: Another Debt

Chapter 8 Another Debt

"The troupe will temporarily cease staging new plays. For the sake of your future, we will focus on securing roles in film and television projects." Jerome's face was full of enthusiasm, but he had other plans in mind.

Once rehearsals start, money flows out like water.

The Marietta Community Theatre Troupe is a non-profit organization, and its income mainly comes from donations from charitable organizations and cultural funding from the local government.

For example, the ownership of theaters belongs to the city hall.

Like filming, the rehearsals of plays are relatively easy to account for, and the money saved naturally flowed into the pockets of him and a few other people in charge.

Jerome, with an air of concern for them, emphasized, "For the foreseeable future, I will personally guide your performances. Trust me, in Marietta, no one is more professional than me!"

Martin listened and thought. When dealing with film and television crews, troupes had an advantage over individuals, but it was only $300 a month…

The money in his hand was earned at the cost of losing his arm.

Was it Harris who lost his arm? He respects Harris's sacrifice.

Martin won't easily give up unless he sees a benefit in it.

The newcomers weren't stupid either; one of them asked, "Captain, why are we filming the movie in Atlanta?"

Atlanta is currently insignificant in the Hollywood film and television industry chain.

Jerome smiled confidently: "The state government just passed a bill before the New Year that gives a 20 percent tax break to any film or television production shot in Atlanta with an investment of more than $500,000. If the film bears the Georgia logo, it gets an additional 10 percent tax break."

He saw things clearly: "Hollywood film production companies will never miss an opportunity to make more profits. More film crews will come to Atlanta to shoot in the future. Now the opportunity has arrived, are you ready?"

Another person asked, "I saw on the forum that actors have to go through agents to find work, but I don't have an agent."

"Ignore those damn agents, ignore those damn Screen Actors Guild rules, those California talent laws don't apply to Atlanta!" Jerome retorted. "Do you want your agent to take 10%, or do you want to pay $3000 to join the Screen Actors Guild and then pay a huge annual fee?"

The man, swayed by Jerome's words, shook his head repeatedly: "$3000, I'd rather buy a different car."

Martin remained quiet, and even when he disagreed with someone, he wouldn't speak up rashly.

After the motivational speech session ended, the troupe's accountant set up a table to collect the money. Of the ten newly recruited people, only one left; the remaining nine all paid their membership fees.

Even older actors like Robert choose to stay with the troupe. Martin, having experienced this phase himself, understands their mentality, which is no different from that of countless other extras in Hengdian.

After hearing about the two film crews, Martin kept thinking about how to get Jerome to think of him first.

Martin waited until everyone had left before limping to the accountant's desk, his face full of shame: "Mr. Mitchell, I... I have no money left and can't pay my dues."

Jerome Mitchell frowned: "Martin, don't make things difficult for me."

Martin got emotional, pulled out his pants and shirt pockets, and found only $7: "I'm very sorry, I fell and injured my leg while doing roof repair work. The treatment cost all my salary, and my boss refused to compensate me and fired me. Could you postpone my membership fee for a while?"

He handled the simple scenes, which he had firsthand experience with, with ease: "I'm looking for a new job, and I'll definitely make up for it when I have the money. Yes, there's a play next week, right? As soon as I get my salary for the role, I'll immediately hand it over to the troupe."

Martin Davis's consistently excellent performance in the theater company is the basis for what he said.

Seeing Martin's shame and helplessness, Jerome recalled the most difficult time of his own youth and felt a pang of sympathy: "Don't let me down."

"Thank you!" Martin thanked him profusely, his gaze sweeping over a book placed under the accounting form—the latest issue of *Entertainment Weekly*. He pointed to the magazine: "Mr. Mitchell, you know I love Hollywood news, but I don't have the money to buy it, could you perhaps…"

Jerome waved his hand: "Take it."

Martin took the book and limped out of the theater.

Jerome, being soft-hearted, wouldn't do a losing deal, so he noted down Martin's debt.

No one can owe him money for long. If this poor wretch can't pay it back, we'll just find an opportunity to send him out to work so he can pay it back.

In Jerome's subconscious, those who paid their dues could wait their turn, since they couldn't squeeze any more oil this month.

Martin waited a long time before the dilapidated minibus finally arrived. He found a seat in the back and started flipping through magazines.

After reading a magazine for a while, the minibus suddenly started shaking, and the driver shouted, "The bus has broken down!"

A chorus of curses erupted, including from Martin.

"This damn public transport!" Martin had no choice but to get off the bus with the others.

Halfway there, the next minibus might take a long time to arrive. Atlanta doesn't have taxis that roam freely; you have to call one specifically if you want to hail one. So Martin simply walked.

A Dodge pickup truck drove up from behind and stopped beside the sidewalk, its paint job depicting Wild Beasts.

The right window rolled down, and Bruce, wearing a jacket, waved: "Martin Davis, want a ride?"

Martin looked at him: "Is it okay?"

Bruce pointed ahead: "I live in the Barca neighborhood south of Clayton, it's on my way."

Martin opened the passenger door and got in: "What a coincidence?"

Bruce stepped on the gas, saying, "Just collected some money for the boss." After driving a few hundred meters, he suddenly said, "I almost forgot, you owe me $5 for the fare."

Martin slammed his hand on the car door: "Hey, man, can't you be a decent human being?!"

Bruce, one hand on the steering wheel and the other pulling open his jacket, said, "The boss said that employees of the House of Beasts must be civilized people who abide by the law."

Martin noticed the pistol under Bruce's arm and acknowledged that Bruce was a civilized man: "Pay up in Clayton."

"Deal!" Bruce said with a good-natured smile.

Martin didn't want to talk to him, so he picked up a magazine and started flipping through it.

Bruce turned his head quickly and saw the cover: "Entertainment Weekly? I like this magazine? It has a poster for Lost in Translation on it!"

Martin's mind raced: "A Scarlett Janssen fan?"

Bruce turned back reluctantly: "I kept the poster for this movie, but it's broken."

Martin asked, "How did you break it?"

Bruce pursed his dry lips: "The poster was just accidentally damaged by the wind."

Martin gave a thumbs-up, mimicking Harris's tone: "I'm 100% sure you're a civilized man now." He picked up the magazine and waved it around: "Dude, the latest Entertainment Weekly, hard to find in Atlanta. Not just the cover, but the whole set of stills from Lost in Translation is inside."

Bruce reached for it, but Martin pulled his hand back: "The fare is waived, $10."

"You're a swindler!" Bruce said, but kept glancing at the cover.

Martin rolled up the magazine again: "My neighbor, the Carter, is a jerk and he loves this poster too. I can sell this magazine for at least $20."

Bruce pulled out two five-dollar bills and tossed them to Martin: "You win."

Martin pocketed the money, handed the magazine he'd gotten for free to Bruce, and casually said, "Buddy, I'm an actor. When I become famous, I'll get you autographed photos from the film crew..."

Bruce didn't want to talk to this guy anymore; he was no human being. So he resorted to his trump card: "Think about how you're going to pay me back."

"I remember." Martin planned to stay in Atlanta temporarily; he needed to figure out how to settle this matter. He said, "I want to see your boss."

"The boss is at the Beast House tomorrow night." Bruce waved the magazine in his hand. "For its sake, I'll tell you something: if you can prove your worth to the boss, you'll get preferential treatment."

(End of this chapter)