After finishing his night shift in the morning, Matthew handed over his work and rushed to Burbank, heading straight to Angel Agency. He first dropped by the front desk to talk to Amanda and check in on the situation.
"It's all my fault," Amanda said apologetically. "Helen asked a few roundabout questions, and I wasn't careful. I accidentally spilled the beans."
"It's okay, really," Matthew quickly comforted her. "It's not like we did anything illegal. If Helen found out, so be it."
Amanda's thoughts cleared up a bit. "Right, I was just helping you get the role. Helen said herself that it didn't matter who got the lead."
She was a pretty straightforward girl and had no clue about what Matthew had done behind the scenes.
"Is Helen here yet?" Matthew asked.
"She is," Amanda pointed upstairs. "She's waiting for you in her office. Go on up."
Matthew nodded, walked past the front desk, and headed to the second floor. When he reached Helen Herman's office, he gave the door a light knock.
"Come in."
Hearing Helen's voice, he pushed the door open and greeted her with familiarity. "Good morning, Helen."
Helen pointed toward the couch. "Sit wherever. Water or coffee?"
"No need." Matthew wasn't thirsty. He sat down on a single-seater and asked, "You wanted to see me?"
"I met Michael Sheen yesterday," Helen said calmly, folding her hands on the desk. "I've already terminated his contract. He was cursing you and Martin Jackson nonstop. What's going on?"
Matthew saw no point in dodging the truth anymore. "After the first audition, Martin Jackson called and asked me to meet him at a hotel. That night I went, and it turned out he had something disgusting in mind. I refused."
Helen looked doubtful. "You refused him?"
"Oh, come on! I have my limits too." Matthew spread his hands. "I'm only into women. Just thinking about that kind of thing makes me sick."
Whether she believed him or not, he continued, "After I left, I happened to see Michael Sheen heading toward Jackson's room. The next day, Sheen invited me to lunch and bragged about getting the male lead in the MV. He was walking funny—I figured he'd made a deal with Jackson."
Helen adjusted her black-framed glasses. "So why did you get the role in the end?"
"I didn't want to lose the opportunity, so I did what I could," Matthew replied, sounding confident rather than guilty. "Some effort, a little luck, and I got the result I wanted."
Helen already knew part of the story from Amanda, though Amanda only knew a small piece of the puzzle.
"Give me the details," Helen said, staring at him.
"I heard from Amanda that Britney was the key to the casting," Matthew said, mixing truth with a bit of fiction. "I have a friend who's an entertainment reporter. I asked him about what might impress Britney. He said she and Christina Aguilera were fierce rivals since their Mickey Mouse Club days. So, I had Amanda help me out. Outside Britney's dressing room, I pretended to badmouth Christina loudly enough for her to hear."
"Cheap trick, but it worked." Helen's voice was calm. "You really surprised me, Matthew Horner."
Most major roles in Hollywood involve behind-the-scenes maneuvering. The more unknown the actor, the more intense the struggle. Helen was beginning to think this guy might be better suited for Hollywood than she'd thought.
"But you shouldn't have dragged Amanda into it," she said coldly.
"I didn't want to either, but I didn't have anyone else," Matthew defended. "I couldn't exactly bring a gossip reporter into the set."
"You should have come to me. I'm your agent."
"You're also the agent for all my competition," Matthew reminded her.
Helen was momentarily speechless. Even though she felt Matthew had more potential than the others, she hadn't invested much time or resources in him. After all, in this industry, luck often matters more than talent. Many promising actors never make it, while others get famous overnight without even knowing how.
"Next time, tell me first," she said. "You're now one of my top clients."
Matthew grinned. "Not number one?"
Helen ignored that and instead said, "Let's talk about Michael Sheen and Martin Jackson."
"Why? What's that got to do with me?" Matthew asked, feigning innocence.
"Sheen was our client. He physically attacked the director on set," Helen said, her gaze sharp behind her glasses. "Think that might affect you?"
Matthew paused. He had completely overlooked that. If he had thought of it sooner, he wouldn't have provoked Sheen.
But he quickly composed himself. "Didn't we already sign contracts with the production and record label?"
"Do you know how much I had to negotiate to keep this quiet?" Helen sounded annoyed.
Matthew clapped his hands and acted furious. "Damn that Michael Sheen! Trying to drag me down with him!"
Helen looked skeptical. "You sure you didn't set him up?"
"Absolutely not!" Matthew shook his head. "All I wanted was the role, nothing else."
He really hadn't expected Sheen to resort to violence—and with such force.
Looking back, Matthew realized he had overlooked many things and hadn't thought it through. He didn't consider how it might affect the agency or himself.
"Pretty amateur move," he thought to himself, "Still not thinking smart enough."
Helen didn't fully believe him, and Matthew could tell. So he added, "You may not understand, but from a normal guy's perspective—if you paid such a humiliating price and still didn't get the part—wouldn't you go crazy too? I mean, some people might even kill."
Helen didn't push the matter further. Angel Agency had already dropped Sheen, and the label used the chance to fire Martin Jackson. The matter was closed.
Still, her effort confirmed one thing—Matthew Horner was a promising client.
Maybe it was time to invest a little more in him?
Seeing Helen deep in thought, Matthew didn't say more. He quietly reviewed his actions. Looking back, there were plenty of flaws and miscalculations. Without his luck and prior knowledge about Britney, he wouldn't have won.
But in the end—it was all worth it!
"You should trust your agent," Helen suddenly said. "It's my job to help you land roles."
"I've always trusted you, Helen. You should trust me too," Matthew replied seriously.
Helen looked him over. "Can I?"
She took off her glasses and rubbed her forehead. "Next time you pull something, tell me first!"
"I promise!" Matthew knew she was angry and he needed her support. "Anything involving a role—I'll always check with you."
Helen put her glasses back on. "And stop dragging Amanda into your mess. She's just helping out temporarily."
Matthew nodded sincerely. "Got it. Won't happen again."
He glanced at the wall clock and stood up. "I've got to get to my acting class in North Hollywood."
"Go ahead," Helen waved him off. "And study your role and script. I'll keep you updated if anything comes up."
Matthew left the office, said goodbye to Amanda in the lobby, then hailed a cab and headed to North Hollywood to continue his acting course.
Because he had spent too much time at the agency, he arrived late.
Today's class wasn't taught by David Astor but by a middle-aged woman. After apologizing, Matthew entered the classroom and saw everyone standing in front of mirrors, spaced apart.
This lesson was about controlling facial muscles and subtle expressions.
They had covered this before—great actors can control every muscle on their face. But that kind of skill requires years of practice. L.A. has many acting schools, and each one offers a different method. Every seasoned actor develops their own unique approach.
Compared to others in the class, Matthew was clearly behind. Many aspiring actors, like the girl next to him—Rachel McAdams—had found their passion back in high school and had joined theater clubs early on.
Even if they didn't attend a specialized acting college, most had experience from powerful university drama societies.
It's well-known how influential American school clubs can be.
Matthew, on the other hand, had dropped out early. He couldn't compare.
That's why he worked twice as hard and took every opportunity seriously.
He stood in front of the mirror, following the lines from a short script, and practiced his expressions.
The entire morning passed with this seemingly dull and repetitive training. Since entering the industry, Matthew had come to understand the unseen struggles behind the glamorous surface.
After class, he rubbed his face and glanced over. Rachel McAdams was packing her notes.
"What's for lunch?" he asked. "My treat."
Rachel gave a sweet smile. "Feeling rich, are we? So generous today."