From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

"Excuse me, could I have a glass of water? Thank you."

The plane from Los Angeles to New York had already entered a smooth flight phase. Edgar had grandly explained the entire story, and now he just felt parched.

If he wasn't worried about potentially having to go straight to work after landing, Edgar would have been desperate for alcohol; a glass of whiskey would have been perfect.

But Edgar controlled himself—

Business first.

Adjusting his breathing, Edgar turned to look at Anson, a hint of surprise and admiration still in his eyes.

To leave at a moment's notice, so decisive and efficient.

No luggage, no personal belongings, everything was just as Anson himself had said: grab his wallet and keys, and travel light.

Then, they rushed to Los Angeles International Airport, bought two tickets on the spot, and boarded the plane in a hurry. By the time they came to their senses, they were already in the air.

Along the way, Anson didn't ask questions or say extra words, waiting for Edgar to begin explaining once they were seated in the cabin.

With great difficulty, Edgar calmed down, organized his words, and told Anson the whole truth, without holding back.

In fact, Edgar was also hesitant whether he should reveal all the details without reservation, including those conspiracies and tricks, but he didn't hesitate for too long. Facing Anson, the answer seemed to emerge naturally. He knew Anson's intelligence and calmness; concealing the truth was simply unnecessary.

Moreover, this was his debut performance, so he naturally needed to showcase it properly.

After pouring everything out in one go, he used the opportunity of asking for water to adjust his rhythm. Retracting his gaze to look at Anson, a sense of absurdity arose in his heart—

Anson, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans, didn't even have a suitcase, let alone personal belongings. He could easily stuff everything into his pockets. He looked as if he was going out for afternoon tea with a friend, but instead, he was sitting on a plane preparing to cross the entire North American continent with him.

No panic, no haste.

No tension, no anxiety.

He traveled light with composure and ease, even more relaxed than Edgar, the person who initiated everything. This detail alone demonstrated his demeanor and breadth of mind, making the corners of Edgar's mouth curl up slightly.

Absurd as it was, it was quite interesting. This was the kind of life he, as an agent, longed to experience: full of excitement and variables, with challenges and opportunities coexisting, constantly riding a roller coaster, just to see who could control the situation.

Involuntarily, Harry Smith's dark face after the meeting surfaced in his mind. Edgar believed that he had made the right gamble.

Then, Edgar met Anson's eyes.

"So, do you have any questions you want to ask?"

Anson had been patient and focused, never disrupting Edgar's rhythm, seemingly passive, completely led by Edgar; but in fact, he was using stillness to control movement, firmly holding the initiative in his palm.

Now, it was the same.

Anson wasn't in a hurry, even though countless question marks were surging in his mind, and the whole situation, the whole scene, the whole process seemed incredible; but Anson quickly realized that those question marks were not important.

Only one thing was important.

"Why me?" Anson asked.

Edgar, "I told you last time, because I believe you are special…"

The corners of Anson's mouth curled up slightly, "Intuition?"

Edgar could tell that Anson didn't need this answer.

Sure enough, Anson continued, "When you visited my house last time, it was actually only our second meeting. I believe in your intuition, but I don't believe in Hollywood. Here, no one is irreplaceable."

"It's not that I'm being self-deprecating, but there are at least eight thousand to ten thousand actors in Hollywood in my current position. My believing in myself is one thing, but whether you believe and how you believe is another."

"Captain Cook, think about your actions. Without notifying me and without signing a contract with me, you secured such an important opportunity for me. I don't think the reason behind it is that simple."

In other words, Anson had never completely trusted Edgar from beginning to end during their second meeting.

This also explained why Anson hadn't contacted Edgar while not signing with William Morris or Creative Artists Agency.

Intuition was too ethereal and vague. Anyway, it all depended on words, and anything could be said. Before establishing a bond of trust, how could it be trustworthy?

At the same time, even now, with the "Spider-Man" audition opportunity right in front of him, Anson wasn't overwhelmed by joy and remained calm.

Edgar's words faltered. Although he felt somewhat frustrated, he thought his performance at the second meeting was perfect, even if not a hundred points, it was at least ninety-five points. Now it seemed that he hadn't been able to impress Anson at all; but surprisingly, he wasn't disappointed, but liked Anson even more.

This was a truly intelligent actor.

Willing to listen to opinions but having his own judgment, although stubborn, he was willing to open up possibilities to break out of his comfort zone. It wasn't petty cleverness, but great wisdom.

Working with such an actor would definitely be enjoyable.

But Edgar also understood that he needed to demonstrate his ability to persuade the other party.

Perhaps, sincerity was the only key.

Last time, Edgar had been sincere enough, analyzing his own strengths and weaknesses, but that wasn't enough; so this time, what should he bring out?

Edgar didn't immediately answer Anson's words, "Since you remain skeptical, why didn't you question me at home and instead followed me to the airport? Aren't you worried that I'll kidnap you and sell you to Bangladesh?"

The smile on Anson's lips widened completely, "You can try."

Anson: ?

Edgar continued to explain, "Not just James and Seth, before that—in fact, including after that until now, I've seen countless actors, veteran, newcomers, those with high ambitions, those full of expectations, and those who begged bitterly upon seeing the name of William Morris. I've seen all kinds of actors."

"But, you are the only person who communicated with me on an equal footing."

"Not looking down on me because I was a junior agent, nor looking up to me because of William Morris. In your eyes, I am just an agent, an ordinary person whose profession is an agent. What you admire and test is professional skill, which is also the only standard for judging an agent."

"Your eyes, your attitude, truly treated me as an agent."

Speaking of this, a bitter smile appeared on the corner of Edgar's mouth.

"In fact, even within William Morris, no one can maintain a truly objective and fair attitude towards me. You are still the only one."

"I think…"

Edgar's words were a little difficult, but he still took a deep breath, looked up at Anson, and frankly showed himself. Perhaps this was the most crucial step.

Fifth update.