My casual yet deliberate compliments had Julie beaming with delight. She disappeared into the back and returned moments later with a tray of fresh bread, offering it to us. "Here, have some! Oh, Gist, I didn't see you there!"

  "Miss Julie, I'm working for Mr. Corleone now! He gave me a job—said I could even be in a movie!" Gist grinned from ear to ear.

  Julie glanced at me, then at Gist, and said warmly, "You’re lucky. Gist has had a hard life, but it looks like he finally met a good man."

  I chuckled, feigning a sinister grin. "Oh no, Julie, I’m not a good man at all. I plan to work poor Gist to the bone! You better brace yourself, old friend." I winked at Gist, sending the room into laughter.

  "Julie, if you're not too busy, I actually have something important to discuss with you." From the moment I saw her, I knew I had found the perfect leading lady.

  Julie wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. "I have time. Come on in."

  We followed her into a modest sitting room and took our seats on a worn-out sofa. She brought us water before sitting across from us.

  "Is it just you living here?" I glanced around, noticing the absence of anyone else.

  "My father’s here too, but he’s not well. He’s resting in the other room." She cast a glance toward the inner chamber, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  A dutiful daughter. I made a mental note of that.

  After taking a sip of water, I cleared my throat and got straight to the point. "Julie, I want you to be the leading lady in our film. What do you think? Of course, if you're not interested, there's no pressure."

  "Me?!" Julie was visibly stunned. "I’m just a baker! I’ve never acted in my life—how could I possibly pull it off?"

  "Who says first-timers can’t act? All those big movie stars weren’t born knowing how! Trust me, you’ll be fine. Even Gist is going to be in a movie!" I gestured toward Gist.

  Julie hesitated, glancing toward the bedroom.

  "Mr. Corleone, my mother passed away when I was four. It’s just been my father and me ever since. He did everything to support me—sweeping streets, washing cars, selling newspapers, even cleaning garbage. He’s worked himself to the bone, just like Gist. But now, he’s old and sick. If I take this role… who will take care of him?" Her eyes welled up with tears, and soon they spilled over.

  The longer I stayed in Hollywood, the more I realized that beneath its dazzling exterior lay a world of struggle. Behind the silver screen’s glamour, many toiled in the shadows, their lives untouched by the glitz and laughter that played out on film. They were the unseen, the forgotten.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  I finally understood why Charlie Chaplin became a legendary filmmaker and actor—because he brought the struggles of the common man to the screen. He didn’t chase empty grandeur; he wept and laughed for the people at the bottom, giving their hardships and fleeting joys a voice. That was why he was beloved, why he was respected.

  I studied Julie for a moment before pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to her. My voice was steady. "You don’t have to worry about that. We’re offering three thousand dollars for the lead role. With that money, you can afford proper care for your father."

  Julie looked up at me, biting her lip.

  "Miss Julie, Mr. Corleone is a good man. So are Mr. Gance, Mr. Berg, and Mr. James. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t have introduced you to them," Gist chimed in.

  Julie took a deep breath. "Alright. I’ll do it."

  I raised a hand to stop her. "Julie, there’s something you need to know first. This role is different from other leading roles. Some scenes will require nudity. Are you comfortable with that?"

  Julie froze. Nudity?! She had never even been in the presence of a shirtless man without blushing, and now she was supposed to bare herself on camera?

  Holy Mother of God!

  Sensing her hesitation, I quickly added, "It’s necessary for the story. But don’t worry—it won’t be anything excessive. And let me tell you this: if this film succeeds, it will be the most significant artistic achievement in Hollywood’s history. It will shock Hollywood, America, and the world. You, me, Gist—we’ll all be remembered."

  Even as I spoke, I felt like a street performer trying to sell a miracle cure.

  "Julie, say yes," came a frail voice from behind the curtain. The fabric lifted, revealing an elderly man, his face pale and gaunt.

  "Mr. Corleone, this is my father," Julie said hurriedly.

  "Stephen Warner." The old man’s voice was weak, his breath labored.

  "Andre Corleone." I extended my hand out of courtesy.

  "Julie, take the role. A man who would take in Gist is no villain. I trust him." Stephen gently stroked his daughter’s hair. Julie met his gaze, then turned to me and nodded.

  Seeing her agree, Stephen turned to me again. "Mr. Corleone, Julie has had a hard life since her mother passed. She’s suffered because of me. I’m entrusting her to you—please, take care of her."

  I nodded earnestly. "Mr. Warner, don’t worry. Our company may be small, but we don’t exploit actors. Julie will be safe with us."

  The old man exhaled in relief. Father and daughter exchanged a smile.

  "Julie, fetch that bottle of good wine we’ve been saving. Tonight, we drink with our new friends."

  "But, Papa, you’re still unwell."

  "Just a small glass. Tonight, we celebrate."

  The evening stretched into midnight, laughter and stories filling the tiny home. Stephen and Gist regaled us with tales of their youth while we shared details about the film. Julie was particularly enamored with her character, Dietrich, vowing to give the performance her all.

  As we prepared to leave around midnight, I handed Julie a thousand dollars. "This is your advance. The remaining two thousand will be paid once filming is complete."

  Julie clutched the money, tears streaming down her face. "I promise—I’ll be at the studio on time the day after tomorrow."

  The next morning, we all slept in, only dragging ourselves out of bed around nine. Gist swung open the studio gates, and we resumed casting.

  By midday, we had assembled the entire cast.

  Plank, the Southern Army commander, was to be played by Howard, a former military officer in his forties. Clarke, the Northern Army general, was cast as Tim, an ex-police captain who had been dismissed from the force. The bitter rival, Hankton, would be portrayed by Valente, a seasoned thirty-year-old veteran who had recently left the Los Angeles naval fleet. As for Maria, Dietrich’s best friend, the role went to Catherine, a third-rate actress from Washington—the only one among them with prior film experience. She was about Julie’s age.

  And just like that, our cast was complete.