Chapter 7: Chapter 7: Need a Ride?
Curiously watching the boy leave, she was called into Jonathan Friedman's office and hurried over. Jonathan, however, merely gestured for her to sit and started whispering some instructions to Owen Wright, who had also been called in.
She had to keep waiting patiently, trying not to show any dissatisfaction, yet she couldn't help but feel envious of the boy who had just left. Having received such serious attention from Jonathan, could he be a scion of a Hollywood dynasty? She dismissed the thought almost immediately; his attire didn't seem to indicate wealth.
Although she pretended not to care, she clearly heard Jonathan instruct Owen to prepare a contract based on his notes and to get a script photocopied, obviously related to the boy who had just left.
Lucky guy, she thought. Fortunately, he's a guy, so no competition for her, but Pasdar and the others might have a new rival now.
With a bit of schadenfreude, she waited for Owen to leave before Jonathan finally began discussing her matters.
NBC had indeed decided to cancel "Superhero Squad," her first starring role in a TV show. She wasn't too disappointed; her goal was to become a movie star, and doing TV shows was just a way to build her resume.
Jonathan had recently been promoted to vice president of WMA. Although any agent with big clients could easily secure such a position, a vice presidency at WMA should still open up more opportunities for her.
Her agent did not disappoint.
Warner Bros. was preparing a fantasy comedy titled "Beetlejuice" with a budget of $15 million—a major production, given that "Top Gun" was made for the same amount. Jonathan had secured her an audition for a significant supporting role. Additionally, there was an MGM TV movie audition next week.
After wrapping up their meeting, she left with materials for two auditions, thrilled.
She retrieved her car from the parking lot and turned onto Camino Street, heading south towards Olympic Boulevard to return to Santa Monica. It was peak hour, and heading north on Wilshire Boulevard would be a nightmare.
Traffic on Olympic Boulevard was indeed lighter, and after driving for a few minutes, as she was about to leave Century City, she unexpectedly spotted a figure not far ahead. The cheap black T-shirt, faded jeans, and light grey canvas backpack—it was him.
His shabby attire contrasted with the setting sun's glow, giving him the air of a wandering poet, alone in the world.
Drawn in, she slowed down and pulled over.
This guy has a great build.
Thinking this, she rolled down the window and greeted the figure on the roadside: "Hi."
...
After leaving WMA headquarters, Simon had used a phone booth on the street to call a woman using contact details Katherine had left him, intending to inform her that he had signed with Jonathan Friedman.
The call went unanswered, so he left a message.
Then he began to plan his next steps for accommodation.
Renting a place was out of the question for now; he'd have to stay in a motel.
If price were the only concern, he had plenty of options.
But in Los Angeles, safety was not something to be taken lightly, and without a car, he couldn't stay too far from WMA headquarters.
After considering between Hollywood in the north and Santa Monica in the east, Simon decided on Santa Monica. He remembered there were many cheap motels along the 405 freeway between Beverly Hills and Santa Monica.
With his mind made up, Simon headed south on Camino Street, then turned onto Olympic Boulevard. The downtown area of Santa Monica was about six or seven kilometers away, a walkable distance in under an hour.
After about twenty minutes of walking, Simon noticed a white sedan slowly approaching. Puzzled, he heard a girl's voice from the lowered window.
The driver's side was on the left, so Simon looked down into the car and saw it was Courteney Cox, whom he had just met at WMA.
Entering Hollywood and signing with a major agency like WMA, Simon knew he would meet many faces previously seen only on the big screen, so he wasn't particularly surprised to run into "Monica" from "Friends."
When Courteney Cox greeted him, Simon was surprised but responded politely, "Hello."
Courteney, seeing the bright eyes of the boy outside her window, made a casual gesture and said, "Hey, we just met in Jonathan's office. I live in Santa Monica. Need a ride?"
"Sure, thank you."
Simon smiled and nodded. The curb was marked with prominent no-parking signs, so he quickly opened the door.
Courteney had just moved her audition materials from the passenger seat to the back to make space. Once Simon was seated, she hit the gas.
Once the car was moving smoothly, Courteney glanced at the boy next to her through the rearview mirror and said, "I'm Courteney Cox. And
you?"
"Simon Westeros."
Simon responded, looking at the girl next to him through the mirror.
Courteney Cox, just over twenty, sported boyish short hair and a somewhat thin face, making her eyes look unusually large and spirited. Although beautiful, she lacked the sophistication she would later display in "Friends."
"Oh," Courteney nodded, withdrawing her gaze from the rearview mirror to focus on the road, searching for a topic of conversation. "So, are you close with Jonathan?"
Simon shook his head. "No, it was just a referral. Today was our first meeting."
"That's impressive, having a long talk with Jonathan on your first meeting. Did you just get to LA? Planning to be an actor?"
"No, I'm a screenwriter."
Courteney looked at Simon in surprise, then quickly turned back to the road, saying, "That's even more impressive."
As newcomers to each other, they chatted casually about trivial things.
Minutes later, they crossed the 405 freeway into Santa Monica. Less than a kilometer ahead, Simon signaled for Courteney to stop and let him out.
After bidding farewell, Simon started looking for a place to stay in the streets of Santa Monica.
As he remembered, there were indeed many motels nearby.
However, most of them turned Simon away once they learned he had no type of bank card and couldn't pay a sufficient deposit upfront for a long stay.
After searching several blocks, Simon finally found a motel in an alley near the southern edge of downtown that would take him in.
The owner, Diago Sarcado, a sixty-something Spanish immigrant, greeted Simon with heavily accented English. Trying his luck, Simon conversed in Spanish, and they hit it off.
The owner agreed to rent Simon a single room on the second floor facing the street for $100 a week, with a $50 deposit upfront and the rent payable weekly.
Recognizing Simon's tight budget, the owner kindly advised him not to leave a tip for the housekeeping, as his wife handled it.
The encounter underscored for Simon the importance of mastering a foreign language.
The contract signing the next day took a whole day.
To avoid being caught off-guard by any terms, Simon meticulously reviewed the twenty-plus page contract several times. Although he couldn't afford a lawyer, his memory served him well enough. He even discussed and amended some details with Jonathan Friedman.
Once the agency contract was signed, all that was left was to wait.
Even though Jonathan Friedman was optimistic about "The Butterfly Effect" script, selling it wasn't going to be overnight work; many scripts even stayed with agents for years. Simon was prepared for this.
However, despite signing a three-year contract, Simon wasn't about to hang all his hopes on WMA without any backup.
The contract included a restrictive clause stating that if Jonathan Friedman couldn't secure a deal after Simon submitted three scripts, then Simon had the right to terminate their relationship three months after the third script was submitted, provided that more than nine months had passed in the contract term.
With the WMA contract sorted, Simon turned to sorting out his livelihood.
This task, Simon handled with more ease than anything else.
In just two days, he found a job at a sizeable supermarket in downtown Santa Monica.
Griffin's Supermarket, a 24-hour operation presumably independently operated, was impressed by Simon's capability in handling tasks like restocking, inventory, arrangement, and even cashier duties during his interview. The middle-aged owner, Roger Griffin, saw great potential in Simon and hired him on the spot.
However, when it came to salary, perhaps pegging Simon as a struggling Hollywood transient, Roger Griffin was quite stingy, agreeing only to pay the basic wage of $3.50 per hour.
The one advantage was that the job paid weekly, ensuring Simon $140 each week, just enough to cover his basic living expenses.
But, starting on the third day of work, Simon faced a difficult problem. When he moved into the motel a week ago, he had less than $100 left after paying a $50 deposit.
Now.
It was time to pay the weekly room rate, but payday at Griffin's Supermarket hadn't arrived yet.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone