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Inside the Burbank office of Angel Talent Agency, Helen Herman hung up the phone and leaned back in her executive chair. She rubbed her temples and let out a soft breath. She looked visibly more relaxed.
"A movie poster…" Amanda, her younger cousin, had always spoken without filters. "Did you really have to make that call yourself and waste all that breath? The money we made from Gladiator doesn't even cover our rent."
Helen crossed her arms. "Sweetheart, what's the most basic way a talent agency makes money?"
Amanda didn't hesitate. "We take a cut from our clients. The more they earn, the more we make."
Helen nodded. "So what kind of client makes the big bucks in Hollywood?"
"Big stars, obviously," Amanda replied without missing a beat. "One movie and they're pulling in millions—sometimes tens of millions. Plus endorsement deals…"
Helen cut her off. "And do you think those big stars would ever join Angel Talent?"
"No way!" Amanda shook her head. "What major star would sign with a tiny agency like ours?"
"Exactly." Helen's voice was full of confidence. "Which is why we need to build our own star clients."
Her eyes suddenly turned sharp. "I quit my internship at the mailroom before it was even over to start this company. Plenty of people are waiting to watch me fall on my face. If I can't groom even one star client, how will I face them when I go back?"
Amanda knew her cousin well—Helen was fiercely driven. She wouldn't have struck out on her own otherwise.
"But if I return with an A-lister—or even a future A-lister—under my belt," Helen continued, "I'll get what's rightfully mine, and no one will dare say a word."
"It won't be easy," Amanda said honestly. "We're just a small agency. You've got a few connections, sure, but we're nowhere near the level of the Big Five. It's not like we can produce the next Leonardo DiCaprio overnight."
Helen spread her hands. "Exactly. Which is why we have to take it step by step. Getting one of our clients featured on Gladiator's promo poster—that's the first step."
Amanda looked intrigued. "You really think Matthew Horner has that kind of potential?"
She liked the guy—he'd drop by now and then to chat. Always cheerful, always friendly.
"No." Helen shook her head slowly but firmly. "Matthew Horner is ambitious, shameless, and thick-skinned. All essential qualities for a star—but that doesn't mean we throw all our resources behind just anyone."
"Oh!" Amanda nodded. "That's why we've signed long-term deals with over a dozen people. We're still looking for the real gems."
Helen swiveled her chair to look out the window. "Exactly. The wider the net, the better the chances of finding someone with real spark." She paused, then added, "My father and that Gladiator poster—those are just the foot in the door. No one knows who the studio will pick. I've heard Jive Records is letting one of their pop stars help choose the male lead for her new music video, just to get her to sign a new deal."
She rested her elbow on the armrest. "I've met the singer a few times. Not the sharpest when it comes to emotional intelligence. No telling who she'll pick."
"Whatever—she's choosing from our people anyway," Amanda shrugged. "Just getting access to something like this will make every other small agency green with envy."
Helen smiled. "Nothing's set yet."
Even though she was calling in a favor from her father, Helen didn't feel bad about it. For someone like her, family connections were resources—tools to build something real.
—
After over a week of acting classes, Matthew felt like he'd learned a ton. Even better, he'd just gotten a call from his agent, Helen Herman, with some great news: a production still of him, dressed as a barbarian war chief leading his men in a rage-filled battle cry, would be used on one of Gladiator's official teaser posters.
It might only be a promo shot, but this would be his first time appearing in the media—and he was genuinely excited.
He'd seen the still. Sure, the fur cloak and big beard made him hard to recognize at first glance—but if you looked closely, that unique face of his was definitely there.
Even though he hadn't landed any new roles recently, Matthew was in good spirits. Between Helen's news and everything he'd been picking up in class, things felt like they were finally moving. And to top it off, the Forbidden Tarot crew had stopped sending him legal threats.
They seemed to have completely forgotten about him. He hadn't seen a letter from them in weeks.
Thinking like a true underdog, Matthew decided to ride the luck while it lasted. Why pay for a lawyer now if he didn't have to?
If he could save that cash, he might finally be able to buy a used car.
In this country, not having a car is a nightmare.
Especially for him—he was constantly on the move. Weekdays, he spent his days taking acting and language classes at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts. He studied in his spare time to improve his general knowledge. Nights, he drove for Red Penguin Services. And every weekend, he dropped by Angel Talent, hoping to strengthen his connection with Helen Herman.
He'd even gotten close to Amanda, the agency's receptionist. They were becoming the kind of friends who could talk about anything.
Matthew was officially part of the acting world now, but when he looked up, the road ahead was pitch black. Besides Helen, he had no real connections—no one to give him a real leg up.
As for Angelina Jolie, after introducing him to the acting school, their brief connection was over. Matthew had tried calling her assistant a few times, but the calls were quickly cut off. The message couldn't be clearer.
It's tough being a nobody. If you want to climb up in this world, you need to find the right door to knock on.
—
"Hey, Matthew!"
Class had just ended, and Matthew came out a little late after using the restroom. As he stepped outside the school gates, an old Ford sedan pulled up beside him. The window rolled down, revealing Rachel McAdams with a bright, sunny smile.
"Need a lift?"
In the ten days since they met, the two had gotten pretty close. This wasn't the first time Matthew had taken a ride in Rachel's car. Without hesitation, he walked over, opened the passenger door, and got in.
"Hollywood Boulevard. Same spot as always."
Rachel pulled the car onto the road, heading northeast out of the crowded North Hollywood area. After a while, she asked, "Still doing that driving gig?"
"Yeah." Matthew adjusted his seatbelt. "Haven't found anything better yet."
"Think they'd hire a female driver?" Rachel had heard about the job from him before. "If they are, I might apply."
Matthew shook his head. "They only send out cars at night. No women. It's not really safe." He glanced over. "Still working at McDonald's?"
That kind of job was pretty common for struggling actors.
Rachel made a turn and waited until they were out of the curve before answering. "I'm thinking of quitting. The place runs 24/7, and I've been pulling eight-hour night shifts. Not like you—I don't get to nap in the car. Barely any breaks. It's killing me."
She pointed to her eyes. "The dark circles are getting worse. If this keeps up, I won't even qualify to play a pretty face."
Matthew knew how that felt. He was barely scraping by himself. He wanted to help, but didn't know how.
Rachel went on, "And now the restaurant's trying to cut my pay to minimum wage. I'm seriously starting to wonder if coming to Hollywood was a mistake."
"There's always a chance," Matthew replied quietly.
"Yeah…" Rachel nodded. "But it's been way harder than I expected. Feels like everyone's trying to screw you over."
Matthew shrugged, then remembered something he saw in a paper the other day and said jokingly, "Poor people don't have the right to freedom and democracy."
Rachel burst out laughing, dimples showing. "You nailed it."
As they neared the Red Penguin building, Matthew reminded her, "Rachel, you're signed with a big agency. If you're having trouble, talk to your agent. They might be able to help."
"Yeah, I probably should." Rachel parked nearby. "I'll call him later."
Matthew opened the door to get out, and she waved. "Bye, Matthew!"
He shut the door and waved back. "See ya, Rachel."
Once the car pulled away, Matthew didn't head inside right away. He stopped at a nearby newsstand and bought a few entertainment papers and magazines—Premiere, The Hollywood Reporter, and others. Helen had said the Gladiator posters would drop this week, and he couldn't wait to see if he made it in.
As he approached the Red Penguin entrance, he flipped through Premiere. It didn't take long to find the article on Gladiator—and there it was: a poster of him, front and center, roaring furiously ahead of a group of barbarian warriors.
A tight shot. His face clearly visible.
He walked through the company doors, already thinking about framing a copy as a keepsake.
"Matthew."
The receptionist spotted him immediately. "Mr. List said to send you up as soon as you arrived."
Upstairs in the office, a bald Black man lounged in his chair, talking to the tall, skinny Mr. List.
"Trust me," the bald man sneered. "There's no doubt about it—Matthew Horner, that dumb hick from Texas, is still chasing his stupid movie star dreams!"
The fat guy next to him let out a laugh. "A dumb pig will always be a dumb pig. Some people just never learn."