Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm Chapter 660 - 655: Bohemian Club, Rejection

Caesar Palace Grand Hotel.

Built in 1966.

Located on the Las Vegas Strip, right next to the bustling shopping center—Ro Mall.

At the entrance stood a marble statue of Caesar, and a massive fountain; inside the lobby were statues of goddesses, ancient Roman murals, and golden crystal chandeliers... Every detail radiated the opulence of this long-standing five-star hotel.

The four of them had booked a presidential suite with four bedrooms—just enough for one person per room.

Naturally, the one footing the bill was Jack Nicholson.

"Old Jack, is the party being held here at the Caesar Palace Grand Hotel?" Robert asked curiously.

"Of course not. Do I look that boring?" Jack Nicholson pointed to the northern side. "Ever heard of the Goddess Club?"

"What the fuck, you booked us into the Goddess Club?" Leonardo exclaid.

"What the hell is the Goddess Club?" Robert asked, baffled.

"You don't know?" Jack looked equally surprised, then did so finger-counting before explaining, "Ah, that club was founded in 2002. Back then, you were still in prison, and then you were in and out a few more tis. Even after getting out, you weren't really in the loop to access this kind of info, so it makes sense you wouldn't know."

Robert gave a wry smile. "Can you not keep harping on my prison record? So, what exactly is this Goddess Club?"

Jack responded with a question: "You know about the Bohemian Club, right?"

Robert: "That one I know. I've heard a lot of rumors about it. It's said to be the oldest and most mysterious gentlen's club in the U.S., with mbers ranging from politicians, entrepreneurs, financiers, scientists, and artists."

Jack: "Exactly. That's the one."

Robert: "But what does that have to do with the Goddess Club?"

Jack grinned darkly. "Don't you think an all-n's club is kind of boring? It's just a bunch of dudes awkwardly chatting. Nothing else to do. So—heh—so of the mbers proposed creating a won's version of the club, as a sort of... affiliated entity to the Bohemian Club."

"These guys have serious power and highly capable teams under them. It only took six months to get the Goddess Club up and running."

"The mbers of this club are all won, selected from around the world—dance stars, singers, female artists. There are two requirents for joining: beauty and a certain level of fa. Interestingly, very few actresses from Hollywood joined—maybe because they have their own inner circles."

"In terms of figure, the Goddess Club mbers might not rival the girls at Paris' three major clubs (Crazy Horse, Moulin Rouge, Lido), but in terms of looks, they absolutely outshine those clubs."

(Author Note: By the way, Wikipedia used to really spill the tea on all kinds of underground stuff! Eye-opening!)

"So... it's hard to get into the Goddess Club?" Robert asked.

"Of course. I had to pull strings through a friend in the Bohemian Club just to get us in. It's absolutely a blast inside," Jack said smugly. "You see, the Bohemian Club is extrely exclusive and secretive. If it weren't , there's no way any of you would even know who the mbers are. Everything is kept under wraps."

Just then, Martin—like a magician—produced a sleek black card between his fingers.

The card was about palm-sized. On the front, it read: Bohemian Club Invitation. Beneath it was a string of numbers.

On the back were Martin's na and another unique serial number.

"You got invited to the Bohemian Club?"

"What the fuck!" Jack stared blankly at the invitation in Martin's hand, his voice suddenly stuttering. "Is... is that an invitation to join the club?"

"Yeah. They invited to join. I turned them down."

"What the fuck!" Jack was utterly speechless, reduced to swearing.

Leonardo snatched the card to examine it, full of envy. "What is this made of? Feels like tal, but it's incredibly flexible. High-tech? Must be worth a lot?"

"Worth a lot?" Jack's eyes bulged. "Dude, you can't buy this even if you had all the money in the world!"

Then he glared at Martin. "And you, you damn enviable bastard, rejected it? Do you even know what you're giving up?"

"It's just a bunch of old white guys," Martin shrugged indifferently.

"No, it's a network—an enormous web of U.S. power connections!" Jack said, clearly frustrated by Martin's nonchalance.

Martin laughed. "Do I look like I'm lacking in connections? I already know most of the guys in that club. Even without joining this so-called 'oldest club in Arica,' they still can't ignore my voice. Connections are best maintained through interests, not through clubs."

He took a sip of his champagne and went on: "You probably don't know this, but that whole 'greatest n's party on Earth' thing started as a drunken joke by Herbert Hoover. The original purpose of the Bohemian Club was to create a retreat for writers, artists, and musicians. But over ti, it devolved into a private theatrical venue for a different kind of Bohemian—powerful politicians and CEOs."

"Everyone inside has competing interests. Many of them are mortal enemies. There's no real unity. It's not like our little group here, where we get together to hang out and have fun. You'd never guess, but in a club with only 2,700 mbers, there are 125 internal factions. Ha! The infighting is brutal."

"Ten thousand dollars a year in mbership fees doesn't bother , but I've been to their events—boring as hell. No wonder soone created the Goddess Club."

Martin shook his head, then sumd up his masterstroke with a smirk:

"For , I only join two kinds of clubs: one for profit, and one for friendship. This here—ours—is the latter."

"Martin, if that's how you see it, why don't we start our own club too?" Jack Nicholson suddenly perked up. "What should we na it?"

"Isn't it already nad?" Martin said, feigning surprise.

"It is?"

"What is it?"

Jack and Leonardo both looked puzzled.

"The yers Family."

"Fuck that!"

"Why na it after your surna?"

They both flipped him off.

Robert hesitated for a mont, then flipped his middle finger too, adding apologetically to Martin:

"Sorry, just going with the majority."

Martin cracked his knuckles and said with a cold chuckle:

"The majority... doesn't always equal the strongest."