Niall was going through the contract for his book, his focus razor sharp.
Through it all, Michael had remained quiet, occasionally glancing over to the young actor as he skimmed through a few documents of his own.
Granted the young actor had no literary agent and no hired lawyer to help him peruse through it, he had to do it all on his own.
Still, he had plans to eventually hire both in due time. As at the moment though, it wasn’t at the top of his priority list.
About an hour later, Niall nodded to himself, satisfied with the terms and conditions.
Only after did he pen his signature.
To that, Michael inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. Outwardly, his expression remained calm and professional.
"So," Niall flipped the document close, his smile cordial.
"What next?" he curiously asked of the CEO who leaned forward slightly, his palms interlocked.
"Well, given we have the manuscript on ground, we’ll have the editorial department review it once more and send feedbacks as is necessary,"
’Though, given what Bob said, I doubt there’ll be any major changes required,’ Michael inwardly remarked as he continued.
"We’ll also need to schedule a jacket design meeting to pitch and decide on the book’s cover,"
"In addition to that, we’ll also have to fill out fact sheets and hand it over to the sales team to pitch the book to booksellers, retail stores and the likes,"
"Once that’s out of the way, we can then push for production," Michael surmised.
Acknowledging his words with a subtle nod, Niall then spoke;
"Regarding the book cover,"
"You wouldn’t be averse to having it come from someone I recommend, would you?"
Michael looked notably curious upon hearing that.
Although they did occasionally outsource, Feyre Publications was usually less inclined towards allowing an external party work on something their in-house staffs could handle.
However, given the state of things in their company, and how quickly they wanted to have [The Token of Fate] published, the CEO was more than happy to welcome Niall’s offer.
"Sure, I don’t see why not," he replied to which Niall smiled as he rose from the chair.
"That’s great to hear. I’ll forward you her contact," he said whilst extending a handshake that Michael firmly gripped.
Then, retrieving a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his jacket, he handed it over to the CEO who received it, his head tilted in curiosity.
Not bothering to explain himself, Niall simply walked out of the office with a curt nod and a knowing smile.
Upon unfurling the paper though, Michael’s expression morphed, indicating that he was genuinely impressed.
In the paper were three different book cover illustrations, each one more impressive than the last.
And neatly scribbled in a small corner with a pen, was the contact information of said illustrator.
Walking past the busy editorial department, Niall gave Bob a thumbs-up from afar, one the editor-in-chief reciprocated.
Sure, he and Niall hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot, but, considering how things had ultimately panned out, Bob much like Niall, seemed pretty cool with one another.
As for the employees whom had witnessed their interaction, they simply looked to each other in curiosity, none the wiser as to what had previously transpired between them.
A couple minutes later, Niall’s hair was tousling softly in the gentle breeze as he drove up to the Los Angeles Film School.
Today, after all, was the day he was scheduled to meet with a certain film student.
Half an hour later, the young actor was seated at Denny’s nearby; a nice-looking restaurant with a classic diner aesthetic.
Checking his wristwatch and seeing that he was fifteen minutes early, Niall proceeded to retrieve his phone.
The first thing he noticed though, was a recent notification from Camille.
Camille: Niall Parker, you sly devil you.
Chuckling at that, equal parts amused and aware ofthe reasoning behind her text, Niall responded;
Niall: Getting paid for another commission?
Camille: You bet I am. All thanks to you. Now I owe you a big ’ol roll of farmer’s cheese.
Niall: I’ll hold you to that.
No sooner had Niall responded to that text, a jocular, upbeat male voice reached him.
"Niall Parker?"
Raising his head up to assess whom had called him, the young actor replied with a genuine smile;
"In the flesh,"
"It’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mark Denvers," Niall extended a polite handshake to which Mark, a friendly looking guy who looked to be in his early-twenties reciprocated in kind.
Messy dark-brown hair, warm russet-brown irises, and fairly well-defined features that weren’t conventionally attractive but would definitely turn heads if a bit more work went into highlighting it.
Setting his bag down on the chair next to him, Mark immediately started off the conversation, a light grin forming on his lips;
"I’ll admit, you were not what I was expecting,"
"What, were you expecting?" Niall couldn’t help follow up with a mixed hint of amused curiosity.
"Some middle-aged man in his early forties," he replied without a shred of restraint.
Niall cocked an amused brow.
"Come on, you literally text like my Pops would!" Mark tried to defend himself.
"You’re just lazy." Niall responded with an amused shake of his head.
"I call it efficient." Mark folded his arms across his chest, a smug expression on his features.
"You keep telling yourself that." the young actor countered and Mark couldn’t help but chuckle in response.
Now that the pleasantries were out of the way though, Mark proceeded to get down to business.
"So," he began.
"[A Maddened Wonderland]," he continued.
"What’s got you so invested in it?" he inquired.
"Alistair Hatter," Niall immediately replied.
"As an actor though, I’d really like to play him," he added and Mark nodded in understanding, only for his face to whip over in shock.
"Wait, you’re an actor!" he blurted.
"I am." Niall coolly replied.
For a brief moment, Mark seemed unwilling to take the young man’s word for it.
Then he did the smart thing and immediately searched his name up.
"Damn..." he softly exclaimed a couple minutes later.
"Now it all makes sense," a small frown formed on his features.
"This filmography’s not it, man." he added without thinking twice.
"Blunt much?" Niall deprecatively smiled.
"I’ve been told so, yes." Mark tucked the phone away, and then asked;
"Does it bother you?"
"Quite the opposite actually," Niall shrugged.
"It’s refreshing," he added and then continued;
"That said, asides from Alistair, I actually think the world of Wonderland and its inhabitants are a little too underexplored in media these days,"
"Given the potential it has, it’s a shame it’s not front and center in a lot of creative media outlets."
"Right!?" Mark acknowledged excitedly, seemingly with the relief that he’d finally found a kindred soul.
"It’s like there’s this expansive world out there, just begging and dying to be explored, and yet no one’s the least bit curious as to how far they could take it!" he waved his hand in a vague gesture.
With every word Mark said, his jocularity touched on new heights, highlighting the boundless passion he had for his work.
Staring at him, Niall couldn’t help but be reminded of the future, roughly five years from now.
A movie that hadn’t even managed to recuperate the budget cost of $100 million that went into it.
One that people had criticized heavily for being one of the worst movies of the year.
The cause, as Niall had found out via a tweet that had gone viral?
The studio had screwed Mark over big time, going as far as even acquiring the rights to the script behind his back by acting on a deceptive clause in the contract he’d signed with them.
But that hadn’t been all. They’d also rewritten the entire script, and then proceeded to pay him nothing in return because apparently, he’d signed a contract stating he’d get a cut of the box office returns.
However, since the initial investments weren’t even recuperated, Mark was left with nothing but debts since he’d taken out some hefty loans to invest into the movie.
Debts that had eventually run his budding career into the ground.
But the worst part of it all had being how despite taking Big Boon Studios to court, Mark had lost the case, further solidifying the end of his career.
After that, Niall hadn’t heard a single thing about the man in Hollywood.
Yet, that same man now sat before him... young, and passionate as ever.
And how had Niall found him before Big Boon Studios this time?
Well, Mark had a ViewTube channel--one he frequently uploaded short animated clips about [A Maddened Wonderland] whilst making mention of going full-scale with it if he had the resources.
Contacting him and pitching to produce a live-action movie had been pretty easy from thereon.
Assessing him with the Gift of Discernment,Niall watcheda hue of platinum exude from Mark’s body alongside two silver-plated icons--a fountain pen and a camera--lingering above his head.
Yet, the edges of both icons had begun to bleed a faint shimmer of gold.
Inwardly smiling to himself, understanding that he could well and truly turn things around this time, Niall calmly followed up;
"But you can, right?"
"Given all the right resources? Yeah. I most definitely can," Mark grinned, his confidence radiating as he leaned back into his chair.
"But you should know, it’ll take me a long while before I can pen down the script," he added with a raised finger.
"Granted part of it’s because I’m always swamped with film school, the other part’s because I wouldn’t want to rush it. Passion project, remember?" he explained with a gesture of his arms.
"That won’t be a problem," Niall simply replied.
"In fact, take as much time as you need," he leaned forwards, his palms interlocked as a light smile pulled on the edges of his lips.
"As long as I get to produce the movie, and also get the lead role,"
"Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be ready." Niall assured him.
To that, Mark grinned and said;
"I think I’m going to enjoy working with you, Niall,"
"As do I, Mark." Niall reciprocated in kind.
Following that, both individuals discussed a few more things regarding the movie and their future plans for the next hour.
They also discussed about having a contract, but chose to hold off on it till they were a hundred percent certain they were ready to take things further.
Having fleshed out how they were planning to go about things, both exchanged a handshake and their contacts.
Half a minute later, they bade each other farewell and promised to keep one another updated on their individual progress.
Soon enough, Niall was stuck in traffic on Hollywood Boulevard, his vehicle moving in slow yet steady stream.
Yet, resting an arm on the door frame, his other arm holding onto the steering wheel, a light smile hung on his lips.
Knowing he was taking steps to rebrand his image from a typecast actor was one thing. Seeing it all slowly take shape, now that was another.
In his mirth, he took to turning his vehicle’s infotainment system and selected one of his favorite songs from the playlist.
In sync, he soon began bopping his head to the tune, singing the lyrics from memory.
Now, Niall wasn’t much of a singer, nor did he ever feel all that inclined towards being a musician.
What he did enjoy though, was the lyricality of a great song, the idea of telling a story, or even setting down one’s convictions in such a short span of time though the medium.
And maybe that was why, in that very moment, a harmless yet genuine thought wiggled into his mind.
’Would be nice to make my own music though,’
No sooner had it, a familiar otherworldly tingle washed over him! Only this time, it was more intense!
Almost instantaneously, Niall summoned his icons onto his palms.
And right at that moment, he caught it.
The previously obscured icon shook... and then suddenly expunged an icon out of it.
Now, four icons hovered above Niall’s palm.
The film slate, the fountain pen, the still obscured icon and finally... a microphone icon plated in a lustrous bronze.
It was then that it truly hit Niall.
The obscured icon wasn’t just another icon!
Rather, it worked as the master icon--responding to and reflecting the limitless potential granted to him by his Gift of True Aptitude.
Staring at the new icon in amazement, a whole new world Niall had never considered, opened up to him.
All that was left, was how far he was willing to take it.
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