"I have a suggestion…"
Seeing that things were about to spiral out of control, the bearded man stepped in to play peacemaker. "Gore, why don't you guys offer a sincere apology?"
As the line producer on the project, he clearly didn't want the situation to escalate. He turned back and added, "Helen, and…"
"Matthew," Matthew said with a small smile.
"Helen and Matthew," the bearded man continued. "We're all working on the same set, in the same industry. No need for bad blood."
Matthew understood that if things got out of hand, it would mean offending Ridley Scott and the Universal team behind the production—not a smart move by any stretch.
"Sure," Matthew agreed without hesitation.
Helen Herman hadn't really expected an apology to begin with, so seeing Matthew—the one who'd been hit—agree to it, she had no reason to object.
The bearded man turned to the two Brits. "Gore, what about you two? If you're not sure, we can check the security footage. This area should be covered."
Hearing that, Gore glanced at Meiken. The guy was clearly flustered. Gore knew that dragging this out would only make things worse for them.
"Fine." Gore nodded.
Meiken, however, stiffened and shot Matthew a glare. "You want me to apologize to him?"
Gore gave Meiken a death stare. He'd always known Meiken was impulsive, but how had he not realized the guy was a total idiot?
"I…" Meiken hesitated. He clearly didn't want to apologize.
"What are you trying to do?" Gore leaned in and warned in a low voice, "If this blows up, no American-led production will touch you again."
Meiken clenched his teeth and looked at Matthew, who was watching him with a cheeky grin.
"Sorry…" Meiken finally squeezed out the words through gritted teeth.
"What?" Matthew cupped a hand to his ear. "Didn't quite catch that. You're too quiet."
Meiken was about to explode. The slap mark on his face was stinging more than ever, and he wanted nothing more than to storm off. But he couldn't. He'd made the first move, said discriminatory things—if this ended up with the actors' unions in the UK and US, he'd be in deep trouble.
He closed his eyes and tried to picture Matthew as a rock. Then he forced the words out, loud and clear: "I'm sorry. This was all my fault!"
"No big deal," Matthew replied, playing the magnanimous victim. He waved it off casually. "Just a little misunderstanding."
Meiken felt like his lungs were about to burst. A little misunderstanding? Then what the hell were those two hard slaps for?
After the apology, he turned to leave.
But Matthew called out behind him, "Mr. Meiken, wait!"
Helen Herman wasn't sure what Matthew was up to. She moved closer and lowered her voice. "This is Ridley Scott's set—don't push too far."
"Relax." Matthew winked at her.
"What now?" Meiken was starting to regret ever picking a fight with this guy. "I already apologized."
"Hey, you haven't apologized to them yet," Matthew said, pointing at a group of background actors. "Your remarks offended them too."
"Yeah, that's right!" one of the extras said loudly, seizing the moment. "You insulted all of us!"
The rest of them weren't about to miss the fun either. They started chiming in:
"We're all union members! If you don't apologize, we'll file a complaint!"
"Come on, say it!"
"What kind of man are you? Can't even own up to your actions?"
Meiken looked helplessly at Gore. Gore didn't have a better idea—he just gave him a nod.
"I'm sorry, everyone," Meiken said stiffly.
Apologizing to a bunch of nobodies felt like swallowing broken glass. Tears welled up in Meiken's eyes as he forced the words out: "I sincerely apologize for what I said earlier. It was inappropriate."
One of the extras waved it off casually. "I'll let it slide."
Another one, acting like a boss, said, "You're lucky I'm feeling generous."
Helen Herman decided that was enough. She looked at Matthew and nodded. "Let's go."
Matthew had gotten what he wanted. No need to drag it out. He followed Helen out of the lot.
On the road back to town, Helen suddenly asked, "Find that entertaining?"
"What?" Matthew paused, then realized what she meant. "He cursed first and threw the first punch. I was just defending myself."
"You think this'll come back to bite me?"
Helen shook her head. "Not at all. You weren't in the wrong, and you knew when to stop."
"I figure," Matthew said as they walked. "You've got to show some respect for the production. Can't just do whatever you want."
Helen chuckled. "You're smarter than you let on."
"I didn't go to college, and I'm not a genius," Matthew said, glancing toward the town ahead. "But I'm not stupid either."
They walked into town, and Helen suddenly veered into a quiet coffee shop. Matthew followed. They picked a table by the window and ordered a couple of coffees, continuing their conversation.
"Will the production drop that British guy?" Matthew asked.
"No," Helen replied with a shrug. "You're both small-time actors. As long as it doesn't blow up, the studio won't care."
"True." Matthew agreed. "With a crew this big, there's always gonna be some friction. If the studio had to step in every time, nothing would ever get filmed." Then he added, "Do A-listers ever get into it on set?"
He thought of the time he saw Angelina Jolie and Winona Ryder arguing. "Do they ever get physical?"
"Depends," Helen said. "Sometimes, yeah. I forget if it was 1990 or '91, but Julia Roberts almost went at Spielberg on set. Actually, she did—just got stopped by the crew."
"What happened to her?" Matthew asked.
Helen shrugged. "Who knows? But for the next few years, she didn't have any big hits. Disappeared for a while."
"But she bounced back!" Matthew said. "Now she's everywhere!"
No exaggeration—Julia Roberts was the top female star in Hollywood right now. Her name was practically synonymous with "leading lady."
"Which goes to show," Helen said, lifting her cup, "in this business, you need both talent and timing."
Matthew took a sip too but found the taste off-putting. He still preferred tea.
He put the cup down, ready to get to the real reason she brought him here. Helen hadn't invited him just to chat about Hollywood gossip.
"You wanted to talk?"
"Yeah," Helen nodded, setting her coffee down too. "I think you've got potential to become a real actor."
Matthew grinned and said boldly, "Thanks! You're not the first to say that."
Helen studied him closely. Her impression? Thick-skinned, ambitious, sharp, ruthless—not refined, but shrewd in that scrappy, working-class way. And above all else—shameless.
Which, honestly, might be the most valuable trait in this business.
Out of the dozens of extras who came in this round, only Matthew Horner left a real impression. In fact, ever since recommending him for the barbarian chief role, she'd already made up her mind.
Looking at him, she said, "Sign a long-term contract with me."
Matthew didn't hesitate. "Sure!"
Before finalizing anything, Helen needed to know more. "Tell me your full background, everything."
"I grew up in the slums near Dallas, Texas," Matthew said, launching into the backstory of the man he was pretending to be. "My mom died from a drug overdose. My dad disappeared when I was fourteen. I dropped out of school and started supporting myself—delivering newspapers, collecting junk, doing whatever jobs I could find. The longest I stuck with anything was construction work. Manual labor."
"Sounds inspiring," Helen commented.
"Guess so." Matthew shrugged. "Last year, someone told me I had the look for Hollywood. Said I should give it a try. So I came to L.A., signed with a small agency called Starlight, but never got a single role."
He went on, "Then I met a manager who said he could make me a star. I ended up signing a movie deal with him."
"What kind of deal?" Helen asked, eyeing him seriously.
"You know…" Matthew looked a little embarrassed. "The kind of romantic action movie where the acting isn't exactly the main focus. I was cast as the lead."
Helen's brow furrowed. "You actually filmed one of those?"
If he had, she wouldn't waste another second on him. There was no way she'd invest in someone who'd already crossed into that world.
"No!" Matthew quickly shook his head. "I backed out right before shooting started and ran."
Helen nodded slowly. "They didn't try to come after you?"
"They did," Matthew said, knocking the table for emphasis. "Their lawyer's still hounding me over breach of contract."
He added with a smirk, "Honestly, I think that manager still wants me back."
"You give yourself too much credit," Helen said dryly. "They're probably just after the money. How much is the penalty?"
"Fifty thousand dollars." Matthew looked at her with a mix of hope and caution. "You've been around—any advice?"