Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm-Chapter 455 - 454: This Movie Is Amazing

On the way back—

Drew said to Martin, "Did you know Gwyneth got married? She didn't even tell us, her friends."

"Oh? To whom?"

"Chris Martin. From Coldplay."

"Oh, the English singer?"

"Yeah, that's him."

They soon moved on to other topics.

"What did Mr. Murdoch talk to you about?"

"The rights to American Singer."

"Oh, so you sold it? For how much?"

Drew's eyes lit up. This topic interested her far more than Gwyneth's wedding.

"For free."

"...Huh? Oh! I see."

Drew gasped but quickly caught on. "You must've had other conditions, right?"

"Smart girl." Martin kept one hand on the wheel and ruffled Drew's hair with the other. "I took 50% of the ad revenue."

"Whoa!" Drew was shocked. "Wait—Murdoch actually agreed? If American Singer performs as well as American Idol, that's a profit in the billions!"

"He agreed."

Drew found it hard to believe. A deal worth billions, settled in one night?

"Well, that's because we're both decision-makers."

Martin suddenly found it odd.

If Murdoch was willing to give him 50% of ad revenue, why didn't he just agree to a performance-based contract?

That would've been a better deal for him, wouldn't it?

Strange.

Elsewhere—

Murdoch was lightly tapping his forehead, frustrated.

"Damn it, I really am getting old. Made the decision too fast—missed a few details. Should I go back on it...?"

The next day—

Martin's team met Murdoch's team at Myers Studios in Los Angeles.

Murdoch ultimately didn't go back on his word.

He was old.

No point making enemies for his children and grandchildren over a little extra money.

Besides, even if they had negotiated a performance-based contract, Martin would've fought for the full 50% cut anyway.

From the way he talked about the show, he was fully confident it would be a hit.

At this point, Murdoch could only hope American Singer broke all expectations.

Not just to earn more ad revenue—but to avoid looking like an idiot.

June arrived.

Martin returned to Los Angeles.

Because his new film, Step Up, was about to premiere.

June 15.

Hollywood Boulevard, 6925—Grauman's Theatre.

The stars were out.

"NICOLE! LOOK HERE!"

"LEONARDO! WHO'S THAT GIRL WITH YOU? NEW GIRLFRIEND?"

"LINDSAY LOHAN! ARE YOU AND MARTIN TOGETHER? DO YOU HATE NICOLE KIDMAN?"

"BRITNEY SPEARS! WHY ARE YOU HERE FOR MARTIN'S MOVIE? ARE YOU ONE OF HIS MANY GIRLFRIENDS TOO?"

Inside the banquet hall—

Martin was chatting with Anne Fletcher.

Anne Fletcher looked nervous.

This was the first film she had ever directed.

She was excited for it to succeed.

But also terrified it might fail.

Martin reassured her, "Relax, Anne. This movie is going to be a hit—I guarantee it. Remember, I'm the unstoppable Martin!"

Anne Fletcher laughed.

Even as a middle-aged woman, her smile was still radiant—just like in her acting days in Bring It On.

"With your guarantee, I feel a lot better," she said. "I almost forgot—this is a Martin Myers movie. You've never failed."

"That's right! Just sit back and enjoy the fame and fortune coming your way!"

Martin winked.

"Thanks, Martin." Anne's shoulders visibly relaxed.

Her brown eyes lingered on him, twinkling with amusement.

"If I were ten years younger, I'd definitely chase after you."

Martin burst into laughter. "I appreciate the compliment. And you're not old."

Anne chuckled. "Should I thank you for that compliment too?"

Jessica Alba and Lindsay Lohan walked over, hand in hand.

"What are you two talking about?"

As the female lead, Jessica was nervous too.

But unlike Anne, she knew that even if the movie flopped, Martin would still look out for her.

She'd never run out of roles to play.

"We were just saying this movie is going to be a huge success."

Martin grinned.

"That would be great," Jessica said. "Hopefully, the box office is as good as Mean Girls!"

"It will be."

Outside Grauman's Theatre—

A twelve or thirteen-year-old girl stood gazing up at a massive movie poster.

It was an image of Martin and Jessica locked in a passionate embrace.

The girl had long brown hair, an oval face, and delicate features.

Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she muttered to herself.

"Martin is so handsome... Jessica Alba is so lucky to be the female lead. She gets to act with Martin and even fall in love with him in the movie... I heard they're dating in real life too. I wonder if that's true... Martin is kind of a playboy. He's only sixteen, but he already has so many rumored girlfriends... Sigh, if only I were older..."

"Jenny! Jenny, sweetheart! The movie is starting! We have to get inside early!"

A voice called from the side.

The girl snapped out of her daze.

"I'm coming!" she said, skipping over to the voice.

(Guess who this girl is, hehe?)

"Wow! So cool!"

"Oh my god, Martin's muscles are gorgeous!"

"This dance scene is incredible! His moves are so sharp—this isn't just regular street dancing!"

The movie had begun.

For Martin, this was a film where he could just show off—unleashing his full charm.

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On the big screen, every movement, every glance he made—

It all screamed one word:

"Beautiful."

If Legolas had an ethereal, graceful beauty—

Then Tyler's beauty was raw strength, masculine power—overflowing with testosterone.

The plot was simple.

A street kid from the slums uses his dance skills to achieve his dreams—and finds love along the way.

But—

Handsome men + beautiful women.

Powerful street dance + elegant ballet.

Director Anne Fletcher wove these elements together seamlessly—

Creating a visual feast that showcased the human body's beauty in motion.

No big-budget special effects.

No high-intensity fight scenes.

No steamy love scenes.

Yet still—

Every audience member could feel their hormones surging.