Behind The Spotlight Chapter 5
Collin stretched his arms and groaned in pleasure, feeling the tension melt from his shoulders as he welcomed the start of a new day. He stood up and looked at the mirror. Even though he had toned down going to the gym, his body was still looking great. He combed through his black hair as his deep green eyes adjusted to the light.
He bid farewell to his mother, who kept telling him to rest for one more day. Evelyn was still worried about her son.
But Collin had been resting for two days after leaving the hospital. He had been lying around the house and catching up on sleep, old TV shows, and his mother's endless advice.
He had to return to work, or else he might get fired for slacking off too long or worse, be forgotten and his cubicle occupied... He was on sick leave, so probably not, but the fear still lingered in his gut.
Anyway, he had talked to the management and said that he would return to work today. He made it clear that he was ready to jump back in and handle his work.
He had to. There was no other choice if he wanted to move forward. He had to start the preparation for Wyatt's upcoming project. An unexpected project that had been decided after Collin saw the golden words above Wyatt's head.
Collin couldn't explain it, not in words that made logical sense. But he felt like this was an opportunity that he had to take. To grab with both hands, no matter what. Even if it meant putting his career at risk.
Wyatt was not the only one who was taking a bet here, Collin was also doing the same.
It was because of the floating words above Wyatt's head that explained the young aspiring director had a talent for making comedy movies. Not just average ones, but the kind that left people rolling in laughter.
He had talent in writing a comedy script, and it seemed that he also had talent in filming one. Instincts that couldn't be taught in school.
When their conversation was over, Collin read the script thoroughly and started laughing out loud at every scenario.
That was the moment he decided to believe that the words floating above Wyatt's head were real, not a hallucination or a side effect of his condition. He decided to bet on these vivid words.
He had fun reading the script. It was an unfiltered mature comedy that didn't hesitate to make fun of anything. He confirmed that the script had the potential to become a movie. If they did it right, the movie would perform well at the box office.
Collin was confident that he could find a studio that would be interested in buying the script because production studios were always looking for fresh material.
However, Collin understood that they couldn't maximize the gains they would receive if they sold the script to a production studio and let them direct the movie. It would be giving up control too soon, hurting Collin and Wyatt in the long run.
First, since Wyatt was just a nobody, a newcomer without connections or credits, the studio wouldn't hire him as a director, no matter how promising his vision might be.
Although he would be credited as the scriptwriter of the movie, which was a great start for his career, sadly it still wouldn't be enough to launch his career as a filmmaker.
Second, the best they could get if they sold the script was around $100,000, a solid amount. That was already generous, considering how studios often underpaid newcomers. But Collin believed that the script had more potential than $100,000.
Third, the script might not become a movie and would sit in the studio's script library for years instead, gathering dust while newer, trendier scripts took priority.
Fourth, the box office results of the movie might be disappointing if another director filmed it, someone who didn't understand Wyatt's comedic tone, pacing, and vision.
The fourth was a scenario, a possible one, but not guaranteed. Collin wasn't sure because the box office appeal of the script seemed good.
Collin stepped out of the taxi and looked at the 10-storey building, craning his neck slightly as he took in the familiar sight. The building might not be tall compared to the skyscrapers in Los Angeles, towering giants that loomed in the background, but this building was known to represent many celebrities, actors, musicians, and even directors who walked its hallways daily.
Apex Network Talent. His workplace.
In short, A.N.T.
A name that sounded almost laughable when abbreviated.
The abbreviation made it look small, like an insect instead of a powerhouse, but it was the opposite of that. ANT was a titan in the world of talent representation.
Apex Network Talent was one of the three well-known talent agencies in Hollywood. It was an elite company and had a strong influence.
This whole 10-storey building was owned by ANT, filled from top to bottom with talent agents and such.
Collin applied to the company after he decided to change his career, taking the path of working behind the spotlight.
He had an idea of how the job worked because he was a model and had been handled by an agent once.
He was hired and started working as an agent, slowly building his client list and reputation brick by brick.
His three years in the company were quite smooth, considering that he was the go-to person whenever projects were in dire need of capable people.
Last month, the company's CEO retired, and a new person took over the position, bringing in a fresh wave of speculation and rumors.
Collin never saw the new CEO because he was busy. He was constantly hustling and looking for jobs for his clients and contacts to earn commission.
He heard that the new CEO was a young woman, someone rumored to be sharp and ambitious.
He stepped into the company and clocked in. He immediately adapted to his usual rhythm while his mind wandered to Wyatt's script.
......
...
...
"Oh, you're free this month? Are you looking for a job? I know a place where you can work, but I'm not sure if they will hire you on the spot. I'll give you the address... You don't have to thank me. We must help each other, especially in this industry where everyone needs a hand once in a while. By the way, a month from now I might ask you for a favor. What, of course not? We will pay you, don't worry. I'm not running a charity here. What do you think of me? Nice, I'll remember that, you're a good friend. Thanks."
Collin ended the call and leaned against his chair, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
He looked around the place, eyes drifting from cubicle to cubicle with mild amusement. Six agents shared this tiny office room, a chaotic jungle of ringing phones, conversation, and energy drinks. Having a cubicle for each agent, separated only by thin panels that barely blocked sound, the room was their battlefield.
It was noisy. Almost headache-inducing at times, and people were either talking to their clients or talking to themselves.
Collin hoped that one day he would have his own office on the higher floors. A space with real walls, a door, and maybe even a view of the city.
For now, since he didn't have any famous clients, he had to share a room with other small-time agents like him. All of them were trying to climb the same ladder.
He stood up and left the room for a smoke break, an old habit triggered by stress and long hours.
But he then stopped when he recalled that the doctor forbade him from smoking, even though it was not related to his sickness and technically wouldn't affect his recovery.
His mother agreed and told the doctor that she would nag Collin if she saw him smoking. Knowing her, she would carry out that promise with relentless determination.
Collin bitterly smiled and decided to talk to his friend instead. He was hoping a good conversation would take the attention off his bad habits.
[Collin East's illustration.]