As a member of the Rosenberg family, which his mother always spoke of as having a glorious tradition, Duke had been responsible for all his living expenses and other costs—except tuition—since the age of sixteen. No one could deny that the process of learning to become an outstanding director was, in fact, an extremely expensive one.

Purchasing all kinds of related books and costly film stock, renting camera equipment, and shooting experimental films—all of these were financial burdens that troubled Duke endlessly. Even now, having finally made it to true adulthood at twenty-one and officially graduated from CalArts, his financial situation had not improved; his credit card had always been in the red.

“What should I do next?”

Back at his home in Santa Monica, he could temporarily rely on his mom for meals, but he was in urgent need of a suitable job. “It took me more than ten years of hard work just to become an assistant director—do I really have to go through such a long process again?”

Now it was 1991. With each passing year, the opportunities available to him diminished. Duke had already waited twenty-one years and spent more than a decade learning and accumulating experience. Now, finally, he had reached the legal age of adulthood and was in desperate need of an opportunity—a chance to make a real film.

“But who doesn’t need an opportunity? Who trying to break into Hollywood doesn’t need a chance?”

Thinking of this, Duke stood up, opened his wardrobe, and took out his formal suit, walking over to the dressing mirror. “Maybe Lovett can help me?”

Lovett was Duke’s agent. Unlike Duke’s years of getting nowhere as a temp, Lovett was skilled at networking, and after years of hard work, he was now one of the younger agents valued by CAA.

Duke knew very well what CAA meant to Hollywood at this point. In fact, his agency contract was about to expire, and this meeting with Lovett was also meant to discuss a possible renewal. After all, with CAA’s backing, he might be able to avoid many detours.

Taking off his loose loungewear and putting on a crisp suit, Duke examined himself in the mirror once again. As someone with a good family upbringing, he didn’t want to make any mistakes at such an important meeting.

His deep brown, medium-short hair, inherited from his mother, was neatly parted on both sides of his head. Above his high-bridged nose were deep-set eye sockets, and the pair of black eyes within them showed a depth and restraint beyond his years. The strong lines of his face looked as if they had been sculpted by Michelangelo himself...

“Maybe I’d have an easier time succeeding as a pretty boy in commercial films?”

Looking at his obviously mixed-race features, paired with his six-foot-one height, Duke couldn’t help but think of another possibility, but then shook his head.

He wanted to be the one in control on set, not just a pretty face.

After straightening his clothes a bit, Duke left his rented apartment, locked the door, went downstairs, and got into his used Chevrolet parked by the roadside, heading toward CalArts.

As a satellite city of Los Angeles, Valencia wasn’t very big, and Duke’s place wasn’t far from the school. After driving down Main Street and turning at two intersections, his car arrived smoothly at the side entrance of CalArts.

The meeting place Lovett had set was a café right next to the side entrance. Duke found a parking spot for his Chevrolet by the road, walked around a patch of greenery, and pushed open the café’s glass door.

Turning left after entering, Duke saw Lovett in a quiet corner at the end of the hallway. But contrary to his expectations, there was someone else sitting next to Lovett.

“What’s he doing here?”

His brows furrowed briefly, then relaxed. Duke strode over. Lovett clearly saw him too and nodded in his direction. “Duke.”

“Hey, Lovett.”

Duke greeted him familiarly, pulled out a chair, and sat directly across from Lovett, then reached out to the other side. “Hello, Rick Solomon, didn’t expect to see you here.”

The other party had no intention of shaking hands, merely giving a simple wave.

Withdrawing his right hand, Duke didn’t look at Rick Solomon. This person had been in the same year as him at CalArts, and their relationship was just so-so. Back in the day, they had directly competed for the quarterback position on the school football team and for the cheerleading captain.

Of course, Rick Solomon was the one who lost.

He wasn’t here to butt heads with the guy, though. Duke looked straight at the person across from him. Like all Hollywood agents, Lovett wore a sharp suit, his face showing a professional shrewdness and calm.

“Lovett.”

Seeing that the other party had no intention of speaking, Duke had to take the initiative. “The new contract...”

“Sorry, Duke!”

Putting down his coffee cup, Lovett directly interrupted him. “There were some things I didn’t make clear over the phone. The main reason I came to Valencia this time was to discuss an agency contract with Mr. Solomon...”

He paused briefly, then said bluntly, “CAA evaluates every artist under its banner, but Duke, your acting is really terrible, and you haven’t shown any improvement. As for your talk about becoming a director—sorry, I don’t see any possibility of success. Therefore, neither CAA nor I will be renewing your contract.”