That was clearly a camera lens. Matthew figured a reporter or a paparazzo might've spotted him and could even be tailing him all the way to Malibu.
Suddenly, the door of the yellow Chevy opened, and someone wearing a baseball cap stepped out and started walking over.
It was obviously a woman—a very tall one. Matthew estimated she had to be at least six-foot-one.
He rolled down his window and looked back. Under the brim of her cap, he could make out a typical sharp-featured Western face—deep-set eyes, a high nose bridge, hollow cheeks, and a broad forehead.
The blonde had clearly noticed him watching but made no effort to avoid his gaze. She walked right up.
"Where's Bill Mattson?" she asked as she reached the driver's side.
Matthew realized she was asking about the previous driver and replied, "He quit."
"He quit?"
She immediately cursed. "That sneaky bastard!"
Matthew gave her a puzzled look. What kind of history did she have with Bill Mattson?
"He took my money and ghosted me!" she snapped, and then slammed her sneakered foot into the front tire of the Ford van. Matthew jumped to stop her. "Hey! What the hell? That's private property!"
She raised her foot to kick it again, but Matthew flung the door open and jumped out.
"Stop it!" he said, glaring at her.
If anything happened to the van, he'd get docked pay.
She lowered her foot and looked him up and down. "You the driver now?"
Matthew stayed on high alert. "Who are you? Why are you following me? You've been tailing me since Hollywood Boulevard!"
"We…" The woman looked around. "Can we talk in the car?"
"If you've got something to say, say it here," Matthew shot back. No way was he letting a stranger into the vehicle.
She dropped her voice, "You headed to Malibu?"
Matthew grew even more cautious. "You a reporter or a paparazzo?"
"Reporter," she said bluntly. "Entertainment journalist."
She didn't wait for him to reply. "If Bill Mattson gave me the right info, you're working tonight's party for Jonny Lee Miller. Jude Law, Ewan McGregor, and Ewen Bremner are supposed to be there too. Right?"
This job had been a last-minute pickup for Matthew. The info Lister gave him only mentioned a big party hosted by Jonny Lee Miller. There was no guest list. Matthew didn't know Bremner or Law well, but he recognized Ewan McGregor thanks to Star Wars. That explained the press interest.
"No wonder the paps are out," he muttered, then added out loud, "No comment."
He turned to get back in the van, but the reporter quickly stepped in front of him. "Wait."
"If you don't back off," Matthew said, checking the time on his phone, "I'm calling the cops."
Just then, he heard the click-clack of high heels. He glanced over and saw Rachel, the model, leaving the house and heading toward him.
The reporter, still unwilling to give up, pulled out a few bills. "Three hundred bucks if you get me inside Jonny Lee Miller's estate."
"Three hundred?"
In the past, Matthew might've been tempted. But now? He shook his head. "I take my job seriously."
Three hundred dollars to risk getting blacklisted? What a joke. Reporters weren't like Angelina Jolie—they would absolutely expose anything they found.
Even just Jonny Lee Miller was bad enough. Add in someone like Ewan McGregor? Hell no.
Not even for five grand, unless he seriously thought it through.
Without even glancing at the money, Matthew brushed past her. The woman was taller than him by a good bit—and built like an athlete. She reminded him of that tennis player… what was her name? Sharapova?
Hands on her hips, the reporter watched Matthew climb into the Ford van. He shut the door just as she raised her foot again to kick the tire. But before she could, he threw it in gear and gunned it, startling her.
He drove up to Rachel, opened the side door, and waited for her to hop in before pulling away.
"Hey…" Rachel said, sliding into the seat next to him. "You're back, huh, Matthew?"
He gave her a quick smile. "Bill Mattson quit. So I'm back driving the van again."
"Bill said you landed a role?" Her eyes lit up with admiration. "In a Ridley Scott film?"
"Yeah." Matthew nodded, trying to sound casual. "Just a small part. Got a few close-up shots."
"A few close-ups?!" Rachel gasped. "That's your third role already, right?"
He nodded again.
"You're ridiculously lucky!" she sighed. "That's the dream."
"My agent has some connections with Ridley Scott," he said casually. "That's how I got the part."
Rachel looked genuinely envious. If she'd had the same kind of chance back then, maybe things would've been different for her.
Just like before, they chatted all the way. Matthew picked up seven models total and dropped them off at the Malibu estate. He noticed the security had been beefed up—guards even tailed his van until he exited the grounds.
He drove to his usual waiting spot, parked, and hadn't even turned off the engine when the yellow Chevy pulled up beside him.
The tall blonde reporter grabbed her camera, snapped a few shots of the estate, then tossed the camera onto her passenger seat, stepped out, and knocked on his window.
"Hey," she motioned for him to roll it down.
"I'm not taking you in," Matthew said flatly.
"I'm Ilena Boyar, from American News Report," she said. "What's your name?"
"Matthew." He didn't give a last name.
"Nice to meet you, Matthew." Her tone had softened. "Relax, I'm not gonna push you anymore. I'll just stay outside and snap a few shots."
She knocked lightly on the door. "Mind if I come in and chat?"
Matthew opened the door and let her in.
"Nice ride," Ilena said as she sat beside him, adjusting her seat. "Not much different from what the B-listers use."
Matthew ignored that and went straight to the point. "You know Mattson?"
"Yeah," Ilena leaned back, her tall frame filling the seat. "He was one of my informants—used to feed me entertainment tips. Last week, he told me about this party. I gave him a thousand bucks to sneak me in and get some juicy gossip."
"How much?" Matthew asked.
"A grand." She rolled her eyes. "And now…"
She looked at him with a grin. "Interested?"
"You want me to be your new informant? Leak inside info about clients?" Matthew said.
"I'll pay you well," she said, voice full of temptation.
"Not interested," Matthew declined. "I don't have time. I need sleep for acting class—otherwise I'll doze off during lessons."
"Acting class?" Ilena turned to him, curious. "You're an actor?"
Matthew nodded. "Yeah. This driving gig's just a side hustle."
Ilena got it. Just another struggling actor—L.A. was full of them.
"Worked on any sets yet?" she asked, fishing for something useful.
Matthew was about to answer when his phone rang. He checked—Helen Herman.
He picked up. "Hey, Helen. Calling this late—what's up?"
Helen's crisp voice came through the speaker. "Get ready. Be at the agency before nine tomorrow morning. You've got an audition."
"What's the project?" Matthew asked, not wanting another half-blind Gladiator situation.
"Lead male role in Britney Spears' new music video."
"What?!" Matthew nearly shot up in his seat. "Did I hear that right? Britney Spears?"
He'd said it loud—and with his cheap phone's speaker leaking sound, Ilena Boyar caught every word. Britney Spears had dominated the charts all year. Any news about her was headline-worthy.
She turned and stared at Matthew. Was this guy really auditioning for that?
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"
Matthew nodded furiously. "I'll be there, on time."
Anyone who paid even the slightest attention to pop culture knew Britney Spears. The woman was a tabloid machine. Matthew remembered reading about her shaved head, the weight gain, the drama with her childhood friend... lots of gossip that had kept him entertained in the past.
He hung up and pocketed his phone, calming his excitement. It was just an audition—nothing was certain yet.
Beside him, Ilena Boyar's mind was already racing, piecing things together.