The night had settled in, but the house was alive with warmth and laughter.
Harris finished the last bite of his Monte Cristo sandwich, wiped his greasy fingers on his jeans, and grabbed a beer from the pile. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed one to Martin and cracked open his own with his good hand. "Martin, my admiration for you has skyrocketed from absolute zero to at least ninety percent!" he declared.
Elena settled onto the couch beside Martin, a plate in hand. She picked out a tender piece of oxtail and offered it to him. "A reward for your performance today."
Martin took a bite, savoring the rich flavor, then raised his beer in a toast. "To us—useless people!"
"Cheers!"
Lily and Hall, those two idiots, lifted their sodas as if they were sharing in something grand.
The spoils of the afternoon were enough to keep them in high spirits, so much so that Lily and Hall both reached for a beer.
Elena's gaze snapped toward them.
Lily immediately retracted her hand. "It wasn't me! Hall was the one trying to corrupt me!"
Hall scoffed. "You literally told me to grab one!"
Martin knocked his empty can against the table, making them both flinch. "If you two morons kill my buzz again, I swear I'll throw you onto the streets to fend for yourselves."
Lily, wisely, slurped her soda and said no more.
Martin stood, stretching. "Alright, time for a proper drink."
Elena raised a brow. "Since when do you know how to mix drinks, dumbass?"
Martin walked toward the tiny kitchen, rummaging through what little they had. "Old man Jack was the most versatile scumbag in northeastern Marietta. Why do you think he ran off with your mother?"
Harris, ever the instigator, grinned and whispered just loud enough for Elena to hear, "If that's the case, there's a ninety-nine percent chance his son's a scumbag too."
Lily, always eager to add fuel to the fire, chimed in. "Yeah, Jack was trash, Scott was trash, and Martin's—"
Smack!
Elena's fist landed square on Lily's head, effectively shutting her up.
Martin ignored the commotion and continued his work. Without proper ingredients or a cocktail shaker, he improvised with what he had. A school thermos would have to do. He poured in half a bottle of sweetwater beer, added sugar, salt, cola, and baking soda, cracked in an egg white, squeezed in a dash of lemon juice, and shook it up.
Pouring the foamy mixture into two glasses, he presented his creation. "I call it 'Foam Beauty.' Enjoy."
Elena took a careful sip, her face contorting slightly. "Weird… but not bad."
Lily, skeptical, sniffed her glass and gagged. "This is disgusting!"
Martin flicked her on the forehead. "Watch your mouth, idiot."
Harris, however, took Lily's abandoned drink and enjoyed it without complaint. "Is there anything else you're hiding from us, Martin?"
Martin leaned back, smirking. "I'm pretty good at riding horses too."
Lily opened her mouth to say something but caught Martin's warning glare and promptly shut it.
Elena finished her drink and reached into a bag, pulling out a small package. "Here. The backup copy of the tape."
Harris raised a brow. "Still useful?"
Martin tossed it onto the table. "Even if that bastard Max quits tomorrow, his drug test results will haunt him for a while."
The others didn't quite follow, but they didn't care. They were focused on finishing their meal and drinks.
After stuffing herself, Elena leaned back. "You're not planning to take the money and run, are you? Like that bastard Jack?"
Martin popped open another beer. "And go where? With this little cash, I'd burn through it fast and be worse off than I am now."
It was half true. He was definitely considering skipping town, but that all depended on the situation.
Elena sighed. "Fine. Pay off some of your debt first. I've heard Vincent from the Beast House isn't someone you want to owe for too long."
Then she asked, "What's your next move?"
Martin's answer was simple. "Do what I do best."
Harris, full and exhausted, dragged Hall to their shared room.
Elena started gathering up the trash. She leaned over the coffee table, reaching for napkins, her back turned toward Martin.
Martin's eyes lingered for a second before he shook his head and looked away.
---
The Next Morning
Martin woke up alone on the couch.
The Carter house was small, just two bedrooms. Elena and Lily took one, Harris and Hall the other. That left Martin with the couch, but he hadn't been in the mood to walk back home last night anyway.
Half-asleep, memories of his past life drifted through his mind.
What was he best at?
Acting. And anything remotely related to it.
More importantly, making money off the entertainment industry.
In his previous life, he had foolishly wasted years trying to be the next big thing, dreaming of making it as a Hollywood star. But acting wasn't about talent alone—it was about connections, timing, and playing the game.
Still, he had been good. Really good. Some of the old-school actors had even admitted it.
But skill didn't mean success.
Martin was under no illusions about his current situation. He was at rock bottom—no connections, no resources, no education, and debts breathing down his neck.
If he wanted a future, he had to stick to what he knew.
Breaking into Hollywood wasn't easy, especially for someone without money or backing. The only thing harder than making it in film was making it in anything else when you were broke.
Martin's short-term goal became clear: survive, adapt, learn more about the entertainment industry's landscape, and make as much money as possible.
Atlanta wasn't a bad place to start. By 2015, it would become the third-largest hub for film and TV in the U.S., right after Los Angeles and New York.
Success in this business wasn't about talent alone—it was about seizing the right opportunity at the right time.
And Martin was determined to grab it.