America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

Chapter 87: Chapter 87: Men Must Protect Themselves (Alliance Hierarch +3)

On Saturday afternoon, the accent class began at Paramount Studio; Martin arrived early. In the room, which was no more than thirty square meters, there were over a dozen neatly arranged desks, each equipped with headsets.

Martin randomly picked a desk and sat down, casting a quick glance around the room, most were young people in their twenties.

"Hey, buddy, I'm Mene." The man beside him had skin nearly bleached white and spoke with a heavy accent, "You seem familiar; have you played any roles?"

Martin shook his head: "All background boards."

"Oh, cool." Mene lost interest in talking and turned his gaze to the door, attracted by two women who had just come in.

The blonde woman was not tall but had good body proportions, with a perky chest and a lifted behind.

The woman with dark brown hair was tall and leggy, her skin as white as snow, resembling Snow White.

In the acting business, bumping into people with outstanding appearances or distinctive looks was quite common.

Mene waved at the two women: "Beauties, come sit over here."

However, they sidestepped him and moved to the empty seat on the other side of Martin.

When the blonde woman, Emily, noticed Martin, she appeared surprised: "Didn't expect to see you here."

Martin nodded to her: "Good afternoon."

The dark-haired woman asked, "Who is he?"

"New neighbor at the North Hollywood Apartment." Emily introduced, "This is Martin. Martin, this is Jessica."

Jessica, sitting diagonally behind him, and seeing Martin was a sunny and handsome guy, said forthrightly, "Handsome, can I get your number? I'm Jessica Stoyadinovich, a model and actress."

Martin found her familiar and didn't refuse, recited his number, and introduced himself, "Martin Davis, actor."

Emily also noted Martin's number and tapped him: "Neighbor, you still remember my name, don't you?"

"Of course." Martin thought to himself, Antonio hadn't lied; indeed, there were some actors living in the apartment.

Professor Griffin, the instructor, entered, and the first class began.

Before starting the class, he specifically asked, "Have you ever faced setbacks with your accents?"

Mene was very active: "Because of my accent, I lost a significant role; I could have been the next Will Smith."

Everyone laughed.

Mene knew how to play his strengths and half-jokingly said, "Are you laughing because a black man can't be successful?"

Once the nuclear weapon was launched, the room went completely silent.

Professor Griffin quickly changed the subject: "Let's talk about what Hollywood accent is. It's a contrived accent that incorporates the inflection of British English, adding some flair to the otherwise plain American accent, enhancing your core competitiveness if mastered."

After explaining briefly, he said, "Let's begin our class."

Everyone, including Martin, listened very seriously; this was not fun education; each class cost up to 400 US dollars.

Being recommended by a talent agency meant Professor Griffin had genuine credentials.

Time flew, and as soon as an hour had passed, Professor Griffin, without delaying even half a minute, immediately declared the class over.

Martin packed up his study materials and recorder, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left.

Just as he stepped out of the room, Jessica caught up from behind: "How come you didn't wait for us?"

Emily followed as well.

Martin replied, "Sorry, I have other things to do, so I had to leave in a hurry."

Emily caught up to him: "Thanks for that morning."

Martin reminded her, "That's the third time you've thanked me."

Jessica realized, "Is this the handsome guy you mentioned who helped you scare away Igor?"

"I was terrified, Jessie, did you handle it? I don't want to see that ugly guy again," said Emily.

Jessica, with her bag on her shoulder, replied, "I've paid off what I owed him; he won't come again." She linked arms with Emily, "I'm out of money; can I move back in with you?"

Having previously rented together, Emily had no choice but to consent, "Whatever you like."

Reaching the parking lot, Jessica turned to Martin: "Handsome, we're going to be neighbors now. How about a drink somewhere?"

"I'm very sorry, I still have things to do," Martin said, stopping in front of his car, "I need to go to Burbank."

Without waiting for a response, Martin opened the door, got into his car, waved through the car window, and quickly left the parking lot, heading for Warner Bros. Studios to pick up a new script for a role.

The project was finalized, officially named "Star Partners," and was set to air the following summer on HBO. The plan was to produce eight episodes for the first season, none exceeding thirty minutes.

As Martin anticipated, the series would have many explicit scenes.

On the other side, Jessica got into Emily's car to fetch her luggage from her temporary residence. While moving out, she casually bought a copy of "Hollywood Reporter."

Once in the car, Emily asked, "Can you understand that?"

Jessica scorned, "Aussie country girl, don't bully me just because I'm younger. I dropped out from the Delaware College of Art and Design, and you attended a rural ballet school."

She shook the newspaper, "A favorite among industry insiders. I advise you to read more and keep up with industry news."

Emily shook her head, "Reading these is pointless. I came from Australia to Los Angeles and haven't landed a single decent role; I can't even find an opportunity to offer myself up for one."

"If sleeping alone solved the problem, I'd be the Oscar winner for Best Actress this year," said Jessica. "Hepburn, Taylor, Monroe, Carrie, Big Mouth, Paltrow, who wouldn't know how to sleep their way through Hollywood!"

Emily felt quite helpless. "There are just too many actors and models at the bottom in Los Angeles, who isn't an actor here?"

Jessica flipped open the newspaper, glanced at a few pages, then pushed the paper towards Emily. "Look at this, quick! Isn't that Martin Davis?"

"Are you seeking death, you bitch?" Emily quickly pushed her away. "If you want to die, strip and jump out of the car yourself, don't drag me into it."

Jessica pointed to a picture in the newspaper. "Martin Davis, he starred in a theatrical movie called 'Zombie Stripper,' which has just finished its run in North America, grossing a total of 6.74 million US Dollars!"

She looked closely. "Martin Davis is the male lead!"

Emily, however, said, "It's not uncommon in Hollywood to see male leads in 100 million US Dollar movies."

Jessica, who was young and full of ideas, said, "We know those male leads, but they don't know us, Martin Davis is our neighbor."

Suddenly, Emily pulled over to the curb, slammed on the brakes, snatched the newspaper from Jessica's hands, and started to read earnestly.

A hand-size picture and a palm-size write-up; for this movie to be reported in 'Hollywood Reporter,' Lionsgate Films must have spent money."

Jessica asked, "What are you thinking?"

Emily closed the newspaper. "What can I think?"

Jessica was direct. "Aren't you the one complaining about not having a path to stripping? Now you have one."

Emily responded, "He's just an actor."

Jessica, pointing at her chest, said, "You're a few years older than me, but all the nutrients that should've gone to your brain seem to have ended up here instead! The homes of those directors and producers are not secret. Try stripping in front of their doors and see what happens—you'd be arrested by the police within minutes."

Emily asked, "Have you tried it yourself, bitch?"

Jessica neither admitted nor denied, simply saying, "The first step to success is the hardest, he has succeeded in one, and soon he'll get a second important role. If he gives us a small lift at that time, then we will have taken our first step. Do you think we can find a better opportunity in the short term?"

After some thought, Emily said, "We can't just show up at his door and strip; those who come forward willingly aren't valued."

"We need to make a plan," Jessica declared, taking out a pen and writing in her notepad as she spoke. "What should we call this plan? Seduce the Neighbor? Making the Neighbor Fall for Me? How to Get the Neighbor to Strengthen Me?"

Emily pondered, "We must make him take the initiative. Only if he makes the first move can we have the advantage."

Jessica tore off a page from her notepad, threw it on the floor, and urged, "Quick, think! Is there a particularly good way?"

"Let's go to the supermarket first," Emily suggested.

...

At Warner Bros. Studios, Martin received a new role script from the production team. The indie director setting hadn't changed, and there wasn't much difference in the plot from before.

All big-scale scenes.

What he was most concerned with, the male lead hadn't done anything unprofessional for the director.

The two characters merely stayed at the stage of talking big.

Shooting for the series would begin soon, and Martin was to join the cast next week.

Playing a crazy, absurd director was somewhat challenging.

Martin once again visited the library, retrieved his notebook, reviewed his relevant notes, and made further additions.

Although he frequently dealt with directors, the thought processes of American and Chinese directors differed greatly; Martin often considered Benjamin as a blueprint.

And then he added the script's settings into consideration.

The character gradually became clear—a non-mainstream, young director who had risen to fame, was cynical of the world, and whose works were filled with an artistic vibe.

After dinner, Martin drove back to his apartment.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor and just as he turned into the corridor, the apartment door on the left creaked open, revealing Emily in low-rise jeans, one hand holding a bag, the other a set of car keys as she stepped out.

Seeing Martin, she smiled brightly, "Martin, just got back?"

Martin nodded and asked casually, "Heading out?"

"Just going to get some stuff." Emily passed by Martin, and as she did, she loosened her grip, dropping the keys to the ground.

She let out a feigned exclamation and, seeing Martin turn his head back, quickly bent down to pick up the keys.

The low-rise jeans slipped even lower, covering just half her posterior.

In the moment Martin turned back, he caught sight of the black high-slit T-back.

Deeply lodged into the great divide.

Then, Martin turned his head again, as if he had seen nothing. He walked to his door, fished out his keys, unlocked it, went into his home, and locked the door behind him.

And put a baseball bat within easy reach.

A man must always protect himself when outside!

This was a maxim learned from countless grim lessons.

Martin opened the refrigerator, grabbed a cup of ice water, and gulped it down.

"What's she trying to pull?" He certainly had good looks, but not enough to provoke such behavior in a woman.

Thinking of Carrie and Louise—the two sluts—he recalled the great effort it took to truly establish relationships with them.

After calming down, Martin called both Carrie and Louise, then opened his laptop, connected with them in video chat, and they talked.

Nothing special, Martin mentioned the news about the "Star Partners" production crew. Louise fully agreed with Thomas's opinion that joining an actors' union was fundamental to obtaining important roles.