VIVIAN
Marcus's office smells like expensive cologne and leather. I sit across from his desk, holding a script I found myself. A good role. Independent film, strong female lead, exactly the kind of project I need.
"No," Marcus says without even looking at it.
"You didn't read it."
"I don't need to." He slides the script back across his desk. "I told you. All auditions go through me first."
"This is a great opportunity. The director specifically asked for me."
"The director is nobody. The film has no budget. You're not wasting your time on projects that won't advance your career."
"Shouldn't I decide what advances my career?"
Marcus looks up. His expression is pleasant, but there's steel underneath. "You signed a contract, Vivian. Three years exclusive representation. That means I decide what's best for you."
"You're my producer, not my owner."
