Chapter 68: Collecting Tips

The Strip club's dance hall was packed with regular patrons. Sophia held a glass of wine as she stood by the second-floor railing, gazing intently at the stage below.

Particularly captivated by the former bartender leading the dance.

Vincent tipped his cowboy hat lower and cautioned, "Don't get too taken with the boy band; each of them can bring in substantial profits for me." The loud music blared, and filming resumed.

A chorus of cheers erupted from countless background actors as Martin, amidst his frenetic zombie dance, dramatically ripped off his shirt, unveiling his well-defined upper body with its natural, graceful contours.

"Keep it up! Go!" one actress cheered.

Director Benjamin marveled at how these extras were generating their own electric atmosphere without any need for prompting.

Their enthusiasm was more contagious than wildfire.

With a dynamic leap, Martin propelled himself forward, grasped his waist with his right hand, that sent his specially designed pants sailing off, swaying briefly in the air before landing at the foot of the stage.

Susan, quick on the draw, intercepted them and held them close to her face, taking a deep breath, completely enthralled.

Suddenly, the pants were yanked back, tugged by several eager hands, producing an audible tearing sound as they came apart.

While the extras vied for the pieces of clothing, their eyes remained glued to the stage.

The former bartender, now in just his shorts, executed sensuous dance moves that exuded the allure of a Greek sculpture, wildly uninhibited yet irresistibly seductive.

As the dance music reached its zenith, he arched his body, thrusting his hips forward, twisting his waist and swaying his hips with frenetic vigor and precision.

It was akin to a Gatling cannon firing.

Susan felt like she had been struck in the heart and hastily covered her chest.

In the throes of excitement, she worried the torn pants she held might be wrested from her, so she stashed them away, taking put another dollar bill, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it toward the stage.

The zombie machine gun dance had reached its zenith.

Invisible bullets seemed to fill the air.

The extras were swept away by the exhilarating speed and intensity, unable to contain their enthusiasm.

Several people who had managed to grab a piece of pants began clutching them to their faces and sniffing them simultaneously.

Those closer to the ring stage began showering the performers with dollar bills, one after the other.

Dollars rained down like a storm.

These weren't props or gifts from the crew; these were their own hard-earned dollars.

They tossed in singles, fives, twenties, and even fifties.

One extra even brandished a rare stack of hundred-dollar bills, tossing them onto the stage, exclaiming, "I'm taking you home tonight! You're mine!"

The machine gun dance carried on!

At the bar, Robert swayed his sizable head and observed the extras going wild over Martin's dance, finally understanding the meaning behind Bruce's words.

Martin had indeed convinced the producers with sheer performance prowess.

Not far away, director Benjamin nodded in satisfaction and picked up his megaphone, calling out, "Cut!"

The music ceased, but the extras' fervor showed no signs of waning. They continued to shout, leap, and toss money with abandon.

The electrifying atmosphere was palpable.

More money soon showered onto the stage.

Benjamin turned to the blonde woman beside him, wearing a hat, and inquired, "What do you think?"

Jenna Jameson, who had joined him quietly, responded, "He's a star, a superstar! He doesn't belong here; he should be in Las Vegas or even San Francisco Valley."

Benjamin stated, "Right now, he's my lead actor."

Jenna moistened her dry lips and asked, "You don't mind if I try to poach him, do you?"

Benjamin grinned, replying, "He's a part-timer, just like me. If you can lure him away, then you can do as you please."

Jenna lowered her hat's brim, stating, "Find someone to take me backstage."

Benjamin signaled to his assistant, who promptly complied.

He then turned to the director of photography, Jackson, and instructed, "Jackson, capture these scenes so they can be used in post-production."

Up on the second floor, by the railing, Sofia commented, "This Martin is no longer under your control."

Vincent reminded her, "He has an unusual connection with Kelly Gray."

Sofia grasped the situation, chuckling, "No wonder he landed the lead role. Haha, Kelly Gray..."

After his performance, Martin hurried backstage and donned the coat Hart handed him. Carrington and several others followed suit, carrying piles of clothing.

Hart called out, "Quick, fetch the box and put away Martin's trophies. They are offering them all to you."

Generous as ever, Martin confirmed, "Indeed, they're all yours."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the lounge door, and Benjamin's assistant entered, escorting a woman who said, "Martin, Miss Jameson is looking for you."

Martin's gaze immediately turned expectant.

Jenna, unceremoniously, removed her hat and greeted him, saying, "Hello, Martin."

Hart exclaimed, a bit starstruck, "You're...you're..."

Jenna nodded, confirming, "It's me."

The stylish boy band swarmed around Jenna as though she were an Oscar-winning actress, soliciting autographs one by one.

Hart, the cheeky one, pointed to his pants, jesting, "Jenna, can you sign here?"

Jenna extended her hand, took the pants, and scrawled her signature.

Hart, ecstatic, raised his head, declaring, "From this day forward, it's never getting washed again!"

Carrington brought out a camera, and Jenna and Martin posed for a group photo.

Afterward, Jenna managed to break free from the cluster of fans, scrutinizing Martin attentively. His physique and looks made him the perfect choice.

Martin greeted her with a smile, "Hello, Jenna, it's quite a surprise."

Jenna responded, "Tomorrow, we'll be filming a scene together, so we should get acquainted in advance." Tilting her head slightly, she inquired, "Are you familiar with me?"

Martin contemplated, "A bit."

Jenna reassured him, "No worries, it's all part of the profession. In the industry, countless directors are married to actresses. I read the script and scene design, and it's quite imaginative."

Martin couldn't divulge everything, so he briefly said, "You'll understand when you see the set tomorrow. Letting me lead won't be difficult."

Compared to his previous life's martial arts, this was rather tame.

Jenna concluded, "Alright then, I am in your capable hands."

They chatted for over ten minutes before the makeup artist came to touch up Martin's appearance. It was time for him to resume dancing.

He didn't participate in many scenes, mostly combat scenes, but in two senses.

After Jenna's departure, Hart entered, bearing a substantial stack of dollars, grinning playfully as he declared, "Here's your tip, Daddy Martin."

Martin separated the 100 Dollar bills and the rest of the money under twenty dollars, remarking, "Son, go tell the crew that tonight, I'm treating everyone!"

Tipping was a first for him.

The following morning, the crew relocated to a temporary studio within the auto center for filming. Post-production would later superimpose the footage onto the strip clubs backdrop.

A specialized revolving platform was situated at the studio's summit, equipped with hanging chains capable of rotating within a defined range.

Benjamin spotted Martin and Jenna as they emerged in full makeup, announcing, "Jenna has a tight schedule, and you, Martin, are in excellent physical shape. Let's tackle the most challenging parts first."

Martin raised his eyes and concurred, "That works for me."

Jenna added, "Let's get started."

The stunt team approached and secured safety harnesses on the two actors. After several trials, Martin quickly mastered the technique, drawing upon his solid foundation from a previous life, and the filming officially commenced.