Chapter 37: For the Sake of Art

The taxi arrived, but Matthew didn't board. Given that the location mentioned by the director was in Burbank, there was no need to go back. After watching Michael Sheen leave in the taxi, Matthew called Lister to take a leave of absence. After grabbing some dinner nearby, he soon found the address that Martin Jackson had given him.

It was a hotel, and the address given by Martin Jackson was for a suite on the top floor.

With some time to spare, Matthew found a seat in the hotel lobby, turning his gaze towards the bustling traffic visible through the glass curtain wall, lost in thought.

As dusk slowly settled, the neon lights outside began to illuminate the busy streets below in a kaleidoscope of colors, displaying a bustling scene.

Across the street in a small alley, Michael Sheen peered through the glass curtain wall, his face clouded with dark thoughts.

He hadn't gone to Hollywood Boulevard. Instead, he had left the taxi shortly after it departed and had been waiting here ever since. As he feared, the situation was as bad as he had imagined.

The fact that the director had invited Matthew Horner to the hotel suggested that he was very likely considering him for the role.

Inside the hotel, Matthew leaned back in his chair, his mind blank, unwilling to think about anything, even the upcoming meeting with director Martin Jackson.

As the time neared eight o'clock, he stood and walked toward the elevator.

Michael Sheen, seeing Matthew leave, guessed he was heading to meet Martin Jackson. After a moment's thought, he crossed the street, entered the hotel, and took the seat Matthew had just vacated, waiting quietly.

He was waiting for a possibility. Matthew was known to be somewhat temperamental, and there was a chance he might reject the director's overtures.

On the top floor, Matthew stood in the hallway and gently knocked on the door. Footsteps approached from inside, and the door was opened by the familiar thirty-something man he had seen in the audition room earlier.

"Hello, Director Jackson," Matthew said politely. "I'm Matthew Horner; you called me this afternoon."

Martin Jackson nodded slightly, stepping aside and saying casually, "Come in."

Matthew entered, noting the immaculate carpet. "Should I take off my shoes?"

"There are slippers in the shoe cabinet," Martin Jackson gestured towards the back of the door. "Help yourself."

After a glance, Matthew opened the cabinet, swapped his shoes for slippers, and walked into the living room. He found Martin Jackson pouring red wine into a glass.

Martin Jackson set the bottle down and looked at Matthew, taking a slow sip from his glass.

The ambiguous atmosphere made Matthew uneasy, and he hesitated in his steps, as Martin Jackson continued to savor his wine without offering him a seat.

Finally, when Matthew reached the center of the living room, Martin Jackson spoke, "Alright, stop there."

Confused about what was expected of him, Matthew halted.

Martin Jackson took another sip of wine, staring intently at Matthew, and said, "We didn't get a chance to see your muscles during the audition. This role has strict requirements for muscle definition; I need to see your muscles."

He gestured with his hand. "Take off your shirt."

This request startled Matthew slightly, then he began to suspect Martin Jackson's intentions. Although his first thought was to secure the role, his extensive life experience warned him that Jackson might have ulterior motives.

Hesitating, yet hoping against hope that Jackson had no other intentions beyond assessing his physique, Matthew wondered if refusing to comply might mean giving up this rare opportunity.

After a few seconds of conflicting thoughts, Martin Jackson, setting down his wine glass, urged, "What are you waiting for? Take off your shirt."

With a moment's hesitation, Matthew removed his fitted T-shirt and placed it on a nearby armchair, revealing his muscular torso.

"Sss—"

A strange sound escaped from Martin Jackson's mouth as he suddenly stood up, his eyes fixed on Matthew.

"Matthew..." he spoke again, "Now, take off your pants."

Hearing this, any fantasies Matthew held shattered instantly. If he couldn't see what was happening now, he'd be a fool.

He desperately wanted this role, so much so that he had come here and even harbored hopes when he suspected Jackson's intentions might be dishonorable.

He was eager for fame and fortune.

But there were things he wouldn't do, things that would make him lose respect for himself.

Ignoring Martin Jackson's command, Matthew picked up his T-shirt, put it back on, and headed for the door.

"Don't you want the role?" Jackson's voice came from behind. "You're the top candidate right now. If you walk out..."

He stopped mid-sentence, then changed his tone, "Stay, and I guarantee the role is yours."

Matthew turned around, anger visible in his eyes, resisting the urge to

 lash out. He put on his shoes and left without looking back.

As he walked down the corridor, his anger didn't subside; it only grew, drying his throat and making him thirstier.

"Darn it!" He cursed in his native language, recognizing that he had encountered the infamous casting couch.

Taking the elevator down, he knew losing this role wouldn't cause him to hesitate, even if the director had been a young and attractive woman...

Upon reaching the lobby, parched, Matthew headed straight for a vending machine to buy a bottle of water, hoping to quench both his thirst and his burning anger.

This wasn't the end of the matter, though Matthew knew he wasn't yet in a position to do much about it.

From his spot near the glass curtain wall, Michael Sheen had been watching the elevator doors. When Matthew appeared, he couldn't help but laugh.

Timing it, even including the elevator ride, Matthew had been upstairs for less than five minutes, and there was no sign of anything amiss when he came down.

What did that indicate? One possibility was that Matthew had refused; another was that things weren't as he suspected.

Michael Sheen dismissed the latter. He wasn't a rookie like Matthew. Although he hadn't made a name for himself despite three years in the industry, he knew the signs. A director inviting an actor to his residence for work discussions was a clear indication of his intentions.

His eyes followed Matthew to the vending machine, but his mind was racing. The director was a man interested in men; if Matthew had refused him, did he himself have a chance?

Michael Sheen touched his face and then felt the firm muscles on his chest, deciding it was worth the risk!

He didn't think his appearance was any inferior to that "country bumpkin" Matthew Horner!

Taking a risk could change his dire situation; not taking it meant continuing as an inconsequential actor.

In the past, he couldn't even find such an opportunity even if he wanted to.

Michael Sheen stood up, fearing to lose the moment, and hurried towards the elevator.

An opportunity isn't real until it's seized!

At the vending machine, Matthew chose a plain bottle of water, and as he inserted the coins, a familiar figure flashed in the glass of the machine. He instinctively turned back and saw Michael Sheen entering the elevator.

"Uh..." Matthew was puzzled, "What's he doing here? Did Martin Jackson also call him?"

Michael Sheen had clearly left Burbank by taxi earlier in the afternoon; appearing here now suggested no other explanation.

After taking a long drink from his bottle, Matthew initially planned to head home but changed his mind and decided to stay a bit longer to see what would happen.

Like himself, Michael Sheen was goal-oriented. Matthew wanted to see whether this guy would stay or what he might do with Jackson. If Michael Sheen made that choice, Jackson would surely help him secure the role.

With his water bottle in hand, Matthew returned to his previous spot by the glass curtain wall, this time watching the elevator area with interest.

Compared to his earlier fury, he now settled into a calmer demeanor.

Even if Michael Sheen agreed to Jackson's terms, it wasn't certain he would get the role.

The final decision on the role lay not with the director but with Britney Spears, as Amanda had confidentially revealed. So although Matthew was furious, he hadn't been discouraged.

However, having offended director Martin Jackson, if he still wanted the male lead, he'd need to think of a way to impress Britney Spears.

How could he make Britney choose him? If she was also into the casting couch culture, it would be easy.

While he daydreamed unrealistically about the young, attractive, and lively Britney, Matthew checked his phone; more than half an hour had passed, and Michael Sheen hadn't come back from the elevator.

"Could he have stayed up there?" Matthew broke out in a cold sweat at the thought, "Is he really sacrificing himself for the sake of art?"

After another half-hour, with his water bottle empty and no sign of Michael Sheen, Matthew guessed the other might be spending the night with Jackson. Seeing no point in waiting any longer, he stood to leave.

Then, he stepped back and hid in a spot where he was less likely to be noticed.

Michael Sheen was coming out of the elevator!