My Life in Hollywood C57 Take a Leap (Patreon)

Summer vacation arrived in early June. The halls buzzed with excited chatter as students made plans for the break.

Marcus sat at his desk, unmoved by the energy around him. Summer vacation meant little when he could skip school whenever he wanted without consequence. The system took care of that—any time he hit a wall on something difficult, he'd just pull up the Quest Search Engine and spend points for the answer. Now that his point balance was healthy, he could afford to be wasteful.

The result? Straight A's across the board despite missing half his classes. The guys in particular weren't happy about it.

And who could blame them? Some kid barely shows up and aces everything? On top of that, he's got the looks, the money, and owns the company everyone's been talking about lately—Netflicks.

"Hey Marcus, what're you doing this summer?"

He glanced up. Alisha and Ellie stood by his desk.

Before he could respond, Arya cut in from beside him.

"Marcus has actual plans. He's making a Christmas movie." Her arms were folded, eyes fixed on the two girls like she was staring down predators circling her territory.

"Wait, really? Another movie?" Alisha's curiosity seemed genuine.

"Can we come watch? Like, visit the set?" Ellie asked, clearly excited. She'd never been to a real film shoot despite living in California her whole life.

"Why would he let you two on set? You're not even part of the company." Arya's tone was dismissive.

Alisha and Ellie exchanged a look. Despite their rivalry over Marcus, they could unite against a common enemy.

"What's it to you? It's not your call," Alisha shot back. "We're asking Marcus, not you."

"Exactly," Ellie added. "And you're not even part of the company either, so why're you—"

"Actually, I'm a stakeholder, thanks." Arya looked way too pleased to finally say that out loud.

"You're what?!" Both girls stared at her.

"Is that true?" They turned to Marcus for confirmation.

"Yeah, it's true." Marcus nodded, already exhausted by the whole thing.

"Damn." Alisha muttered.

"Well, if you've got free time this summer," Ellie recovered quickly, "you should come to the beach with us. We're putting together a trip."

"Beach?" Marcus paused, thinking it over. Now that he considered it, he hadn't been to the beach in this life. Sure, maybe the original Marcus had gone, or he'd been in his past life, but not since he'd woken up here. And he'd been grinding nonstop on Netflicks for months.

Maybe a break wasn't such a bad idea. Sun, sand, girls in bikinis...

Arya caught the shift in his expression. She knew that look. He was already halfway sold.

Before she could object, Ryan's voice cut through. "Marcus! Dude, I've got summer plans for us! Beach trip next week!"

His girlfriend stood beside him, smiling.

"Oh yeah, forgot to mention," Ellie said, shooting Arya a pointed look, "we invited Ryan and his girlfriend too. Bunch of other people from school are coming."

Arya's jaw tightened. With Ryan in the mix, there was no stopping this.

"You good with it?" Marcus asked her.

The question caught her off guard. He was actually asking her opinion. She straightened slightly, shooting a smug look at the other two girls. "Yeah. Beach sounds fine."

Alisha and Ellie smiled, but inside they were seething.

---ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔ---

The $20 million from Chesterfield gave Marcus the confidence to kick off the Christmas movie project: Home Alone.

They started reaching out to the major agencies—CTA (Creative Talent Associates), WME, ATA—to get talent.

First time Netflicks was approaching big agencies with rosters full of established actors and directors. Usually they'd been stuck with mid-tier agencies repping struggling talent.

Going after the big agencies wasn't cheap. Marcus could've stuck with the cheaper route—hire struggling talent, keep costs down. But for building real connections in Hollywood, this was necessary.

Since Marcus was new to how Hollywood actually worked, Jefferson walked him through it.

Long story short: work with major agencies, use their talent, and you get the "package" treatment. The agency attaches at least one well-known director or actor to the project. And since Netflicks had budget but no studio backing yet, the agency would broker deals for them—act as the bridge to studios.

With that, Marcus gets a studio partnership through the agency, who just wants their talent working so they can collect commission. Win-win situation.

More win for Marcus though. He had that Major Quest requiring him to co-produce a movie with a studio. Getting studio meetings on his own? Nearly impossible. Through agencies? Way easier, according to Jefferson.

And honestly, it was. The big agencies started moving fast, especially with Netflicks boasting a secured $15-20 million budget. Within days, agents were circulating the Home Alone script to their directors and actors.

Wouldn't be long before a studio agreed to co-produce it. Netflicks would put up $15-20 million, studio would match with another $10-15 million. True partnership. They'd make the movie together, split the production costs. Studio gets theatrical distribution rights and box office revenue, Netflicks gets streaming rights after the theatrical window.

Plus the studio handles marketing and distribution on top of their production investment—all that expensive shit that would've bled Netflicks dry otherwise. Quest completed, connections made, revenue from streaming, and massive promotion when the movie hits theaters.

***

Meanwhile, one of the CTA agents, Isaac, stood by a pool watching a fat, hairy man with a thick mustache sprawl in a chair, script pages in hand.

"What the hell is this? Netflicks project?" The man flipped through a few pages. "A Christmas movie about some kid accidentally left home fighting off burglars? Who wrote this garbage? Were they high?"

A fat, hairy man with a thick mustache sprawled in a chair by his pool, script pages in hand. "What the hell is this? Netflicks project?" He flipped through a few pages. "A Christmas movie about some kid accidentally left home fighting off burglars? Who wrote this garbage? Were they high?"

He waved the pages around before tossing them into the pool. They floated on the surface. "And what the fuck is Netflicks anyway? Never heard of that studio. You're pitching me trash now?"

His thirty-year-old agent, Isaac, kept his head down like a scolded cat. "If you don't want it, that's fine..." He tried to salvage something. "The company—Netflicks, they're an internet streaming service—they've got twenty million secured for the budget—"

"You think I care about twenty million?" The man snorted. "You want me making movies for some internet company? What's next, you gonna pitch me a YourTube project? Use your damn brain."

He pushed himself out of his chair. "You know who I am? I'm Mallory Fowler. Golden Globe winner. You better start bringing me real projects instead of this shit."

"I'm sorry, I'll find you something better—"

"You better." Mallory grabbed the remaining screenplay pages from the table and tossed them at Isaac's feet. The papers scattered across the deck.

"Pick those up and get out of my sight." Mallory walked toward the pool where a beautiful woman was waving at him from the water.

Isaac clenched his fists but swallowed his pride. He crouched down, gathering the wet pages one by one. Only when he reached his car did he let himself speak. "Motherfucker. Piece of shit. Thinks he's on top of the world for winning one Golden Globe three years ago. Can't even get nominated anymore."

He spat on the ground and started the engine.

His next client lived nearby, also in the Hollywood Hills. Isaac drove for ten minutes before pulling up to a smaller house—modern, clean lines, nice to look at, but nowhere near Mallory's scale.

He rang the doorbell. A moment later, his client appeared: average build, beard, tall with dark hair and eyes.

Kennard Long. A director still carving out his name.

'Kennard's not as well-known as Mallory,' Isaac thought. 'But he's fresher, hungrier. Got more passion. Though he can be picky about projects...'

"Isaac! You're here with another project? It's been forever!" Kennard's face lit up.

"Yeah..."

"Come in, come in!"

Kennard's energy was welcoming. He poured Isaac a glass of juice without being asked, settling them both in the living room.

"Nice place you've got here," Isaac said, genuinely meaning it as he looked around.

"Ha, thanks! Bought this two years ago after my first indie hit, remember?" Kennard looked pleased. "Still can't believe I actually own a house in the Hills."

Then he leaned forward. "So what've you got for me?"

Isaac pulled out the script. "Christmas movie project."

"Christmas?" Kennard's enthusiasm dimmed slightly. Christmas movies were usually generic copy-paste jobs he couldn't tell apart anymore.

"Just take a look first."

Kennard accepted the pages and started reading. Home Alone.

At first, his expression stayed neutral. But as he kept reading, his eyes widened. "Who wrote this? This is actually interesting! A kid accidentally left home who has to defend himself against burglars?" He laughed. "This is good!"

Isaac blinked, caught off guard. Completely different reaction from Mallory. "You like it?"

"Hell yeah! It's rare I actually like something, especially a Christmas movie." Kennard was already visualizing scenes in his head, the physical comedy possibilities, the set pieces.

Isaac was genuinely surprised. He'd expected Kennard to pass on it for being too ridiculous.

"I'll take it." Kennard's voice was firm. "I need to lock this in before some other director snatches it up."

***

At the same time, agencies like CTA, WME, and ATA were already submitting child actors for the role of Kevin.

And the response was solid. A bunch of kids were eager to audition. Some were already established—had done work for Dinsley or Warden Bros—but the Home Alone script was different. The entire story centered on Kevin. That kind of lead role for a kid was rare.

Plus, the budget was real: $20 million, fully secured.

Even if it was Netflicks, some internet company most people had never heard of, the child actors didn't care. They had room to take risks. Their careers weren't as fragile as someone like Mallory, who was so obsessed with protecting his reputation that he'd stopped growing entirely.

Being too careful left you stuck in place.

Sometimes you had to take a leap.

---ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ᴥ⁠•⁠`⁠ʔ---

Meanwhile, days passed, and Marcus found himself at Santa Monica Beach with the group. Arya and Ryan were there, along with Alisha, Ellie, and a handful of other students from school.

The sun warmed his skin as he adjusted his sunglasses. Double purpose: one, to keep from being blinded by the glare off the water. Two, to freely check out every attractive woman on this beach without anyone catching him staring.

He hadn't changed yet—still in his casual clothes—but he was already loving this.

Girls everywhere. Bikinis, tanned skin, curves on display. Some laying out on towels, others playing volleyball, a few walking along the shore with their hips swaying.

Then someone shoved him from behind. His feet shifted in the sand, nearly losing balance. He turned. Arya stood there, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. "What're you standing around for like an idiot?"

"Nothing. Gonna go change." Marcus adjusted his sunglasses and headed toward the changing area, Ryan falling in step beside him.

Ryan hooked his arm around Marcus's neck, grinning. "Dude, this is heaven. Am I right?"

Marcus nodded. "Yeah. Warm sun, cool breeze, sound of waves... and all these gorgeous women walking around half-naked? Can't beat it."

Ryan laughed. "There's the honesty I was looking for."

"Nice ass."

They both turned. Benjamin—Ryan's older brother—stood there with a stupid grin, eyes locked on a blonde in a red bikini walking past.

Marcus leaned toward Ryan, voice low. "Why the hell'd you bring him?"

"I didn't. He forced himself in." Ryan sighed heavily. He'd thought moving out meant finally escaping his brother, but apparently not.

Somehow, Benjie kept showing up—visiting Marcus's place uninvited, inserting himself into their plans. When he'd found out about the beach trip, there was no stopping him.