America Tycoon: The Wolf of Showbiz

On the villa terrace, Louise deliberately dressed in a silk casual outfit that accentuated her figure, sitting by the small dining table, enjoying a steak feast with Martin.

Martin cut off a piece of roast meat and put it into his mouth, saying, "The chef has done a great job, and the meat is wonderful."

Louise ate in small bites, swallowed the food in her mouth, "Italian Quinine steak, knowing you like meat, I specially called the chef over."

Martin savored the deliciousness of the meat, "I really don't know how to thank you."

Louise didn't eat much, picked up a napkin to wipe her mouth, and said without any pretense, "Didn't you bring me a souvenir?"

Martin fished around in his pocket and then clenched his fist and stretched it to Louise's side.

Louise looked forward with anticipation.

Martin's hand opened, and a pendant fell out, hanging from a cord was a polished, shiny white alligator tooth.

Louise was so angry she felt like hitting someone, "You've already given me one of those."

"It's different, the last one was a Bay Crocodile from Australia." Martin insisted, "This time it's a Morrie alligator."

Louise picked up her glass, staring at Martin with an expression that suggested she might splash it in his face.

Martin stopped teasing, pulled back the pendant, took out a notepad, and pushed it to Louise, "It's the only kind for now." He then pulled out a small totem pole, "A lucky totem from the Mayans."

Louise only took the notepad, opened it, and her smile blossomed, "Martin Davis, you've paid off a small part of your debt to me."

"Can I pay it off all at once tonight?" Martin said very seriously, "One on one, I promise I can settle it."

"Get lost," Louise said, paying him no mind as she studied the new formula Martin had given her.

Martin didn't disturb the international mixology master and continued to enjoy his dinner.

As night completely fell, after Martin had finished dinner and reached for a wet towel to wipe his hands, lights turned on in the villa opposite and he faintly saw someone stepping onto the tennis court.

From afar, no sound could be heard, only blurry figures could be seen.

Louise put away the notepad, turned back for a look, and said, "My neighbors, the Olsen family. You've heard of Ashley-Olsen and Mary-Olson, haven't you? This is the house they bought."

Martin shifted his gaze, "The famous Olsen sisters, of course, I've heard of them." He asked, "I saw in the gossip media that they have another sister?"

Louise nodded, "Elizabeth, she's in middle school now."

Martin stood up, "Let's not talk about them anymore, shall we go downstairs?"

Louise came over and grabbed Martin's hand to walk downstairs.

Martin asked, "I saw in the Actors Guild's by-laws that as long as you play a certain part in a supporting role, you can enjoy a share of the film's royalties every year?"

Louise explained simply, "This is a treatment agreed upon by the Actors Guild and the Producers' Alliance. Even if there's no profit-sharing agreement signed with the production, guild members who play a part that meets the requirement will still enjoy the stipulated post-production share. The proportion is very low, but the film's post-production copyright income is astonishing.

To put it this way, last year's North American box office was less than ten billion, but the copyright income exceeded one hundred billion."

She added, "Do you know who was the first to fight for it? Reagan when he was president of the Actors Guild, the one who was almost killed by Jodi Foster's admirer."

Martin commented, "Actors turning to politics, Reagan and Schwarzenegger were the most successful."

Louise nodded slightly, "Schwarzenegger won't get any further, he wasn't born in America." She teased Martin on purpose, "What about you, thinking of the White House?"

Martin said with a laugh, "By the time I'm at the nuclear button, boom—"

Louise leaned on the stair railing, "Should I eliminate you in advance?"

Martin tossed his head back, "Come on, I won't resist."

The battle to save Earth had begun.

...

This year, Robert's income had increased, and he had also gained a reputation in the Atlanta acting community.

In a mid-income neighborhood in the west, he had rented a new house.

In the morning, after washing up, Robert made a cup of coffee, ate a simple breakfast, opened his laptop, and previewed the day's work.

More and more Hollywood crews were coming to Atlanta to shoot, and Gray Film Company's studio had signed contracts with two major crews.

While the leading roles were all decided in Los Angeles, many minor roles and extras were recruited in Atlanta, which further invigorated the Atlanta acting market.

The Marietta Community Theatre Troupe was about to undergo a big change, as Captain Jerome was considering shifting to become a talent agent.

Robert would serve as the training director at the new agency.

In fact, the job wasn't much different; he was still teaching acting.

Having drunk most of his coffee, Robert closed his laptop, pulled out another small book with "Cola!" written on the cover.

Because of his age and faltering memory, he would look at it every day.

Not only Martin but also a few other actors from the troupe who were close to him would set up a can of cola when they went to auditions; Robert did the same. It wasn't clear whether it was the cola or that all the auditioned roles came from Gray Media and its partners, but the success rate of the ritual was a whopping one hundred percent.

After Robert had his fill and reviewed the ritual once more, he carefully put away the book, stood up, stretched, and muttered, "Should I start a Cola Cult? Get a taste of being a Sect Hierarch?"

He picked up his bag and got ready to head out to work with that temporary thought in mind.

Just as he closed the front door, a gorgeous Cadillac pulled up - the model he liked the most.

The Cadillac came to a stop by the curb, and a man not yet 20 years old got out from the driver's seat. Harris looked familiar to Robert, as if he'd seen him somewhere before.

Harris recognized Robert at a glance; his big head was too conspicuous. He walked towards him, "Good morning, Robert, I'm Harris. Martin sent me."

Robert remembered him, having seen him around Martin; he smiled in response, "Hello, what's the matter?"

Harris said, "Martin sent me to deliver something to you."

Robert was taken aback for a moment before realizing, and turning his attention to the Cadillac.

Harris approached him and handed over the car keys: "The car's yours now, the paperwork is in the glove box of the front passenger seat."

"That's too valuable," Robert's gaze clung to the Cadillac: "This is... too valuable."

Harris pushed the keys into his hand, "Martin told me to tell you that thanks to you, his audition success rate increased by at least fifty percent. You must accept it."

Robert took the keys, obeying the call of his heart: "Alright, alright, I'll accept."

"I've delivered the thing; I should be going." Harris didn't linger any longer, walked a distance, and then got into a black BMW 7.

That car was one Robert recognized; it used to be Martin's.

Thinking of Martin, Robert wanted to phone him but considering the time difference, he'd probably still be asleep, so he didn't make the call.

He drove the new car into the garage, still using the old one for the time being.

In a couple of days, he'd find a good opportunity to drive the new car to the theatre troupe.

Sitting in his car, Robert thought of something crucial and called a Coke distributor: "Help me collect Coke produced in Atlanta in '03, the more the better."

The other side was curious: "What's different about the '03 Coke?"

Only Robert and Martin knew about the secret of the Cola Cult. Robert didn't plan to tell anyone else and made up an excuse: "The syrup from last year's batch had an especially good flavor, the Coke made from it is exceptional."

...

Los Angeles, Sherman Oaks.

The sun had just risen as Martin and Louise, dressed in athletic wear, jogged along the road on the southern slope.

After circling the nearby park, just as they returned to the road, Louise stopped, hands on her knees, gasping for air: "I can't, I can't, wait for me a moment, let me catch my breath."

Martin turned back to her, pulling her up: "Don't stop, just walk slowly."

Louise let him guide her along, making excuses for herself as they walked: "It was me moving all night last night, I used up more energy, otherwise..."

Martin asked, "Do I need to record it next time and then calculate accurately who was moving for longer?"

"I warn you, don't mess around," Louise said, "You're younger than me, it's only normal for you to have more stamina."

Martin remembered something and seriously said, "You should drink less, excessive drinking can accelerate aging..."

That remark hit a nerve, and Louise stopped in her tracks: "Are you saying that I'm old?"

Martin meant well: "Just a reminder; don't actually become an alcoholic."

A car came up at that moment and stopped next to them, the passenger window rolled down, and a blonde girl driving waved, "Louise, it's rare to see you up so early."

Louise glanced at the girl on the passenger seat with the baby fat: "Has Holle Middle School started?"

Mary Olson pointed to Louise: "Elizabeth, Louise is our neighbor."

Elizabeth greeted her politely.

The sisters left soon after, the car heading towards North Hollywood.

After breakfast, Martin and Louise went to Warner Bros. Studios together, the latter to continue her involvement in the post-production of "Alexander the Great" to make the film as commercial as possible.

Martin went to another post-production studio; "House of Wax" was at the stage of adding opening and closing credits.

Unexpectedly, as soon as he entered, he ran into Thomas.

Martin pulled out the Mayan lucky totem that Louise didn't care for and handed it to his agent, "A little gift, special from Mexico."

Thomas accepted it; while the gift wasn't expensive, the thought his client put into it made him inexplicably happy: "Very nice. I'll find a special place to display this. When you become a big star, these will become treasures."

Martin thought, you truly are an agent, and asked, "What brings you here?"

Thomas explained, "I'm here for a publicity meeting of the crew. Paris Hilton's agent is demanding that her name be the second in the credits, which is absolutely unacceptable! Eliza Cuthbert is undeniably the sole female lead, but the most important role after hers is Nick, the character you play."

Martin agreed, "What should be fought for must be grabbed. This is your job."

It was indeed the work of an agent; Thomas assumed his responsibility without hesitation: "Rest assured, I won't let them succeed."

Martin encouraged him, "Fight hard, knock them down!"

Thomas pumped his fist and entered a meeting room, as if going into battle.

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