Chapter 463: Temptations

Bathed in the golden hues of a Los Angeles sunset, the illustrious country club buzzed with the muted chatter and laughter of Hollywood's elite. Amidst this opulence, a somewhat disheveled Brad Pitt, his steps unsteady from inebriation, encountered the sharp-eyed producer David Larter in a lavishly decorated reception room.

Larter, with a gaze as calculating as it was eager, wasted no time. "Brad Pitt, I have an offer you can't refuse. How about starring as the lead in my next big movie venture?"

Pete, his long blond hair unkempt and glistening under the chandelier's glow due to weeks of neglect, swept it back with a weary hand. "David, aren't you the guy who left Village Roadshow Pictures? Started your own film company, wasn't it?"

"Shelter Pictures," Larter corrected, his voice infused with pride. "We focus on independent production and distribution."

Brad Pitt, a sardonic smile playing on his lips despite his evident despondence, quipped, "So, I'm to be your leading man, then?"

"Absolutely!" Larter's response was swift as he produced a script from his briefcase, handing it over. "The lead, no doubt about it."

Pete's eyes scanned the script's cover, his brow furrowing. "Titanic?" he began, only to notice a small '2' nestled in the title. "Is this a sequel?"

"No need for authorization," Larter began, his tone casual yet confident. "The name 'Titanic' isn't exclusive. This isn't a sequel but a new narrative. After the original Titanic sank, imagine a second ship, Titanic 2, embarking on a voyage from the UK to North America..."

Brad Pitt's skepticism, amplified by his inebriation, was palpable. The idea seemed far-fetched, even absurd.

Larter, sensing Pitt's hesitation, leaned in. "This project is our biggest yet. A $500,000 investment. Our previous ventures capped at $250,000."

Recognition dawned on Brad Pitt. "Shelter Pictures... You produced 'Sparta: Age of Transformation' and '100 Million Years of Prehistory', right?"

Larter's smile broadened. "Indeed, they are our creations. Masterpieces in their own right."

A fleeting memory crossed Brad Pitt's mind - an internet meme lamenting the hours wasted downloading low-budget Shelter Pictures films.

He rubbed his face, a mix of disbelief and despair. "And the pay?"

"50,000 dollars," Larter stated.

Brad Pitt's shock was evident. "50,000? You're joking!"

After a moment's pause, Larter added, "The best I can do is 100,000. Any more, and our production budget takes a hit."

Without a word, Brad Pitt stood, his chair scraping against the opulent flooring, and strode out. The offer was an insult to his stature, his very essence as a Hollywood icon.

As the reception room door swung shut behind him, Larter shook his head, muttering, "Still thinks he's a top-tier star. Most companies wouldn't offer even 30,000."

Brad Pitt didn't pause to reflect, his steps carrying him swiftly through the club's grand halls. Reaching the parking lot, he stopped in front of his aging BMW, a stark reminder of his current state. Despite still possessing some assets, his immediate need was cash, something painfully absent at the moment.

In the shadow of Los Angeles' towering skyscrapers, even the small banks had turned their backs on Brad Pitt, their refusal echoing the industry's belief in his imminent downfall.

The role he had just declined offered a mere $100,000, a pittance for a star of his caliber. Pete's pride, forged from two decades of stardom, wouldn't let him reconsider, even in his dire straits.

As he lingered in uncertainty, a middle-aged man in a crisp suit approached him, breaking through his reverie. "Excuse me, are you Brad Pitt?" the man inquired with a mixture of curiosity and respect.

Pitt, slightly disoriented, responded, "Yes, and you are?"

The man eagerly extended a hand smeared with grease, which Pitt reluctantly shook. "I'm Bjorkman, an agent. I've heard CAA let you go?"

Brad Pitt's expression darkened at the mention of his former agency.

Sensing the tension, Bjorkman quickly shifted gears. "I didn't mean to pry. I'm here to offer you a role. A big-budget film where you're the lead. We're talking a minimum of 5 million dollars."

In the past, Pitt would have scoffed at such an offer. Now, it was a lifeline. "Which company? What project?" he asked, his interest piqued despite his skepticism.

Bjorkman beamed. "We're the top dogs in San Francisco Valley. The project is yours to choose. You can write, direct, or star. It's all up to you."

Brad Pitt was taken aback. San Francisco Valley films were notorious, but their market appeal was undeniable.

"You want me to do this?" Brad Pitt's voice trembled with anger and disbelief.

Bjorkman, unfazed, insisted, "It's legal, artistic, and a hit with North American audiences!"

Brad Pitt's fist clenched, his frustration palpable. Bjorkman braced himself, expecting a blow.

But Brad Pitt restrained himself, instead storming off to his car, slamming the door behind him in a silent protest.

Bjorkman left, hopeful despite the tense exchange. He had seen Brad Pitt pocket the business card.

Inside the car, Brad pitt sat in turmoil, eventually stashing the business card in the glove compartment.

...

Meanwhile, in early October, a grand signing ceremony unfolded at the Los Angeles Music Center. Cartier had chosen Martin as the face of their men's watch line. Amidst a sea of flashing cameras and adoring fans, Martin ceremoniously swapped his old watch for a sleek Cartier timepiece.

As he signed the endorsement agreement, the crowd erupted in applause. Suddenly, a group of blonde, clown-faced girls charged down the aisle, their red T-shirts emblazoned with "I love Martin" in bold, red lipstick.

Security guards scrambled towards them, but Martin, recalling passionate fans from his 'Dark Knight' days, intervened. "Don't embarrass them," he called out.

The chaos intensified as the girls chanted his name. Martin, having said his piece, remained silent.

Bruce, Martin's associate, arrived and diplomatically escorted the girls out. Toni, the group's leader, was visibly thrilled. "Are you Martin's manager? I remember seeing you fighting alongside him at Burbank Middle School, you were so cool!"

Bruce sobered the mood. "That wasn't cool. People got hurt."

Toni, momentarily taken aback, then asked eagerly for Martin's autograph, suggesting a tattoo as a permanent memento. Bruce politely deferred, "Martin's busy today. Maybe another time."

Under the blazing lights of the Los Angeles Music Center, Toni, undeterred by Bruce's departure, turned to her fellow devotees with a look of determination. "Did Martin move from Sherman Oaks? We've been there countless times but never spotted him," she mused aloud.

Another girl, her words quick with excitement, added, "We've waited endlessly, hoping to see even a glimpse of him, or maybe find a discarded bag of his trash."

Bruce, overwhelmed by the fervor of these starstruck fans, replied with a mix of caution and haste, "Martin's changed residences. I must go now; duties call." He signaled to a nearby security guard, seeking an escape from the overwhelming situation.

As Bruce disappeared into the crowd, the group of girls reluctantly began to leave the music center. Their conversation continued, driven by a wild blend of adoration and fantasy.

"What now? Martin's moved. How will we ever get close to him?" Aisha pondered, her tone tinged with disappointment.

The quick-tongued girl chimed in, half-joking, "Without his garbage, there's no way to get... closer to him. What are we going to do?"

A somber mood enveloped the group, each lost in thought about the seemingly insurmountable challenge.

Toni, her eyes catching a giant poster of Martin, suddenly stopped. "Think about it, girls. How would the Joker solve this? He'd find a way, no matter what."

Elsa, inspired, suggested, "By doing whatever it takes?"

Gathering the group in a huddle, Toni's eyes sparkled with a new plan. "As long as we don't give up, there's always a way."

The girls, sharing stories of the event, felt a renewed sense of purpose. "We've made progress today. Martin even noticed us," Aisha said, smiling.

Arguments about who caught Martin's eye ensued, but Toni quickly refocused them. "I have a new plan. Next public event, we'll not only wear Joker makeup but also bridal gowns. Imagine the statement we'll make! One of us might even get a date with him."

Despite their varied looks, the girls shared a common allure, their height and allure undeniable. Toni emphasized the importance of unity. "Whoever gets lucky, remember to share the good fortune with the rest of us. Betrayal is not an option."

The group echoed in unison, "Betrayal is forbidden."

With renewed enthusiasm, Toni rallied them. "Let's find wedding dresses. We'll show Martin how much he means to us!"

Backstage at the event, Martin, having concluded his duties, was preparing to leave. In the car, he turned to Bruce with concern. "Were those girls alright?"

Bruce reassured him. "They were escorted out without trouble. They seem... quite fanatical. The same group that was after your trash, I think."

Martin, recalling the incident, warned Bruce playfully about being cautious with his personal items. Bruce, still amazed, asked, "Is fandom these day really that extreme?"

Martin, reflecting on past experiences and crazier fan encounters, replied, "You'd be surprised. There are things even wilder than this."