"What did I do?" Matthew had no idea what Vin Diesel was talking about. "You're being ridiculous."
Vin Diesel ignored the stares around them. "Universal Pictures cutting me loose after fast & furious—was that your doing?"
Matthew gave a cold laugh. "Use your bald head for once—how could I sway Universal?"
It was a joke. If he had that kind of pull with Universal's top brass, why would he be playing a bit part in fast & furious?
But Vin Diesel's attitude didn't soften in the least.
The moment the bald man got the informal notice from Universal, he'd weighed every possibility. In the end he was sure someone was scheming behind his back, and the most likely culprit was Matthew Horner—of everyone he'd clashed with, only Matthew had any line to Universal's upper management.
Back then Sean Daniel had turned on him for Matthew Horner's sake; the two must be close. Sean was a producer with rock-solid Ties to Universal's production wing.
Vin Diesel sneered. "Do it but too scared to own it?"
"Ridiculous. A guy like you needs someone else to ruin you?"
Although no one stepped closer, everyone was watching. Matthew raised his voice. "Call time was eight; you showed up at ten-thirty! You snoozed in your Trailer outside the Soundstage and left the crew hanging. On set you demanded script changes on the spot or you'd walk..."
In a dozen seconds Matthew listed every rotten thing Vin Diesel had done.
"Who does he think he is?" someone nearby muttered. "He wants Harrison Ford treatment and then some."
"Where'd this guy come from? Since when did Hollywood have another A-lister?"
Vin Diesel stood unmoved, as if he really were A-list and everything he did was his right. He rumbled, "Yeah, I did all that—so what, loser?"
Matthew glanced at him, fists clenching. He hadn't forgotten the fast & furious set; he'd always wanted to land a few punches on that shiny scalp.
He wasn't stupid enough to swing first.
He gave a small shrug.
"So you're the set's official turd-stirrer."
"What?" Vin Diesel exploded. "Say that again?"
He stepped forward, ready to throw a punch. Matthew had been waiting—Vin had come looking for trouble, and if he threw the first blow even producer Sean Daniel and director Stephen Sommers couldn't object.
Before Vin could swing, a hulking six-three man bulled between them and clamped a hand on Vin's arm.
"What do you think you're doing?" Brendan Fraser glared at Vin Diesel. "You want to mess up my premiere?"
He jabbed a thumb toward Matthew. "You dare lay a hand on my friend?"
"Brendan..." Matthew started, but Brendan waved him off like a big brother. "Save it—I've got this."
Matthew shut up. Brendan was playing the boss, but either way he was helping.
producer Sean Daniel, hearing the ruckus, pushed through the onlookers with four security guards. One look at Vin Diesel and he pointed. "Escort him out—now! Do it!"
He told his assistant, "Set up a meeting with Universal for tomorrow."
Brendan stepped back beside Matthew. The guards ringed Vin Diesel; the lead one said, "Sir, please leave."
Vin ignored the stares, still full of swagger. He shot Matthew a cold glare, then turned and strode out of the Tent.
"All right, all right..." Sean Daniel called. "The premiere's still on."
Brendan clapped Matthew's shoulder. "Don't worry—I've got your back."
Matthew smiled. "Thanks." He caught Sean Daniel's eye, walked over, and apologized sincerely, "Sorry, Mr. Daniel—I dragged personal business into your event."
"I heard what happened," Sean Daniel said. He still remembered the bald man. "He started it."
He frowned, recalling the day he'd turned the guy down, and wondered if the grudge wasn't just against Matthew Horner but aimed at him as well.
Order inside the Tent returned quickly. A staffer nudged Matthew to the Red Carpet exit; Brendan Fraser followed. Per schedule Matthew would walk just ahead of Brendan.
"Relax," Brendan said, either out of habit or treating Matthew like a kid brother, and patted his shoulder again. "Don't stress—just walk like normal."
Matthew had walked the Red Carpet once before and wasn't nervous, but he still gave a nod.
When the actress ahead of him reached the middle of the carpet, Matthew adjusted his bow Tie, stepped out of the Tent, and followed the walkway onto the Red Carpet.
'Who's this coming?' a Reporter asked.
Another Reporter answered, 'The actor who plays the scorpion king!'
Someone else added, 'His name's Matthew Horner—he played Ronald Speirs in band of brothers.'
Compared with the press, very few people lining the carpet recognized him. A third of the way along, he spotted someone holding a Scorpion King poster and was about to go sign it when a roar of cheers erupted behind him; he glanced back to see Brendan Fraser already stepping onto the carpet.
'He's out this early?' Matthew wondered.
If he stopped for an autograph now, he might bump straight into Brendan Fraser—awkward.
He sneaked another look: Brendan Fraser beamed, waving to the crowd and drawing constant cheers, clearly loving the adoration.
Matthew skipped the autograph and quickened his pace toward the El Capitan Theatre entrance.
After all, Brendan Fraser had just done him a favor.
In front of the theatre lay the media pit. Matthew stepped in, posed among the forest of lenses, and followed every pointer his Stylist had drilled into him, showing his best side.
With naturally sharp looks plus a warm, sunny smile, he kept the shutterbugs snapping.
Brendan Fraser was closing in behind him; Matthew left the photo line and moved to the Interview Area.
Several Reporters came over with questions, but after a couple he felt an arm drape across his shoulders—Brendan Fraser had caught up.
The moment the lead actor arrived, the press lost interest in Matthew and focused entirely on Brendan Fraser.
And Fraser kept that friendly arm locked around him, making it impossible for Matthew to slip away; shaking off the star in front of the Cameras would look rude.
Of course, some Reporters noticed the little tableau.
A Middle-Aged Male Reporter asked, 'Brendan, are you and Matthew friends? You two look pretty tight.'
'Absolutely!' Brendan Fraser lifted the hand that rested on Matthew's shoulder, gave it a pat, and continued in the tone of a big brother, 'Matthew's my little buddy on set—I've been helping him find his acting groove, sorting out any problems.'
He turned to Matthew. 'Right?'
Matthew could only nod. 'Yeah.' He spoke into the microphones, 'Brendan and I are friends; his vast experience has been a huge help.'
None of that had actually happened, but promoting the film was part of his job.
'Hello, Mr. Fraser.' A woman wearing a Vogue Magazine badge cut in. 'May I ask—did you pick your outfit yourself, or is this your Stylist's masterpiece?'
Brendan Fraser looked puzzled. 'is there a problem?'
With the air of a Fashion Editor, the Reporter said bluntly, 'If it's your Stylist's work, you'd better fire them. If you chose it yourself, your taste is tragic.'
Brendan's face fell instantly.
She didn't spare him: 'Your tux is a textbook Red Carpet disaster—this blue number looks rented from a prom shop. The trousers pool, the Peak Lapels are too wide, and that skinny Tie? It couldn't be worse.'
Brendan wasn't merely frowning now—his whole face had darkened.
'And standing next to Mr. Matthew Horner only highlights how bad it is!' the Vogue Reporter said, eyeing Matthew admiringly. 'Mr. Horner, you're the most charismatic man I've seen today!'
Brendan glanced instinctively at Matthew, his expression still stormy.
Because this was Vogue, every Reporter's attention pivoted to Matthew, and Brendan felt the chill of being sidelined.
The Vogue Reporter, single-minded, went on, 'Mr. Horner, your look is the Red Carpet's biggest highlight tonight! That sleek shawl-collar silk-wool tux—open to the navel—sets off your build perfectly with its crisp white shirt, and those Velvet Loafers match your vibe like the finest menswear accessory. The subtle embroidery adds quiet distinction…'
A torrent of praise spilled from her lips, and Matthew couldn't stop grinning!!