From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

The entertainment industry is a precarious field, and this applies not only to actors but also to directors, screenwriters, cinematographers, lighting technicians, and so on.

A single project or job might require months of intense work and yield a substantial remuneration; however, this could be followed by a lengthy hiatus, with no certainty as to when the next opportunity will arise, nor any assurance that one's previous earnings will suffice to bridge the gap until the next job.

Thus,

in Hollywood, numerous actors—even those who once starred in films and had recognizable names—have had to change careers to make ends meet.

Surprisingly, a significant portion of them have chosen to become... real estate agents, specializing in recommending luxury mansions to Hollywood celebrities.

Could this be considered an ecological extension of the entertainment industry?

With the filming of "Friends" concluded and no immediate work lined up, Anson entered a period of rest/vacation, sleeping until he naturally awoke.

In some ways, he felt unaccustomed to it, having long been used to a relentless, non-stop lifestyle, where sleeping in was a luxury; but Anson felt—

he should be able to adapt to this kind of life.

He got up, washed, and went downstairs.

Anson responded, "Thanks."

James paused the game, turned to Anson, and called out, "Anson, be careful not to be easily fooled by these guys' sweet talk. If you need me, I'll be here."

The corners of Anson's mouth turned up in a smile, "I noticed the baseball bat."

James patted the baseball bat beside him and joked, "Trust me, I can hit a home run anytime. I'm a baseball genius."

Anson also replied with a smile, "I've taken note of it and will pass it on to the Dodgers scouts later."

As he spoke, he pushed open the door on the west side of the hall, his footsteps already in the garden.

The design of this villa is slightly different; the garden and the front yard are not located at either end of the main house. The front yard is on the south side, the garden on the west side, and the two spaces connect to form a ninety-degree green wall, surrounding the main house, with the shade of the front yard encompassing the garden.

Because of this, the garden is not planted with tall trees, but mainly with lilacs, shrubs, and flowers—a small garden in the truest sense, complete with lounge chairs, a round table, and a barbecue grill. Gathering here on summer evenings for a cool party, with grilled meat and beer, is definitely a treat.

Pushing open the side door, the small garden was immediately visible, and Edgar, at a loss, could be seen at a glance—

In the garden, there were only beach lounge chairs.

Usually, they came here to relax, either sunbathing on idle afternoons or holding parties on cloudless nights.

Naturally, beach lounge chairs were the best furniture, but clearly, it wasn't suitable for business discussions.

James's arrangement for Edgar to wait in the garden must have been deliberate.

Edgar sat on the lounge chair, looking slightly cramped and nervous. At first, it was okay, but as he waited and waited, without seeing any sign of Anson, he relaxed slightly, only to become more tense. He tried to relax himself, adjusting his posture, searching for a comfortable position.

He leaned back slightly, realizing a beat too late that the backrest was completely flat. Unable to find any support for his back, he tried to use his core strength to control his center of gravity, but it was too late. Suddenly, he leaned back and fell.

He almost ended up lying flat on his back, spread-eagled.

At the last moment, in a flurry of activity, he barely managed to support the lounge chair with his elbows, thus avoiding the embarrassing spectacle of being upside down.

Then.

Edgar saw Anson.

"Ah, I'm sorry."

Edgar was particularly flustered, both embarrassed and humiliated, trying to support himself and sit up again with both hands and feet, but the more anxious he became, the more chaotic it got. His hands and feet flailed helplessly in the air, looking like an overturned beetle, his cheeks flushed, covered in sweat, but still unable to turn himself over.

This…

Anson was also surprised, not even having time to greet him, when a piece of acrobatics unfolded before his eyes.

As the host, it was embarrassing to have the guest put on a show.

Seeing that Edgar was about to capsize, about to roll off the beach chair and onto the ground with a sideways roll, Anson quickly stepped forward, extending his right hand to offer support.

Edgar quickly grabbed Anson's right hand, using the force to find his center of gravity before rolling onto the ground, finally avoiding the tragedy of overturning.

Uh.

In one swift motion of squatting and standing, Edgar quickly stood up, revealing a smile, pretending to be calm, and extending his right hand again, preparing to greet him.

"Edgar Cooke."

But before the words could be spoken, because he stood up too quickly, a rush of blood surged, causing dizziness, and then he staggered and fell backward.

Anson looked stunned, watching Edgar's figure receding into the distance, and quickly extended his right hand again, trying to save him.

However.

This time, Edgar flailed his hands like an octopus, belatedly regaining his senses, forcefully flapping his hands to regain his center of gravity. Although his steps were slightly disordered, he managed to control himself after retreating two small steps, barely standing firm, seemingly finally feeling the pull of gravity.

He looked up.

Edgar gasped for breath, looking at Anson's outstretched right hand, "I guess I didn't become a figure skater. That was a wise choice."

This…

But thinking back carefully, the chaotic scene just now was indeed like a failed figure skating performance.

The smile on Anson's lips fully bloomed, "In any case, welcome to show business."

With a joke, the whole atmosphere instantly relaxed.

Edgar breathed a long sigh of relief, wiping the real sweat from his forehead, "So, I think we should start from the beginning."

Clearing his throat, straightening his back, and solemnly extending his right hand, "Edgar Cooke."

Despite being embarrassed, despite being awkward, despite being troubled.

But amazingly, when Edgar extended his right hand again, he had already regained his composure, not at all restrained by the previous episode.

His eyes revealed a sense of confidence and determination.

Interesting.

After their last meeting, this second meeting further confirmed Anson's thoughts.

Anson also extended his right hand, formally shaking hands and greeting, "Anson Wood."

Afterward, Edgar took out a business card from his pocket and handed it over, "I am an agent from William Morris."

Anson paused slightly—

He remembered Edgar, of course he remembered; and, he also remembered that he had already received Edgar's business card, the episode that night was deeply impressed.

However, today Edgar still acted as if it was their first meeting, not only formally introducing himself but also handing over a business card?

Thoughts swirled in his mind.

Anson reached out and took the business card, directly stating the matter, "Captain Cooke, right? I remember you, this isn't the first time you've given me a business card."

Edgar's expression relaxed, "Oh, you still remember me."

Anson carefully looked at the business card again, "Of course. You said, if I needed anything, to give you a call, but I don't remember calling you."

Straight to the point.

First update.