America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz
Chapter 86: Chapter 86 HBO Project (Please Subscribe)

In the audition room, the casting director Thomson looked at the list and said, "Let Martin Davis come in."

The Latina lady at the door went to call for someone.

The assistant whispered a reminder, "He's recommended by WMA, a client of Thomas Ryan."

"I know," Thomson spoke softly as well, "Let's see the audition performance."

If the person is too lousy, then there's no need to consider personal favors.

Martin followed the Latina lady into the audition room, seeing a total of seven people seated, including the photographer.

Six of them seemed serious, and another was idly playing on a PSP.

Without guessing, that had to be someone with connections.

Which cast doesn't have one?

Martin recognized Thomson and went over to shake hands, "Director."

Thomson nodded slightly, "The role you're auditioning for is an independent film director, with no script available, just perform a scene."

Martin stood in front of the blackout curtain, collected his emotions, and once again recalled the actions and words of Benjamin when he was frantic, quickly immersing himself in the character.

This was the director he knew best.

"100 million US dollars, this movie just needs another 100 million US dollars to get started!" Martin had seen many independent film directors frustrated over funding, his face filled with excitement, helplessness, and craziness, "Buddy, tell me, who can put up 100 million US dollars! Who the hell can invest 100 million US dollars in my project!"

He was hysterical, raising his voice, "As long as he pays, I'll sell my ass to him! Kneeling down and doing it for him ten times is no problem!"

Thomson thought to himself that the agency was still quite reliable, as the recommended person had no problems with his acting.

After Martin finished his performance, Thomson said, "Not bad, you can go back and wait for the news."

Martin said a word of thanks and left the audition room.

Thomson asked the others, "What do you think?"

The assistant understood him and cooperated very well, "He portrayed the struggle and helplessness of an independent film director."

The woman beside him added, "Out of the seven who completed the audition, he was the most outstanding, with very good acting skills."

Thomson made up his mind, but still had to put on a front, "Continue, let the next one come in."

Martin came out of the audition room, inquired the receptionist for a moment, also exchanged phone numbers, and then left the office building.

As he walked to the parking area, he thought for a moment, took out his phone, and dialed Robert's number, "Hey, buddy, what are you doing?"

"Why did you think of calling me?" Robert's buoyancy was evident even in his voice, "I'm coaching a newbie in acting."

Martin got straight to the point, "Do me a favor, grab a bottle of Coke, glass or can, and place it on the desk leaning towards Los Angeles."

Robert was surprised, "Why?"

Martin explained, "I just had an audition and am competing for a role, it's important, it concerns whether I can join the actor's union as soon as possible."

Robert understood, "Buddy, the Coke won't work."

"I know, ordinary Coke won't do," Martin emphasized, "What I need is Coke that's been blessed by Robert!"

"Alright, I'll do it now." Robert had long been numb to this, hung up the phone, bought a can of Coke at the theater concession stand, went up to his second-floor office, moved his desk to the west side, and placed the can on it.

After thinking for a moment, he took some olive oil, anointed the can with it, made a cross, took a photo with his phone, and sent the picture message to Martin.

Martin received the picture message, feeling oddly reassured, and made a point to call Benjamin as well, "Director, nothing special, just want to say thank you."

A woman's laughter and Benjamin's voice came through the earpiece, "Thank me for what?"

Martin simply said, "Congratulations on getting through, I won't bother your fun, hang up now."

The last phone call, Martin made to Thomas, the agent seemed very busy; it took two tries before the call connected.

Thomas was concise, "Just wait for the notification."

Without waiting for Martin to respond, he hung up the call.

On Friday morning, Martin received a notice from the production team; he had gotten the role.

That afternoon, he met with Thomas outside the Warner Bros. Studios, and they went together to the production team's office building.

Thomas was all dressed up, carrying a black briefcase. In New York, such attire signified a standard stockbroker.

In Los Angeles, of course, he was an entertainment agent.

"You're not a union member; the salary won't be high, at most 3000 US dollars," Thomas said rapidly as they walked, "Don't care too much about the salary at this stage. Getting the opportunity to land the role is more important than anything else. The production will start soon; once it starts, you can apply to the union, and then we'll have the qualification to compete for more substantial roles."

Martin replied, "You're the professional."

The two arrived at the office building, with Martin waiting in the lounge, while Thomas went to negotiate the salary with a producer. He returned in less than ten minutes.

He told Martin, "The role pays 2800 US dollars per episode, and you'll appear in up to two episodes. Transportation, meals, accommodation, and insurance will follow the normal standards of the production team. If there are no issues, sign the contract, and after signing, you can get a few pages of the script for your character."

Martin truly didn't care about the salary for this role, "No problem."

Thomas told the assistant who followed, "Tell your boss, we can sign the contract now."

Actors' contracts have standard templates. Martin followed Thomas to another meeting room, took the contract handed over by the assistant, carefully reviewed it, and signed his name.

Thomas asked, "Any problems with the contract?"

Martin shrugged, "If I signed the contract, of course I have to read it once."

"That's good, remember that," Thomas emphasized, "Don't trust anyone easily."

Thomas's words weren't pleasant, but they made sense, Martin had seen many stars cheated by those around them.

Like someone like Ma Zhen, for instance.

Once the contract was officially signed, the assistant director handed over a few pages of the script, instructing Martin, "This is part of the character script rushed out by the screenwriter yesterday, familiarize yourself with the character setting first. The plot may change later, but the character setting will not."

Martin took them, "I'll study it carefully."

The assistant director reminded him, "Keep it confidential."

Martin quickly scanned the first page, the headline marked the movie title as a code name—"star".

Combining the director role he was playing, it's tentatively called "Star".

Additionally, in one corner of the contract was the HBO logo.

This was Warner Bros. Studios, and HBO belonged to the Warner Bros. family; Martin couldn't help but have some unpleasant associations—blood and nudity flying everywhere.

He had just jumped out of the pit of late-night shows and zombie machine gun dances, and now he was about to fall into HBO's trap of "sex and violence"?

Martin asked Thomas, "Is this an HBO project?"

"It should be," Thomas simply said, "The film and television projects change a lot, sometimes HBO projects get pushed to Warner Television Network, it all depends on the operations in the later stage."

He was an agent, adept at understanding the human psyche, "Put off by explicit scenes? Shouldn't be, I specifically watched your lead role in 'Zombie Stripper' and the late-night shows, HBO won't go beyond what Ma Zhen did."

Martin thought to himself, even Ma Zhen's name had reached Los Angeles.

Thomas added, "Your acting is quite good, and you know a lot of other skills, just be smart on set."

Martin decided to be frank, "I fought my way out from the gang-ridden slums and strip clubs of Atlanta—I'm not afraid of competition and challenges."

When they were leaving, they ran into the casting director, Thomson, at the entrance of the office building.

Thomas approached Thomson for a handshake, very warmly, "Thanks a lot this time."

"Don't mention it." Thomson was about to look at Martin when Martin stepped forward, grabbing his right hand and giving it a firm shake, "Director, when do you have time? Let's have a simple meal together?"

Seeing someone sensible, Thomson cracked a slight smile, "No need." He was direct, "Give me your personal contact information."

Martin understood, a meal wouldn't cancel out a favor, so he took out a business card and gave it to Thomson, "Call me if you need anything."

Thomson pocketed the card, nodded at Martin, then turned to ask Thomas, "Where did you replace this newcomer, he's pretty good."

Thomas said, "He has some insight."

Martin kept quiet, automatically playing the role of a mascot.

Thomson headed back to the office building, "You guys are busy, I need to get back to work."

Thomas had a hunch that the newcomer the company had assigned this time was no ordinary one.

An agent's status is directly proportional to the clout of their clients.

If Thomas brought in Tom Cruise, he would immediately become a senior partner at WMA.

On their way out, Thomas specifically mentioned, "Martin, you have some smarts and people behind you; as long as you cooperate with me, I guarantee you can definitely become famous."

No matter what Martin thought inside, what he said was very appealing, "Boss, I believe in your capability, we can be the best partners."

Once they reached the parking lot, Thomas drove off first.

Martin got into his car, didn't start it immediately, but took out the few pages of the character script from his bag, and began reading them carefully.

The first page was quite normal, an independent director gathering a bunch of ordinary actresses for a pool party, as wild as it gets.

Based on HBO's style, Martin deduced that the finished movie would definitely feature a dozen or twenty pairs of car headlights shaking wildly, even showing lots of rear ends.

Not exhaust pipes, HBO wouldn't go to that extent.

But if the director was determined, it's possible that a whole bunch of people would be messing around.

The style of HBO, those in the know, understand.

Pages two and three were about the same, the male protagonist went to replace the director, who came out from a pile of women, and they sat among these women to chat.

The fourth page, which was the last one, was a dialogue between the male protagonist and the director about the film.

The independent director wanted to make a movie, and the male protagonist wanted to be the lead.

The independent director appreciated him, but set a condition—the male protagonist had to blow it for him!

This was a dialogue between the two characters, whether the male protagonist agreed or not, it wasn't written in the script.

Martin guessed that the screenwriter probably hadn't decided yet.

"Before the LGBTQ community started to become active, HBO's scripts are this wild?" Martin tried to recall, "Ang Lee's 'Brokeback Mountain' was a landmark event, definitely hadn't been shot yet."

Hollywood, after all, was not European cinema, even if such scenes existed, they wouldn't be filmed for real.

Martin wasn't worried, he put away the pages of the script and headed to the film library in Burbank to look for autobiographies and interview records of independent film directors.

Even if it was just a small role with not many scenes, Martin still prepared with a hundred percent effort.