Ch-173

Emily looked at Rob nervously. He was staring everywhere but at her.

"I can't dictate your career choices," he said slowly, still avoiding her eyes, "but it would be great if you accepted this offer."

This was a dilemma Emily had never faced before. After [Echoes of You], her career had skyrocketed. She signed two films back to back, landed numerous TV cameos, and secured brand endorsements. Her first film after [Echoes of You] was [John Tucker Must Die], where she played the female lead. The movie performed decently well, earning nearly four times its budget. Then came [Step Up]. She had to refine her dance skills, but in the end, it was worth it. The film outperformed even [John Tucker], raking in ten times its budget.

Both films were released within a month of each other, catapulting Emily's popularity to new heights. Every studio wanted to work with her. Offers poured in from all directions, and the money was insane. But there was one small catch—Rob.

Rob hadn't experienced the same level of success. The roles he managed to land were minor and forgettable. If things didn't change soon, he'd be forced to return to London. Emily had offered to support him until he found his footing, but he refused. He was too proud to accept her help.

Then came an unexpected offer—from Troy Armitage, of all people. Emily had always suspected that Troy disliked Rob, and to some extent, she understood why. That made his offer all the more surprising.

[Twilight], the book series that had teenage girls in a frenzy, was being adapted into a film, and Troy was producing it. He wanted Emily and Rob to star in it—as a couple.

(Flashback)

"Troy wants both of you for this film," Tobias said emphatically. "And I agree with his choice. You'd be perfect as Bella and Edward."

Emily nodded slowly. She knew she was contractually obligated to do two more films with Troy under her three-picture deal for [Echoes of You]. But Tobias's next words caught her off guard.

"But this is only possible if you both sign a five-picture deal with Troy," he continued, his tone strictly professional. "We are offering you a fixed salary for all five films in advance. And believe me, the offer is more than generous—if you accept."

"I am already bound to do two more films with him," Emily said casually.

"This five-film deal will override that," Tobias assured her. "If you sign this contract, that last one will be void. We envision [Twilight] becoming a franchise on par with [Harry Potter]. Even Troy signed a seven-picture deal with Warner before his first film."

"What's the catch?" Rob asked skeptically. "There must be something we're missing."

"The catch is that either you both sign the deal, or neither of you does," Tobias said seriously.

"Why?" Emily pressed. "Why can't you just give the role to Rob? I have plenty of offers. I don't want to work with him—it could complicate our relationship."

Tobias shrugged before standing up and placing a document on the café table. "This is the offer for both of you—five films. Take it or leave it. It's non-negotiable and out of my hands."

(Flashback End)

"I get why you're hesitant," Rob said. "You are the star between us, and Troy and Tobias are using our relationship to get you to sign. I also understand that being tied to a big franchise will make it harder for you to take on indie roles. But if this succeeds the way Tobias was implying, we'll both be set for life. We'll never have to worry about money again, and we can pursue whatever roles we want."

The offer was undeniably generous. Both Emily and Rob were being given identical contracts, with their salaries set at $2 million, $3 million, $5 million, $7 million, and $10 million for the five films. In total, they could each earn up to $27 million pre-tax—a staggering sum for actors not even 21 yet. The best part? Since Troy was offering the deal directly, they wouldn't have to pay the usual 10% agency fee.

But Emily had another offer—a big-budget film that was willing to pay her $3.5 million upfront. Signing onto [Twilight] meant losing $1.5 million on the first movie, with no guarantee that a second film would even be made. And then there was Rob. He didn't deserve this kind of money—not with his meager level of fame. Even Troy had to know that.

"Please, Emily!" Rob pleaded. "Do this for me, if nothing else. If it bothers you, take the $1.5 million you're losing from my salary. This role could change my career—but only if you help me."

Emily closed her eyes, weighing her options. After a long moment, she exhaled and gave a slow nod.

"Okay. I'll sign the deal."

The grin that spread across Rob's face reassured her that this wasn't the wrong choice.

(Break)

"You know, you're being a little diva-ish, if I'm honest," Evan remarked from the editor's chair.

My eyes remained glued to the screen, watching the scene we had just edited. Well, mostly he had edited—it was his expertise, after all. I had only overseen the process, offering the occasional suggestion.

It was the scene we had shot on the first day, the one with Viola Davis, Carrie-Anne Moss, and me. And, true to my vision, it had turned out perfectly—far better than the original version.

"This scene is good. You did an excellent job, Evan," I said without looking away from the monitor.

"Hey, asshole!" Evan waved a hand in front of my face. "Did you even hear what I just said?"

"Yes," I grunted, not wanting to have that conversation right now.

"Then justify it to me." Evan leaned back in his chair. "You barged in on a film at the last moment, took over the production, pushed for a modified storyline, made different acting choices than what the director wanted, and now you've even taken over the editing job. Any director worth their salt would be pissed at you for this. Hell, I'd be pissed if you did this on my film. This isn't the Troy I know."

"Caruso isn't a good director," I stated matter-of-factly. "You'd understand if you saw his approach."

"That still doesn't give you the right to be an asshole," Evan countered. "If you had such a problem with him, why'd you even accept this role without talking to him first? Either trust him to do his job—like you have with all your other directors—or quit and let someone else take over. It's still early enough in production for them to bring back their original choice."

When he put it like that, I had to admit—he had a point.

For all my other films, I had trusted the directors implicitly, thanks to my future knowledge. I knew when a particular director would make a good film, so I let them do their thing. If I had concerns, I addressed them before filming started. If they agreed, great. If not, I usually let it go—like I did with Spielberg during [A.I.], even though I knew some of his choices would bring criticism to the film.

But this was different. This was the first time I had taken on a role where I knew the final product could be better—if only the right directing choices had been made.

I exhaled sharply. "What do you think I should do, then? He already hates my guts. And honestly, I'm not thrilled with him either. He basically implied I overacted in all three of my films last year. And he didn't say it to my face—he announced it in front of the entire cast and crew."

"That's fucked up," Evan agreed before nodding in understanding. "That's your real issue, isn't it? He bruised your ego."

"No," I protested immediately. "That's not what this is about."

"Don't lie to me, at least," Evan continued with a grin. "It's normal. I probably would've done the same thing if he had commented on my filmmaking skills. But still, the end doesn't justify the means." He shook his head. "Don't worry, though—I'll handle the situation without making you look weak in front of the cast and crew."

I shot him a skeptical look. "What exactly are you planning to do?"

"I'll tell you when it is done," Evan dismissed. "Just trust me. And remember—this is the first and last time I'm letting you inside the editing room for this film. There's a reason actors aren't allowed to see the dailies. They make terrible editors focused only on themselves."

I raised my hands in surrender. "I have no interest in doing such a bland job anyway. I'm glad you could take it up. Just make sure to follow my notes while editing the film."

"I will," Evan nodded. "As long as you remember to pay me half a million dollars advance for this job."

I raised an eyebrow. "Half a million? Seriously?"

"Yes," he said with a straight face.

I shrugged. "You could have asked for more, you know? But sure, I'll give you half a million for it."

(Break)

DJ Caruso was having the worst month of his career—all because of one Troy Armitage.

Out of nowhere, DreamWorks informed him that Shia LaBeouf had been replaced by Troy overnight. At first, DJ hadn't thought much of it. If anything, he was thrilled—Troy was one of the biggest superstars in the world, if not the biggest.

But then came the problems.

First, Troy wanted changes to the script. DJ didn't like that. The proposed changes focused on building suspense and action while cutting down the exposition-heavy opening. When DJ pushed back too much, the producers offered a compromise: he could shoot both versions—the exposition-heavy one and the suspense-driven one—and they would decide later which cut to release in theaters.

Reluctantly, DJ accepted.

He started preparing for the shoot by watching Troy's recent films, even taking notes on his acting style since the movie revolved entirely around him. That's when DJ made a striking observation—Troy tended to show too much emotion in all his non-[Harry Potter] roles.

Take [Brick], for example. His character, Brendan, goes through a lot, and Troy does a great job, but because of his expressive acting, audiences could tell from the start that he was a good guy. Had he taken a more subdued approach, the film might have had an added layer of mystery—maybe even making the audience question whether Brendan himself had killed his girlfriend and was trying to frame someone else.

Then there was [Echoes of You]. What should have been a fun, lighthearted teen movie turned into something far heavier—because Troy acted the hell out of it. His depression arc hit like a gut punch, shifting the film's entire tone.

And finally, [The Perks of Being a Wallflower]. Out of the three, it was arguably his best performance. Troy embodied the wallflower role perfectly. But even then, DJ couldn't fully buy into it. With that handsome face, sharp jawline, and tall, ripped physique, it was hard to believe someone like Troy could ever be bullied.

All in all, DJ believed Troy could have done much better in all three of those roles. So, before the first shot, he decided to be upfront about his thoughts.

That turned out to be a huge mistake.

Troy hadn't taken it well—at all. And to make matters worse, he had declared they would shoot two versions of all of his scenes. DJ hated the idea. He could live with increasing the action sequences, but two competing versions? That was a disaster waiting to happen. If, for some reason, Troy forced the studio to release his cut, everything would go to hell.

He sighed and took a long sip of coffee, trying to enjoy a rare quiet moment in the Paramount Studios cafeteria.

"Hi."

DJ looked up.

A teenager stood in front of him—tall, even taller than Troy, with a similar lean yet strong build. But his long blond hair, tied back in a man-bun, and striking blue eyes set him apart from the actor who had been making his life miserable.

"Are you DJ Caruso?" the kid asked.

DJ lowered his coffee mug. "I am. And you are?"

"I'm Evan," the boy introduced himself, sliding into the seat across from him uninvited. "Troy's foster brother."

DJ stiffened.

Great. Just what I needed. Another Armitage meddling in my film.

"Relax." Evan smirked, sensing the tension. "I'm not here to make your life harder. Actually, I'm here to help."

DJ raised an eyebrow. "Help? How?"

Evan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he motioned toward a man seated at a nearby table. The man stood up and approached them, carrying an envelope. Without a word, he pulled out a stack of papers and placed them between DJ and Evan.

"This is my family lawyer, Joel," Evan gestured to the man, then tapped the papers. "And this is a contract. It states that you will never disclose what happened between you and Troy on the set of [Disturbia]."

DJ narrowed his eyes. "And?"

"And you'll also publicly apologize to Troy in front of the entire cast and crew. When the news about tensions on set breaks, and I know they will break eventually, you won't say anything negative about Troy and will say that it was all a misunderstanding that got sorted out."

DJ scoffed. "Yeah, not happening."

Evan remained unfazed. "In exchange, you get half a million dollars. And I'll even consider your opinion while editing the film."

DJ blinked. That was a lot of money for him. But at the moment, the second thing was the one that surprised him more. "You're editing the film?"

"I'm editing one version of it," Evan corrected. "The studio's original editor, Jim, is making another cut as well. But here's the thing—I know Troy. If our cuts are even remotely comparable, he won't accept Jim's version. So, if you sign this, I will keep you in loop and consider your inputs before making the final cut."

DJ stared at him, processing.

"It's your choice," Evan added. "Even if you don't want to edit, the offer still stands."

"Why are you doing this?" DJ couldn't help but ask.

Evan leaned back with an easy grin. "Because I'm a filmmaker too. And I'd hate to be completely sidelined in my own film. Also, your involvement will make the whole process a lot smoother." He tapped the papers lightly. "So, what do you say?"

DJ picked up the contract, his fingers running over the edges as he scanned every word. He read it carefully, twice, making sure there were no hidden traps.

Half a million dollars. That was enough money to secure some savings for his kids. Not a lot in this economy, but something was better than nothing, and all he had to do was say sorry to a teenager.

After a long pause, he set the papers down. "I'll accept."

Evan nodded, satisfied. He made a small gesture toward Joel, who took out a pen. But before DJ could sign, something still nagged at him.

"Before I sign," DJ said, "can you at least tell me why Troy is acting like this?"

Evan chuckled, shaking his head as if the answer was obvious. "Believe me, all he wants is to make the best movie possible. The reason he's as successful as he is? He's obsessively selective with the roles he takes. And when he does commit to a project, he makes damn sure it's perfect."

DJ listened intently.

"Take [Perks], for example. He made the director storyboard the entire film before they shot a single frame—just to make sure it was done right. And guess what? It won the Best Picture Oscar."

Evan leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly. "Look, he wouldn't have taken things this far if you hadn't committed the one sin he can't forgive."

DJ frowned. "And that is?"

Evan smirked. "You insulted his acting."

DJ's stomach sank.

"You can trash his music, his looks—hell, even his family to some extent—but you never criticize his acting openly." Evan's tone was amused, but there was a weight to his words. "He's spent nearly a decade perfecting it. To him, it's sacred. It's the one skill he believes God truly blessed him with. He is usually open to accepting suggestions, hell you could have asked for a hundred retakes and he would have given them to you easily. But remember, he has an image to maintain as well in front of the cast and the crew."

DJ exhaled slowly. "I didn't realize that at the moment."

Evan nodded. "I figured. I made the same mistake when I first moved in with his parents. We nearly had a full-on brawl over it." The young man chuckled in reminiscence over that memory.

He sat back, letting DJ absorb the information before adding, "So apologize. And make it sincere. Only then will I hold up my end of the bargain."

DJ didn't wait too long and signed the damn document before passing it over to Evan. As the young man left, DJ couldn't help but think that sometimes its's better to give up control, especially when the rich and the powerful are involved.

________________________________________

AN: I already know some people will not like the solution I have chosen to the problem, but this is how it shall remain. Before someone calls out Evan for betraying Troy by going to Caruso, that's not what he did. Troy didn't see the bigger picture from an outsider's POV and he needed someone to show him the error of his ways. Something Evan did and also saved Caruso from tarnishing Troy's image years later in some random interview.

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