Owen picked up his phone and answered.
"Hey, Owen," came Larry's voice.
Owen didn't notice any change in his tone that might hint at Lionsgate's response. Not happy, not sad.
"Hey, Larry," Owen greeted.
"Are you busy?" Larry asked.
"No, just doing some office work. What's up? Did Lionsgate give you an answer?"
There was a brief silence, about a second and a half.
Then Larry let out a restrained laugh, somewhere between disbelief and euphoria. "They chose you, man. Sejanus Plinth is yours!"
'Man?' Owen thought, a slight smile escaping him. From what little he knew of Larry, he already liked the guy. He seemed like a good person.
Owen leaned back in his chair, genuinely happy about the news.
A supporting role in a $100-million production, and in a hugely popular franchise like The Hunger Games.
"That's great…" Owen said, his tone cheerful but calm. "Thanks to you for getting me that audition."
"You're welcome," Larry replied, trying to steady his excitement before adding in a more professional tone, "Now you'll need to sign with Lionsgate. They said they want you on the 11th to finalize everything and start rehearsals. So you've got five days to get things in order and then negotiate with them—"
"Larry," Owen interrupted him serenely. "I want you to be my agent."
"Huh?"
"Officially. Before signing with Lionsgate. I want you to handle all the negotiations, and take your commission," Owen explained.
"Are you serious?" Larry asked, surprise evident in his tone.
"Yes. We can sign the representation contract tomorrow if you agree," Owen said confidently.
He'd already decided: if he landed the Lionsgate role, he'd take Larry as his agent.
Even though he planned to act in his own projects, that wouldn't always be the case, and having an agent would be useful.
"An agent's commission is ten percent, it's not small," Larry warned.
"You got me the part. It's only fair. And it would be awkward if Debra and the others realized you weren't my agent, so it's better to make it official before the negotiation," Owen said.
Negotiations were a pain if he had to handle them himself. Someone like Larry could do it much better, get more money and a better deal.
And if Larry didn't represent him legally, he couldn't carry out that negotiation informally anyway.
"You're right. It's not like we did anything illegal, but it'd be weird if they found out. We'll sign tomorrow, so when we meet with Lionsgate, I'll negotiate as your representative. If you want, I can prepare a standard contract, it's easy."
"Perfect," Owen replied.
"Tomorrow at 10, same café where we had lunch last time?"
"I'll be there," Owen said, and after a few more words, the call ended.
…
July 11 arrived.
It was the day Owen would officially sign the contract to play Sejanus Plinth in The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.
A $100-million blockbuster from Lionsgate, the kind of film that only hires union actors.
And Owen already was one, for several weeks now. He'd done it his own way, of course.
Unlike 99% of actors who joined SAG-AFTRA after being hired by a studio, Owen had qualified through a path as unusual as it was legitimate: he had financed his own film.
By registering it under the SAG-AFTRA Low Budget program, he met all the requirements.
Thanks to that, he now held active union status, a rare achievement for someone who self-funded his debut.
Now, alongside Larry, his official representative for just a few days, they walked down the carpeted hallway of the Lionsgate offices in Santa Monica.
Both were dressed in a sober yet professional manner.
Owen kept to his classic.
Larry wore a light blue shirt open at the collar, a black blazer, and carried a folder full of papers, among them, Owen's list of achievements and personal notes for the negotiation.
A receptionist greeted them in the lobby and led them to a small meeting room with a partial view of the ocean.
There, two people were waiting: a lawyer from Lionsgate's legal department and the casting executive associated with the project, responsible for formally closing contracts with supporting actors.
Larry wasn't surprised not to see his old friend Debra there, as casting director, it wasn't her job to handle this part.
"Good morning. Thank you for being so punctual," said the lawyer with a friendly smile. "We have the standard SAG contract ready for the role of Sejanus, and of course, everything related to rehearsals, shooting schedule, and promotion clauses."
"Good morning, thank you for having us," Owen replied in a calm, polite tone.
Larry greeted them with a courteous nod, and they sat down.
The negotiation began immediately, without small talk. The lawyer slid a folder containing the main documents toward them.
"Filming is already scheduled to begin officially on July 18," she explained. "Most of Sejanus's scenes will be shot in North Carolina and Georgia. His main block is estimated to last around 20 shooting days."
Owen nodded silently while Larry reviewed the production calendar.
"The contract includes the guaranteed base days, plus two additional hold days in case of weather delays or scheduling adjustments," the lawyer continued. "The total agreed payment is $100,000 gross, divided into two parts: 50% at the start of filming and 50% after the character's scenes are completed."
'One hundred thousand dollars, not bad,' Owen thought, surprised.
Just a few months ago, he'd been in a situation that, while not desperate, was certainly unstable.
He'd sold his BMW to buy himself time, to live without taking a job outside acting. That allowed him to focus on his feature film and pick up some small Backstage gigs in the meantime.
But $20,000 from the car sale went straight into financing his film. Luckily, he later sold his first screenplay, first as an option for $15,000, and then finalizing the full sale for $65,000, of which $50,000 net went into his account.
Because of all that, his current financial situation was steady.
His net worth hovered around $60,000. Rent was nearly $2,000, and he spent another $2,000 a month on living expenses: food, bills, outings, and the occasional unexpected cost. He had also spent over $8,000 on Paperman.
With another $100,000 on the way, he'd be doubling his net worth.
Not bad at all.
Larry, however, didn't share exactly the same enthusiasm.
"A hundred thousand doesn't sound right to me," Larry said, without taking his eyes off the contract.
The lawyer slightly raised an eyebrow.
Larry kept his polite demeanor, but his tone became firmer.
"Look, I understand that Owen is technically an up-and-coming actor, sure. But I'm pretty sure Josh Rivera was going to be paid a lot more for this same role."
Owen couldn't help but nod inwardly. Maybe that was another factor in why they decided to hire him. Not only was his age a better fit for the character and his performance solid, but with Owen's newer résumé, they could also pay him much less than Josh.
"Every actor has their own context," the lawyer replied in a neutral tone. "Josh already made his big-screen debut in Spielberg's West Side Story and also had a supporting role in a TV series."
"I know, I know. But Owen's background is strong, even if he hasn't debuted on the big screen yet, which, by the way, is only a matter of time," Larry said, leaning his elbows on the table. "He produced and wrote his own feature film, which was screened at the Palm Springs Film Festival with positive reception, and it already secured distribution with A24."
"On top of that," Larry continued, "Owen has two short films selected by Short of the Week. And not just anyone gets in there. That platform receives hundreds of submissions every week and only picks the very best. Paperman and The Black Hole are both published there, and Owen stars in both. They've received excellent reviews and hundreds of thousands of views on YouTube."
The executives didn't respond right away.
Larry let the silence linger.
"So, we're not talking about someone inexperienced," he went on. "We're talking about a complete actor, with real credentials, visible work, critical backing, and an active presence. The only thing missing is a major studio credit… until now."
The negotiation continued. Owen left all the work to Larry.
The lawyer and the executive exchanged looks, adjusted a few paragraphs in the contract, reviewed the authorized budget margins, and finally, after nearly an hour of conversation, Larry managed to raise the salary to $130,000 gross.
He knew Josh Rivera had probably been offered much more, likely somewhere in the $150,000–$180,000 range, given his prior experience in West Side Story and his media exposure.
But Larry also knew pushing further would be counterproductive.
$130,000 was a very good deal. Ten percent would be his commission as agent: $13,000.
Owen was informed that, in the days leading up to filming, he would need to attend rehearsals with the rest of the cast.
His character, Sejanus Plinth, appeared in roughly 20% of the total screen time, which meant a considerable amount for a supporting role.
It would be just a week of rehearsals, brief, showing that the schedule was already tight.
Along with the full script, Lionsgate handed him a packet containing his character's specific scenes, a preliminary production schedule, and the guidelines for his first costume fitting, to be completed within the next few days before traveling out of state.
Regarding the promotion clause, it was stipulated that Owen would have optional participation in press junkets and promotional materials if his character gained media attention. However, he wasn't contractually required to attend the premiere unless the studio decided to include him in the press circuit.
A junket is a promotional event where journalists are invited to interview a film's cast and crew, usually ahead of its release.
Owen carefully read the key points, signed where needed, and let Larry handle the rest.
As he headed home, he couldn't help but think about everything he had achieved in less than six months.
He already had a significant supporting role in a $100-million blockbuster, with a six-figure salary.
In his past life, when he began his career in Los Angeles at eighteen, it had taken him years to land an opportunity that was truly worthwhile.
Years of failed auditions, rejections, stalled projects, and insignificant roles. Here, on the other hand, it hadn't even taken six months to build all of this.
This rapid progress was largely due to one major advantage, the ability to recreate the works he had seen in his previous world, which didn't exist here.
Thanks to that, he had managed to build a strong résumé in a short time, with two creative short films and, of course, Paranormal Activity, made with just $20,000.
That was how he managed to catch Larry's attention, and earn his trust.
But beyond that, there was something neither memory nor knowledge could replace: acting talent.
Because yes, he was a creator, a writer, and a producer, but above all, he was an actor, and a very good one.
Not perfect, though, he knew that. He still needed to keep improving his craft.
There's always room to become better.
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