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"Enough about me—what about you?" Charlize asked. "Are you a born-and-raised Los Angeles local?"
I'm a transmigrator. If I said that out loud, it would scare you to death.
Henry said, "Alaska—pretty much as boring as where you grew up. The only advantage is all the snow. Skiing isn't a pastime, it's practically a survival skill.
"So my childhood wasn't worth talking about. Boring place, boring life—I don't even want to think back on it. I only started feeling truly alive after coming to Los Angeles."
He didn't mention anything from his pre-transmigration childhood—there was nothing worth mentioning anyway. After growing up to become a corporate drone with the classic 'strict father, gentle mother' combo meal, what glorious memories would there be?
Maybe because their experiences aligned, Charlize never once mentioned a 'father,' and Henry never asked. And since Henry never said 'parents' either, Charlize didn't ask him anything about it.
They spoke with a kind of mutual understanding—selectively touching upon their pasts, but never poking at the parts left unsaid.
As they continued talking, Charlize shared her experiences in Europe and New York—naturally choosing the pleasant bits.
Henry told stories from the period when he served as Audrey Hepburn's assistant, traveling alongside her from one corner of the world to another.
The children who looked angelic in the public reports and photographs… well, the things that didn't make it into the record were often chaotic, absurd, or downright comical.
Language barriers were the biggest problem. It wasn't like those kids—most of whom had never received proper schooling—could speak fluent English.
All in all, the lunch passed pleasantly. As long as they avoided poking at each other's sore spots, Henry was surprisingly good at keeping the atmosphere light, and Charlize laughed more than once.
But as they finished eating and sipped their coffee, it was impossible not to notice how Charlize kept fidgeting, wanting to say something but hesitating.
Henry chuckled. "If you need a favor, just say it. But just know—if you're hoping I'll hand you a ten-million-dollar lead role tomorrow, that's something you tell a genie in a magic lamp, not me."
"Okay… my wish isn't that dramatic." Henry's joke loosened her nerves. Charlize finally said, "I met a man yesterday who said he's a talent scout. His name is John Crosby.
"He helped me out in a big way. And he said he wants to discuss a management contract with me—we agreed to meet this afternoon. I don't know anything about L.A. yet… could you go with me?"
Henry agreed immediately. "Sure. Where and when?"
"On Hollywood Boulevard, a café. Three p.m."
Henry nodded. "Alright, we have some time. Before we go, let me tell you what I know about first-time talent agency contracts in Hollywood.
"Initial contracts usually last one year, with options to extend up to three more. Only big-name actors can dump their agents on a whim.
"For normal people, there are termination clauses, but typically it relates to commission. Any deals your agent negotiated during the partnership—whether or not you terminate—you still have to pay the agreed commission.
"As for penalties, usually none—unless your agent invested in you, like paying for training or acting classes. If they put money into you, they can demand compensation for early termination.
"Commission rate: legally capped at ten percent. And agents can't be part of production or take a share of their client's work revenue—that's the law, meant to keep agents aligned with the client's interests, not the studios'.
"Of course," Henry added, "that's just the law. There are always ways to… skirt the edges. For example, an agent's ten percent is his compensation.
"But what about operating expenses? Training, coaching, headshots—they can charge that under different names. It's standard in the industry.
"So legally, I can give you some amateur advice. As long as it's not an obvious trap, the rest comes down to whether you are willing to accept the terms.
"And the most important thing: newcomers don't have much bargaining power. You said he helped you—tell me what exactly happened?
"If it's just a favor, you might have some room to negotiate. If it's something bigger, you may end up with only two choices: sign, or repay the favor and walk away."
Charlize thought for a moment, then decided to explain. "Yesterday I received a check from my mother. But when I went to cash it, the bank refused because it was from out of state, and I'm not a U.S. citizen.
"That money was my lifeline. I argued with the teller. John Crosby happened to be behind me—he helped me cash the check, then gave me his card."
"I see." Henry considered it.
Cashing checks always involved delays within the inter-bank clearing system. Bounced checks were common in the U.S. And if the bank cashed it and the check later failed, even with fees, the bank would still lose money.
Different state, different banking network, non-citizen—there was risk. So it wasn't surprising they refused Charlize.
Henry asked, "When Mr. Crosby cashed it for you, did he deduct the fee? Or did he hand you the full amount?"
"He deducted it. I've cashed checks before—I know there's a fee. I wouldn't take advantage of someone helping me."
"Then it's just a favor, not a debt."
He didn't add the rest: the size of that favor could vary. Crosby essentially used his own credit to gamble that Charlize's mother's check wasn't bad.
If the check bounced, the bank would go after John Crosby—not Charlize.
If the check cleared, then no problem. But either way, the man did help her.
Henry glanced at the restaurant clock. "It's about time. Let's go meet this talent scout. Want to ride together?"
"Yes." Charlize nodded.
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