Chapter 250: Matthew's Money Tree

Since receiving the script for "Dawn of the Living Dead," Matthew has been coming to the Angel Talent Agency almost every day to study the script whenever he wasn't working. He preferred not to do this at home because there were many people at the agency, making it easy to find someone to help him rehearse at any time.

Now, as the agency's top client and biggest star, serving him had become an essential part of the company's daily operations.

As time approached the end of July, a new week began, and Matthew arrived at the Angel Talent Agency early in the morning.

After declining an interview request from a reporter waiting at the agency's entrance, he entered, planning to head to the second-floor archive room to retrieve some zombie-related materials he had collected the day before. However, the receptionist called out to him.

"Matthew!" the receptionist waved him over, and he approached, asking, "What's up?"

"A person came looking for you, claiming to be your cousin from Texas. Miss Herman hasn't arrived yet..." she pointed to an office on the left of the reception, "I let him wait in the meeting room."

"Cousin?"

Matthew frowned, not recalling such a relative from his predecessor's memories.

The receptionist continued, "That's what he said."

"Okay, got it," Matthew glanced towards the meeting room, "I'll go check it out."

He didn't go upstairs but instead headed to the meeting room, where he saw a black man with numerous small braids sitting on the sofa directly across from the door. The man, who appeared to be about Matthew's age, was dressed in very non-mainstream, brightly colored clothes with indecipherable patterns.

The black man also saw Matthew, immediately stood up with a big smile, showing off his white teeth, and said, "Hey, Matthew, it's really you! I knew I recognized you!"

He spoke with a thick Texas accent, ready to approach.

Matthew quickly raised his hand, signaling him to stop, and asked, "And you are?"

The black man pushed aside the braids covering his face in surprise, "No way, you don't remember me? I'm Leo-Williams!"

Matthew stared at the unfamiliar face, not remembering ever meeting someone like this, and certainly, the claimed cousinship was impossible—the man's skin was as dark as coal, bearing no familial resemblance to Matthew.

The black man looked disappointed, "You really forgot me?" he reminded, "Think about it, seven years ago, in Dallas, we mowed the same lawn! Worked together for three days!"

Seeing Matthew's blank expression, Leo-Williams covered his forehead, "Oh, God! You actually forgot me. You even said we were friends back then!"

Matthew pondered and then asked, "You told the receptionist you were my cousin?"

"It was just a little joke." Leo-Williams wasn't the least bit embarrassed, brazenly saying, "We're good friends, I thought you wouldn't mind such a small thing."

Matthew didn't respond, vaguely remembering having worked with several people mowing a large lawn, but the details, including who they were, had long been forgotten.

"What do you want?" Matthew inquired, looking at him.

Leo-Williams chuckled, "Aren't we good friends? We worked together, and now that you're famous, I happened to be working in Burbank and saw your company's address, so I thought I'd come over and congratulate you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it," Matthew replied, his tone signaling an end to the conversation.

But Leo-Williams seemed oblivious, cheekily saying, "We were close back then, remember?"

Matthew stayed silent, understanding the man's intentions.

"When you said back then, whoever made it big..." Leo-Williams, like many black people, had thick lips that moved a lot as he spoke, "should help the others. I've always lived by that. Last year, one of our coworkers..."

Matthew took out his phone, putting it to his ear, "Hello? Yes... Okay..." He looked apologetically at Leo-Williams, "Sorry, I need to take this call. We can talk later."

He put the phone back to his ear and left the room.

The receptionist saw him come out and informed, "Miss Herman is here, in the upstairs office."

Matthew nodded, hinting towards the meeting room, "If that person looks for me, say I had to leave."

In Helen-Herman's office, Matthew briefly explained the situation. Helen-Herman simply said, "I'll handle it."

She picked up the phone, called the security head with a few brief instructions, and hung up.

Matthew poured himself a glass of water, drank, and said, "When I was down and out, no one ever came looking for me."

"He's not the first," Helen-Herman recalled, "Before this, some people claiming to be your elementary and middle school classmates came looking. I had security turn them away."

"Good job!" Matthew gave Helen-Herman a thumbs up, "Tell the reception, no matter if they're classmates or cousins, anyone looking for me should be turned away!"

"I got it," Helen-Herman warned, "You're famous now, and you've made a lot of money. You should expect that many long-lost friends or classmates might come looking to take advantage."

With Helen-Herman's reminder, Matthew could easily imagine this.

Helen-Herman added, "If you need someone to keep you company or entertain you, you could pick a few reliable people to be your entourage."

"Entourage?" Understanding the term, Matthew asked, "You mean those who eat, drink, wear, and live at my expense, and also spend my money?"

Helen-Herman nodded, "Pretty much. Most Hollywood stars have an entourage; it's become a part of the Hollywood ecosystem."

Matthew firmly said, "No need! I don't want such people around me," his tone softening slightly, "unless they're beautiful women."

Helen-Herman sarcastically replied, "Interesting thought!"

Matthew shrugged, "That's a normal man's thought."

He never forgot his beginnings, which continued to drive him to climb higher.

"By the way, I haven't seen your personal assistant in a long time," Helen-Herman seemed not yet done with Matthew, "You don't have any thoughts about people around you, do you?"

Matthew scoffed, "Am I that kind of person?" He explained, "Mira-Wang resigned and went back to the UK a while ago. Probably won't come back."

Helen-Herman was curious, "Why resign?"

"She said being around me, she saw too much of the dirty and hypocritical side of the industry," Matthew paraphrased, "Everything she saw and heard was negative, especially me, her employer, full of negative energy and nothing positive. So, she resigned."

Helen-Herman snorted, "Isn't that Hollywood?"

Matthew sighed, guessing, "Maybe, like many, she thought stars and Hollywood should be as clean inside as they are glamorous outside."

He wouldn't hold someone back if they wanted to leave; perhaps another industry suited her better.

After the conversation, the security head called, having sent the black man away. Matthew prepared to continue his research in the archive room on "Dawn of the Living Dead."

Helen-Herman reminded

 him, "If something like this happens again, let me know. I'll handle it."

"That's what I prefer," Matthew thought, finding such matters troublesome.

However, Leo-Williams was just the beginning. As Matthew's fame exploded nationwide, the following days brought a deluge of people seeking favors.

A driver from his time at the Red Penguin Company called, saying he'd opened a pastry shop and wanted Matthew to endorse it for free, offering a month's worth of cakes in exchange for a small favor.

Then, his former landlord from Westwood, working at a finance company, offered to become his financial advisor for a rapid increase in wealth.

And a car washer he knew offered a year's car wash service card, charging $50 per wash for the celebrity, whereas others only paid $10.

Situations like these were too numerous.

Matthew's friends never made such bizarre requests. Instead, acquaintances and mere acquaintances treated him as a money tree, seeking all sorts of benefits from their past interactions.

The former landlord even had grand plans, making Matthew his first client, hoping to attract Hollywood's top stars later.

Matthew became a magnet, attracting all sorts of people from nowhere, former coworkers seeing him as a money tree, and shameless individuals trying to mooch off him.

But Matthew lacked any messianic compassion, outright rejecting anyone who approached him, even if they were as poor as beggars.

Naturally, this led to dissatisfaction from some.

Thus, tabloids published stories like "Matthew-Horner's Renting Memories" and "Days of Mowing Lawns with Matthew," as recounted by a grass-cutting coworker.

Matthew ignored these, focusing on preparing for new projects.

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