(Please add to your collections 🙏🙏🙏🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️!)
In a studio office, Matthew and Amanda sat on a long sofa without saying a word. They just watched as Helen Herman bargained with the record label reps. The discussion involved all sorts of terms—not just payment for the role, but many clauses Matthew didn't even understand.
For example, since the crew and label wouldn't provide a car for a small-time actor like him, Helen fought to get a $50 daily transportation allowance.
Also, although there were only four dressing rooms available in the studio, Helen insisted on getting one private room for Matthew, arguing that the male lead needed proper rest to perform well.
She didn't miss out on anything—from injury insurance to actor rights. Helen pushed for the best deal possible without crossing the studio's bottom line.
Matthew didn't speak, but he saw and heard everything. Helen might be proud, but she was a truly dedicated agent.
As the negotiation dragged on, a faint sound of arguing came from outside.
"That voice…"
Amanda also heard it and whispered, "Sounds familiar."
Matthew tilted his head to listen, a slight smile flashing across his lips. "Sounds like Michael Sheen."
"Him?" Amanda blinked. "Didn't he already leave?"
"Who knows," Matthew shrugged, "Maybe he came back again."
At that moment, Helen's phone rang. She apologized to the studio reps and picked it up. After hearing just one sentence, she shot to her feet.
"What?"
Behind her black-rimmed glasses, her face was full of shock. "I'll be right there!"
She rushed out without even saying goodbye to Matthew or Amanda. Luckily, she was wearing flat shoes, or she'd have tripped.
"What happened?"
Amanda was stunned. It was rare to see Helen so rattled.
The record label people quickly followed her out. Matthew stood up and said, "Come on, let's check it out."
It would be a waste not to watch something this exciting—especially if it might've been caused by him.
Matthew and Amanda walked out and turned into the nearby hallway. A crowd had already gathered a few meters ahead. The arguing had turned into shouting.
"Martin Jackson, you bastard! You bloody pervert!"
That voice—definitely Michael Sheen. Matthew confirmed it in his mind. When they got close, they saw Michael, red-faced and holding a steel pipe, yelling outside an office door.
Inside, they heard Martin Jackson's trembling voice:
"He's crazy! This guy's crazy! Call the police now!"
"Michael Sheen!"
Helen Herman shouted from the front, "Stop it right now!"
But Michael was completely out of control, consumed by rage. No way he'd listen.
Helen stayed back—she wasn't stupid. No one wanted to be the one to rush in and get hit.
Anyway, the door was locked. He couldn't break in so easily.
Bang! Bang!
He kicked the door again and again.
"Is he mad?" Amanda stepped behind Matthew, startled. "He's making a scene inside the studio!"
"A scene?"
A nearby assistant, York, turned to Matthew and said, "He hit Director Jackson in the shoulder with that steel pipe right after the audition. If Jackson hadn't run and locked himself in that room... who knows what would've happened."
Michael kicked the door a few more times, then started smashing it with the pipe. He looked totally deranged. No one dared stop him. Someone had already called the police.
"Damn it!"
Helen was losing her cool. "Stop him, someone!" she shouted.
But in Hollywood, people are trained to avoid risk. No one listened.
Bang!
Another violent kick sent wood chips flying.
The more Michael failed to get to Martin Jackson, the angrier he got. The angrier he got, the more he felt the pain—and the more he remembered what had been done to him. The more he remembered, the more furious he became.
A man in blind rage has no logic.
So no one moved. Not even Helen dared get close. That steel pipe was no joke.
Matthew figured the chaos had something to do with Jackson being just a small-time music video director. If it were someone big behind the door, others might've stepped in by now.
BANG—BANG—BANG!
Then came Michael's furious scream:
"Martin Jackson! You bastard! You made me do that to my mouth! You used my ass! And you still didn't give me the role! I'll kill you, you damned pervert!"
The crowd went silent. Matthew and Amanda exchanged shocked glances.
Stuff like this wasn't exactly unheard of in the industry—but no one ever said it out loud. Now that Michael had exposed it publicly, everyone was stunned.
Helen quickly realized how bad this could get. It might even affect Angel Agency—her life's work. She instinctively stepped forward.
But Matthew, right behind her, noticed.
He grabbed her shoulder firmly and warned, "He's crazy. Are you? Don't risk your life!"
Michael was yelling shocking things, kicking wildly, swinging that pipe—anyone going near him might get hurt.
Helen felt Matthew's strong grip on her shoulder—like iron clamps. She couldn't break free even if she tried.
His warning and the short pause helped her calm down. Helen wasn't someone who acted impulsively.
"You seem to know him well."
Helen turned to Matthew. "What's this about?"
Matthew let go and scratched his head. "Just what he said, really."
Then came police sirens from outside. A group of officers rushed in. Within moments, they tackled Michael, cuffed him, and dragged him out.
Then the office door creaked open. Martin Jackson walked out, holding his shoulder, grimacing in pain. His face was pale and covered in sweat.
"Quick, get him to the hospital!"
The record label rep stepped in.
Several crew members and police escorted Jackson out.
"Argh—"
Jackson cried out again as they moved.
"Everyone, back to work…"
The record label guy waved at the crowd.
People quickly dispersed. But Matthew and Amanda noticed Helen hadn't moved.
"Call the office. Get a new director," the label guy told his assistant. "Keep an eye on Jackson too. And that actor…"
He looked straight at Helen. "Helen, what's going on?"
"I'm not exactly sure," Helen replied smoothly. "Maybe Director Jackson had a private deal with Michael Sheen."
It was messy, but she wasn't backing down. From Matthew's expression, this probably wasn't just about Michael.
The record label rep frowned at Matthew and Amanda. "He caused a huge scene…"
Helen turned to the two. "You both wait for me in the office."
Clearly, this was a private discussion.
Matthew and Amanda quietly left and returned to the negotiation room.
"Think it'll be trouble?" Matthew whispered.
Amanda shook her head. "Helen's handled worse."
Matthew hadn't expected Michael to go that far. But considering what he'd suffered, it kind of made sense.
Maybe Michael also wanted to come after him. Good luck finding him though—Matthew wasn't as easy to locate as Jackson.
Everything that happened today—some of it was planned, some unexpected—but overall, the goal was achieved.
They waited for about twenty minutes before Helen returned and resumed negotiations.
They finalized the terms and signed the contract under a lawyer's witness. Matthew signed both copies.
Thanks to Helen, the deal had many favorable clauses. But what Matthew cared most about was pay—$4,000 for four days of filming, and $1,000 more for each extra day.
He received the script for the MV, but the shooting schedule was up in the air. With the director suddenly out of commission, they'd have to wait for further notice.
The exhausting screen test was finally done. Helen dropped him off at Angel Agency, and from there, Matthew took a bus to work on Hollywood Boulevard.
Just as the bus left Burbank, Helen called.
"Come to the agency again tomorrow," she said.
"Sooner or later, it had to happen," Matthew muttered.
Helen wasn't dumb, and she needed help. With no better options, she had brought Amanda in…