My Life in Hollywood C41 Lana II (Patreon)

Marcus studied Lana for a moment, and he had to admit—she was gorgeous. In his head, he'd already rated her a solid ten out of ten.

She didn't have the same mature, sophisticated appeal as Katherine or Diana. Hers was something different—youthful, fresh-faced, the kind of look that camera lenses loved. Similar energy to Arya in some ways, though Arya carried that untouched innocence about her.

Not that he was objectifying her. He just appreciated beauty. A man of culture, nothing more.

Still, he wasn't about to creep the girl out by staring. He glanced between Hana and Lana—their names even rhymed. Fitting for sisters. Step-sisters, apparently.

"Hana's step-sister?" He smiled warmly. "I'm Marcus Crown. Owner of Netflicks."

He extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Lana took it and shook—firmly, but there was hesitation underneath. Despite whatever pep talk she'd given herself before walking in, she was clearly still guarded around men.

Her eyes kept drifting slightly, never quite holding his gaze.

'Hmm. She seems uncomfortable. Did I come off as creepy just now?' Marcus wanted to kick himself. He made a mental note to dial it back.

He straightened up, slipping into CEO mode. Cleared his throat. "So... what can I do for you? Hana set up this meeting to introduce someone, and I'm guessing that someone is you?"

Might as well cut to the chase. This wasn't just a social visit.

"I—" Lana started, but Hana stepped in.

"Boss, my sister's an actress." Hana chose her words carefully. "I saw the company's starting production on Modern Family, and I thought I'd introduce her to you directly. I know there's an audition process, but I figured... why not let you see her act for yourself? Judge firsthand."

Marcus raised his eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. He looked at Lana again with renewed interest. "I see. That makes sense." He turned to her fully. "So you're an actress, Ms. Mitchell. Can't say I'm surprised—you've definitely got the look for it."

He kept the compliment casual. Genuine, not sleazy.

"Thank you." Lana managed a small smile.

"You seem a little on edge around me. Relax." Marcus kept his tone easy. "I don't bite."

"No—no, it's not you," Lana said quickly, shaking her head. "It's... it's a long story. But it's definitely not about you."

She trailed off, clearly struggling to explain.

Marcus could see she wasn't ready to open up. He wasn't going to push. "It's fine. You don't owe me an explanation." He smiled reassuringly, then smoothly pivoted. "So—which role are you going for?"

Hana spoke up again. "I gave her the script about a week ago. She wants to audition for Haley Dunphy."

Marcus nodded slowly, studying Lana. Blonde hair, blue eyes—nothing like the actress from his previous life who'd played Haley.

But that could work. Claire Dunphy was blonde, after all. If anything, it made more sense genetically. 'In the original, all the Dunphy kids had dark hair—took after Phil more than Claire. But there's no rule saying I have to copy everything exactly.'

'As long as she can actually act, I'm open to switching things up.' He was willing to deviate from the source material if the talent was there.

"Alright," Marcus said, leaning back slightly. "Let's see what you've got. Show me your Haley."

Lana nodded, her posture shifting. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and let the nervousness fall away.

Then she stepped into character and began her performance right there in the office.

Haley Dunphy wasn't exactly a demanding role. The character was a shallow, boy-crazy teenage girl obsessed with her phone and her social life—someone who cared more about popularity than grades. No deep emotional monologues. No complex inner conflict. Just a self-absorbed high schooler who occasionally showed glimpses of a good heart underneath the vanity.

For an actress, it was the kind of part you could coast through if you had the right look and decent comedic timing.

But Lana didn't coast. She actually brought something to it.

The way she delivered her lines—that mix of entitlement and insecurity, the eye rolls, the dramatic sighs—it all felt authentic. She captured that specific brand of American teenage girl energy perfectly.

The kind of girl who'd throw a fit over a bad hair day but genuinely didn't understand why her parents found her exhausting.

A few minutes later, Lana finished her performance. The confidence she'd channeled for the scene evaporated almost immediately, replaced by that same nervous energy from before.

"Thank you for that," Marcus said, and he meant it. He could see Haley in her—even if she looked nothing like the actress from his previous life.

Lana dipped her head. "Thank you." She still looked tense, clearly aware that a decent audition didn't guarantee anything.

Hana thought her sister had done well—better than well, actually. But she found herself holding her breath anyway, waiting for Marcus's verdict.

This wasn't her audition, but somehow her nerves were just as frayed as Lana's.

But then Marcus surprised both of them.

"I can get you the role." Marcus laced his fingers together on the desk. "Haley's not exactly Shakespeare—it's more about presence and timing than heavy lifting. And honestly, we need someone young who can pull off that whole 'popular girl' vibe without it feeling forced. You've got that."

Lana's eyes went wide. "Are—are you serious? You're giving me the role?"

"Why not?" Marcus shrugged casually. "You're pretty, you've got talent, and you're young enough to play a high schooler convincingly." He paused. "Actually—sorry, how old are you?"

"I'm nineteen." A slight blush colored her cheeks.

"Nineteen. Perfect." Marcus stood up. "That's right in the sweet spot—young enough to look the part, old enough that we don't have to deal with child labor laws and on-set tutors." He extended his hand again. "Looking forward to working with you."

Lana smiled—genuinely this time—and shook his hand. But there was something fierce in her eyes now. Determined. "I won't let you down. I'll give this everything I've got."

Marcus nodded, appreciating the fire. "Good to hear." Then he shifted gears. "By the way—who's your manager? I'll need to loop them in on contracts, payment, all the boring stuff. And your agency?"

"Uh..." Lana's gaze dropped. She didn't answer right away.

Marcus noticed the hesitation. He perched on the edge of his desk, arms crossed loosely, and looked over at Hana. "She is a working actress, right?"

Hana nodded, looking uncomfortable. "She's been acting for years. She's had roles in other projects."

"So? What about her representation?"

"Actually..." Lana took a breath, deciding to just come out with it. "My agency dropped me. My manager too. A few weeks ago."

"Dropped you?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"That's why I brought her to you directly, boss." Hana sighed. "She's got no one handling her bookings anymore. No manager, no agency sending her out on auditions. We figured... might as well try our luck and come straight to you."

Marcus frowned, genuinely confused. He gestured at Lana. "But why would they drop her? Look at her—she's got the face, she's got the talent. That doesn't make sense."

"She pissed off someone powerful." Hana said it plainly. "Someone big enough to torch her whole career."

Marcus's expression sharpened.

Lana exhaled slowly, realizing there was no point hiding it anymore. So she told him. The whole story.

How badly she'd wanted that role on a UBA television show. How the executives had made it clear—the part wasn't going to the best actress. It was going to whoever "entertained" the chairman.

How desperate she'd been, desperate enough to actually consider it. How she'd gone to that hotel room, told herself she could go through with it. But when the moment came, she couldn't. She'd panicked and ran out before anything happened.

And how, the very next day, her agency had cut her loose. Her manager stopped returning calls. Every door in Hollywood slammed shut, one after another.

Marcus's jaw tightened. His fist clenched slightly at his side.

'No wonder she's been so guarded around me.' The pieces clicked into place. 'And of course it's him. Of course it's that bastard.'

Christopher Doyle. Chairman of Blockbuster Cinema.

It really was a small world.

He'd already been at war with the guy over business. Now this. The same man who was trying to strangle Netflicks' DVD supply had also tried to coerce this girl into his bed—and destroyed her career when she refused.

If Marcus cast Lana in Modern Family, he wouldn't just be hiring an actress. He'd be taking in someone Blockbuster's chairman had personally blacklisted.

Which meant he'd be making an enemy out of Christopher Doyle all over again.

"I'll understand if you don't want me anymore." Lana's head dropped. "I know it's a lot of baggage. If casting me means making an enemy out of that chairman... I get it."

She'd already accepted it. The role she'd somehow landed was about to slip through her fingers. Again.

"Why would I care about some guy?"

Lana's head snapped up.

Marcus shrugged. "He doesn't own me. And he sure as hell doesn't own Netflicks. I'll do whatever I want."

Her eyes went wide. The tears that had been building a moment ago retreated.

Hana smiled at her sister's stunned expression. "Mr. Crown really doesn't care about that chairman. He already pissed off Blockbuster Cinema a few months back."

"Really?" Lana stared at him.

"Yeah." Marcus chuckled dryly. "Didn't set out to start a war with them, but that's how it shook out. Said some stuff in an interview, and they got their panties in a twist." He waved dismissively. "Not like I'm losing sleep over it."

Lana remembered that night at the club—Christopher getting interrupted by his assistant about some sixteen-year-old punk who'd said something nasty about their company. He'd been so furious he cut their night short just to deal with it.

Her eyes drifted to Marcus with quiet wonder. 'So this is the kid who got under Christopher's skin...' She studied his face. 'He really is that young. And bold enough to pick a fight with Blockbuster.'

"Since you don't have a manager or an agency..." Marcus paused. "You can negotiate directly with us. Cut out the middleman."

Lana blinked. "Negotiate for myself?"

"That's how it works when you don't have representation." Marcus shrugged. "Besides, agents take ten percent, managers take another fifteen. That's a quarter of your paycheck gone before you even see it. This way, you keep everything—and you'll know exactly what you're signing."

He could see she wasn't fully convinced, so he added, "And don't worry. I'm not gonna slip anything shady into the contract."

"I..." Lana hesitated.

Marcus was being too nice. Too accommodating. Part of her wanted to just say yes and be done with it.

But this was Hollywood. You could never be too careful.

Even Hana understood that. She'd spent years as a journalist covering the indie scene—she knew how many smiling faces hid sharp teeth.

Marcus caught the hesitation.

Honestly, if the law allowed it, he would've signed Lana to an in-house agency in a heartbeat. She had no one in her corner—no manager, no agent, nothing. A perfect opportunity to bring her under the Netflicks umbrella completely.

But that wasn't how it worked.

A production company couldn't represent actors in its own projects. Period. The logic was simple: an agent's job was to fight for their client—better pay, better terms, better treatment. But if that agent worked for the same company signing the checks? There was no fight. The actor would be negotiating against themselves without even knowing it.

It didn't matter if Marcus had good intentions. It didn't matter if he genuinely wanted the best for his talent. The law didn't care about intentions—it cared about structure. And structurally, it was a conflict of interest. One entity sitting on both sides of the table. That was the kind of thing that invited lawsuits and regulatory headaches.

So he was stuck.

He'd make Lana a star. He'd put her in a hit show, watch her stock rise, and then—inevitably—some outside agency would swoop in, sign her, and collect ten percent of everything that came after.

All the upside, none of the early risk.

Can't win 'em all.

"Look, you don't have to decide right now," Marcus said, his tone genuine. "Take your time. Bring a lawyer to look over whatever contract I put together. I'm not asking you to trust me blind."

Lana's expression softened. "I appreciate that. Really."

"Don't mention it." Marcus leaned back in his chair. "I'll have my legal team draft something up. Standard terms, nothing crazy. Once it's ready, you can take your time going through it."

"Okay." Lana nodded, looking more at ease than she had since walking in.

"Actually—" Marcus tilted his head slightly, thinking. "You got plans tonight? We could grab dinner, talk through the details in person. What the role pays, scheduling, all that." He shrugged. "Beats going back and forth over email."

Lana hesitated. Dinner. With a man she'd just met. After everything that had happened...

She glanced at Hana.

"I'm not Christopher," Marcus said, catching the look. "I'm not gonna push you into anything. Hana can come too if that makes you more comfortable."

Lana studied him for a moment. There was no hidden intent in his expression. No predatory gleam. Just a straightforward offer.

"You've been straight with me this whole time," she said, a small smile forming. "I don't have a reason to say no."

Marcus nodded, appreciating that she'd made the choice herself.

He understood why men like Christopher targeted women like her. Beautiful, ambitious, and—until recently—desperate enough to be vulnerable. The type of man who dangled roles in front of actresses and expected them to earn it on their backs.

Marcus wasn't wired that way. If he liked someone, he'd ask them out. If they were interested, great. If not, he'd move on. Simple as that. He had self-control. There was a word called "date" in his vocabulary.

He wasn't about to be some creep who couldn't take no for an answer. And honestly? If he ever stooped that low, he wouldn't be worth a damn anyway.