The Box Office King of Hollywood

Michael Sheen circled around the Red Penguin Services building several times but didn't spot Matthew Horner. Eventually, he headed to a nearby bar where he had heard from Matthew that the company drivers often hung out after hours. This bar was also a gathering place for aspiring Hollywood actors.

Upon entering the bar, Michael found a seat at the large counter and ordered a large beer. After taking a sip, his eyes quickly scanned the crowd of young men and women, but the familiar figure of Matthew was nowhere to be seen.

The bar was stuffy and poorly ventilated. Michael set down his beer glass and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing his muscular chest—a testament to his potential, proven by making it to the second round of auditions for a Britney Spears music video.

"Check, please!"

The person beside him left a bill on the counter and departed. Michael turned to see the man had left behind a newspaper on the bar. The man seemed uninterested in retrieving it and exited the bar without looking back.

The dim bar lights illuminated the newspaper, and as Michael was about to look away, he noticed a familiar face in one of the photos. He grabbed the paper and immediately felt a burning pain at the back of his mind.

The photo featured Matthew Horner, embracing a girl who was none other than the very famous Britney Spears!

"Sweetheart Britney falls for a poor boy from Texas..."

The headline alongside the photo caused Michael's heart to sink. Matthew Horner had become famous? And he'd managed to snag a major star like Britney Spears?

A surge of anger coursed through him—it was as if something rightfully his had been forcibly taken away. It should have been him in the headlines, him gaining fame, him winning over Britney. All of it was supposed to be his!

"Matthew Horner..." Michael clenched the newspaper in his hands until it crumpled into a messy ball, "You backstabbing jerk!"

He crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it under the counter, then took a large gulp of his beer.

Setting down his glass, a wave of emotion surged through him, and he blurted out, "I will be a star!"

His outburst caught the attention of a bald white man seated nearby, who turned to look at him, clearly drawn by Michael's handsome appearance.

"Hey, handsome."

Suddenly, a man's voice sounded from behind, "Can I buy you a drink?"

Michael turned to see a tall, muscular man with long hair approaching. Something about him seemed off.

The long-haired man pulled up a stool next to Michael and glanced at his muscular chest before saying, "Interested in hanging out tonight?"

Upon hearing this, Michael immediately understood the man's intentions and rejected him with disgust, "You've got the wrong idea. I'm not gay."

"Really?" The man seemed skeptical and suddenly reached out to touch Michael's buttocks, "I saw you when you came in. I can tell someone's been there recently!"

This comment struck a nerve with Michael, who stood up abruptly, "Stop talking nonsense!"

Although his response was fierce, his guilt was apparent. He threw a bill at the bartender and headed for the door, the muscular man not pressing any further.

However, the bald white man followed him out.

Outside the bar, Michael felt indescribably frustrated and instinctively looked back at his buttocks as if there was something shameful attached to them.

"Sir!" a voice called from behind, "Please wait!"

Michael turned and saw the bald middle-aged man following him. Assuming another gay advance, his eyes flashed with anger and revulsion.

The bald man seemed to guess Michael's thoughts and quickly introduced himself while catching up, "I'm Morris, an entertainment agent."

"An entertainment agent?"

Hearing this, Michael's demeanor instantly changed. He had been searching for a new agent since his contract with Angel Agency had been terminated.

"Hello." He extended his right hand, "I'm Michael Sheen, an actor."

"I know." Morris, evidently experienced in such encounters, shook Michael's hand and said, "I've seen you on set before. You're a very promising actor. It's a shame I missed out on signing you sooner. I didn't expect to run into you tonight."

As they spoke, Morris pulled out his agent's ID, showing it to Michael, who confirmed it was an official entertainment agent's license issued by the relevant industry association.

"You... needed something?" Michael handed back the ID.

"Your image..." Morris circled Michael, "You have a great look, perfect for a role."

Feeling low and uncertain about his career, Michael asked, "What... what kind of role?"

"It's like this." Morris began to elaborate, "My agency has a packaging deal with a production company. We handle everything from the director to the actors."

"What production company? What project?" Michael asked.

Morris didn't answer directly but gave Michael a convincing response, "There are confidentiality clauses involved. I can't disclose details until you're on board."

Michael nodded, understanding this was common in Hollywood.

Morris, with practiced ease, added, "I can tell you this much: the project needs a sunny, handsome supporting actor."

He walked around Michael, who instinctively puffed out his chest and awkwardly arched his back, making him look somewhat strange.

"Your physical attributes are excellent!" Morris continued.

Remembering something Matthew often said, Michael confidently replied, "I think so too."

"Perfect for the role I mentioned." Morris smiled, "Do you currently have an agent? Are you signed to any long-term contracts?"

Michael quickly shook his head, "No."

"That's great!" Morris clapped his hands, "The role isn't a major one."

Hearing this reassured Michael somewhat; a significant role wouldn't just fall into his lap without reason.

But a minor role also implied insignificance, revealing the complexities of his emotions.

Sensing Michael's thoughts, Morris added, "The role involves one scene—a very intense action scene with the female lead!"

"Female lead?" Michael's interest was piqued, "Is it an action movie?"

"Um..." Morris thought for a moment, "It's a mix of love, romance, and action."

"That sounds great." Michael saw it as an opportunity.

"It's getting late. I need to rest; I have work tomorrow," Morris said, sensing Michael's interest and deciding to keep him intrigued. He handed Michael a business card, "Here's my card. If you're interested, call this number, and we can discuss further at my agency tomorrow."

Michael took the card and carefully stored it, "See you tomorrow, Mr. Morris."

"See you tomorrow." Morris waved and left.

Left alone, Michael felt a sense of vindication after his recent setbacks. The prospect of a bright future seemed once again within reach.

And this time, there would be no underhanded interference from Matthew Horner!

Since the makeup test for the music video, Matthew had lost interest in Michael Sheen, who had called him a few times without response. It wasn't that Matthew feared or felt guilty toward Michael; rather, Michael was history. Matthew's focus was on moving forward, surpassing others along the way.

The scandal involving him and Britney had simmered in the newspapers for three full days. Matthew had been hounded by paparazzi and had made the front pages of numerous tabloids, even getting mentions in several major newspapers.

Compared to his previous obscurity, his fame had skyrocketed.

Three days later, Helen Herman returned to Los Angeles and promptly contacted Britney's agent and record company. Within half an hour, they had reached a consensus. On the day the music video resumed shooting, they jointly faced the media to clarify the non-existent scandal.

For Matthew, this was an excellent outcome. He had gained significant notoriety without much effort. According to Helen Herman, this fame would aid in securing roles in the future, as notoriety often translates to attention, which in turn can mean investment returns for the stakeholders.

During those three days, Matthew visited Britney in the hospital. She was recovering well, and by the fourth day, the music video shooting resumed as normal.