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The Most Famous Actor in Hollywood

Knock! Dang! Knock--   A sharp knock on the door suddenly rang in his ears, followed by a man's urgent voice coming through the door, "Matthew, why did you kick the makeup artist out? The director and the female lead are already in place, the entire crew is waiting for you, the male lead, you still have fifteen minutes!" ----------------------- It's 1 chapter per day at 1 p.m. (Arizona) in every novel I upload. 3 daily chapters in each novel on patreon! p@treon.com/INNIT ----------------------- DISCLAIMER The story belongs entirely to the original author.

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Chapter 65: Intentional or Not

September arrived swiftly, and on the day of the audition, Matthew got up early, hired a taxi, and arrived at Warner Bros. Studios in Burbank an hour early. After meeting up with Helen Herman, they headed together into the studio where the "Band of Brothers" series was being shot, ready for the character makeup audition that was about to begin.

Arriving outside the makeup room, Matthew realized they were not the earliest; several actors were already seated on the benches in the corridor, accompanied by their agents like him.

"Wait here," Helen found a bench and sat down. "You're fifth in line."

The subtle connections within the industry sometimes provided significant conveniences. Eric Pope had already shared some audition details with them beforehand.

Sitting beside Helen, Matthew waited, feeling somewhat anxious. This role was crucial not only for his future career but also for his immediate financial concerns.

The Los Angeles County Court had accepted the out-of-court settlement proposal submitted by Wilson, Matthew's lawyer, and he was now in talks with the company behind the "Forbidden Tarot" series. If the settlement was reached, it would undoubtedly require a substantial amount of money.

The compensation from this role could completely free him from the burden of the breach of contract.

Matthew's mindset had shifted; he was now desperate for this role, almost feeling entitled to it. Unfortunately, the decision lay in the hands of industry titan Tom Hanks, well beyond his and Helen's control, making the outcome unpredictable.

His unease was palpable.

As the time for the audition approached, the makeup room began calling actors in. This was a makeup test, and each actor had to appear as a soldier from the 101st Airborne Division before heading to the audition room.

Sitting in the chair, Matthew's tension and restlessness grew more apparent by the minute.

This was the most competitive audition he had faced since entering the acting circle, the longest he had prepared for, and the one where he felt the least confident.

"Nervous?" Helen observed Matthew closely. "That's not like you."

In her eyes, Matthew was audacious, mature beyond his years.

"I'm not even twenty yet," Matthew tried to lighten the mood by chatting. "I've never faced such a big event before."

Helen remembered then that he was only nineteen—a rarity for someone his age to possess the maturity that Matthew did.

Matthew rubbed his face vigorously, loosening his muscles, then said, "I feel better now." He gave Helen a thumbs-up. "Just hearing you talk makes me relax."

"Huh?" Helen didn't quite catch his meaning.

"You naturally have a reassuring presence," Matthew continued to chat to distract himself from the nerves, "You're my solid rock."

Helen turned away, choosing not to engage further, seeing that Matthew was returning to his usual self.

Once relaxed, Matthew didn't just sit there but scanned the corridor, noting that it was now filled with actors. Each one had a rugged demeanor and a robust build, fitting the image of a seasoned soldier with just the right makeup and costume.

Appearance-wise, none of the men seemed less suited to the role than he was.

Matthew understood that this audition was different from the previous ones. Beyond meeting the physical requirements, he needed to bring something extra to impress the production team.

Specifically, to impress Tom Hanks.

The door of the makeup room opened again, and a young man came out, calling loudly, "Matthew Horner! Is Matthew Horner here?"

Matthew stood up promptly, raising his hand, "Over here."

"Come on in!" the young man gestured.

Helen also stood up, nodding at Matthew, "Go ahead, I believe in you."

Matthew gave Helen a look, then followed the young man into the makeup room.

The room was large, divided into three main sections: the makeup area with several tables on the left, a props cabinet filled with various WWII American military weapons and equipment on the right, and directly across from the entrance, racks of military uniforms and a changing area.

Matthew was already familiar with the setup, knowing that it served not only those auditioning for the role of Ronald Spears but also those trying out for three other less prominent roles.

Once inside, Matthew let go of all other concerns and completely adhered to the crew's instructions. He first followed the young man to the makeup section, where a female makeup artist quickly worked on him. The makeup was simpler than he expected; due to the nature of the role, she didn't even apply foundation but just adjusted his eyebrows and facial lines to make him look more mature and rugged.

After the brief makeup session, Matthew moved to the entrance opposite the room, where a male costume designer helped him into a fitting uniform, complete with boots and a helmet, before he headed into a changing room.

Exiting the changing room and standing before a large mirror by the door, Matthew noticed his uniform wasn't perfectly adjusted. He was about to fix it when the

 costume designer approached.

"Let's go," said the designer, "first to the props department to get the rest of your gear, then I'll complete your look."

Matthew nodded, following the designer in heavy WWII-style boots to a section filled with weapons, where he received one item after another from a prop master.

Fully equipped, Matthew returned to the mirror where the designer began outfitting him with the props—helmet, scarf, webbing, grenade pouches, and ammo pouches.

Finally, the designer handed Matthew a Thompson submachine gun, known as the "Chicago Typewriter." Having trained under Hawk Breton, Matthew knew exactly how to hold it—right hand on the grip, the stock tucked under the armpit, the muzzle tilted toward the ground, mimicking the typical WWII American soldier stance.

The designer stepped back, examined Matthew's appearance, adjusted his helmet and uniform, then bent down to tuck the bottoms of Matthew's pants into his boots.

Throughout, Matthew stood still, letting the designer work, his mind empty, imagining himself as a paratrooper about to enter battle.

Suddenly, he felt something odd from behind—the designer's hand swiftly moved up his leg and pinched his buttocks, pulling down on the trousers as if adjusting them.

In the next instant, Matthew turned around to face the designer, who acted as if nothing unusual had happened, casually remarking, "All set."

Matthew was unsure if the touch was intentional or just part of the adjustment, but his street-smart instincts made him wary. He gripped the Thompson more tightly and reached back to grab a prop grenade, his eyes fixed on the designer's forehead.

The grenade, although made of plastic, could still make an impact, Matthew was certain.

Sensing Matthew's tension, the designer pointed to the waiting area, "Go wait over there; someone will call you for the audition."

Hearing "audition," Matthew calmed down, knowing that any misstep now would ruin his chances. No matter his suspicions, it wasn't the time to act.

"Hey..." Another person approached, apparently a manager of the makeup room. Pointing at Matthew, he commanded, "If you're done, go wait over there. Don't just stand here and get in the way!"

Matthew nodded, let go of the grenade, and walked towards the waiting area. He knew better than to let his temper flare in such a crucial moment.

Even if the designer had been inappropriate, was there anyone in the room who would testify on his behalf?

By enduring, he might still have a chance to turn the tables on the designer later.

Standing at the waiting area like a sentinel, Matthew waited patiently for his turn to be called for the audition.

As time ticked by, others returned from their auditions—some dejected, some excited, and some indifferent. After removing their makeup, they quickly left the makeup room.

After nearly an hour, an assistant finally called his name.

"Matthew Horner?" the assistant stood at the door, calling out loudly.

As before, Matthew raised his hand, "I'm here."

"Follow me to Studio Five for your audition," the assistant instructed.

Without a word, Matthew followed the assistant out of the makeup room, down the long corridor, and turned left to a door where the audition would take place.

Crossing the threshold, Matthew straightened up, his legs firm and confident. The ten days of intensive training had perfected his military demeanor.

He entered the audition room, quickly scanning the surroundings, then his eyes settled on the legendary Tom Hanks.

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