Behind The Spotlight Chapter 52
Jennifer grabbed Lawrence by his collar with the strength of someone fueled by righteous fury. Lawrence was stunned by the sudden aggression, but his slow reaction time failed to counter Jennifer's quick movements.
"You sick fuck. If I ever hear that you drive while drunk, I will crush your balls and feed them to wolves! Do you hear me?" she spat with venom, her eyes blazing with unfiltered rage.
Lawrence was too shocked to respond as his brain struggled to process the sudden verbal and physical assault. He was a theater kid, never prone to real-life violence, and now stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
"H-Hey, Jennifer. He's just drunk. Don't take what he says seriously," Collin tried to mediate, raising his hands to diffuse the tension.
Collin stepped in before things escalated into something worse.
"…I won't do it. Sorry," Lawrence muttered, sobered by fear and embarrassment.
He snapped out of his stupor as reality hit him harder than alcohol ever could. Now he was more somber.
"Good. If I ever hear you're drunk driving…" Jennifer said darkly, leaving the threat unfinished but heavy with implication.
"Okay, okay. Stop this now," Collin gently interjected again, hoping to settle things down once and for all.
Jennifer listened to Collin and released Lawrence, her fingers twitching before she finally let go.
Lawrence fixed his collar with trembling hands and glared at Jennifer with wounded pride but decided not to speak further, wisely choosing silence over more trouble.
"I will take my leave and call a taxi. You too, Collin. You shouldn't drive while under the influence," Jennifer said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and straightening her posture.
"Yes, I'll call a taxi too. Take care, Jennifer," Collin nodded, grateful the storm had passed.
The situation de-escalated, and Jennifer walked away with long, purposeful strides, leaving a heavy silence.
"Let's go. Don't worry about your car, it's parked in the lot, and mine's there too. I'll call a taxi for you," Collin offered, patting Lawrence on the back.
"What is her problem, man? She's crazy. I know she has a foul mouth, but randomly choking me is so messed up," Lawrence winced as he fixed his suit, still visibly shaken.
Unfortunately, the effort didn't hide the fact that he was a mess, with wrinkled clothes and unsteady footing.
"I don't know the full story, but I heard that Jennifer's older brother was killed in a drunk driving incident. The driver was under the influence and took her brother's life," Collin said in a quieter, more serious tone.
"…I'm sorry. I didn't know that. No wonder she's mad at me," Lawrence whispered, regret slowly settling in.
He scratched his head with a guilty expression. Lately, success had gone to his head, and he'd started to feel invincible, like nothing could touch him.
Earning a $1.5 million salary had inflated his ego and shrunk his humility.
"You can apologize to her the next time you see her, once things calm down. I know Jennifer. She's got a foul mouth, but she's kind deep down, despite the way she acts. She'll probably text you tomorrow to apologize," Collin smiled faintly.
"Yeah. I'll apologize," Lawrence nodded, finally understanding the gravity of his actions.
Collin found a taxi for Lawrence after a few minutes of waiting. The actor thanked him before leaving with a tired wave.
Later, Collin received a text from Lawrence confirming that he had returned safely to his apartment.
As for Collin himself, he followed Jennifer's advice and called a taxi, choosing not to risk anything reckless.
…...
…...
…
"Good morning, sir," a young voice greeted as the door opened.
"Good morning, Secretary Han. What's our agenda today?" Greg asked as he walked briskly to his desk.
At the top floor of Wash Dismay Studio, the Chairman of the company entered his office and asked his male secretary to go over the day's schedule, as he did every morning.
Chairman Greg Marinero sat down and glanced around his office, lined with luxury and the scent of polished wood. He had served as Chairman of Wash Dismay for a decade now, ten long years of corporate climbing and ruthless business moves. His achievements were displayed across the office like a curated museum of success.
Photographs of successful movies he promoted were fixed to the walls, framed in gold and silver. Dozens of trophies from prestigious awards gleamed on display shelves, catching sunlight like a spotlight. He was proud of every accomplishment and made sure anyone who entered knew it.
"Sir, today you will meet…" Secretary Han began, flipping through a folder.
The 57-year-old Chairman listened to his secretary with a distant yet focused expression.
"Okay, you can leave now," he said with a dismissive wave.
The secretary excused himself as Greg grabbed the morning newspaper and settled into his chair. The headline was about the comedy film released in October that had unexpectedly become the talk of the industry. The movie was considered the dark horse of 1995. No one had expected such a low-budget film to strike gold at the box office.
December 10, 1995. The Accidental Wedding Crashers had grossed over $152 million at the North American box office after 50 days of screening. It had also been released in Australia, the UK, Paris, Japan, and other countries, grossing over $17 million during its first week of international screening despite minimal promotion.
Greg slightly frowned as a bitter memory resurfaced. He recalled Taylor personally calling him about this movie months ago.
Taylor had said the film had potential and could be profitable if acquired. Greg approved a $35 million offer to buy the movie and secure the rights. Judging by what had happened since, Taylor had failed spectacularly.
Picking up the phone beside him, Greg instructed his secretary to summon Taylor and Emmanuel to his office immediately, no excuses.
Within ten minutes, the two arrived, standing stiff with anxious eyes. Taylor was sweating profusely from stress, while Emmanuel looked like he had sprinted through hell itself. Both men had a sense of what was coming, but neither wanted to speak first.
Greg's expression made it abundantly clear. He was furious about what happened with The Accidental Wedding Crashers.
"Tell me why you failed to get the movie," Greg said in a low voice, sharp as a blade.
His eyes locked onto them like a hawk's gaze, unblinking and predatory. He maintained Wash Dismay's elite status by ensuring every employee was either exceptional at their job or quickly replaced. He didn't like failure and he especially didn't like failure from Taylor and Emmanuel.
He also liked power-tripping. Perhaps that was the main reason he called them in, to assert dominance in person.
Taylor had been with the company longer than Emmanuel and knew how ugly things could get. He loved his job, had a housing loan, and couldn't afford to lose his position under any circumstances.
"Sir, it's because of this stupid guy," Taylor declared without blinking.
He pointed at Emmanuel without hesitation or regret, like it was second nature. Hollywood was a concrete jungle where survival of the fittest ruled even in boardrooms.
"Huh!?" Emmanuel gasped.
He was stunned, floored that Taylor would throw him under the bus so blatantly. He had assumed Taylor would take responsibility and explain the situation, especially since Taylor was the one who had failed to acquire the movie from the beginning.
"I-It's not me!" Emmanuel stammered.
"Shut up!" Taylor raised his voice and turned to Greg with dramatic flair.
"Sir, this bastard kept pestering the director and his agent. That's why we didn't get the movie!" Taylor lied through his teeth, desperation thick in his tone.
His excuse was rushed and obviously fake, like a bad impromptu performance. But he was gambling that Greg didn't care about the truth, only the outcome.
"That didn't happen!" Emmanuel shouted, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Your name is Emmanuel, right?" Greg asked coldly, staring at him like a judge about to deliver a death sentence. He didn't care if the excuse was real, only that the result was failure.
He lived by a motto: if a worker couldn't maintain peak performance, they didn't deserve to be at Wash Dismay, no matter their resume.
"You're fired. Guards, take him out!" Greg barked like a general on the battlefield.
The security, stationed just outside the doors, entered and forcibly removed Emmanuel, who shouted in protest while struggling to break free.
Taylor stood frozen, drenched in sweat down to his undershirt, watching the whole charade with silent horror.
Greg smiled faintly now that the outburst had passed. He loved being on top of the food chain, having the power to lift or destroy someone's future at a whim. The intoxicating control was like a drug he couldn't get enough of.
"Taylor."
"Y-Yes, sir!" Taylor snapped to attention.
"I don't want this to happen again," Greg said coolly, leaning back into his chair.
"Sir, yes, sir!" Taylor responded, tense and eager to please.
"Also, try to contact the director of The Accidental Wedding Crashers. Maybe he's interested in working with us. As long as he has an interesting script, we'll invest."
"Yes, sir!" Taylor bowed slightly, mentally recording every word.
He looked like a soldier being reprimanded in a war room. He kept saying "yes" and "sir," even saluting by reflex.
Once the door closed and the tension vanished with it, Greg began laughing, clutching his stomach like he'd just watched a slapstick comedy.
To him, it was all too funny and absolutely entertaining.