Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

NX could recommend, campaign, negotiate and complain, but nobody could force him into some terrible script because a scheduling executive thought the numbers looked nice. His independent manager, lawyer, accountant and assistant would remain his people. NX would receive reasonable professional access to his public social accounts without owning his usernames, passwords or followers.

Relationship clauses would be limited to actual professional conduct, confidentiality and conflicts with specific commercial obligations, rather than some insane provision requiring Nathaniel Park to request corporate permission before kissing a woman.

His face, voice and likeness received their own battlefield:

Ordinary promotion for an approved film, album or campaign was fine.

Training an artificial model on his voice? Separate consent.

Creating a synthetic Nathaniel Park to sing things he’d never sung? Separate consent.

Digital doubles beyond ordinary production use? Separate consent.

Selling his face to advertise a product he’d never agreed to touch?

Absolutely fucking not.

"Technology in this Empire is getting too good for vague language," Evelyn said.

Park nodded. "I don’t want to wake up one morning and discover digital me has released an album, endorsed underwear and apologized for a political scandal while I was asleep."

"That is more specific than most clients."

"I have an active imagination."

They added audit rights, detailed accounting, clear commissions, reasonable inactivity protections and the requirement that NX continue developing both careers rather than pouring everything into whichever one became profitable first.

Then Evelyn asked a question that nearly made Park betray an entire secret conspiracy with his face.

"Have you already created any music or entered any commitments outside NX?"

CJ appeared in his mind so quickly it was almost rude:

The lifetime songwriting deal. His Golden Pen Royalty mission.

Park kept his expression normal through an act of courage future historians would sadly never document.

"I have private material."

"How much?"

"Enough."

"Written before this agreement?"

"Yes."

"Some already shared with other people?"

Park paused for just slightly too long, Evelyn’s eyes sharpened.

"Yes," he admitted.

"Commercially released?"

"No."

"Any written assignment?"

"Not yet."

"Promises?"

Park smiled weakly. "Possibly."

Evelyn put her pen down.

"Define possibly."

"Hypothetically, what if I’d told someone I could provide songs to them privately?"

"How hypothetical?"

"Very realistic hypothetical."

She stared at him.

Park stared back.

"Do I need names?"

"Eventually, if you expect me to protect the arrangement properly."

"Can we start without names?"

"Yes."

Beautiful woman, excellent lawyer and a national treasure.

Evelyn added an Excluded Works Schedule to the worklist. Anything Park had created before the effective date, plus specifically identified private works and pre-existing commitments, could be carved out so NX couldn’t later claim them merely because he signed the agreement afterward.

Park leaned back with considerable relief.

His secret songwife remained alive.

Before Park left that first evening, Evelyn managed to discover two more things he had forgotten.

"Have you protected Nathaniel Park?"

Park frowned. "From what?"

"As a professional name and Domains?"

"Oh."

"Relevant entertainment trademarks?"

Park looked at the ceiling.

Fuck.

Evelyn made another note.

AVC’s Intellectual Property department would begin clearance work on NATHANIEL PARK, secure appropriate domains and handles where available, and start preparing registrations appropriate to his entertainment activities.

They weren’t going to start trademarking his own breathing patterns, but the professional identity he intended to spend years building should not belong to whichever internet goblin registered it first.

There was the company issue:

"You don’t need one this afternoon," Evelyn explained, "but once meaningful revenue begins flowing, I don’t want every commercial agreement, employee expense, endorsement payment and business liability running directly through you personally."

"One company."

"To begin with."

"Not six?"

"Please don’t become one of those nineteen-year-olds who discovers holding companies and decides he needs fourteen."

Park looked offended. "I wasn’t going to."

"You were thinking about it."

"I was thinking maybe three."

"One."

They provisionally settled on Nathaniel Park Entertainment Ltd.

Later, it could employ his personal staff, contract for certain commercial services, receive appropriate career income, pay business expenses and hold selected professional assets where the lawyers and accountant decided that made sense.

By the time Park finally left AVC that evening, his head felt as if somebody had opened it, installed three additional offices and forgotten to include lunch.

And just before he reached the door, he remembered one more question.

"Evelyn." She looked up. "...out of pure curiosity... suppose a client had somebody powerful interfering with their career behind the scenes. Paying people, leaning on contacts, maybe using intermediaries so it doesn’t trace cleanly back to them. What would you do?"

Something in Evelyn’s expression changed: "First, I would tell my client to stop confronting anyone involved until we understood what could actually be proved."

"What next?"

"Preserve everything. Messages, unusual rejections, calls, witness names, dates, financial trails where available, changes in treatment, anyone who hints they were pressured. Then we map the intermediaries instead of immediately attacking the person at the top. Powerful people frequently believe distance makes conduct disappear. It mostly makes the evidence more tedious."

"And then?"

"That depends on what we find. Private demands. Contractual remedies. Civil action. Regulatory action. Exposure of conflicts. Injunctions where available. Sometimes simply letting the correct people know that a lawyer is documenting everything causes a remarkable improvement in manners."

Park smiled.

"I was just curious."

"I’m sure."

He left before she could become more curious than he was prepared to survive.

The second day belonged mostly to people.

AVC’s new Private Talent Office had already prepared candidate files based on the requirements Park gave Evelyn over the phone that evening. They weren’t AVC managers waiting to be rented out. The firm acted as recruiter and filter, checking employment histories, references, conflicts, financial issues, confidentiality history and enough background information to discover whether a potential personal manager had ever sold an ex-client’s breakup story for drinks money.

Once Park hired someone, that person belonged to Park’s professional team.

Park interviewed four management candidates.

Three women and one man.

He selected a woman, naturally.

’This proves absolutely nothing.’

Her name was Sloane Mercer, thirty-two, tall, beautiful in a severe dark-haired way, and formerly a senior talent strategist who had spent the better part of a decade handling actors whose careers had grown faster than their common sense.

Sloane had barely reacted to Park’s face when she walked into the room, which Park respected professionally and found mildly offensive personally.

Her interview won him over when she asked what kind of career he wanted.

"Big," Park said.

"That’s not a career plan."

"Very big." It was as if he was suddenly the one being interviewed.

"Still not one."

"International?"

"Better. Still useless."

Park had stared at her but she stared back, he hired her forty minutes later.

Sloane understood that Park wanted acting and music treated as equal pillars, that he didn’t want every choice made according to immediate money, and that he wanted somebody whose loyalty sat with him rather than NX. She would manage the larger career map, opportunities, schedule strategy, project priorities, negotiations alongside Evelyn and the relationship with NX’s assigned Artist Representative.

She wouldn’t replace his lawyer, his assistant and she definitely wasn’t allowed to sign his life away because he happened to be asleep.

Park liked those rules very much.

The accountant took longer.

He interviewed three.

He selected another woman.

’Still proves nothing.’

Tessa Lin, thirty, worked in private entertainment accounting and business management, handling musicians, athletes and several people famous enough that she refused to name them. She had a quiet face, neat shoulder-length black hair, very pretty brown eyes and the deeply unsettling habit of looking happiest when discussing audits.

Park immediately distrusted anyone who enjoyed spreadsheets that much.

Unfortunately, she was brilliant.

"I will make sure everyone else isn’t accidentally or intentionally richer because you weren’t paying attention." She had said lastly.

Park leaned toward Evelyn. "Can I hire her twice?"

Tessa laughed.

Her responsibilities were much easier to understand once Evelyn stripped away the professional vocabulary:

Sloane handled the career, Tessa handled the money.

His assistant handled Park.

Tessa would track incoming payments, invoices, commissions, expenses, budgets, payroll, royalty statements, recoupment balances and taxes, then coordinate with AVC when something crossed into legal territory. If NX claimed Park had earned five million but paid four-point-three, Tessa was the person who found the missing seven hundred thousand before Park spent six months cheerfully assuming mathematics had betrayed him.

She would also independently review statements from NX and, importantly, could scrutinize AVC’s own bills if extraordinary separately charged work ever occurred.

Park liked that.

Checks on checks.

By the end of the interview he signed her too.

Evelyn looked from Sloane to Tessa and finally toward Park: "You realize you’ve selected women for every position."

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