Opening the file for the mummy returns, Matthew went straight to the part that mattered—Helen Herman was submitting his résumé for this role.
The character didn't get much screen time, but it carried real weight, and he remembered it; when he'd first watched a pirated copy, the part had left a deep impression.
the scorpion king!
A mighty, battle-hardened sovereign who'd sold his soul to Anubis—a terrifying ruler!
Reading this, Matthew looked down at himself; though he didn't have exaggerated bulk, he was solidly built, and military training had made him look even tougher.
It wasn't arrogance—just confidence grounded in fact.
He skimmed the production's casting requirements for the part; physically, he should be fine.
Action roles like this didn't demand nuanced acting, which suited him, yet landing it would be tough. As Helen Herman had said, the mummy returns was a sequel to a smash hit; beyond the returning cast, they hardly needed to hunt for new talent.
"Still have to try." He kept scrolling. The shoot would run July to November, mainly in Britain and Morocco, clashing with almost famous. He sighed. "Backup plan it is."
If the almost famous audition fell through, he could still fight for this one.
Finally he glanced at the fast & furious file: a tiny, generic supporting part.
He didn't dwell on it; Helen Herman could toss his résumé in—another safety net.
Whether this wide-cast net caught anything depended on auditions and hustle.
He stashed the two files and focused on almost famous, aligning with Helen Herman; Angel Talent Agency had already gathered reams of material on the project.
He pulled the afternoon's folder from his bag and began to read.
Scripts are the most guarded part of any film; unsigned actors rarely see them, and even those who do must keep quiet.
The folder held no script—only hearsay sketches of the plot.
What was certain: almost famous is a rock-'n'-roll movie centering on a band, a boy who wants to be a critic, and a beautiful female assistant.
Angel's staff had compiled this dossier from those hints and the casting breakdown.
It might not be 100 percent accurate, but Matthew trusted them—after all, their intel had helped him land Ronald Speirs in band of brothers.
With no source novel this time, the prep package was slimmer than it had been for band of brothers.
He skimmed it first. Tailored to the rock theme and the roles, the info broke into sections: drugs, sex, touring, Groupies…
Drugs go without saying—anyone in America knows rock and narcotics are inseparable; a rocker who stays clean lives only in fairy tales.
As for sex, Hollywood veterans know the wildest scene isn't actors or models—it's rock bands. A successful rocker, male or female, who hasn't bedded several men and women or thrown orgies is too embarrassed to show their face.
Touring is basically concerts or fan meets on the road.
Matthew focused on Groupies,
a concept he'd never encountered. The part he was chasing—guitarist Russell Hammond—was entangled with the heroine, who, the notes suggested, was officially the band's PA but in reality a seasoned Groupie.
Whoever compiled the file had sensed his ignorance and added an explanation.
Put simply, the "Groupie" phenomenon began in the '60s when rock boomed and fandom exploded. It refers to female fans who pursue sexual or romantic ties with rock stars; some even use "Star-Fucker" instead of "Groupie."
As Matthew understood it, if rock stars were gods, then the Groupies worshipped them like devoted believers.
The file even gave him an example: Bibbe Hansen was one of the most famous Groupies of last century's rock scene, nicknamed the Rock Muse. Pretty and delicate, she was sleeping with rock stars at fifteen or sixteen, and later she turned it into an art form; bands begged for a night with Bibbe Hansen, and when she got pregnant they still wanted her to keep the baby.
That baby was the one and only Liv Tyler.
According to the file, rock's glory belongs to the groupies; to understand rock, you can't skip them.
In the material Angel Talent Agency had gathered, the role Matthew was chasing and the female lead—already set to be played by Kate Hudson—shared that tangled dynamic.
Of course, that might not be exact; the researchers hadn't seen the almost famous script, they'd only pieced together rumors.
The part might also be bisexual.
Matthew knew nothing about that world. After thinking it over he wondered if he should seek out people who lived it. The audition was slated for late May, with preliminary cuts expected mid-month; he didn't have much time.
Luckily the mummy returns was casting in early June, fast & furious even later, so they didn't clash with almost famous; if this audition tanked, he could still try out for the other two.
The snag was the mummy returns would audition in London, fast & furious in Los Angeles.
But in the age of jets, that was a minor headache.
He stayed in all evening, even ordering take-out, and pored over Angel's dossier until the outline of the project and the part felt crystal-clear.
After that he dropped everything else and prepped for the audition. Even though Helen Herman hadn't heard back after submitting his résumé to the almost famous team, starting early couldn't hurt.
He kept calling Helen Herman, had Angel line up a once-famous guitarist to trade war stories, and reached out to several aging ex-groupies; most refused, but one agreed to share her memories with the actor.
The woman, Lori Mattix, left Matthew slack-jawed.
She vividly recounted tales of Mick Jagger, The Rolling Stones' front-man.
"Mick's stamina is legendary; he loves beautiful women and group fun, especially models young enough to be his daughters. Skinny as he is, he's huge and skilled—his oral game rivals Steven Tyler's… yeah, the Aerosmith singer. The Stones' tongue logo? Perfect for Mick."
Lori Mattix rolled up her sleeve; decades later faint needle tracks still stippled her arm, dense and startling.
"If I lived again, I'd still choose that life."
She had zero regrets, and as Matthew left she said, "Those were glorious days; back then nothing felt impossible, and you could fool around without fear of AIDS. Not like now—everyone in showbiz is jumpy, snapped by paparazzi the moment they step out. That era's gone for good."
Talking with the guitarist and Lori Mattix gave Matthew priceless insight into the rock world.
But he went further: to grasp a bisexual man's mindset he visited a gay bar one Saturday night, got hit on by half the room, learned nothing, and fled in disarray.
A metropolis like Los Angeles has plenty of bisexuals, yet outsiders can't find them; Matthew phoned Helen Herman for help.
Helen told him to wait. By the time he'd bought a computer she still hadn't located anyone suitable.
Hollywood is full of such people, but they don't spill their bisexual life stories to a small-time actor.
He had to let it go for now; once almost famous sent an invitation and he cleared the first round, he could resume the search.