices—taking a cut for themselves in the process.
By 2006, Nicolas Cage had spent all his money on collectibles. Encouraged by the two leeches around him, he still believed these items were appreciating in value while the dollar was depreciating, making collectibles the best investment. In a frenzy, he even started taking on debt to keep buying.
By 2009, Nicolas Cage was drowning in debt. He owed the IRS $6.3 million, and the 50 luxury cars and 15 mansions he once owned were all seized by the banks. This once-superstar was now homeless, crashing in a friend’s bar in Las Vegas—a vagabond.
Eventually, after too many nights of mooching, his friend had enough and ordered the staff to kick him out.
According to a witness at the time: Nicolas Cage wore leopard-print pants and a black T-shirt. He looked noticeably thinner than in his films. He sat on the couch with a blank stare, barefoot—his shoes had been thrown aside.
Another witness told the media, "At first, I thought they were throwing out a homeless drunk who was making a scene. But to my shock, it was Nicolas Cage."
That’s how far he had fallen.
Snapping back to reality—
Martin watched as Nicolas Cage followed the police into the house, obviously to be questioned.
The party guests lost interest in continuing their revelry and began to leave.
Leonardo, seeing the girls also preparing to leave, sighed regretfully. "Damn, Nicolas really knows how to pick them. Wonder which modeling agency they’re from? Hmm, I’ll call him in a few days and ask."
Martin said, "I’m heading home. What about you?"
Leonardo quickly replied, "No way, man, it’s only ten! The night’s just getting started! I know a new club that’s amazing. Let’s go check it out!"
Martin nodded. "Alright. How’d you get here?"
"Then I’ll ride with you, and Gordon can follow in my car."
"Blue Beast? What kind of name is that?"
Standing in front of the club, illuminated by bright neon lights, Martin wasn’t so sure this place was as great as Leonardo claimed.
"Come on, follow me. I’m a member—we can take the VIP entrance. Gogogo!" Leonardo was already hyped.
The so-called "VIP entrance" was in a dimly lit alley, illuminated only by two flickering streetlights—one at the front, one at the back. The middle section was nearly pitch black.
Leonardo expertly pulled out his phone for light and stopped at an iron door in the alley. Entering a code, he explained to Martin,
"The code changes daily. Members get a text message with the new one."
As he finished speaking, the code was accepted, triggering an electronic chime of Edelweiss. Then, a small window on the iron door slid open, revealing a pair of eyes.
"Taiwan is a COUNTRY!"
Martin rolled his eyes. So dramatic.
Beyond the door was a long corridor. After walking about ten meters, a deafening wave of music crashed over them.
Leonardo was already dancing, beatboxing as he moved.
Seeing Martin’s indifferent reaction, he patted his shoulder and said, "Come on, man! You gotta enjoy yourself! I’m telling you, the girls in this club are top-tier. A lot of up-and-coming models come here to party!"
After another turn, a massive dance floor came into view—roughly 2,000 square feet, packed with over a hundred people grinding and whipping their heads around.
At the DJ booth, a female DJ was wildly shaking her body—shirtless. The speakers blasted high-decibel electronic beats.
Above the dance floor, multiple disco balls spun, casting beams of light that twirled and swayed across the room.
"You bitches ready for the blizzard?!" the female DJ suddenly screamed.
A frenzied response erupted from below:
"I love the blizzard!"
The next second, snow machines started spraying artificial snow while fans howled, creating a simulated snowstorm in the club.