"Not this one~" Mark's mother hovered over an incredibly old man who was seated across Mark as they conversed... rather slowly.

"Well, it has been great getting to know you Mr. Marcell. I will make sure to contact you after going through the other candidates," Mark extended his hand, and waited 5 seconds before the old man's frail hand reached his own and shook it very softly.

'He is too old to handle the stress of being an agent,' Mark concluded, agreeing with his usually rather disagreeable mother.

Mr. Marcell smiled at Mark before getting up and slowly leaving the café. To this point, Mark accompanied him outside and to the street where the man began walking home. Clearly, he either did not want to take a cab because his house was nearby... or he could not afford one.

Mark returned to the café and sat back down on his seat, taking a sip of the coffee which had been refilled 4 times already since he kept having his meetings here. He did not want to give away the location of the temporary office he had rented to random agents, afraid someone he might displease would cause problems for him.

"How many more are left son?" His mother asked while appearing as a chibi ghost, swimming in his coffee.

'2 more. The Writer's Guild was able to gather 12 agents who were interested in representing a writer/ producer like me. All the ones so far have been the free agents. But the last two are agents from the major agencies.'

"Oh? I had thought you would not want to involve yourself with the agencies."

'Displeasing any one of them can lead to many problems in my career. However not joining any of them could potentially be far worse. At least, if I joined one of them, they will be able to protect me from the other to an extent. Plus, they will likely have some decent contacts, and for that will take a premium.'

"So you are already feeling rich enough to exchange convenience for money?" A chibi version of his father appeared to be walking on the coffee with a stern expression.

'No. In fact, I wanted to take on a free agent. But none of them are acceptable. Either too old, too inexperienced, or seemed unable to hold a proper conversation. The 10 prospects were all busts. My only options left at the agents from the United Talent Agency (UTA), and William Morris.'

"William Morris is a rotten apple. Too many stars have fallen to their ploys. UTA is not a bad choice," His father put a hand on his chin while nodding to himself.

'I would have preferred Creative Artists Agency (CAA). They become the dominant force in the future. But they should have only formed a year ago perhaps. Despite being so young, they would likely have a lot of good clients, I doubt I would be able to get much benefit from joining it. Plus, I would lose the connections of the established agencies. If CAA even exists in this world... Not too sure about that. It was not there in the registered agencies with the writer's guild. I'll ask Eddie to check with the writer's guild.'

"Mr. Whitehall?" Mark's attention was brought to the interloper as he saw a middle-aged man with long sideburns going all the way down to his chin, but a mostly bald head and a soul patch of beard under his lower lip.

Mark had seen a lot of people with rather strange hairstyle, to the point he had become numb to it. He smiled and shook the man's hand.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Mr. Hawke... I presume?" Mark said while shaking the hand of the brunette.

"Please, call me Ian. A pleasure to meet you."

"Call me Mark. And the pleasure is all mine," Mark motioned for the man to take a seat in front of him.

Taking a seat, the smile on Ian's face vanished, and a serious expression took over, "I will get right to business Mark. As I am sure you are already busy with your next projects. We at United Talent Agency don't usually offer agency deals to writers, and just connect writers from the writer's guild directly to potential customers. However, considering you have already sold a script for $50,000; correct me if I am wrong to this point."

"No."

"Well, we would like to represent you."

"Straightforward. I like it. How much is the commission?"

"10%. It is the industry standard."

"How long?"

"5 years. Again, the industry standard."

"Unacceptable. I will be direct with you as you have been with me. My demand are simple, either reduce the contract period, or reduce the commission."

Ian looked right into Mark's eyes for a moment before standing up.

"I apologise, that cannot be done. We cannot offer someone who has only a single movie script under their belt get anything better than the industry standard that even more established writers receive. We cannot be seen giving preferential treatment," Ian said, turning away from mark with a hidden smirk.

"Wait, Ian."

Ian suppressed his smirk and turned to Mark with the hope of bringing the man into UTA under the regular contract. He had taken a risk being this aggressive in their negotiations, but it seemed his risk paid off.

"You forgot your hat," Mark said while handing the had to the stunned Ian with a gentle smile and sat back down in his seat and continuing to speak, "I will not work with someone trying to use such methods to negotiate. Please relay my opinion with UTA, I don't intend to work with them if you are their agent."

With that, Mark began drinking his coffee while his father cheered in the background.

"My boy! This is exactly how you should treat them. Do not give them an inch, or they will try to take your entire hand!"

"But will this be alright? We did not intend on working with William Morris to begin with. this means we will likely have to work with an independent agent for a while," his mother cautioned Mark from this path. However, Mark had already made his decision. someone coming off this strongly to someone who was not even working with them meant Ian would likely come off even stronger once he signed him as his agent; forcing him into doing things he might not wish to do.

'An agent should collaborate with their client, not direct them,' he replied to his mother with confidence and allowed a sullen Ian Hawke to leave.

Some time later, the agent from William Morris came, and Mark treated him with respect and politely rejected him. He had likely already made an enemy of an agent from UTA, there was no reason to do the same with William Morris. thanking the agent for taking his time off from work to come to meet him, Mark returned to his seat and finally ordered some dinner. It had been a long few hours meeting with so many agents, and he had worked up an appetite.

"Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. Is it right for me to assume you are looking for an agent?" A burly man who looked closer to being a bodyguard than an office worker, wearing a trench-coat and top hat that made him look like a member of the mafia.

Mark gave him a look before nodding and motioning for him to have a seat. There was no need to antagonise this person. Especially in such a public location, Mark had little to worry about.

"That would be the case. and who might you be?"

"David Seville. But everyone called me Dave," the man with dark brown hair, styled in a neat, short cut said while removing his top hat.

He had a slender build with a fair complexion and a slightly tired or exasperated expression. Mark smiled at the man and shook his extended hand, "Mark Whitehall. How can I help you?"