…
While Alex could grasp the transactional logic behind Martha Preston’s direct pitch, a subsequent encounter at an intimate industry dinner proved far more unsettling.
He had been engaged in conversation with an independent producer, discussing a script about an unranked street boxer—a role Alex felt suited his physical conditioning and dramatic range—when an older, distinguished man joined their circle.
Harrison Burke was an established name in independent drama circles, known for producing critical darlings and carrying a reputation for sophisticated taste.
Dressed in a tailored suit with gold-rimmed glasses, he carried himself with an quiet, practiced authority, his cheeks slightly flushed from the wine.
Burke listened to the pitch briefly before turning his attention directly toward Alex, looking him over like a collector evaluating a piece.
“Alex Shawn,” Burke said softly, his tone warm and patronizing.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on your calls.
Young, disciplined, clean camera posture.
I understand Steven Spielberg gave you a featured line on Hook?
A very promising start.”
Fina’s aggressive PR campaign had done its job; Alex’s name was beginning to circulate among mid-level producers.
Keeping his posture professional, Alex offered a polite nod.
“Thank you, Mr.
Burke.
I’m just focused on putting in the work and learning the craft.”
“Humility is a fine trait in a young performer,” Burke smiled.
He reached out and patted Alex’s shoulder firmly, holding his hand there a second too long.
Then, with the practiced finesse of a stage magician, Burke reached into his vest pocket, pulled out a plastic keycard from a luxury hotel, and slid it directly into the breast pocket of Alex’s suit jacket, hidden from the view of the surrounding guests. This chapter is updated first at NovelPing.
He leaned in close, his breath heavy with wine.
“I’m staying at the Beverly Wilshire, penthouse suite,” Burke whispered, his voice dropping into a flat, mandatory tone.
“Come by around eleven tonight.”
He paused, holding Alex’s gaze.
“I’m putting together a project about a musician lost in a foreign city, searching for redemption.
You have that restless, conflicted edge to you, Alex.
You’re the exact lead I’m looking for.
We can sit down, review the script, and discuss where your career is headed.”
The look in Burke’s eyes was no longer professional appreciation; it was the naked expression of a man accustomed to using his industry clout as leverage.
Alex’s posture locked.
The plastic key card in his pocket felt like a branding iron.
Compared to Martha Preston’s straightforward flirtation, Burke’s approach—wrapped in the language of artistic mentorship—was far more sinister.
Suppressing a wave of cold anger, Alex forced his expression to remain completely neutral.
He didn’t flinch or reach for his pocket.
Instead, he met Burke’s gaze with a calm, wide, and entirely professional smile.
“I appreciate the interest in my work, Mr.
Burke,” Alex said clearly, elevating his voice just enough for the nearby producer to catch every word.
“The project sounds like a remarkable character study.”
Without breaking eye contact, Alex smoothly redirected the pitch.
However, my agent at CAA, Fina Cohen, manages all my project reviews and slate strategy.
She’s extremely passionate about securing grounded, complex narratives.”
He smiled brightly, laying out the boundary with absolute precision.
“I’ll have Fina’s office reach out to your assistant tomorrow morning at ten to schedule a formal meeting at CAA.
That way, our team can review the script, discuss character breakdown, and go over production timelines properly.
How does that sound?”
By bringing Fina, CAA, and formal agency protocol into the open, Alex cleanly dismantled the private nature of the proposition.
Burke’s smile vanished instantly.
Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes narrowed into a cold, irritated stare.
He hadn’t expected a newcomer to handle the situation with such calculated diplomacy—refusing the advance while simultaneously invoking the legal weight of CAA and the industry clout of the Coen family name to protect himself.
Burke stared at Alex for a long moment, weighing his options, before letting out a quiet, bitter scoff.
Without saying another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the bar, his expression dark with embarrassment.
Alex stood his ground until Burke disappeared into the crowd, feeling a faint trace of tension leave his shoulders.
The encounter was a stark reminder of the realities of the town.
Without the protection of a major agency like CAA and a sharp representative like Fina, navigating the industry as an unrepresented actor was an absolute minefield.
While refusing a producer like Burke carried risks, holding his boundaries through legitimate industry channels was the only way Alex intended to build a lasting career.
He took a slow drink from his glass, centered himself, and turned his focus back toward the room.
…
-Krazybro