American Fame and Fortune

Chapter 89 A big business worth hundreds of millions

The music is pumping on the golden beach, the laser lights are jumping and reversing, the men and women in cool clothes are colorful, and dozens of young and beautiful bodies are twisting wildly, like snake monsters dancing.

Director Julian called to stop at this time, and the last scene of the day was finished.

Martin glanced quickly and spotted the short blond woman. He first asked someone he knew from the film crew to borrow a Polaroid, and then went over to her.

Scarlett Johansson is wearing tight hot pants and a short T-shirt and is talking to someone.

 Martin waited for a while, and when he saw someone leaving, he went over to say hello: "Hi, Scarlett."

 “Hi.” Scarlett had an impression of Martin, a supporting actor in the crew.

 Martin said with a smile: "I have a friend who became a crazy fan of yours after watching "Lost in Translation"."

Scarlett wondered: "How crazy is it?"

How could Martin dare to tell the truth? He said nonsense: "In order to get a signed photo of you, he called me and threatened to rip off my head."

He raised the camera in his hand: "Scarlett, can you do me a favor for my head?"

Scarlett took two steps back. Her professionalism allowed her to quickly find a suitable background. She faced Martin with her chest raised and her belly straightened out: "You can take the photo now."

Martin thought that he couldn't take a picture of his **** like this, and he wouldn't give it to Lao Bu, but it was unreasonable to ask for a picture of the back. He tentatively asked: "Can you take a picture of the side? My friend said that you are most beautiful from the side, and Monroe is inferior to you. ”

Scarlett helplessly spread her hands, half-turned her body, and habitually assumed a posture that highlighted her body curves.

 Martin quickly took the photo and waited for it to dry. He took out the prepared signature pen from his pocket and handed it over.

 Scarlett signed the photo.

 Martin said thank you and showed up with a photo.

　　When I went to the film crew to take some Polaroids, the director Julian happened to be there too, so Martin took the opportunity to chat with him for a few words.

 The crew of "Entourage" hired four directors, but Martin's scenes did not overlap with those of the other directors, and only Julian was seen.

When I came out, I met the male protagonist Adrian.

Adrian took the initiative to say hello: "Hey, Martin, don't you want to go to the beach for a while?"

 Martin responded with a smile: "Are you going to go over and have a drink together?"

 Adrian nodded: "Wait until I finish."

 “Okay.” Martin continued walking forward.

 The two passed by each other, and the smiles on their faces almost disappeared at the same time.

 Martin returned to the beach and was about to join the dancing crowd, but Daisy came over.

 “Are you leaving the set tomorrow?” she asked.

Martin said: "I don't have many scenes, and I finished shooting the last one today."

Daisy meant something: "I have worked with many actors, and you impressed me the most."

“Oh?” Martin asked, “Really?”

Daisy said: "You look slutty, but at heart you are a true gentleman."

 Gentleman, isn’t it a synonym for hooligan or something like that? Martin admitted frankly: “That’s right.”

 Daisy was very direct: "Gentlemen, would you like to watch the stars together tonight?"

 Martin suddenly thought of the Astronomical Association: "Stars? A big business worth hundreds of millions..."

Unexpectedly, Daisy answered automatically: "Absolutely." Her voice suddenly changed: "It's not easy to be a young actor, and the salary is pitifully low. I have to work part-time to survive. I already owe the landlord two months' rent."

 Martin declined tactfully: "I really want to talk about star business."

"What a pity." Daisy stretched out her hand: "I hope we can cooperate again in the future."

 Martin shook his hand gently: "I hope so."

 Daisy left without looking back, found another male supporting actor in the crew, and started chatting enthusiastically.

 Martin looked at the time and decided to go home.

 For young actors in the 18th tier, there shouldn’t be too many similar situations.

 Martin got in the car and took out his cell phone to call Thomas.

As soon as the phone was connected, a suppressed and angry voice sounded: "Asshole, it's night now, not working hours, I'm on a date with my girlfriend!"

"Just one sentence." Martin said quickly: "It's over here, new job?"

In the hotel room, Thomas's female companion stared at him, and the sharp arrows in her eyes shot Thomas full of holes.

What came out of the mailroom of the entertainment agency were all masterpieces of deep PUA. Thomas knew it was time to put down the phone and go appease his girlfriend and complete a big business worth hundreds of millions.

But the agent's responsibilities made him continue: "How can there be so many suitable job opportunities in Hollywood? I'm helping you find them. You have to find a way yourself. Go to the Directors Guild tomorrow to see if there are any crews recruiting people."

The female companion jumped down, put on her slippers, and went to get dressed.

Thomas said quickly: "That's it, don't call me during non-working hours, remember!"

By the time he put down the phone, his girlfriend was already dressed.

 Thomas was dumbfounded: "Dear, you want to leave?"

 “Go and sleep with your work!” The female companion walked out.

　　Thomas pointed: "What should we do with it?"

The female companion snorted coldly: "You can do the rest of the sewing work yourself." The door opened and closed with a bang.

Thomas punched the sheets hard, took out his cell phone and dialed Martin's number. When the other party picked up, he yelled: "Martin Davis, I wish you will be a **** **** for the rest of your life, and you will still be the one who was exposed!"

Martin couldn't figure out why Thomas was hysterical, but it didn't stop him from fighting back: "I'm used to recording phone calls. One thing I forgot to note on the file is that I am a famous figure in Atlanta. If you don't believe me, you can check it out. This is alleged to have I pretended not to hear the words of discrimination..."

 Thomas is tired and upset, what the **** kind of a **** customer is this!

He took a deep breath and decided, for the sake of Louise Meyer, not to be familiar with each other, and said: "As for work, we both have to look for opportunities."

 Martin said: "I am waiting for your good news."

 Thomas didn’t want to do any needlework by himself, so he took a cold shower, sat in front of the hotel computer and surfed the Internet, specifically checking keywords such as Martin Davis and Atlanta.

 A pink kettle popped out.

　　It felt like it was poking Thomas in the face across the screen.

 The Internet shows that this thing was jointly developed by Martin Davis and a woman named Kelly Gray.

Thomas judged that such a cheap thing must have been made by that bitch.

After the impulse subsided, Thomas' mind gradually cleared up and his thoughts changed again.

Can this guy see that far?

 …

 The next morning, Martin slept in. When he went out to have breakfast, he bought a bunch of newspapers and read actor recruitment information.

 Most of them recruit extras.

　　Martin can no longer work as an extra.

The newspaper advertisement was of no use. Instead, the advertisement for a nearby fitness center attracted him. Martin went to find out more about it. The other party was one of the largest chain fitness institutions in Los Angeles.

 In addition to normal fitness, there are also training grounds for swimming, archery and fighting.

There were many posters of macho men and beautiful women on the walls of the fitness center. Martin remembered his promise to Bruce and got a membership card. He drove to the newsstand and bought a lot of Jennifer Lopez, Scarlett Johansson and Madonna. poster.

It’s a pity that Kardashian can’t be found.

Martin has searched online and in video stores. Paris Hilton’s is sold secretly, but Kardashian’s is not.

He remembered someone saying that the latter deliberately learned from the former, and then evolved from the former's bag-carrying girl to a black killer.

  No, she evolved into a socialite, and the whole family’s fame spread all over the world.

Back at the apartment, Martin packed up the package along with the signed photos from last night, sent Bruce an air courier, and drove to the Directors Guild to check the job information.

Like in newspapers, important roles will not be openly recruited here at all.

　　Martin received the recruitment information form, found a quiet place to read it carefully, and looked through the list of films that impressed him.

I really saw a familiar film. The crew of "National Treasure" has been recruiting extras in the past few months.

 The crew of "Dawn of the Dead" is reshooting and recruiting zombie actors.

 Martin looked through it again and found nothing. High-end resources are difficult to transfer to this level.

It’s also difficult to pick up the leaks.

 Most of the movies on the recruitment catalog had never been heard of by Martin.

After thinking about it for a while, he understood what was going on.

Just like the late-night drama at Gray Company, only a small part of the film and television works shot here can enter the big platform, and only a small part of the small part can be famous across the Pacific.

On the way back, Martin received a call from Louise from Morocco.

"Macho man, did you miss me?" She was still so flirtatious: "I'm going back to Los Angeles for vacation. Are your penicillin and expansion screws ready?"

 Martin knows how to seduce Louise: "I tried making a new cocktail called the Italian Cannon."

Louise raised her voice: "You are in Los Angeles, don't go anywhere, wait for me to go back! I will go back five days before Christmas and come to Morocco after New Year."

 Martin asked: “Do you need me to pick you up at the airport?”

 “No need.” Louise stabilized her mood and raised her tone: “An international master like me must remain mysterious.”

She still has work to do: "Wait for my call, I have a surprise for you."

 It was another weekend, and Martin went to take accent classes.

 Just after entering the classroom and sitting down, Mene, a black actor whose skin was about to be whitened, came over and asked, "How is your work lately?"

 Martin said vaguely: "They are all small actors, you understand the situation."

Meine stretched out his hand in front of Martin's eyes: "It's too difficult for young actors to make money, and living expenses are a problem."

Under the light, the gold Rolex watch on his wrist dazzled, and Martin narrowed his eyes slightly: "You have been doing well recently."

Meine took back his hand: "Have you ever considered getting a part-time job? Your appearance is slightly worse than mine, but if you do it, your income will be huge."

 He took out a card and handed it to Martin: "Brother, don't say that Boss Mene doesn't take care of you!"

Martin glanced at it and saw the name of some high-end club written on the card.

"Women can make money with their bodies, and so can we." Mene lowered his voice: "Let me tell you, many of the clients in this club are female stars, screenwriters, directors and producers in the industry. They are a little older. , is age a problem?”

 Another big deal worth hundreds of millions, Martin returned it to Mene: "Thanks, I don't need it."

Meine frowned, then retracted: "So you have a way."

 (End of this chapter)