Capítulo 8: Chapter 8: Another Debt
"The troupe will temporarily stop rehearsing new plays. For the sake of your future, the main focus will be on securing roles in film and television projects," Jerome declared passionately, though his thoughts were quite different.
Once rehearsals started, spending money was like water flowing out.
The Marietta Community Theater was a non-profit organization, with its revenue mainly coming from donations from public welfare groups and cultural grants from the local government.
For example, the theater itself was owned by City Hall.
Just like movie shootings, it was relatively easy to account for the expenses of theater productions, and the money saved naturally went into the pockets of Jerome and a few other responsible parties.
Jerome, with an appearance of concern for them, emphasized, "In the coming period, I will personally guide your performances. Trust me, in Marietta, there's no one more professional than I."
Martin listened and pondered. Facing film and television crews, the theater had an advantage over individuals, but $300 a month...
The money he had in hand was earned at the cost of losing an arm.
Was it Harris who lost an arm? Martin respected Harris's sacrifice.
Martin didn't see any benefit and wouldn't part with his money easily.
The newcomers weren't fools either. Someone asked, "Director, why are the movies you mentioned being shot in Atlanta?"
Currently, Atlanta was insignificant in Hollywood's film industry chain.
Jerome smiled confidently, "The state government passed a bill just before New Year's. As long as the films shot in Atlanta invest over $500,000, they get a 20% tax break. If the film displays Georgia's logo, there's an additional 10% discount."
He saw it clearly, "Hollywood production companies would never miss a chance to earn more profits. More crews will come to Atlanta in the future. Now, the opportunity is here. Are you ready?"
Another person asked, "I read on a forum that actors must find work through agents, but I don't have an agent."
"Forget the damn agents and the damn rules of the actors' union. California's talent laws don't apply to Atlanta!" Jerome retorted, "Do you want agents taking 10%, or do you want to pay $3,000 to join the actors' union and then a big annual fee?"
Emotionally stirred by Jerome, the person shook his head repeatedly, "For $3,000, I'd rather buy a car."
Martin kept quiet. Even if he disagreed, he wouldn't speak rashly.
At the end of the pep talk, the troupe's accountant set up a table to collect fees. Of the ten new recruits, only one left; the other nine all paid the fees.
Even a veteran like Robert chose to stay in the troupe. Martin had been through this phase and understood their mindset; it was no different from countless drifters trying to make it.
After hearing about the two film crews, Martin kept considering how to make Jerome prioritize him.
He waited until everyone had left before hobbling over to the table with his leg, a look of shame on his face, "Mr. Mitchell, I... I'm out of money. I can't pay the fee."
Jerome Mitchell frowned, "Martin, don't make this difficult for me."
Martin played up his emotions, emptying his pockets to reveal only $7. "I'm very sorry. I was injured while roofing, spending all my wages on treatment. My boss refused to compensate me and fired me. Can we delay the fee payment a bit?"
He performed this straightforward and personally experienced scene with ease. "I'm looking for a new job. Once I get the role and the salary next week, I'll pay the fee immediately."
Martin Davis's good track record in the theater lent credibility to his words.
Seeing Martin's shame and helplessness, Jerome was reminded of his own difficult youth and felt a bit softened, "Don't disappoint me."
"Thank you!" Martin expressed his gratitude quickly, noticing the book underneath the accounting ledger. It was the latest issue of "Entertainment Weekly." Pointing at the magazine, he said, "Mr. Mitchell, you know I love Hollywood news but can't afford it. Could I..."
Jerome waved his hand, "Take it."
Martin took the magazine and hobbled out of the theater.
Despite his moment of softness, Jerome wouldn't make a loss; he noted Martin's debt.
No one could owe him indefinitely. If this pauper couldn't repay, he'd find work to make up for it.
In Jerome's mind, people who had paid the fee could be postponed since there was nothing more to squeeze from them this month.
Martin waited a long time before an old, beat-up minibus arrived. He found a seat at the back and started reading the magazine.
After some time, the minibus suddenly shook, and the driver shouted, "The bus is broken!"
Everyone, including Martin, began cursing.
"Damn public transportation!" Martin had no choice but to get off with everyone else.
With his journey half-finished, and the next minibus likely a long wait, with no taxis roaming around Atlanta, calling for one was the only option. Martin decided to walk.
A Dodge pickup truck rolled up behind him, stopping by the sidewalk, with a "Beast House" logo painted on it.
The right window rolled down, and Bruce, wearing a jacket, waved, "Martin Davis, need a lift?"
Martin looked at him, "Can I?"
Bruce pointed ahead, "I live in the Barker community south of Clayton. It's on the way."
Martin opened the passenger door and got in, "What a coincidence?"
Bruce hit the gas, "Just collected some debts for the boss." After driving a few hundred meters, he suddenly said, "Almost forgot, you owe me $5 for the ride."
Martin tapped the car door, "Hey, man, can't you be more humane?"
Bruce, holding the steering wheel with one hand, opened his jacket with the other, "The boss always said employees of Beast House must be law-abiding citizens."
Seeing the gun under his armpit, Martin acknowledged Bruce as a civilized man, "I'll pay in Clayton."
"Deal!" Bruce laughed heartily.
Not wanting to continue the conversation, Martin picked up the magazine to read.
Bruce glanced sideways, noticing the cover, "Entertainment Weekly? I like this magazine, too. That's a poster of Lost in Translation!"
Martin's mind raced, "Scarlett Johansson fan?"
Bruce reluctantly looked forward, "I have a poster of that film, but it's ruined."
Martin asked, "How did it get ruined?"
Bruce licked his dry lips, "The poster got accidentally damaged by the wind."
Martin gave a thumbs up, imitating Harris's tone, "I'm now 100% sure you're a civilized man." Shaking the magazine, he added, "Buddy, the latest Entertainment Weekly is hard to find in Atlanta. Not only the cover, it includes a full set of stills from Lost in Translation."
Bruce reached out for it, but Martin pulled it back, "No ride fee, $10."
"You're a crook!" Though he said that, Bruce kept glancing at the cover.
Martin rolled up the magazine, "My neighbor Carter's kid loves that poster too. If I take this magazine back, I could sell it for at least $20."
Bruce took out two $5 bills and threw them to Martin, "You win."
Taking the money, Martin handed over the free magazine to Bruce, casually saying, "Buddy, I'm an actor. When I make it big someday, I'll get you autographed photos from the crew..."
Bruce didn't want to talk to him anymore. This guy wasn't human, so Bruce gave a final warning, "Think about how to repay."
"I remember." Planning to stay in Atlanta temporarily, Martin knew he had to deal with this debt. He said, "I want to meet your boss."
"Tomorrow night, the boss will be at Beast House," Bruce said, waving the magazine. "Since you gave me this, I'll tell you a tip: show your worth to the boss, and you might get special treatment."
*****
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