From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

One encore.

Two encores.

The Frat Pack, led by Judd Apatow, although currently just grains of sand in the Hollywood ocean and not yet a cohesive group, could already feel the camaraderie between them. One or two started cheering, giving extra support, and the encore party atmosphere took off.

The encores finally ended, and James and Seth went straight offstage to thank the audience. The bustling crowd gathered together, and the scene was briefly chaotic.

Edgar went against the tide.

Regardless, he was already here. Since he chose to stay, he had to show his face somehow, assert his presence, and lay the foundation for his network.

Otherwise, how could he face the afternoon tea he missed?

In the crowd, a short man, squeezed to the side by the tide of enthusiastic greetings, caught Edgar's attention. He was standing right next to the young man who had noticed him earlier. Edgar tried hard to recall—

Sam Levine.

Born in 1982, eighteen years old, not tall, probably around 5.4 feet (166 cm), with an ordinary appearance, a little cute and a little nerdy.

Such actors, not typical handsome men and beautiful women, might not get a leading role in their entire career, but in fact, they are very popular in Hollywood.

Because they are the protagonist's friend, the villain's henchman, the female lead's lucky star, not dazzling but indispensable.

For agents, this doesn't mean overnight fame, but it means a stable income. After all, an agent's income comes entirely from commissions on their clients' salaries.

If memory serves, Sam has only appeared in one TV series, "Freaks and Geeks," but still doesn't have an agent.

Edgar could feel the meaningful look in Anson's eyes, but Anson said nothing. The two exchanged a tacit glance.

This is also a wonderful person.

First impression, Edgar made his judgment.

Afterward, Edgar looked at Sam again, "May I ask if you have an agent?"

Sam was slightly stunned, "No, not yet."

Edgar slightly raised his chin, revealing a confident smile, "I think we'll meet again."

As he spoke, he took out his business card and handed it over.

Sam took the business card, glanced at it, and couldn't hide his surprise and excitement, "Oh, you work at William Morris?"

Sam couldn't help but take another look at Edgar—

Low-key, restrained, calm.

In their brief meeting just now, Sam thought Edgar was already in his thirties, but now, upon closer inspection, he noticed that he was at most no more than twenty-five years old.

His features and skin were clearly very young, but his whole temperament was particularly calm, making him seem mature.

At first glance, he was unremarkable, easily forgotten, swallowed up and lost in the crowd in the blink of an eye. But at second glance, he was slightly different. Brown short hair, black eyes, about 5.7 feet (175 cm) tall, a slightly thin body, and a particularly gentle temperament.

Like warm jade.

Is this really an agent?

Sam was a little unsure.

Bathed in the scrutinizing gaze, Edgar still appeared calm, neither arrogant nor impetuous, neither humble nor overbearing, gently nodding in acknowledgment, "You can contact me at any time."

A simple self-promotion that stopped at the right point, not appearing too eager, and then, inadvertently, he smoothly turned his head to look at Anson.

“Are you also an actor? Do you have an agent yet?”

Edgar was slightly nervous—

He thought Anson should already have an agent.

With such looks, such demeanor, such temperament, walking around in Hollywood, and not having an agent?

Unreasonable.

Anson... thought about it, but he wasn't sure.

But if he remembered correctly, Darren said that the agent thing wasn't urgent, and he would handle it.

Just as Anson was about to speak, he saw a figure coming towards Edgar from behind. He was about to give a warning, but the person had already slammed into Edgar's shoulder.

The collision of shoulders was firm and fierce, clearly intentional.

Edgar's attention was completely on Anson, and he didn't have eyes in the back of his head. He was caught off guard and almost lunged forward.

With an emergency brake, Edgar barely managed to control himself. His seemingly weak body unexpectedly had good core abdominal strength.

Turning his head, Edgar saw James Franco's nonchalant, cynical face, cracking his shoulder joints and giving a smile, "You just happened to break my shoulder, thank you."

James shook his head with a hippie smile, "No, no, no, I barely touched you, just brushed against you."

Then, James looked at Anson and Sam, spreading his hands, "Or rather, I can't control my own strength."

As he spoke, James flexed his biceps.

Sam swallowed, unable to hide his worry, and handed the business card in his hand over, "James, you're talking to an agent from William Morris."

For these small actors whose careers were just starting, William Morris was the highest peak in the industry, out of reach.

James was also a little surprised, but there was no tension or panic to be seen. He was still laughing, "Oh, damn, I seem to have said the wrong thing."

“Sorry!”

“So, what should I do for you to forgive me?”

The words were an apology, but the expression was a joke.

James has always been a bold guy.

Anson looked at Edgar. He was curious how Edgar would respond, would he seize the opportunity to strike back hard?

However, Edgar didn't take it to heart either, deliberately putting on a serious expression, "For example, you could give me a glass of red wine now. If you don't have that, beer will barely do."

With the back-and-forth banter, the atmosphere suddenly relaxed.

The clash of swords came and went, and it seemed that the sharpness was not felt at all between the jokes. The surging undercurrent disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Anson had heard before that life is like a play, it all depends on acting, and the arena of fame and fortune is even more so. Now that he came to Hollywood, he finally had his eyes opened.

James took the business card from Sam's hand, glanced at it, and shook his head repeatedly, "Sam, dear Sam, don't be fooled by the name of William Morris."

“This guy might be a con man.”

Dear readers, the new entertainment author is begging for collections! New author, new book, please don't miss it when you pass by. Please don't raise the book, because the current recommendation slots are directly linked to the number of readers. If you raise it, there will be no more. I sincerely hope that everyone can continue to follow the reading, and then... then there will be an outbreak when it is put on the shelves, and then you can raise it and watch it! Thank you all!