The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 196: The Result

Had the Rachel McAdams of two years ago said something like that, Matthew might have given it serious thought, maybe even agreed. But this Rachel was not the same woman he'd known back then.

Time and circumstances always brought change—sometimes, radical change.

"Isn't this good enough?" Matthew's meaning was clear. "We had an unforgettable day."

Rachel's gaze dropped. "Truly... unforgettable," she murmured.

She turned her head and gave him directions. "At the second intersection, turn right. Stop in front of that diner."

Matthew slowed the car to a stop in front of a burger joint. Rachel unbuckled her seatbelt and gestured vaguely behind her. "I'm staying on the second floor, in the room right across from the stairs. You're always welcome."

The subtext was unmistakable. Matthew caught it, of course. "Your bike is still at my place," he said. "You're welcome to come and pick it up anytime."

Rachel smiled, her familiar dimples appearing. "I'll call ahead when I decide to drop by."

She pushed the door open and stepped out. As she closed it behind her, she added, "That was great. Couldn't have been better."

Matthew's expression was confident. "It'll be even better next time you come over."After exchanging a few more words freighted with private meaning, Rachel closed the car door and turned, heading toward an apartment building down the road.

Matthew watched her go, the memory of their time together replaying in his mind. He found himself thinking that this version of Rachel was actually quite perfect—a sexy body, a sweet face, and, most importantly, incredible skills. A temporary, no-strings-attached partner was exactly what he needed to burn off his excess energy.

His increasingly intense physical training had left him like most professional athletes: with a hormonal output that was through the roof.

Instead of heading straight home, Matthew drove through North Hollywood. It had been a while, he realized, maybe too long. His mind was still buzzing with images from his wild day with Rachel, so he pulled over to collect himself. He found a place to eat, let the adrenaline settle, and then headed for Hollywood Boulevard, planning to meet Depp for a drink at the Viper Room.

...

Meanwhile, at the Walt Disney production office for Pirates of the Caribbean, Anderson Martinez, the head of publicity, was still at his desk long after hours when the agents for the film's two leads arrived.

After some small talk, Anderson looked at Helen and a man named Jaime, who were seated across from him. "It's a standard Hollywood publicity tactic," he began. "We considered it early on but were hesitant, given Miss Knightley's age."

Helen and Jaime exchanged a glance; they both knew this was as good as settled.

Anderson addressed Helen first. "Does Mr. Horner have any objections?"

"I've already spoken with Matthew," Helen confirmed, recalling their conversation on the flight back from the Caribbean. "He's completely on board."

Anderson then turned to Jaime. "And what about the young lady? She's not yet eighteen. Does her family consent?"

Jaime responded without hesitation. "They have no objections. We can wait until Keira's eighteenth birthday."

Keira's parents were already in the entertainment industry; they'd seen it all before. Since they were willing to let their daughter come to Hollywood in the first place, this was something they were naturally prepared for. He'd persuaded them with little effort.

Keira herself had been a bit more hesitant than her family, but she was a smart young woman. After weighing the pros and cons, she had nodded in agreement.

What was a little manufactured drama when you were in Hollywood, in show business?

"Then I'm in agreement with the publicity plan in principle. It's good for the film and for the actors," Anderson said. "But the final decision isn't mine. I'll have to run it by Mr. Bruckheimer."

Helen and Jaime didn't object. They knew it wasn't a decision Anderson Martinez could make on his own anyway.

Jaime asked, "How long will that take?"

"A week or so, I imagine."

These were the agents for his two leads, so Anderson elaborated. "Mr. Bruckheimer is currently occupied with other matters and won't be on set for a while. I'll send him a memo, but I doubt we'll have an answer before he gets back."

"That's fine," Jaime replied graciously. "We can wait."

For a golden goose producer like Jerry Bruckheimer, agents—even from the major agencies—were always willing to make an exception.

While Jaime was focused only on getting an answer, Helen had picked up on something interesting in Anderson Martinez's offhand remark.

Mr. Bruckheimer is currently occupied with other matters?

Helen considered Jerry Bruckheimer's status as a producer and his recent work habits, and a strong suspicion formed in her mind.

Before Pearl Harbor was even finished, Bruckheimer had been prepping Black Hawk Down. While Black Hawk Down was filming, he was already pushing Pirates of the Caribbean forward. Now, with Pirates halfway through production, what else could he be working on? It had to be a new film!

If that was the case, what was the new film's theme? Who was the lead? And the most important question of all: could her client get a part in it?

Helen's mind was razor-sharp; a cascade of possibilities flashed through her thoughts in an instant.

However, with Jaime present, she couldn't press for more information. She returned her focus to the original purpose of their visit.

The request itself wasn't complicated. They were simply asking that the film's promotional resources not be entirely focused on Depp. They wanted a fair share of the investment allocated to Matthew and Keira, ensuring their publicity wasn't completely overshadowed by Depp's.

Publicity for actors is far more effective when tied to a film's promotion rather than standalone efforts. And that didn't even account for the immense media platform of Walt Disney, a machine no talent agency could ever hope to match.

This involved things like poster placement, on-screen billing, and a host of other details. And once again, Anderson Martinez couldn't give them a definitive answer. They would have to wait for Jerry Bruckheimer's return.

It wasn't as if Helen and Jaime were unaware that Anderson Martinez lacked the authority to make these decisions. They had approached him anyway, intending for him to relay their requests to Jerry Bruckheimer in advance. After all, Bruckheimer wasn't just any producer. Given his track record and status in commercial cinema, even a powerhouse like CAA founder Michael Ovitz would have to tread carefully.

This approach created a buffer between them and the producer, preventing any direct conflict should their requests be denied. Few agents in the business wanted to be on the wrong side of a producer like Jerry Bruckheimer.

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time Helen and Jaime left. The situation was clear; all that remained was to await Jerry Bruckheimer's response.

As they walked out of the Pirates of the Caribbean production offices, Jaime glanced over at Helen.

Her tall, slender figure was concealed beneath a dark, professional suit. A pair of wide, black-framed glasses hid her cool expression, and even her beautiful, sleek blonde hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Yet none of it could completely mask her allure.

"It's still early..." Jaime began, venturing an invitation. "Helen, would you care to get a drink somewhere?"

Helen's refusal was swift and unequivocal. "Sorry, I don't have the time."

As they reached the elevators, she added, "I need to use the restroom. You go ahead, don't wait for me."

Without waiting for his reaction, she turned and headed down the corridor toward the restrooms.

Jaime shrugged, stepped into an elevator, and descended alone.

About ten seconds later, Helen reappeared and walked back into Anderson Martinez's office.

Anderson looked up as she entered, his curiosity piqued. "Helen, what brings you back? Something else on your mind?"

"A small piece of business," Helen said, sitting back down across from him. "Is Jerry working on a new project?"

"He is," Anderson confirmed. "Jerry's planning another major production with Disney Pictures."

He held up a hand, preempting her next question. "Don't ask for specifics. I can't say, and even if I could, what I know is very limited."

Helen didn't press the matter. "I appreciate you telling me that much."

She stood, quickly exited the Disney building, and slipped into her waiting Mercedes. She instructed the driver to head back to the Angel Agency, then raised the privacy partition between the front and back seats. Taking out her cell phone, she dialed a number.

A new Jerry Bruckheimer project, still in early development—if at all possible, she was not going to miss this opportunity.

It took a few tries, but Helen finally got through to an executive at Disney Pictures. After a brief conversation, her contact told her, "Jerry went to Washington with two screenwriters. Supposedly they're there to examine some important documents. I don't know the exact details."

Helen hung up, her mind racing. She immediately understood. This was just like Pirates of the Caribbean—Jerry Bruckheimer had an idea, but the script hadn't even been written yet.