Inferiority Complex is Like an Alien

Chapter 84 Inferiority Complex is Like an Alien

In the apartment building, which was less than three years old, Martin followed his landlord, Antonio, to the second floor.

As they walked up the stairs, Antonio suddenly asked, "Are you an actor?"

Martin was slightly surprised, but did not deny it: "Good eye."

"Anyone who speaks with that accent is a daydreaming actor." Antonio, who was as fat as a mountain, was panting as he walked. "Don't be surprised, I've seen too many of them. Most of the residents in this apartment building are actors."

Martin asked, "Have any celebrities ever come from here?"

Antonio exclaimed in surprise: "Are you kidding? A celebrity? Ha... Let me put it this way, the lucky ones who leave my place wake up in time and go back to where they came from; the average ones become high-class prostitutes; the unlucky ones become streetwalkers in the city center; and the worst ones might become homeless in some alley."

Martin thought for a moment, then asked, "Is there anything that's extremely lucky?"

Antonio went up to the third floor and turned into the corridor: "Two of them went to the valley in the north. I heard they can earn tens of thousands of dollars a week. They have realized their dream of becoming actresses."

He took out his key, opened a door, and said, "The previous resident was also an actress. She was very lucky; she went to the valley."

Martin checked the room again. Just like when he viewed the apartment, the small two-bedroom apartment was fully furnished with appliances and furniture. The tables and floors were spotless, and you could move in right away.

Antonio added, "How about it? You get what you pay for. From here, you can get to any film studio in Burbank within 15 minutes, and Los Angeles International Airport in 25 minutes. There's no shortage of restaurants, bars, cinemas, art districts, and shopping malls nearby."

He went to the living room window and pointed to the parking lot across the street: "For long-term parking, go to that parking lot over there. It's $60 a week, and you can park anywhere you want."

Martin casually remarked, "It's very nice. I liked it here the last time I came."

Antonio warned, "You can bring people back to stay overnight, one or two is fine, as long as it doesn't bother the neighbors, but you're not allowed to have parties here, or I'll call the police and get you out."

"No problem." Martin decided to rent it: "Let's sign the agreement."

The two signed a rental agreement, and Martin paid six months' rent upfront before going downstairs to get his luggage.

Since parking wasn't allowed for long periods, he drove his car to the parking lot diagonally opposite and went to the management office to register for a weekly pass.

The cost of living in Los Angeles is higher than in Atlanta.

Martin pulled his suitcase with one hand and carried his laptop bag with the other as he returned to the apartment building.

As I went upstairs, a middle-aged man followed behind me. The light shone on his face, making it look like an Iraqi oil field that had been burned down—black, oily, and pitted.

Martin went up to the second floor and turned into the corridor.

The pockmarked face also entered the corridor.

Martin grabbed the shoulder strap of his laptop bag and, upon reaching the door, focused all his attention on the pockmarked face.

The woman with the pockmarked face walked to the opposite side and knocked on the door: "Jessica, open the door! I know you're in there, don't hide from me."

The door opened, and a blonde woman appeared: "Jessica moved out a long time ago; she's not here."

While the pockmarked face continued to argue, Martin opened the door, entered the apartment, and closed the door, making the noise outside much quieter.

He packed his luggage, organized his belongings, and cleaned the house.

I feel like something's missing.

Martin quickly realized that he was not used to not having Elena help him with housework.

He checked the time, calculated the time difference between the two places, and called Elena's cell phone. The call was answered quickly.

"I've rented a place and settled in," Martin said. "How's it going on your end?"

Elena's voice was weary: "Everything is fine. Emma is back. Scott just had a fight with her this morning." She didn't intend to dwell on her family's mess, and instead said, "I asked Emma carefully, and Jack might have gone to Australia or New Zealand."

Martin didn't care where Jack had gone: "He'd better not come back."

Elena added, "There are a lot of events in Atlanta during Christmas, including a bartender competition that I'm planning to participate in."

Martin left Elena with several cocktail recipes: "I wish you the best of luck in winning the championship."

After talking for a few minutes, Martin found a bag containing important items. Inside a hardcover notebook were the most important addresses and contact information.

Louise Mayer is still in Morocco and won't be back in Los Angeles until the Christmas holidays at the earliest. Martin calls her every few days to chat about life and cocktails.

Kate Winslet lives in London, so she's temporarily excluded.

Martin will make a special trip to visit Robert Patrick at a suitable time.

The same applies to Michel Gondry and Blanco.

Then there's the agency introduced by Louise Mayer, William Morris (WMA).

Arriving in Los Angeles means Martin has to say goodbye to the extensive model of Atlanta and, at least for now, comply with the California Talent Act.

Actors and directors, among others, must obtain their jobs through agents.

Martin had asked Louise about it during their last phone call, and Louise had already recommended his information to William Morris.

Of course, a small actor like him shouldn't expect to get a contract and resources from a top agent.

It's impossible to even think about it.

An agent is a must. Having an agent can save a lot of trouble. Martin is new to Hollywood, and an agent can help him get familiar with it as quickly as possible.

Martin found the phone number Louise had left, called it, introduced himself, and arranged to meet her in the afternoon.

William Morris was in Century City, Beverly Hills. Martin had lunch, changed into a suit, and drove there. He arrived at the company reception a few minutes early, gave his name, and was then led into the company's open-plan office area by a staff member.

In each of the office cubicles, men and women in suits sat, extremely busy, their phones almost always in their hands.

The receptionist led Martin to a cubicle at the far end of the lobby, where a man in a gray suit, not yet thirty, was sitting. Upon seeing the two, he gestured for them to wait a moment.

The man spoke rapidly into the phone, but apparently without achieving his goal, he slammed it down, cursing, "You bitch!"

"Thomas, he's looking for you," the receptionist said before leaving.

"Who are you?" Thomas Lane asked.

"Martin Davis," Martin said simply. "I called this morning, and they told me to come see you."

Thomas remembered: "The junior actor they assigned to me." Like an examiner, he leaned back in his swivel chair, crossed his arms, and sized up Martin: "Young man, which acting school did you study at? What roles have you played? Who recommended you to this company?"

Martin is taking out some documents.

Thomas quickly said, "Don't show me that useless stuff. You need to develop a time-saving mindset."

Martin truthfully stated, "I started as an extra at sixteen, and I've studied acting with many people—too many teachers to count. I just starred in a B-movie called 'Zombie Gigolo.'"

Thomas frowned slightly. His background was unorthodox and his resume was terrible.

Just then, his phone beeped with a text message, and he reached over to read it.

Martin continued, "My recommender is Ms. Louise Mayer."

Thomas looked up abruptly: "Louise Mel? Ms. Mel from Pacific Pictures?"

Martin nodded: "It's her."

Thomas tossed his phone back onto the desk and gestured to a swivel chair next to him: "Sit down and let's talk." Once Martin sat down, he held out his hand: "Where's your data? Give it to me."

Martin, unfazed, pulled out the documents and handed them over, his expression and demeanor showing no unusual reaction.

Thomas looked closely and saw that the first part was unremarkable; he had been a background actor in a late-night shoot in Atlanta, and later played minor supporting roles. There were at least tens of thousands of people with such a resume in Los Angeles.

But when Thomas saw the male lead of "Zombie Dancer," the name seemed familiar.

Without asking any further questions, he turned his chair towards the computer and quickly typed on the keyboard, displaying information about "Zombie Dancer" on the screen.

The Lionsgate theatrical film grossed several million dollars at the North American box office. The male lead, Martin Davis, looks exactly like the person opposite him.

That's interesting. A leading role in a theatrical film—a fantastic resume for a young actor.

Clicking on another video in the search results revealed two of the film's main characters' spectacular scenes—a zombie machine gun dance and an aerial acrobatic act.

This was followed by an impromptu dance performance at a fan meeting.

After the video finished playing, Thomas subconsciously looked down at his lower abdomen, a deep sense of inferiority seeping out like an alien, tearing at his heart.

Looking at the young man opposite, he was outstanding in appearance and composed in demeanor, as if he had an aura of contempt about him.

Thomas quickly composed himself and put on a smile: "You're the lead in a theatrical film, the reviews are a bit bad, but the box office is pretty good compared to the investment. You've got a good start."

At this point, Thomas thought of a possibility: although Pacific Pictures was not a large company and never produced independent films, it often participated in various anthologies, and Louise Meyer's relationship with this person was not simple.

They've all worked in Hollywood, so some things become clear after a little thought.

Louise didn't care, and Martin certainly wouldn't hide it. He brought up these connections directly, which would save a lot of trouble: "I've always been in Atlanta. Louise recommended that I come to Los Angeles to develop my career. I didn't have an agent or agency, so she recommended my information to William Morris."

Thomas now understood that he hadn't been assigned a burdensome newcomer, but a potential client. He said, "You're new here and don't know much about the industry. I can introduce it to you, starting with the brokerage contract."

He explained in detail: "WMA follows the industry standard, with a 10% commission. New hires sign a one-year contract for the first time, and then a three-year contract thereafter..."

Martin had a detailed understanding of these matters, but he listened attentively to what Thomas had to say.

One of the biggest advantages of Hollywood agency contracts is that there is no concept of servitude.

The relationship between actors, agents, and agencies is very complex, and how they interact depends on the power dynamics within the industry.

For example, if someone reaches Leonardo DiCaprio's level, firing CAA and using a manager instead of an agent would leave him helpless.

After doing enough research, Martin called Louise again and subsequently signed a one-year agency contract with William Morris.

(End of this chapter)