American fame and fortune

On the golden beach, the music is blaring, the laser lights are jumping and reversing, men and women in cool clothes are colorful, and dozens of young and beautiful bodies are twisting crazily, like snake demons dancing wildly.

Director Julian called a stop at this time, and the last scene of today is finished.

Martin glanced quickly and found the short blonde woman. He first borrowed a Polaroid from someone the film crew knew, and then went to find her.

Scarlett Johansson, wearing tight shorts and a cropped T-shirt, was talking.

Martin waited for a while, saw people leaving, and went 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 was curious: "How crazy?"

Martin didn't dare to tell the truth, and said nonsense: "In order to get a photo of your autograph, he called and threatened me to screw my head off."

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

Scarlett took two steps back, her professionalism allowed her to quickly find a suitable background, and she puffed her chest out to Martin and said, "You can shoot now."

Martin thought that he couldn't take pictures of his butt like this, and he didn't want to give it to Lao Bu, but it was unreasonable to ask for a photo of the back. He tentatively asked, "Can I take a side photo? My friend said that you look the most beautiful from the side, and Monroe is worse than you." gone."

Scarlett spread her hands helplessly, turned her body halfway, and habitually posed in a shape that highlighted her figure.

Martin hurriedly snapped a photo, waited for the photo to dry, took out the prepared signature pen from his pocket, and handed it over.

Scarlett signed the photo.

Martin said thank you and flashed the photo.

When I went to the film crew, I still had a Polaroid, and the director Julian happened to be there, so Martin took the opportunity to chat with him.

The "Entourage" crew employed four directors, but Martin's roles did not overlap with other directors, and he only met Julian.

When I came out, I met the actor Adrian.

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

Martin responded with a smile: "Preparing to go over and have a drink together?"

Adrian nodded: "Wait until I'm done."

"Okay." Martin walked on.

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

Martin returned to the beach, ready to join the dancing crowd, when Daisy came to him.

"Are you leaving the set tomorrow?" she asked.

Martin said: "I don't have many scenes, and I finished filming 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 like a libertine, but inside you are a real gentleman."

Gentleman, isn't it synonymous with hooligans, Martin admitted frankly: "That's right."

Daisy was straightforward: "Gentleman, do you want 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: "Almost." Her voice changed suddenly: "It's not easy to be a young actor, the salary is pitifully low, and I can only survive by working part-time. I already owe the landlord two months' rent."

Martin politely declined: "I really want to talk to people about the business of stars."

"It's a pity." Daisy held out her hand, "I hope we can cooperate in the future."

Martin shook it lightly: "I hope so."

Daisy left without looking back, found another male supporting role in the crew, and chatted enthusiastically.

Martin checked the time and decided to go home.

For young actors on the 18th line, there should not be too many similar situations.

Martin got in the car, took out his cell phone and called Thomas.

As soon as the phone was connected, a suppressed and angry voice rang out: "Asshole, it's night, not working hours, I'm dating my girlfriend!"

"Just one sentence." Martin said quickly: "This is over, new job?"

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

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

But the manager's responsibilities made him continue to say: "How can there be so many suitable job opportunities in Hollywood? I'm helping you find it, and you have to find a way yourself. Go to the Directors' Union tomorrow to see if there is any crew recruiting."

The female partner jumped down, put on her slippers, and went to dress.

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

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

Thomas was dumbfounded: "Honey, are you leaving?"

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

Thomas pointed: "What about it?"

The female companion snorted coldly: "You can do the rest of the needlework yourself."

The door opened and shut with a bang.

Thomas thumped the bed sheet hard, took out his mobile phone and dialed Martin's number, waited for the answer to be picked up, and shouted: "Martin Davis, I wish you a damned gay for the rest of your life, or the one who got blasted!"

Martin couldn't understand why Thomas was hysterical, but it didn't stop him from fighting back: "I'm used to recording my phone calls. There is one thing I forgot to mention on the information. I am a famous person in Atlanta. If you don't believe me, you can check it out. I didn't hear any words of discrimination..."

Thomas was heartbroken and upset, what kind of shit client is this!

He took a deep breath, and decided not to share common knowledge with the other party for the sake of Louise Meyer, and said, "In terms of work, we both have to look for opportunities."

Martin said, "I'm waiting for your good news."

Thomas didn't want to do his own needlework, so he took a cold shower, sat in front of the hotel computer and surfed the Internet, specifically looking up keywords such as Martin Davis and Atlanta.

A pink jug popped out.

It seemed to poke Thomas in the face across the screen.

According to the Internet, this thing was created jointly 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's head gradually cleared up, and his thoughts changed again.

Can this guy see so far?

…………

In the morning of the next day, Martin slept late, and when he went out to have breakfast, he bought a bunch of newspapers to read the recruitment information of actors.

Most of them recruit extras.

There was no way Martin would ever be an extra.

The newspaper advertisement was useless, but the advertisement of a nearby fitness center attracted him. Martin made a special trip to find out. The other party was one of the largest chain fitness institutions in Los Angeles.

In addition to normal fitness, there are also practice fields for swimming, archery and fighting.

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

Too bad no Kardashians were found.

Martin searched online and in video stores. Paris Hilton's was secretly sold, but Kardashian's was not.

He remembered that someone said that the latter specially learned from the former, and then evolved from the former's bag-carrying girl into a black killer.

No, it evolved into a celebrity, and the family's fame spread all over the world.

Back at the apartment, Martin packed it together with last night's signed photo, sent an air express to Bruce, and drove to the directors' union to check the job information.

Much like in the newspapers, important roles aren't open for casting here at all.

Martin received the recruitment information form, found a quiet place to read it carefully, and searched for the list of impressive movies.

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

The crew of "Dawn of the Dead" re-shoots and recruits zombie actors.

Martin flipped through it, but found nothing. It is difficult for high-end resources to flow to this level.

It is also difficult to pick up leaks.

Martin had never heard of most of the movies on the recruitment catalogue.

After a little thought, he understood what was going on.

Just like the late-night dramas of 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 spread their fame to the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

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

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

Martin knew how to hook Louise: "I tried 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 the New Year."

Martin asked, "Do you need me to pick you up?"

"No need." Louise stabilized her emotions and raised her voice: "An international master like me should remain mysterious."

She still has to work over there: "You wait for my call, I have a surprise for you."

Another weekend, Martin went to an accent class.

As soon as he entered the classroom and sat down, the black actor Mene, who was about to whiten his skin, came over and asked, "Have you been working well recently?"

Martin said vaguely, "They're all young actors, you understand the situation."

Mene stretched out his hand in front of Martin: "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, Martin narrowed his eyes slightly: "You've been doing well recently."

Menei withdrew his hand: "Haven't you considered taking a part-time job? Your appearance is a little worse than mine, and if you do it, your income will be indispensable."

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

Martin glanced at it. The name of some high-level club was written on the card.

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

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

Menei frowned, then retracted: "So you have a connection."