The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 245

Ever since he’d gotten the script for Dawn of the Dead, Matthew had been spending his days off at the Angel Acting Agency, poring over it. He preferred it to working from home, mostly because the agency was always bustling with people. If he needed someone to run lines with, there was always a willing partner.

As the agency's number-one client and biggest star, catering to his needs had become a crucial part of their daily operations.

As July drew to a close, Matthew arrived at the Angel Acting Agency early one morning at the start of a new week.

After politely declining an interview request from a journalist camped outside the entrance, he stepped inside. He was about to head up to the second-floor archive to retrieve some zombie research he’d compiled the day before when the receptionist called out to him.

"Matthew!" The receptionist waved him over. Matthew approached her desk and asked, "What's up?"

"A man came in a little while ago looking for you," the young woman explained. "Said he was your cousin from Texas." She pointed to an office to the left of the reception desk. "I put him in there."

"Cousin?"

Matthew frowned. As far as he could recall from the memories left by his predecessor, he didn't have any cousins.

The receptionist added, "That's what he said."

"Got it." Matthew glanced toward the office. "I'll go see him."Instead of heading upstairs, he turned, pushed open the door to the adjacent office, and walked in. Seated on the sofa directly across from him was a Black man with a head full of dreadlocks, likely around his age. He was dressed in a flashy, almost bizarrely patterned outfit with colors so bright they seemed out of another decade.

The stranger spotted Matthew and immediately jumped to his feet, a wide grin spreading across his face, revealing two rows of dazzlingly white teeth. "Hey, Matthew, it really is you!" he exclaimed. "Looks like my hunch was right!"

His voice carried a thick Texan accent. He started forward, arms raised for a hug, but Matthew quickly held up a hand to stop him. "Who are you?" he asked.

The man brushed a few dreadlocks from his face, looking surprised. "No way, you don't recognize me? I'm Leo Williams."

Matthew stared at the unfamiliar face, searching his memory. He couldn't place him at all. And the "cousin" claim was absurd; with skin as dark as coal, there was no way he could be related to the original Matthew.

The man's face fell with disappointment. "You haven't really forgotten me, have you?"

He prompted, "Think back. Dallas, seven years ago. We mowed the same huge lawn together! We worked side-by-side for three days."

Seeing only a blank expression on Matthew's face, the man named Leo Williams slapped his forehead. "Oh, man! I can't believe you've really forgotten. You're the one who said we were friends!"

Matthew ignored the last part. "Did you tell the woman at the front desk you were my cousin?"

"That was just a little joke." Leo didn't seem the least bit embarrassed, offering a knowing smirk. "We're good friends. I didn't think you'd mind a little thing like that."

Matthew remained silent. The reminder did stir a vague memory of the original Matthew working a short-term job mowing a huge lawn with a few other guys. But the details were lost to time, completely forgotten. Who would remember a stranger they’d worked with for just a few days so many years ago?

"Why are you here?" Matthew asked, his eyes fixed on him.

Leo's smile returned. "We were good buddies, worked together, you know? Now that you're famous, and since I happen to be working in Burbank, I saw your company's address and just had to drop by and congratulate you."

"Thanks," Matthew replied curtly.

The single word was a clear dismissal.

But Leo either didn't get the hint or chose to ignore it. He licked his thick, red lips and pressed on. "We were great friends back in the day, remember?"

Matthew didn't respond. He had a pretty good idea where this was going; the guy was laying the "friendship" on a bit too thick.

"You said back then that whoever made it big in the future..." Leo's voice was laced with excitement, his breathing growing quick and uneven. "...would help the other one out. So—"

Suddenly, Matthew pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello? What? Yeah. Okay."

He gave Leo an apologetic look. "Sorry, I have to take this. We'll talk later."

With that, he put the phone back to his ear, pushed the door open, and walked out.

The receptionist saw him emerge and said, "Ms. Herman just arrived. She's in her office upstairs."

Matthew nodded, then gestured back toward the office he'd just left. "If he comes looking for me, tell him I had to leave on business."

Upstairs in Helen's office, Matthew gave her a quick rundown of what had happened. Helen's response was immediate. "I'll handle it."

She picked up her desk phone, dialed the head of security, spoke a few curt words, and hung up.

Matthew poured himself a glass of water, took a sip, and remarked, "Funny how no one ever came looking for me when I was at rock bottom."

"He's not the first," Helen said, a memory surfacing. "I've already had people contact me claiming to be your friends from elementary and middle school. I had to have security deal with them."

"Nice one." Matthew gave Helen a thumbs-up. "Pass the word to reception: anyone else who shows up claiming to be a classmate, cousin, or whatever—send them packing."

"I know," Helen confirmed, then added a reminder. "Now that you're famous and making real money, you have to expect this. Friends and classmates you haven't seen in years will come crawling out of the woodwork looking for a handout."

She added, "Then again, if you ever need someone to kiss your ass, you could always pick a few of the more reliable ones to play the part of your loyal, long-lost friends. You know, some of the more conceited Hollywood stars have entire entourages like that... It's practically its own cottage industry in Hollywood."

"To hell with that," Matthew said firmly. "I don't need friends like that."

Then his tone softened slightly. "Unless it's a beautiful woman."

"Oh, of course," Helen said with a note of sarcasm.

Matthew shrugged. "That's how a normal man thinks."

"That's how a sex-obsessed man thinks."

Matthew just rolled his eyes. He never forgot where he came from; that memory was his greatest motivation to keep climbing higher.

"By the way, I haven't seen your personal assistant lately," Helen said, clearly not done teasing him. "You're not getting any ideas about the women in your orbit, are you?"

Matthew scoffed. "Am I that kind of person?"

He explained, "Mira quit a while ago and went back to England. I don't think she's coming back."

Helen was a little curious. "Why?"

"She said she saw too much of the dirty, hypocritical side of the world working with me," Matthew recalled. "Basically, everything she saw and heard was negative—especially from me, her employer. Just a constant stream of bad energy, nothing positive. So she quit."

Helen grumbled, "Isn't that just Hollywood? She should have known it's full of crap, not like the sanitized version you see on TV."

Matthew sighed and offered a guess. "Maybe she's one of those people who think that because stars and Hollywood look shiny on the outside, they must be clean on the inside."

Since Mira wanted to leave, he hadn't tried to make her stay. Perhaps a different environment would suit her better.

After chatting for a while longer, the head of security called from downstairs to report that the man had been sent on his way. Matthew was now ready to head to the reference room and continue his research for Dawn of the Dead.

Helen reminded him, "If you run into anything like that again, let me know right away. I'll find someone to take care of it."

"I know."

That was exactly what Matthew wanted to hear; dealing with things like this was a pain in the ass he'd rather avoid.

However, the man named Leo Williams was just the beginning. As his fame exploded across America, the days that followed were filled with people trying to get a piece of him.

A driver he used to work with at Red Penguin Services called, saying he’d opened a pastry shop and wanted Matthew to do a small endorsement. There'd be no fee, but he could get a month of free cake—a small favor for old times' sake.

Then came a call from his old landlord in Westwood, who now worked for a financial firm. He offered comprehensive financial consulting, planning to become Matthew’s financial advisor and promising to make his assets grow exponentially.

Next was a car wash attendant he knew, who claimed he could provide a one-year service card. But while other customers paid ten dollars a wash, his special star-client rate would be fifty dollars a wash...

There were countless similar situations.

Matthew's real friends never called him out of the blue just because he'd gotten famous. Instead, it was people with whom he'd had only the most fleeting of acquaintances who now flocked to him, treating him like a cash cow they could milk.

His former landlord even had a grand plan: he would become a financial consultant, Matthew would be his first client, and soon, all the top stars in Hollywood would follow.

Success had turned Matthew into a magnet, and everyone wanted a piece of him: former colleagues materializing out of thin air, nodding acquaintances treating him like an ATM, and outright strangers brazenly demanding money.

But Matthew was no saint. He had no problem saying no, even if one of them was poor enough to be living on the street.

Naturally, this was bound to cause some resentment.

And so, the tabloids were soon filled with tell-all stories: the landlord's version was titled Matthew Horner's Rental Memoirs, while the lawnmower offered up My Days Mowing Grass with Matthew.

Matthew didn't respond or pay any of it any mind. He had a new project to prepare for.