The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!-Chapter 31

Golden sunlight streamed down from the sky, spilling over the coastal shrubs that concealed a crescent-shaped beach. At one end of the crescent, a long wooden pier stretched out into the turquoise-blue sea.
This beautiful stretch of sand was Paradise Cove in Malibu, a private beach that required a ticket for entry.
Today, however, the beach was devoid of tourists. Instead, the cliffs at the far end of the cove were packed with journalists, their cameras ready.
Britney Spears's record label had rented the beach for the day to shoot her new music video, a fact that had naturally drawn a swarm of ers.
Early that morning, Matthew had arrived with the crew. The label hadn't just rented the beach; they had also booked a nearby restaurant.
Several of the restaurant's spare rooms had been temporarily converted into lounges and dressing rooms.
Thanks to Helen's efforts, Matthew, as the male lead in the music video, had secured a private room for himself.
"I didn't expect you to come in person," Matthew remarked as he sat before the makeup mirror, letting an artist apply cream to his face. He glanced at Helen's reflection; she was sitting behind him, flipping through a newspaper. "I figured you'd just leave me with the crew and not give it a second thought."
Without looking up from the newspaper, Helen replied, "I have some free time right now. Besides, you should remember by now: I'm your agent."
There was an unspoken weight to her statement. Matthew paused for a moment before it clicked.
"Oh..." Matthew ventured casually. "Does that mean I'm your most important client?"
Helen neither confirmed nor denied it, simply remaining silent.
Matthew glanced at her reflection in the makeup mirror, but her face was completely obscured by the newspaper, leaving her expression a mystery.
Once his makeup was done, Matthew changed into a form-fitting white t-shirt that clung to his powerful physique, accentuating the smooth lines of his muscles.
Those muscles were the result of countless hours of intense physical training.
Matthew looked powerful, but not in the vein of Arnold Schwarzenegger; he was more like a taller version of Tom Cruise.
Since he would be barefoot for the shoot on the beach, Matthew slipped on a pair of flip-flops after changing. Ignoring Helen, who was still engrossed in her newspaper, he grabbed his work bag, left the dressing room, and headed down the wooden pier that connected the restaurant to the beach.
Stepping off the pier onto the sand, Matthew spotted the makeshift actors' lounge set up under an awning. He found his chair and sat down, his gaze drifting to the sea where a dance crew of seven or eight people was running through their final rehearsals with the choreographer.
He was no expert in dance or music, so he couldn't offer much of a critique. Still, watching the movements of the young male and female dancers, he could tell it was exactly the kind of choreography aimed at a teenage audience.
"Miss Spears," a respectful voice called out. "This way, please."
Matthew turned his head just in time to see Britney Spears walk onto the beach set, dressed in a simple, flowing white dress.
Presumably because they were the two leads in the video, her lounge chair had been placed very close to his.
The director, Zack Snyder, was still setting things up with the crew, and it would be a while before filming began. Britney settled into her lounge chair to wait patiently.
Matthew seized the opportunity. Seeing that no one else was nearby, he pulled a book and a pen from his bag, got up, and walked over to Britney.
Britney looked up at him with a hint of surprise. Matthew scratched the back of his head in feigned embarrassment, offering a sunny, slightly shy smile. "Hi, Miss Spears. I'm a huge fan. I've been trying to get your autograph but haven't found the right moment."
The two of them had never spoken directly before.
"Would you mind signing this?" Matthew asked, holding out the pen and the book.
Britney seemed to recognize him then. She hesitantly took the pen and book. "You're Matthew Horner, right?" she asked.
"Please, just call me Matthew." He put on a surprised expression, as if it were a great honor to be remembered by her. Then, he asked tentatively, "Can I call you Britney?"
"Of course," Britney replied, signing the book.
She paused mid-signature, then, unable to resist her curiosity, looked up and asked, "Which female singer do you hate the most?"
Matthew's first instinct was to look confused, but then he took in her youthful face—a stark contrast to her mature, sexualized physique. It dawned on him that he was dealing with a socially inexperienced young woman, someone with a relatively simple worldview. And from what he knew from the tabloids, Britney Spears was maturing at a glacial pace.
With that in mind, Matthew gave her the answer she was looking for. "I can't stand Christina Aguilera," he said.
"Why?" Britney asked, her curiosity piqued.
The truth was, Matthew had never listened to a single Christina Aguilera song. Aside from some photos he'd looked up online, he knew next to nothing about her. Still, he repeated the line he'd used in his audition, phrasing it with a deliberate, casual cruelty. "She just looks... off. Her voice is strange, too. I get chills when I hear her sing—like I'm eating something that's about to make me sick."
"Like food that's about to make you sick?" Britney suddenly burst out laughing. "That's a great way to put it!"
The pen in her hand moved quickly, scribbling something in the book. A moment later, she handed it back to Matthew. He glanced down at it, and his eyes widened in surprise. Britney hadn't just signed her name; she had added a bizarre, personalized message.
"May Matthew Horner, who hates Christina Aguilera, be happy and joyful every day! —Britney Spears."
How was this any different from a high school girl trying to sling mud at her rivals?
Britney might have been a genius when it came to singing, but when it came to real life and relationships...
"Thanks, Britney." Matthew closed the book. "I'll have to show this to everyone at my acting class."
Britney completely misinterpreted his comment. "The students at your acting school hate Christina Aguilera, too?"
Things were starting to click into place for Matthew. The rivalry between Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera was deep-seated, and with the media deliberately fanning the flames, they were destined to be lifelong enemies.
"No," Matthew said, beginning to spin a tale. "Some of them actually like Christina Aguilera. They're obsessed with her songs."
He saw her brow furrow in disappointment, so he quickly added, "I never really argue with them about it, but one time in class, I did say that anyone who likes Christina Aguilera must be out of their mind and belongs in a psychiatric hospital."
Hearing Matthew's ridiculous comment, Britney's displeasure vanished, and she laughed again. "Yeah, they should be locked up in a psych ward! And Christina Aguilera with them!"
"Britney," Matthew asked, as if it were just a passing thought, "you don't like Christina Aguilera either, do you?"
Thanks to the groundwork he'd laid and her own simple way of looking at things, Britney didn't hesitate. "Of course I don't! I hate her!"
Matthew smiled. "Can I ask why?"
Completely unsuspecting, Britney launched into a tirade. "I've known her since we were on the Mickey Mouse Club, and she's just..."
Since no one else was around, Britney let loose, unloading on Matthew a torrent of old stories about her and Christina Aguilera. It was mostly petty nonsense about two pretentious, impulsive little girls trying to one-up each other and steal the spotlight.
Matthew played the part of the attentive listener, never interrupting, just offering an encouraging 'uh-huh' or 'mm-hmm' every now and then.
Only when Britney had finally vented all her frustrations did Matthew speak, his tone serious. "I had no idea Christina Aguilera was that awful. She sounds like a real bitch."
Britney nodded vigorously. "She is. A complete and total bitch!"
Matthew put on a concerned expression. "Britney, you really have to be careful around people like that," he warned.
"I know, I know!" Britney was still nodding. Then she looked at Matthew in a new light. "You can call me Bri," she said. "That's what my friends call me."
In less than ten minutes, thanks to Matthew's calculated efforts, her friendliness toward him had skyrocketed.
Helen stood at the edge of the wooden pier, observing them. She had watched the entire exchange, from the moment Matthew approached Britney for an autograph to their now-animated conversation, and she hadn't interfered.
By the end of his little performance, even she was somewhat impressed. Matthew was surprisingly skilled at handling a naive girl like Britney.
"Perhaps fools speak their own language," Helen murmured to herself.