America achieves both fame and fortune

Chapter 7 Paying to Act

After grabbing a quick breakfast, Martin went out alone. After a night's rest, his leg pain improved further, and the memories of his past life became increasingly clear.

Now that my physical condition has improved, I certainly can't waste time; there's still a lot to do.

Martin stored the burned disc, took the JVC camcorder, and went to the grocery store on the north side of the community.

Early in the morning, Scott Carter was already drinking, the sunlight shining on his face, his nose brighter than the red light at the intersection.

Martin placed the camera on the counter: "Here's your stuff back. By the way, Harris got medical treatment."

Scott actually put down his bottle, stood up, and began to seriously examine the camera. Suddenly, his nose turned even redder: "Kid, where's my cassette tape? You stole my cassette tape!"

"Don't frame people." Martin casually made up a bunch of nonsense: "The tape in the cassette tape was used to put a splint on your son. Go ask Elena for it."

Upon hearing his eldest daughter's name, Scott plopped back down, making no mention of Elena: "Tell that bastard Harris that the cassette tape is worth $20, and he needs to send the money tomorrow."

Martin bypassed this rhetoric and asked, "Any cheap phones?"

The phone he had yesterday belonged to Lily, who had borrowed it from Mrs. Wood.

"You poor bastard, you have money to buy a phone?" Scott thought of a possibility: "Could it be that bastard Jack is back? Tell me, where is he!"

A normal person's wife being kidnapped would be a matter of life and death, but Scott's thought process was different: "Let me calculate, how many days has this bastard been holding Emma hostage? Damn it, who knows how many times they've ripped her off? I'll charge you by the day, at least $100... no, $200 a day!"

It's too difficult to communicate with people who aren't on the same wavelength, so Martin gave up and prepared to leave.

Scott pulled a cell phone from under the counter: "It's European made, exceptionally durable. It'll still work even if you die."

Martin took it; it was a gray, candybar phone. He had used this secondhand Nokia 3210 in his previous life.

Feeling something was wrong, Martin turned it over and discovered that the back shell was cracked and then glued back together, with a hole in the very center of the crack.

Scott took a swig of his drink: "This is the Lucky Phone. I don't usually show it to just anyone. When the Eagles were fighting, a delivery guy got hit by a ricochet, and the phone shielded him from it, but the battery was ruined. I replaced it with a new one."

Martin turned on the machine, confirmed it worked properly, and asked, "How much?"

Scott waved his hand, seemingly generously: "Take it."

If this were Harris or Elena's, Martin would have taken it without hesitation. But this is Scott, a drunkard and drug addict, the kind of guy who hasn't been willing to spend money on his children since Elena was sixteen.

Free is the most expensive. Martin took out $20 from his pocket, put it on the counter, and left with his phone.

Scott asked in surprise, "When did this idiot become smart?"

Martin found a place to register for internet access, bought several newspapers, especially those on social economy and film and entertainment, and carefully looked through them when he returned to his rented house.

It is always necessary to understand the social situation.

Since the 1996 Olympics, Atlanta's development has accelerated further, and the Black population, which makes up 40% of the total population, has seen significant improvements in their economic, political, and social status.

Correspondingly, Black gangs, which were originally mainly active in the southern part of the metropolitan area, began to move into the bustling urban areas, constantly clashing with the existing white forces, resulting in frequent robberies and shootings.

Martin also saw a job posting for "House of the Beasts" in a tabloid; the club had recently opened and was hiring male dancers.

Would you like to take a look?

A chill ran down his spine, and the back window slammed shut.

got windy.

Martin went to close the window. The backyard was full of weeds. Suddenly, he remembered that there was a dead body buried in the yard, a hole that he and Elena had dug.

The gentle spring breeze suddenly turned into gusts of cold wind.

Want to jump out and scare people? Martin decided to throw a party in his backyard in a few days, invite more people over, and have some heavy rock and disco.

Martin had overworked himself last night and took a nap at noon. In the afternoon, he drove around the Clayton neighborhood looking for quick money-making opportunities.

Believe it or not, there are quite a lot; weeds and rice grains are everywhere.

Those who don't do these things mostly work part-time like Elena; only a minority have stable jobs.

Martin Davis, the predecessor of the original Martin Davis, never had a stable job and lived off Elena for a long time. He frequented the Marietta Community Theatre Troupe and dreamed of becoming a star.

Martin decided to go and take a look.

After another day of rest, Martin had basically recovered. It was the weekend, the time of the troupe's regular activities, so he simply took an old minibus to Margaret Place.

The memorial to Margaret Mitchell, author of "Gone with the Wind," is located here.

Martin walked toward the memorial, glanced at the words "When Hollywood Met Marietta" on the wall at the entrance, walked around the memorial, and went to a small theater at the back.

A van was parked in front of the theater, and Jerome Mitchell, dressed in a suit, was directing people to unload it. Upon seeing Martin, he ordered, "Hurry up, come help!"

This is the director of the Marietta Community Theatre, who is said to be related to the Margaret Mitchell family.

Martin deliberately limped over and carried a small box into the theater.

Jerome asked, "You disappeared for a week, disrupting a lot of the troupe's work."

Martin limped past him: "I broke my leg and just got out of bed, so I came over as soon as possible."

Jerome stared intently at Martin with sharp eyes, like a boss catching an employee slacking off.

The goods were delivered to the warehouse, and a dozen or so people moved into the small theater, sitting in twos and threes in the seats below the stage.

There are over 7000 community theater companies in the United States, and Marietta is just one of the less prominent ones.

The only thing worth mentioning is that Mr. T1000, Robert Patrick, was once a member of a theater troupe when he was young.

Martin glanced around and found that the ten people were new faces he didn't recognize.

Fat Robert came over and asked with concern, "I heard you hurt your leg?"

Martin nodded. "He's had a week to rest." He gestured with his eyes. "A lot of new people?"

Robert said helplessly, "There's a lot going on at the theater. They're always coming over to do work. We extras don't get paid. It's almost time for the theater company's membership fees to be paid, and some people have quit. They need to fill their stomachs to continue their dreams of becoming stars."

The choice between reality and dreams.

Jerome then walked to the center of the stage, clapped his hands to attract everyone's attention, and said, "I have some good news to share with you."

He didn't keep them in suspense and said directly, "Channel 2 is collaborating with Gray Film Productions to film a plantation-themed drama. We'll be recruiting actors at the Midtown Arts Theatre next week. I've contacted the casting director, and everyone will have a chance to appear on screen."

The newcomers are very excited.

Robert remained calm and only recruited temporary actors.

Jerome's tone carried a hint of boasting: "As you all know, I have some connections in Hollywood. I just got some big news: a big-budget movie starring Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet, with a budget of tens of millions, will be filmed in Atlanta soon. To cut costs, they will be recruiting actors in Atlanta. I believe the Marietta Theatre Company can produce another Robert Patrick."

Martin carefully recalled what movies Fat Wen and Jim Carrey had worked on together.

With the fragrant bait cast out, Jerome began to pull in the line: "The theater company belongs to all of us. We use the shared facilities, rehearsals require expenses, and we share the daily maintenance costs of the theater. Therefore, the company charges a $300 membership fee each month, which I believe everyone can understand."

It's not a free performance; you have to pay to perform.

It's not surprising that Martin is knowledgeable and well-traveled.

When he was working as an extra in Hengdian, one of his fellow townsmen, a minor celebrity, reportedly had his family sell several houses to secure a supporting role in a previous drama.

This kind of pay-to-get-into-the-playing is not an isolated case; many people want to pay but don't know how.

Book club: 729765122

(End of this chapter)