Chapter 84: The Show Door

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America had many film and performing-arts schools.

Some were serious degree-granting institutions: the American Film Institute, NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts, USC School of Cinematic Arts, Chapman University’s Dodge College, and others.

Others were for-profit training schools built around access, coaching, and hope.

"The Theatre of Arts?" Charlize sat on the bed in the room beside Nolan’s and looked doubtful. "I have never heard of it."

"You have been in Los Angeles for a few days," Nolan said. "Not knowing it is normal. Even if you do not know the school, you have heard of Clint Eastwood."

He answered casually while Seinfeld played on the television. Before Friends became the next national sitcom obsession, Seinfeld was the show Americans kept coming back to.

Sending Charlize to the Theatre of Arts was Lisa’s idea. She knew people there. Leonardo DiCaprio had once been sent in through Lisa’s arrangements as well.

Charlize would study acting there for two years.

Her official finish time would line up with Nolan’s, but this kind of acting school was not like a regular university. It did not force a strict campus schedule. Who knew how many days Charlize would actually spend in class?

Nolan was only carrying out orders. His job was to get Charlize to agree.

"Fine," Charlize said.

She had one foot on the bed and was picking at chipped nail polish on her toes.

Her requirements were not high. She only needed the school to be legitimate.

"Also..."

Nolan stood and looked around the room. Charlize had very little. Mostly clothes, and not even a proper makeup set.

"You need living supplies. Tomorrow I will take you to the supermarket where Mia works."

Whatever else was true, Charlize had put her acting career in his hands. Lisa would reimburse the expenses anyway. He might as well pick up things for Katherine, William, and Mia too.

"You really do not have to."

Charlize smiled awkwardly.

"I do. Food, clothing, housing, transportation - I am responsible for all of it now. I am going to make you shine. One day, your handprints are going to be on the Hollywood Walk of Fame."

Nolan had already made up his mind. Charlize Theron had to be his first clean hit.

’Otherwise, how could my career as a manager begin?’

’How could I sit on the red casting couch in the future?’

The next morning, Charlize discovered that Nolan had not been lying. Katherine had truly prepared breakfast for her.

It was not as rich as Nolan’s, but it was exactly the same as William’s.

Charlize did not know that every expense would eventually be billed to Lisa. She thought this was Nolan’s arrangement.

Maybe she had chosen the right person after all.

Her luck before this had been so poor that ordinary care could move her.

"Buy papayas today," Nolan said seriously. "Katherine and Charlize both need to eat more."

Four people sat around the small square table in Nolan’s room. It was cramped, but workable.

Katherine kicked him under the table.

Nolan knew papaya did nothing. At most, it worked as a placebo. If he wanted real improvement, he would have to handle circulation himself.

Charlize suddenly sniffed with her head down.

"Just dust in my eye," she said quickly when she realized everyone was looking at her.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"IBM electronic barcode system," William said, holding open a plastic bag while watching the square screen beside Mia’s register.

Systems like that had been spreading through American stores since the 1970s.

Nolan loaded scanned items into bags one by one. William had nothing to do that morning, so Nolan had brought him along. Katherine, of course, was at Jennifer’s house earning money by tutoring.

Toothbrushes, towels, razors, cleanser, men’s and women’s underwear, nylon stockings in several shades, flour, milk, eggs, vegetables, corn, potatoes, and far too many steaks.

Then pots, pans, plates, oil, rice, salt, and night-use feminine pads. If Nolan thought of it, he bought it. If he did not think of it, he probably bought it anyway.

The haul was enough for Charlize and the entire Callahan household, with plenty left over for Katherine to take to college and William to bring back to school.

Checkout alone took more than twenty minutes.

At the end, Nolan signed the receipt with his own name.

American credit cards did not require PINs at the register. The reason was historical. When credit cards first appeared, online authorization in the modern sense did not exist.

As for fraud, once the bank investigated, the cardholder’s liability was usually limited.

Nolan had specifically gone to the bank later to add his signature authority to Lisa’s extra card. Her arrangement functioned like a personal account for someone close.

After paying, the two brothers chatted briefly with Mia. Her coworkers soon gathered around too, full of praise for Nolan and envy for Mia.

"Mia, you are lucky you had such a good son. At this rate, you can retire soon."

"Nolan, do you have a girlfriend? My daughter is your age. I should introduce you."

"Already trying to grab him? Do not think it will be easy. He meets Hollywood girls every day."

Mia’s older female coworkers kept talking over one another. Charlize and William were left completely to the side.

Mia found a moment to pull Nolan aside.

First, she asked about the credit card.

Nolan said only that he had arranged it himself and that any Charlize-related expense would be reimbursed through Lisa. That was enough to get past the question.

Then Mia brought up Charlize.

"I cannot stop you from playing with fire," she said, tapping Nolan on the head. "But Katherine must be your wife."

It sounded like an ultimatum. In truth, it was still Mia favoring Nolan.

That was what mothers did.

There was also the American-parent habit of not interfering too much in a grown child’s private life.

When Nolan, William, and Charlize left the supermarket, all three carried four or five bulging plastic bags.

"Take Mia’s car back," Nolan decided.

William would drive Mia’s old Nissan and deliver the groceries. Nolan would not go with him.

Charlize, naturally, stayed with Nolan.

"Where are you going?" she asked from behind him.

Nolan turned.

"You did not think shampoo and towels were enough, did you? That was only the beginning."

That afternoon, Nolan brought Charlize to Century City. He still avoided the highest-end boutiques, but his spending was generous. If he liked something, he told Charlize to try it.

By late afternoon, clothing and shoes alone had cost two thousand dollars.

At sunset, they bought makeup. Nolan also chose a few items for Katherine. After dinner, he took Charlize to have her hair done.

Real money changed things.

Charlize went from overlooked to striking. The fitted hot-girl look set off her slim figure properly. Her hair was extended too. Nolan had never liked the short style. With longer blonde hair framing her face, she looked much better, almost on Katherine’s level.

If it had not been so late, Nolan might have taken her to Forever Love Inn that night and let her try a jail-cell room, or maybe a Christmas-reindeer costume.

On the ride back, Nolan complained about how hard it was to get a taxi in Los Angeles. For a city this spread out, there were too few cabs, and they were expensive. He decided to put Lisa’s earlier suggestion about getting a driver’s license on the schedule.

Charlize looked out the window. Downtown Los Angeles glittered in the distance. In the reflection on the glass, she could also see her own face.

Red lips. White teeth. Blonde hair parted in the middle. The longer style made her look softer and more playful.

In New York, she had still been confident in her appearance. In Los Angeles, where beautiful girls from all over the world gathered, she had become easy to miss. That had hurt her pride.

Now Cinderella had her glass slippers.

She turned and saw Nolan looking at her.

Charlize smiled, leaned close, and kissed him on the cheek.

Her impression of Nolan was not bad. It was actually very good. She liked his looks. When she had agreed to move over, she had already prepared herself mentally. After today, his gentlemanly behavior, easy spending, and willingness to take care of her made him even more appealing.

Add his relationship with a major agent and his age, and he was far better than the pot-bellied producers who spoke nonsense while pretending to offer opportunities.

Charlize had already begun to consider giving herself to him.

The next morning, Nolan was still asleep when a very particular call woke him.

"Our channel is preparing to invite you for an in-depth player feature," Penny Webb said as soon as he picked up. "Interviews, location filming, practice footage, and game clips mixed together. We may even bring in Matt Millen as the guest analyst. This is a very good condition package, and I fought for a long time to get it for you."

"Thank you," Nolan said, smiling.

If he had not met Matt Millen himself, and if Millen had not explained the whole situation in person, Penny might actually have fooled him.

The reason the station had agreed was Lisa’s groundwork.

’What did that have to do with Penny?’

Taking credit in front of the person who knew the truth was bold.

As for why Penny was the one calling, Nolan guessed the station had assigned her because she had interviewed him before and the footage had worked.

"I am free this afternoon," Penny said. "Come downstairs near the station. We need to go through the interview flow first."

She probably thought she had tricked him.

"Do not be late," she added haughtily before hanging up. "I hate that."

Maybe she was paying him back for rejecting her last time.

"Yes, Ms. Webb."

Nolan hung up.

Since he would probably work with her often, he decided she needed to understand the rules of the game.

As for the method...

’Miss Reporter, you would not want to be shut out of the show, would you?’

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