Chapter 158: Poaching

In the shooting gallery, Martin donned a headset and gripped a Beretta 92f, methodically taking aim and firing at the moving target.

Through extensive practice, coupled with his innate talent, his marksmanship had steadily improved. Now, he could consistently hit the target, even when it was in motion.

As the magazine was depleted, an electronic target automatically relayed the results.

Martin turned, removing the headset, and quipped to Bruce, "Can I officially join the ranks of the civilized now?"

Bruce, with a grin, retorted, "Being truly civilized demands a wealth of practical experience."

Martin chuckled, shaking his head, "Am I doing all this for filmmaking and self-defense, or to get into brawls? I'd rather be a recluse." His curiosity got the better of him, and he continued, "What other skills am I lacking for real combat?"

Bruce remained silent, donned his own headset, stood before the target, and picked up a pistol. Shots rang out in rapid succession, but his accuracy fell short of Martin's previous results.

Martin grasped the issue and remarked, "Fire rate."

Bruce nodded, confirming, "Exactly, fire rate. In a real confrontation, there's no luxury of time for precise aiming. Often, the one who shoots faster is the one who survives."

Martin sighed and shook his head, "Your hand speed, honed over more than 30 years of singlehood, can't compete with someone like me who only started fiddling with his guns as a teenager."

"People like you," Bruce teased, loading a fresh magazine, "will sooner or later get yourself into trouble." He chuckled, "I talked to you about shooting, and you showed off how many women you've been with."

Changing the topic, Martin inquired, "Have you ever read comics where bullets can bend in mid-air? Is that even possible in reality?"

Bruce replied, "I've never encountered such a thing, but tossing bullets around like that is pure nonsense. Guidance technology might make it theoretically possible, but the cost... wouldn't justify it."

Martin returned to his shooting position, popped in earplugs, and resumed firing, deliberately increasing his rate of fire.

During their breaks, Bruce shared practical cases and experiences with Martin, given that Martin was preparing for an action-packed gunfight film.

Over an hour later, Mene joined them.

Bruce had already reserved a lounge, and the three of them headed there to chat over drinks.

Martin handed a drink to Mene and inquired, "How did your two auditions go?"

Mene appeared disheartened, confessing, "I messed up both of them."

Bruce was surprised, "Aren't there female casting directors on the crew? You're a looker, aren't you?"

"At first, I thought my 'charm'... I mean, my words, would land me the role," Mene admitted, unscrewing his drink bottle and taking a hefty gulp. He then explained, "But who would've guessed that the casting director was a lesbian?"

Martin couldn't help but chuckle, "You win some, you lose some." Having spent more time with Mene, Bruce had gradually shed his racial biases and playfully patted Mene on the shoulder, saying, "Well, at least you won't be accused of being a womanizer again."

Mene took it in stride, raising his head slightly, "Boss, Bruce, even though those two auditions didn't pan out, I still have other opportunities. Remember the woman I met at the Avalon Bar? Her name is Victoria."

Martin thought back to the night he met Anne Sevi, "The woman in her forties?"

Mene confirmed, "Yes, that's her."

Bruce couldn't help but praise, "Man, you've upgraded from your fifties to your forties, impressive!"

Mene grinned, "I thought so too." He went on to say, "Victoria mentioned that she works at a film foundation and could help me secure roles."

Martin sensed something was amiss, "Can we trust her? She's not a con artist, is she?"

Mene scratched his head, "What could she possibly con me out of?"

"Money and favors?" Bruce glanced at Mene, shaking his head slightly.

Mene shrugged, "I've got no money, and I'm still a man."

Martin opened his briefcase, retrieved some information, and handed it to Mene, "Remember the project I mentioned when I called you? It's a supporting role, a firearms expert. In the meantime, you can work on honing your firearms skills."

Mene responded immediately, "Boss, I'm in."

Martin needed a dependable partner, "I'm setting up a film studio, and I want you to join as a production manager, with a weekly salary of $500. Later, you can work with Bruce to register the film studio."

This was a common practice in Hollywood. Every film established a separate production company with its own financial records, and often trusted individuals from within the crew were designated to front these entities. Those chosen for this role were typically individuals with strong trustworthiness and potential for further collaboration.

Martin delivered some additional words of caution to Mene.

Such scenarios were all too common in Hollywood. Each film set up a separate company with its accounting, and there were always crew members willing to step in. Those chosen were often individuals who could be trusted and potentially used again.

Martin recalled something else, "Bruce, let's get an extra batch of 2003 Coke and store it."

Bruce had already taken action, "I got in touch with Robert, and he managed to secure a significant supply of 2003 Coke produced at the Atlanta factory. The taste is pure, and we'll have a shipment coming in soon."

Martin made sure to emphasize, "We'll cover the expenses."

Mene couldn't help but wonder, "Boss, it's almost 2005. Can we still drink 2003 Coke?"

"Special purpose," Martin mused oddly, "What if we establish a sect?"

Bruce, ever quick on the uptake, quipped, "Like the Mormons?"

"Mormons!" Mene chimed in, raising his hands enthusiastically, "I'm all for Mormons! Boss, if you become the leader, can I be a high priest or a diocesan bishop?"

"You guys!" Martin exclaimed, frustrated by his younger brothers' penchant for mischief and lack of seriousness, "My idea is to create a Coca-Cola Cult. You needn't worry about high priest roles; I've already picked the deputy leader. It's still up for grabs."

Mene inquired, "But what's the purpose of this sect?"

Martin pondered for a moment, then suggested, "Cola Enlightenment?"

Bruce scoffed, "Enlightenment about what?"

"The Coca-Cola Cult is just a concept for now," Martin explained, "I lack the funds and power to make it a reality. Let's keep it on paper for now." He revealed a bit of the secret plan, "Once the Coke arrives, each of you can have a few bottles, and you can crack one open before significant endeavors."

Bruce teased, "Will you serve it in a goblet for us?"

Martin couldn't be bothered to continue, "Let's go; Bruce is treating us to lunch."

Bruce checked the time, "I'm not available for lunch; I have to go to Kim's place."

Martin was curious, "Have you decided to take on the leading role?"

Mene, bewildered, asked, "Bruce, you're planning to become an actor?"

Martin playfully added, "The kind that will become famous worldwide."

Bruce, the old scoundrel, responded, "I haven't made up my mind yet. I'll hang around for now and make no commitments. Never give up."

Mene chimed in at this moment, "Victoria made plans with me for lunch, and I want to join her."

Bruce and Mene departed from the club first, leaving Martin alone. With no other plans, he decided to stay at the shooting club for lunch. Fortunately, the club offered a buffet, making it a convenient choice.

Martin served himself some food and sat alone in a quiet corner, preparing to eat. But just as he was about to dig in, someone approached.

"What a coincidence, Martin," the newcomer greeted him.

Martin took a moment to recall and recognized the visitor as Pinto, Mike Vogel's agent who had clashed with the Diamondbacks.

He nodded briefly, "Hello."

Pinto pulled out a chair and sat across from Martin, striking up a conversation, "I haven't seen you around the company much lately. Hasn't Thomas helped you find a new project?"

Martin wasn't about to divulge the truth, "Not yet. I have an unreleased film, so there's no need to worry."

Pinto had come with a specific purpose, "I've got some promising projects on hand that aren't tied to the company's resources. I have good relationships with several producers at 20th Century Fox and Universal Pictures. I can prioritize their projects for you."

Martin, however, seemed rather elusive, "I haven't had a proper break since I worked on the House of Wax until now. This time is precious to me."

Pinto didn't give up easily and probed further, "I recall you joined the company in December last year. It's almost a year now."

Martin's initial agency contract was for a year, "I have no plans to leave WMA and will consider renewing my contract with the company."

Seeing that Martin was unresponsive, Pinto furrowed his brow and tried a different tack, "I have several roles in large-scale productions. Are you sure you don't want to hear about them?" His words turned more direct, "I've been in the industry for eight years and run my own independent office. My personal connections and network of resources are far more extensive than those of small-time agents."

Martin commented before his rise to fame, there were already many good people around him.

Pinto leaned closer, lowering his voice, "If you switch to me, you'll be my top priority client, and all the resources at my disposal will be at your disposal."

Martin looked at Pinto thoughtfully. Thomas was indeed a step behind Pinto in certain aspects, as evidenced by the differences in their offices.

The idea of him being Thomas' golden boy was likely an illusion.

If Pinto were an agent at the level of Ali Emmanuel or Jim White, Martin might have responded without hesitation.

In Martin's eyes, Pinto might not be superior to Thomas. He reminded Pinto, "I recall that poaching within the company is strictly prohibited."

Pinto couldn't help but chuckle, "But when a client's contract is up, they have the freedom to choose a new agent. You'll have your chance next month."

Martin asked directly, "What's in it for me?"

Pinto replied, "Have you heard of Fox's epic project? It's about Jerusalem and the Crusades, with a budget of hundreds of millions of dollars. It's a major Category A production. The producer is an old friend of mine, and I can help you secure a leading role, or at the very least, a significant supporting role."

Martin gazed at Pinto, a trace of surprise on his face.

Pinto believed he had impressed Martin and smiled slightly, "I can tell you upfront that the director is Ridley Scott, a top-tier director, and this is an A-list production. You might even have the chance to contend for the lead role." His statement had a ring of truth.

Martin, however, was certain it was a concoction of deception. How could he possibly compete with the Elf Prince?

He responded diplomatically, "This is a major decision, and I need to discuss it with my manager."

Pinto understood the message in Martin's words. When he saw that his attempts had been fruitless, he didn't push any further, nodding instead, "I hope you make a wise choice."

Martin had already made up his mind.

After lunch and a short break in the lounge, Martin waited for Bruce to return before heading to the shooting range for target practice.

That evening, he changed into a more formal outfit and accompanied Louise to Kate Winslet's dinner party.