That night, Matthew got a call from Dennis Coulter. The chubby agent told him to come to Starlight Agency the next day for a meeting—and to pick up his payment from girl, interrupted.
Matthew finished his overnight shift early in the morning, wrapped up the handover, and headed straight to Starlight. After greeting Dennis Coulter, he went to the finance department to collect his pay.
Since he came in person, the cashier paid him in cash. After the ten percent agent fee was deducted, Matthew walked out with 180 bucks in hand.
It wasn't much, but he had busted his ass and racked his brains for every cent.
"Let's talk in my office," Dennis Coulter said, beaming with false enthusiasm.
Matthew thought about it and nodded. "Sure."
He'd already decided to sever ties with this scummy agent anyway. He knew he wasn't a saint himself—but he'd never sink to Dennis Coulter's level.
He followed Coulter into an office shared by five or six other agents. It was fairly spacious, so it didn't feel too cramped.
Coulter led him to an empty desk, pulled up a chair. "Sit wherever."
As Matthew took a seat, Coulter asked, "Coffee? Or…?"
"Water's fine," Matthew replied casually.
Coulter went to the water dispenser. While Matthew was thinking about how to politely end their partnership, a young man at the desk across from him suddenly leaned in.
"You're Matthew Horner?"
Matthew blinked. Do I look famous now or something? He nodded. "Yeah."
The guy glanced over at Dennis Coulter still busy pouring water, then lowered his voice. "Get a new agent. Dennis has a terrible reputation around here—real scumbag. Once he can't use you anymore, he'll toss you like trash."
"That so?" Matthew sighed inwardly. This agency is a damn mess. He forced a smile. "Thanks."
"No problem." The guy quickly slipped Matthew a business card. "If you can't find someone decent for now, give me a call. I know a few producers and casting directors."
Matthew pocketed the card without saying more. The young man turned back to his work like nothing had happened.
Dennis Coulter returned with two cups of water, setting one in front of Matthew and plopping down.
"So I gotta ask," he said curiously. "How'd you land that role, Matthew?"
Matthew picked up the cup. "Someone convinced Winona Ryder to let me in."
Coulter's eyes lit up like he'd just confirmed a theory. He chuckled. "How about this—we sign a long-term contract, you and me?"
After meeting Coulter, Matthew had done his homework. He didn't want to get scammed. He'd looked into how agent contracts worked in Hollywood. For background actors, there were only temp contracts through booking agencies. Only if a company showed real interest would they draft a formal agency agreement.
California's laws were strict to protect actors. The Talent Agencies Act limited first-time contracts to one year, and follow-ups couldn't exceed three years.
In other words, it wasn't hard to drop an agent if things went south.
As Matthew considered all this, he didn't immediately respond.
Thinking he had the green light, Coulter grinned wider. "We'll draft the contract next week, no rush…"
Then he added, like he'd just had a genius idea, "Matthew, do you think you could set up a dinner with Mr. Georgia Kankendis?"
"Huh?" Matthew instantly got it—the long-term contract was bait.
"Maybe give him a call," Coulter suggested eagerly. "Ask when he's free?"
Matthew remembered how Coulter had once asked if he knew Georgia Kankendis on girl, interrupted. Back then, he hadn't denied or confirmed it.
Now this greedy bastard thought he'd struck gold.
"Let's talk about that some other time," Matthew deflected. "He's not someone I can just ask out."
From the corner of his eye, Matthew noticed the young man at the opposite desk eavesdropping.
Coulter was getting impatient. "Didn't you say you knew Mr. Kankendis?"
"I do."
Technically true—he knew who the man was. Matthew shrugged. "But he doesn't know me."
"What?" Coulter looked confused.
"I said I know Georgia Kankendis. But he doesn't know me."
Coulter shot to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at Matthew. "You—you lied to me!"
"Lied?" Matthew stood too. "When did I say he knew me?"
"Uh…" Coulter mentally replayed the conversations, suddenly at a loss.
"Hahaha…"
The young agent across the desk couldn't hold it anymore. "This is the 'big opportunity' you were bragging about? Hilarious!"
Coulter's face turned purple. He glared at the young man, then back at Matthew. "Don't expect me to get you any more jobs! You're done!"
"Doesn't matter." Matthew shrugged. "I came here today to tell you we're through anyway."
He sighed, turned to leave, then added, "Still, thanks for the lesson. You showed me just how ugly this industry can be."
Without another word, Matthew walked out of the office.
Coulter just stood there, dumbfounded.
"That's the 'simple-minded pushover' you were boasting about?" the young man sneered. "Dennis, you're the real fool."
The others in the office looked on. Some pitied Coulter. Most just looked amused.
An agent getting played by a background actor? That was pure comedy.
With 180 bucks in his pocket, Matthew left the Starlight Agency building. For some reason, he felt strangely refreshed. He'd seen through Coulter's true colors long ago, and now that farce was finally over.
"Maybe when I agreed to meet in his office," Matthew muttered to himself, "somewhere deep down, I already wanted to make him squirm."
Now that he'd cut ties with Coulter and Starlight, the next step was to find a better agency. He'd already reached out to three, and today was the perfect time to visit them.
First stop was North Hollywood. Two of the agencies were near Laurel Canyon Boulevard. Like Starlight, they were small firms with fewer than ten agents, mostly handling extras and minor roles.
Both welcomed him in, took his info, photos, résumé, and contact details. Standard procedure.
This time, Matthew made sure to note that he'd had a speaking role in girl, interrupted. When he handed the form back, he saw the staffer circle that part in red pen.
With that done, he headed to Burbank—Media Capital of the World—where the third agency was located.
Just as he arrived, his phone rang. An unknown number.
Already getting callbacks? he thought, a little hopeful.
He picked up.
"Hello, Mr. Matthew Horner. This is Chris Walker, legal counsel for Forbidden Tarot. I urge you to pay the breach-of-contract penalty immediately. Otherwise, we will take legal action."
Fantasy shattered.
Damn, still haunting me?
Then again, he had broken the contract. Still broke, Matthew decided to stall.
He pinched his throat and rasped, "Who? Wrong number."
Then he hung up and turned off his phone.
As for that so-called lawsuit—they could sue if they wanted. In Hollywood, lawsuits dragged on forever anyway. By then, maybe he'd actually have money.
With that attitude, Matthew quickened his pace. The agency was in a small three-story building. A couple of trucks were parked out front, workers unloading furniture into the building.
Seemed like a brand-new company.