"WHAT! You tellin' me you left the job you worked so hard for, even shifted to a new city, in only just over a month! Are you f*ckin kidding me?" Eddie exclaimed on the phone.

"Yeah..."

"B*tch, go back and beg them to take you back. Tell 'em you was drunk or somthin'."

"No. I have already decided to move onto the next part of my life. Still, I will continue living in San Rafael until the lease I made runs out. It'll be another two months or so."

"N*gga, what’s wrong witchu? You just walked away from your job? Times are tough as is! And money don’t grow on no trees. You gotta pay your bills, eat food— you can’t just quit like that without like that! I get it if it’s tough or you hate it, but you need to suck it up and go back. You can’t be out here with no money, n*gga, come on! How about this, just stay with the job for a while. Once I earn enough money, I'll hire you as my assistant or something. You can just laze around all day and party with em at night, and get paid for it!"

"I just sold my first script and got $50,000 for it."

"..."

"Right now, I'm in LA. Working on my second script. But this time, I will be making the movie myself. I won't be selling it."

"That's... You might have to take me in as your assistant them... N*gga why din't chu tell me!"

"I just did. Also, if my first movie works out, I will get enough investment to make this movie. I want you to be the antagonist for this movie. It's meant to be a black boxer, a world champion."

"Haha... Haha... Ha... Ha... wait, you ain't kiddin'?"

"No."

"Well... I'll be... Of course I'll act in your movie-"

"Don't get too excited. the first movie is still being made. For me to get my funding, it will take at least 4 to 5 months. Go do the shooting for another movie in the mean time. Perhaps do two. I will tell you when the movie is released. When that happens, don't do any shootings since it would not take too long to reach the $100 million mark."

"WHAT?!!!"

"??"

"One f*cking hundred million!?"

"Yeah..."

...

After a bit of banter and getting each other up to speed about their lives, they ended the call on a positive note and Mark exited the phone booth with no expression.

'The effect of the nightmare is almost gone again. I wonder when will be the next time my dearest little sister will return to visit?' With such random thoughts in his mind, Mark made his way to the college outside which he had used the telephone booth to call Eddie after a long few days of radio-silence, and walked up to the security guard.

"I'm here to make a job posting. I have already gone through all the channels necessary or it. Here are the documents," he said while handing over a bunch of documents certifying he was not trying to scam the parties involved by having them make a song only to take it without handing the proper remuneration.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The guard checked the first one, and saw the stamp from the NMA, before allowing Mark to enter without any issues.

The New Musician's Association was an organisation only formed a decade ago, but it had garnered support from almost all musicians involved in the music and movie industries, namely for its reputation in ruthlessly ensuring its members were not taken advantage of, or scammed in any way. Plus, they took minimal fees per year, something affordable even for musicians who had only recently passed out of college.

Of course, the students themselves did not have to pay to be part of them, as the colleges handled the fees on their behalf.

As it turned out, the Association made most of its money from the educational institutions to support itself, and this worked out in both their favours considering these educational institutions across the United States were the ones who supported its creation almost a decade ago, to protect their students from increasingly vicious businessmen, while also establishing a safe haven for musicians and attracting more to join their education system.

Surprisingly though, since Mark was someone only just creating his first movie, and already had a song in mind, just wanting the students to work to make the song into reality, he only had to spend $50 to get the permit to post the job notice at the school. Of course, he had to pay a minimum of $10/pay per student if he wanted them to record a song for him.

Mark did not know much about music or instruments, but he knew he needed a trumpet for most of the song, and one of those much bigger trumpets that went in a circle before opening into a large horn-shape. Plus, he was sure there was quite a bit of drums under the trumpet for most of the song, which was why that too was important.

'There was also what sounded like a conga or tabla... but considering it was made in US, the former was far more likely, so I wrote that down in the job listing. Also two female singers at least, and... something that spun really... really fast? Other than that, there was also a guitar... but he did not know what notes it would have to play, so he could likely have to figure it out with the guitarist. Hmm, also I needed Bass, so I added for a bass guitar, and one of those long extendable trumpets... what were they called again?' Mark scanned the paper he had written a while ago, and found what he was looking for, 'Right, a Trombone.'

'All in all, it will cost me $80/pay plus, the cost for renting out a recording studio. I suppose, the first thing I will need to do is bring them all to the apartment I have rented in LA to act as the office for my company. Making the song will take a while, a few days at the very least, so renting out a recording studio for this would be too expensive to handle with by current finances.'

Mark had met-up with a lawyer named George Tuland, a Scottish Canadian who temporarily lived and worked in USA. His accent had been a little hard to make out, but when he spoke slowly, you could decode all he was saying and understand it rather well. He gave Mark a decent offer on their first meeting and Mark had taken him on up being his personal lawyer.

The first thing he had done was tell Mark to create a company in Los Angeles only. Despite the Tax benefits in states like New Mexico and Georgia being a lot better, the infrastructure in LA was far superior when it came to making a movie. Plus, it offered its own benefits which would help newer film production companies. This was not only limited to tax benefits and rebates, but also direct grants to produce movies.

Thus he had rented out an office space in a cheap building new the outskirts of the city, and created his company called Spirit Productions, embodying his idea of creating movie that had soul in them... that could evoke emotions in him.

Mark handed in the thick stack of formed he had filled out to the one in charge of such matters, and waited for 25 minutes before she smiled politely, and handing him a 'processed' card that was green in colour. This meant his job notice had been processes and would be put up on the job-board for the college.

It had his number, and other contact information, so now all Mark had to do was wait by the phone-line in his office.

'The conveniences of the 21st century... lost to time yet to arrive... A phone would be so much more easier.'

With his work for the evening concluded, Mark returned to his office, and called up Olivia, his landlord from San Rafael, to apologise for not being able to make food for her for the coming few days as he was on a business trip to LA. Thankfully, she did not seem to care too much, so he turned his attention to the Rocky Movie script.

'No matter how much I work on a script... it can always be improved. Perfection cannot and should not be achieved. Striving to perfection... now that is a must. Progress over stagnation is the way to go!' Mark recalled hearing something similar from his alternate future life, but could not quite put his finger on it. Still, he did not linger on this topic for too long and got to work.