Chapter 59: CAA
After a full week of intense filming, Wayne was finally forced to step away from the set. Taking advantage of a scheduled day off, he headed to the CAA offices in Burbank with Jimmy.
Currently, Wayne was still under an intern contract with the agency. The purpose of this visit was to upgrade it to a full director-client agreement. They had originally planned to sign the deal much earlier, but the sudden scandal had derailed everything.
When the accusations against Wayne first broke out, CAA had immediately put the contract signing on hold. But now that production had resumed smoothly and a week of filming had gone by without issue, the agency's partners had instructed Jimmy to reinitiate negotiations.
This kind of cautious behavior was standard in the industry. No agency wanted to be associated with someone accused of racism. Wayne, however, wasn't the least bit upset about it—Jimmy had done everything expected of a capable agent, and Wayne respected that.
Inside a partner's office at CAA, a secretary served them both coffee. Wayne offered a polite thanks but didn't touch the cup. Instead, he looked across the desk at Jimmy's direct superior—CAA partner Wright Loud.
Loud studied Wayne closely. The young director was even younger than he'd expected. While Loud had several gifted young clients, they were all actors. A successful director—especially one this young—was an entirely different story.
After all, how long had it been since Hollywood produced a director so young whose debut film grossed over $100 million?
If it hadn't been for the shocking return on investment from Wayne's first film, and the fact that he was still signed under an intern agent agreement, CAA wouldn't have worried about him getting poached by rival agencies.
Ironically, the recent scandal had presented them with an opportunity—to lock Wayne in with a full contract before anyone else could lure him away.
"Director Garfield," Loud said without bothering with pleasantries. "CAA warmly welcomes you aboard."
There was no need to sugarcoat things. They were here to talk business.
Jimmy glanced at Wayne. Since he'd been holed up on the studio lot these past few weeks, he had no idea that the scandal's reversal had transformed him into the hottest prospect among the agencies.
That's why Wright Loud had repeatedly pressed Jimmy to bring Wayne in as soon as possible. Plenty of other agencies had already expressed interest—some were even willing to buy out his intern contract just to snag him.
Wayne smiled politely and said calmly,
"Thank you—and thanks to CAA. I've had a great working relationship with Jimmy, and I'm ready to move forward with a formal agreement."
"No problem at all," Loud replied, motioning to the secretary, who brought over the pre-printed contract. "Up to this point, CAA admittedly hasn't provided you with much support. That will change. Going forward, you'll have two or three dedicated representatives. We'll put the full weight of the agency behind your career."
Wayne said nothing and lowered his eyes to review the contract. He was very satisfied with Jimmy's work—but had no opinion yet about the rest of CAA's team. All that mattered to him were the actual terms on the paper.
Loud was no fool. He knew words wouldn't sway someone like Wayne. Only the numbers and resources would.
"CAA's offer is extremely competitive," he continued. "Ten percent agency commission, and we'll help you build a full production team centered around you."
This was the kind of offer typically reserved for already-established directors.
"We'll also fully support your future projects. And, if needed, we're willing to persuade our A-list clients to join your films—provided, of course, your scripts appeal to them."
He left the last part unsaid, but Wayne filled it in mentally: Only if you can impress those stars.
"I have no objections to any of the conditions," Wayne said, putting the contract down and looking Loud in the eyes. "Except for one thing—the agency commission. I want it reduced to eight percent."
Loud hesitated. Eight percent was a rate reserved for high-profile clients. Wayne wasn't quite there yet.
But after a moment's thought, he smiled and said,
"Alright. We're willing to honor that. CAA believes in your potential, Director Garfield. We're happy to offer you the preferred rate early."
"Oh?" Wayne raised a brow, a little surprised they agreed so easily. "Then let's sign the contract."
Without further delay, Loud instructed the secretary to print a new copy.
This was how Hollywood worked: a director with proven box office results was treated worlds apart from an untested newcomer. Even if that newcomer had raw talent, nothing beat market validation.
No matter how you looked at it, CAA's offer was generous. The global success of Happy Death Day had completely changed Wayne's standing in the industry.
They moved to a conference room for the signing. Wayne sat at the long boardroom table, flipped to the final page of the contract, and—with Jimmy's guidance—signed his name.
Two copies, both signed and exchanged. A nearby photographer captured the moment with a soft camera click.
"We're thrilled to make your partnership official!" Loud said, beaming beside him. "CAA welcomes talented young filmmakers like you with open arms!"
Wayne shook his hand and replied smoothly,
"It's an honor to be part of CAA."
He knew exactly what kind of words suited moments like these.
After the signing, Wayne noticed both Jimmy and Loud looked visibly relieved. He politely declined Loud's invitation to celebrate and walked out of the building with Jimmy.
Looking at his agent, Wayne chuckled and held out his hands.
"You know, I didn't expect this. I had no idea I'd become so popular."
Jimmy let out a long breath, his expression complicated.
"From now on, I won't be your only agent anymore."
Wayne understood what he meant and frowned slightly.
"Isn't there any way to avoid this kind of cross-management? I get that it's CAA's internal strategy, but..."
"It's not management," Jimmy quickly corrected, clearly careful about how it sounded. "It's support. We'll all be working together to serve you."
"You've been doing a great job already. Is it really necessary?" Wayne still wasn't fully convinced—it just sounded like more complications.
From what he'd heard in the past, big agencies tended to implement this kind of setup mainly to prevent their agents from taking high-value clients elsewhere.
Jimmy's expression showed some reluctance, but he also understood Wayne's career was only going to get bigger—and with it, the responsibilities.
"Honestly, it's good for you. Shared service means fewer things on your plate. Every agent brings their own strengths, and each will focus on a specific area."
As they climbed into the backseat of a waiting car, Jimmy continued explaining.
"Take me, for example—I'll remain in charge of your film projects. But beyond production, you'll start encountering other issues. That's where the other agents come in…"
"Including personal matters?" Wayne asked, surprised. "What are we talking about here—like, a full-time nanny?"
"Anything you can think of, your team of agents can handle." Jimmy gave a confident nod.
Listening to him lay it all out, Wayne finally began to understand why CAA was able to attract so many top directors and A-list stars. It wasn't just about negotiating contracts or booking roles.
What really set CAA apart was their comprehensive support model—services that extended far beyond filmmaking.
They handled everything: housing, hospital arrangements, school enrollment for kids, even day-to-day errands. It was like having a mini life-management team built right into your career infrastructure.
To pull this off, CAA's partners assigned specific agents to these tailored tasks, making full use of their personnel. After all, not every agent was a specialist in film production like Jimmy.
Wayne would soon be matched with a team that included:
Jimmy, handling core film projects
Another agent for media relations and personal assistance
One for literary projects (scripts, adaptations, etc.)
And one responsible for scouting and managing high-level opportunities
In Hollywood, switching agents was a common—and often necessary—part of the industry. Many talents only found the right representation after going through several agents.
This kind of all-inclusive service from a single company wasn't just rare—it actually made clients feel truly cared for. It gave them a sense of comfort and loyalty that made it hard to leave.
"Alright," Wayne finally said, nodding. "This doesn't sound so bad. But I want one thing clear—you'll handle communication with the others. And if any of them aren't a good fit, I get to replace them. Fair?"
"Absolutely," Jimmy replied, clearly pleased. This kind of trust meant everything to him. "You have full authority to replace any of them at any time."
Their car pulled up outside the Warner Bros. tower. Wayne and Jimmy stepped inside together.
Wayne had been called in by Warner's distribution department—they wanted to meet and discuss the film's marketing strategy, especially now that media interest was peaking.
On the 8th floor, inside the office of Paul Charles, head of Warner's marketing team, Wayne shook hands politely and took a seat in the lounge area.
"Director Garfield," Paul began carefully, "we've put together a preliminary marketing strategy. But we'll need your cooperation. We'd like to hear your thoughts."
Wayne spotted an ashtray on the table. Out of habit, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag.
"Go ahead. Don't worry about it—just tell me what you need from me."
"We ran an internal survey over the past few days," Paul explained. "Ever since the incident with Halle Berry, the public has become extremely curious about your new film. They want to know—what kind of story, what kind of character could have caused that whole drama?"
Then Paul looked him in the eye and suddenly changed the subject.
"Director Garfield… you're not currently in a relationship, are you?"
Wayne paused in surprise.
"No, I'm not."
Paul smiled slightly, then leaned in.
"Your film touches on racial themes—deeply, in fact. That alone is a powerful marketing angle. If we play it right, we could bring a large number of Black moviegoers into theaters."
He paused, watching Wayne carefully.
"So we're hoping… you might consider finding a girlfriend. A Black girlfriend."