The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood! Chapter 21

From his vantage point in the lobby, Matthew watched Michael and immediately noticed a stark change in the man since he'd come back down. It was especially evident in the way he walked; he looked like a completely different person.

Michael moved with a wide, awkward gait, his discomfort obvious.

As Michael walked, he was slightly bent over, his buttocks clenched tight. Each time he shifted his weight, his feet traced an unnatural arc across the floor.

Matthew shuddered, hastily trying to shut down the rampant speculation in his mind. The image that had just flashed through his thoughts was too horrifying to contemplate. He muttered to himself, "So, you really traded your ass for a role, huh?"

"Sir, are you all right?" a voice called out. Matthew glanced over and saw that Michael's bizarre walk had caught the attention of a conscientious waiter. "Do you need any help? You're walking rather strangely."

"No! No!" Michael waved a hand, terrified the man would somehow guess the reason for his predicament. "I'm fine."

He took a laborious step toward the hotel's front door and finally stumbled outside, leaving the waiter staring after him with a bewildered expression.

Matthew shifted his position again, making sure Michael wouldn't see him, his gaze still locked on the other man.

He watched as Michael crossed to the other side of the street, where he leaned against a lamppost with his head bowed. A strange expression contorted his face, a mixture of agony and excitement.

"The pain is obviously physical," he reasoned. "The excitement must be from getting the lead role he was promised."

"Is this the shortcut to Hollywood success?" Sighing quietly, Matthew glanced at Michael again. He wondered if he might have made a similar choice after years of struggling in Los Angeles with no results, desperate for a way out.

"No!" Matthew shook his head in visceral denial. "Absolutely not! That will never, ever happen!"

He knew he was no more noble than Michael—in fact, he was probably more deceitful and calculating. But this... this was definitely beyond the realm of compromise. He wanted fame and fortune, and his personal bottom line was set very, very low, but it still existed. If he had to choose between selling his body and living in poverty, he would choose poverty.

As for lofty morals, if you worked in the entertainment industry and still clung to them, you deserved to spend the rest of your life in obscurity.

"The despicable pave their way to fame, while the noble die at the starting line," Matthew muttered to himself, turning to look at Michael again.

The light from a streetlamp spilled onto the sidewalk, illuminating the path ahead. Michael, steadying himself against the plate-glass window of a shop, shuffled slowly forward.

It was difficult for him to walk, let alone stand still. A sharp, searing pain radiating from his backside made him feel an urgent need to see a proctologist.

But he couldn't; it was too embarrassing to talk about this kind of injury.

The pain was excruciating, but through it all, a joyful smile tugged at the corners of Michael's mouth.

The director, Martin Jackson, had promised him the lead role in Britney Spears's music video.

This was what he wanted.

Michael leaned against another lamppost and gazed up at the sky, as if seeing a ray of light breaking through the pitch-black darkness.

Although the excitement didn't erase the searing pain in his rear, he felt it was all worth it. He even allowed himself a small, inward smile.

For years, Michael had suffered, waiting for an opportunity like this. He desperately wanted the world to know his name, and now, he was on the verge of fame, starring in a music video with Britney Spears.

Suddenly, the face of the man who called himself a friend but hadn't helped him flashed before Michael's eyes.

"Matthew, I'm getting the lead role." Remembering the rejection he'd faced on the set of "Gladiator," he felt a thrill of sweet revenge.

Then he frowned, because Matthew Horner didn't know yet.

Instantly, that pleasure vanished without a trace.

Michael thought for a moment, took out his phone, and dialed Matthew's number. It rang for a while before Matthew finally answered.

"Is that you, Matthew?" His tone was much more cheerful than usual. "What are you up to?"

"Heading home," Matthew's voice came over the line. "Where are you, Mike?"

"Heading home, too." Michael planned to deliver the news to Matthew in person, just to see the look on his face. "Are you free tomorrow? I'll treat you to lunch."

"Tomorrow?" Matthew on the other end seemed to be thinking. After a moment, he asked, "Which restaurant are we going to?"

Michael was improvising and hadn't thought of a restaurant, so he said, "I haven't picked one yet. I'll call you in the morning."

In reality, he knew what he needed most was to rest on a soft bed and wait for his ass to heal, but he couldn't resist the urge to show off in front of his rival.

After hanging up, Michael put his phone away. He fought through the throbbing pain and forced himself to take another step, his mind already racing, trying to figure out how to break the news without letting Matthew guess he'd slept with Martin.

The night sky was dark, but the City of Angels glowed with light. A taxi pulled up to a bus stop on the outskirts of Westwood, and Matthew climbed out. It was nearly midnight, but instead of heading straight home, he decided to find a place to grab a late-night bite. His stomach had been growling with hunger during the ride.

Matthew walked a little further down the road and found a restaurant with a brightly lit sign.

"Hello, welcome," greeted a tall waitress with a sharp nose, dark eyes, and blonde hair.

The restaurant was spacious, with a fair number of late-night diners. Matthew found a table by the window and sat down. When the waitress came over, he ordered two chicken and bacon dishes and settled in to wait.

He took a moment to look around. The whole restaurant was decorated in a subdued style, and the tables and chairs looked comfortable.

Before long, the waitress arrived with his food.

"Thank you." Matthew began his meal: the chicken and fried bacon looked perfect.

He picked up his knife and fork and was about to start eating when he suddenly remembered Michael.

Matthew took out his phone, dialed Michael's number, and it was answered quickly.

"Matthew?"

Matthew said immediately, "Michael, you haven't found a restaurant for us to talk at tomorrow, have you? I've found a great one."

There was a pause, then the voice came, "Sure, where is it?"

"Come to Westwood tomorrow." Matthew gave him the restaurant's address. "We'll meet there at eleven-thirty."

Michael readily agreed. Matthew put his phone away, finished his meal, and after paying the bill, found the host stand to reserve a table. He was ready to treat Michael to the food here, which, to his surprise, was delicious.

He left the restaurant and returned to his apartment. He took a shower and lay down, but he didn't fall asleep right away. His head was filled with thoughts of how to get the lead male role in the music video, and it wasn't until nearly three in the morning that some ideas began to form, and he finally drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Matthew stuck to his usual routine: a morning workout, followed by reading newspapers and books. He didn't waste a moment, refusing to slack off just because he had a lunch meeting with Michael.

He knew he had to work that much harder, since he was starting from the bottom and had less natural talent than others.

Only at eleven o'clock did he put down the book in his hand, change into a decent suit, and head to the restaurant. It was very popular; it wasn't even lunchtime yet, and more than half the tables were already taken.

"I made a reservation last night," Matthew told the waiter. The waiter checked his notebook, then led Matthew to the same table he'd sat at the previous evening. "Are you ready to order, sir?" the waiter asked.

Matthew gestured toward the entrance. "I'm waiting for someone. I'll let you know when we're ready."

The waiter left, and Matthew waited patiently for Michael to arrive.