Chapter 90: Professional Agent

At the restaurant, Martin was directed to Thomas's table by the waiter. He courteously pulled out a chair and sat down, taking in the spread of delicious dishes before him with a sheepish grin. "You've outdone yourself with this meal," he remarked.

Thomas gripped his fork in his left hand and clutched the knife tightly in his right, as if contemplating poking a hundred holes into the handsome face of the man across from him, as if he could unveil some dark secret hidden within.

Martin wiped his hands, adjusted his napkin, and picked up his knife and fork. "Thank you for dinner," he said, trying to ease the tension. "We can talk while we eat."

Thomas fixed his gaze on Martin, his knife and fork crashing down onto his steak with force. "You better be sincere," he warned.

Love was no longer a factor for him; he sought to compensate for it through his career.

Martin had done his homework with Louise's guidance. "Warner Bros. is remaking 'House of Wax,' and Fox is on board. The project is a go, with several companies, including Pacific Pictures, involved. Warner Bros.'s subsidiary, Silver Films, is handling production, with Joel Silver and Susan Levin as producers."

Thomas, well-versed in industry figures, added, "Joel Silver, the founder of Silver Pictures, has been ailing in recent years and isn't heavily involved in production. The real driving force is Vice President Susan Levin."

Martin had seen Susan Levin's photo earlier, but it rang no bells. "I should know more about Susan Levin's personality, her casting choices for male leads in the past, and any patterns," he said.

Thomas abruptly halted his furious steak-cutting, annoyed that Martin was stepping on his lines. It was clear that this agent had reminded the actor of these key points.

Taking a bite of dessert, which was overly sweet for his taste, Martin remarked, "I'm not a fan of sweets. Please consider my preferences next time. I prefer meat." Meanwhile, Thomas kept cutting the steak with even more force, making the tray creak ominously.

He felt as though a thousand wheels were rolling over his face but restrained himself from shouting. Instead, he muffled his voice and said, "I've got it."

Martin continued, "The director selected by Warner Bros. is Jaume Sirra, a Spanish filmmaker who hasn't directed a major film before. I need to know more about him."

Thomas mentally noted this information.

Martin added, "The project hasn't appointed a casting director yet. Once that's confirmed, I want to know their name, their preferred style of performance, and their likes and dislikes."

Thomas, no longer bothered by the interruptions, said, "The final decision for the lead role lies with the producer. Many factors influence their choice, including partner recommendations. Louise Meyer has put you in a strong position."

Martin commented, "A casting director can influence opinions with their recommendations. A negative word from them can sway the producer's perception."

Thomas agreed, "They can certainly do damage."

Martin grabbed a plate of barbecue and, before starting, said, "The crew will be established after Christmas, so we need to act fast."

Thomas reassured him, "Don't worry; this is what I excel at."

Martin raised his wine glass and toasted Thomas. "Discussing work with me late at night and even offering to treat me shows your professionalism."

He poured soup discreetly. "Thomas, meeting a professional agent like you is my good fortune."

Thomas's previously clogged emotional channels seemed to clear slightly as he downed his wine in one go. "This opportunity is too good to pass up," he declared sternly. "Martin, if you falter, I'll introduce you to a terrifying world of middle-aged and elderly women's super parties."

Throughout the meal, Martin and Thomas strategized. Louise had provided a 60-70% chance, but they aimed to make it a sure thing.

Afterward, Thomas called the waiter and prepared to pay the bill, but Martin insisted on covering it. "I asked you to work overtime; I can't let you pay. I've got this," Martin said, and Thomas accepted without protest.

As they left the restaurant, Martin planned to head back to a villa in Sherman Oaks to spend time with the wealthy woman. Life, in his view, was truly wonderful.

Thomas, on the other hand, turned his car back toward the company, deciding to work late into the night to gather information.

That evening, while Martin enjoyed Italian cuisine with Louise, Thomas consumed a large cup of bitter coffee at the office to stay alert.

Early the next morning, Louise, feeling refreshed, prepared breakfast for Martin herself.

In the William Morris office lobby, Thomas, exhausted from a night of hard work, reclined in a swivel chair, his back aching and legs cramped from lack of sleep.

Life can be incredibly messed up.

...

In Burbank, at Silver Pictures, Vice President Susan Levin arrived at the office promptly to kickstart her day's work. Though she was only 30 years old, she had served as a co-producer and producer on several film projects.

Her assistant knocked on the door and entered, announcing, "Ms. Mel is at the front desk."

Susan rose and made her way to the reception room, where she was faced with the myriad responsibilities that came with movie projects, including managing relationships and interests.

In the reception room, two women of similar age greeted each other.

Susan was pleasantly surprised. "Louise, the North African desert winds haven't dried out your skin, and you look even better than before. What's your secret?" Louise wasn't forthcoming. "It's a secret," she replied, swiftly shifting the conversation. "I'm here today to discuss new projects."

Susan questioned, "Haven't you already secured an agreement with Warner Brothers for investment?"

Louise, adjusting her black-rimmed glasses, clarified, "I'm here for the leading actor."

Susan didn't make empty promises at their level. "I can't guarantee that the role will be granted to you. Besides, there are nine co-producer companies on the project, and four have already recommended leading actors, not to mention the Hilton family's eldest daughter."

Louise had just watched Martin's audition video. "Even she recommended actors?" she inquired.

Susan reminded her, "She's a significant investor, and her contribution surpasses Pacific Pictures."

Louise nodded understandingly. "I won't make it difficult for you. Let's ensure fair competition."

Susan, who was overseeing the project, couldn't jeopardize the film completely. "I can promise that."

As Louise prepared to leave, Susan mentioned, "I'm curious, though. Who is this visit so special for?"

She probed, "Is it someone significant?"

Louise smiled mysteriously. "Very special. You wouldn't understand."

After descending the stairs and getting into the Bentley, Louise instructed her driver and assistant Nikki, "Head to the Bartenders Association."

Louise, a master mixologist, had recently created a brand-new cocktail, and the Sommeliers Guild was rapidly gaining recognition.

During the ride, Louise reached out to the editor-in-chief of "Esquire" magazine to arrange for another feature appearance.

Master bartenders, much like artists, deserved compensation for their craft.

...

In Atlanta, the home of the beast, Ivan entered the lobby with a stack of mail just before his shift. As he passed the bar, he pulled out a package and tossed it to Bruce, saying, "Bruce, express delivery from Los Angeles."

Bruce caught it, extracted a dagger, and tore it open eagerly. "Finally," he muttered.

Inside the package, there were numerous beautifully printed posters, all emphasizing a particular location. There was also a signed photo.

The photo featured Scarlett Johansson, showcasing her stunning figure and curves.

Bruce picked up the photo and, seeing no one was watching, kissed it repeatedly. Each kiss was fiery and passionate.

In the Polaroid photos, colors gradually faded in certain areas.

Bruce, having had his fill of fun, took out his phone and called Martin. "I got the goods. I'm satisfied, and our debt is settled."

Martin, on the other end, teased, "Old Bruce, take it easy. Watch out for lead poisoning. I couldn't leave by the back door, you know."

Bruce stowed away the photo and retorted, "You always spew hot and smelly nonsense."

Martin quipped, "Have you actually smelled it?"

After their customary exchange of banter, Bruce hung up the phone, but it immediately rang again.

Glancing at the caller ID, he answered, "What do you want?"

"I'm outside your club. Come out, let's have a chat."

"Give me five minutes." Bruce secured the package and exited the club's front door. There, he found Lynch waiting in his private vehicle. Bruce hopped into the passenger seat. "Lynch, what brings you here? Planning to bully the Brits?"

Lynch, from the DEA, glanced at Bruce. "I received information that after the destruction of the drug den, those old gangsters with Mexican connections suffered significant losses. They may not dare retaliate against the DEA directly, but they'll come after you sooner or later."

Bruce replied coolly, "I'll twist their heads and stuff them where the sun don't shine."

Lynch offered a different solution. "Join the DEA. They won't dare touch you then."

Bruce nodded. "I'd like to sit behind a desk."

But Lynch had a different proposal. "Become an informant for the DEA. We'll ensure your safety."

Bruce firmly refused, "I'd rather face their guns."

"I knew you'd say that," Lynch said without surprise. "The DEA can't guarantee your safety, and you can't fend off attacks forever. My suggestion? Leave Atlanta temporarily, somewhere outside their reach."

Bruce considered the advice carefully. As a former soldier, he understood the vulnerability of an individual against multiple firearms.

Lynch recommended, "Leave before they arrive. There's no need to fight these criminals to the death."

Bruce thanked him and got out of the car, closing the door. "I'll remember this favor. Farewell."

Lynch waved and drove off.

Bruce re-entered the club with his hands in his pockets. The discarded packaging lay on the bar.

He glanced at the Los Angeles address on top of it and made a mental note.

Some debts are meant to be paid with interest.