From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Gasping for breath, sweat drenched his back.

Edgar looked slightly disheveled. It was only January, but he seemed to be experiencing the heat of June, which filled Anson's eyes with surprise.

Looking at the neatly stacked pile of scripts in Edgar's hand, he was even more confused—

A pile of scripts shouldn't cause this, right? Is Edgar some kind of princess who can't lift a finger?

But Anson still said, "You could ask Noah for help."

Before he finished speaking, Noah, who had immediately gone to the kitchen to prepare when Edgar's cup was empty, turned around and eagerly said, "Of course, what can I help with?"

However, because he was too eager and excited, the tray in his hand almost flew out, turning into a flying guillotine, scaring Edgar into immediately performing a deep squat.

Fortunately, Noah managed to control it this time, but he was completely unaware of the danger. "Mr. Cooke, what do you need help with?"

Noah Newman, this little assistant, had been following Anson for some time. He was indeed impetuous, but focused and simple, unaffected by external influences. During the flash surprise event, he really helped Anson a lot, half assistant, half bodyguard, and had no problem with dirty or tiring work.

In just half a month, Anson had now become accustomed to Noah's presence by his side.

Edgar muttered speechlessly, "I need you to be careful with the tray in your hand."

Being criticized, Noah wasn't angry either, obediently nodded, put away the tray, and turned to continue walking towards the kitchen.

Edgar's punch landed on cotton, but in the end, he didn't say anything more, put down the thick stack of scripts in his hand, and noticed Anson's gaze.

"It's not because of this."

"I'm not strong, but I'm not a paper doll either."

"Just now, there was a madman who followed me all the way from Los Angeles to Malibu. First, he pretended to run into me at the coffee shop, then he blocked me at the company entrance, and then at the gas station. I thought I had finally shaken him off, but then I saw him on Highway 1. I got so scared that I swerved the steering wheel and almost drove into the Pacific Ocean. This sweat is all from fright."

Such relentless pursuit was truly dangerous, and he could directly call the police.

Anson himself had never experienced this, but recently he had encountered fanatical attempts to surround and intercept him, and he couldn't help but feel a chill, "So what does he want?"

Edgar let out a long breath, "You."

Anson: ......

Edgar could see Anson's expression of disbelief, "To be precise, he has a project and hopes you can join. I have accepted the script and promised him that I will read it carefully, and if there is any news, I will contact him. If!"

Anson gently raised his chin, "Then have you read it?"

In Hollywood, things like this happen every day. Unrecognized screenwriters, desperate producers, and actors at their wits' end don't know what to do and can only try to grab at any straw.

And what they face is often lies.

Those agents, producers, directors, and actors are mostly two-faced, verbally expressing that they will read it carefully, but in fact, they turn around and throw the script into the trash can, unwilling to even glance at it.

Of course, Anson wasn't going to blame anyone—

After all, there are too many people in Hollywood who need to be saved, discovered, and redeemed, and perhaps less than one in ten thousand of them truly have talent. Those at the top of the pyramid may have once been passionate, full of hope, and sincerely wanted to lend a helping hand, but they encountered disappointment and even backlash time and time again, so in the end, they also began to be perfunctory.

Everything is possible.

But the situation in front of him was different. Edgar might have encountered a fanatic. Such people are often very dangerous, only a hair's breadth away from exploding, so Anson asked this question.

Edgar took a deep breath, "Of course, I read it carefully and gave him a response. I don't think this script is suitable for you."

"In fact, I was already very tactful. It was a terrible script, with no talent at all. I can't think of any reason why that role has to be you. I think he just wants to use your name to attract investment."

"But he still followed all the way and just followed you to your door."

No wonder.

Anson gently raised his chin.

Edgar sized up Anson for a moment. He thought Anson would also be nervous, but—

He wasn't.

"Why aren't you worried at all?" Edgar glanced at Anson speechlessly.

Anson shrugged, "I believe in your ability, you'll handle it."

Edgar: ......

Anson, "Also, I don't think he's a fanatic, just a strategy. Otherwise, he shouldn't have looked for you, because the decision-making power is with me. If he wanted to coerce or threaten, he should have followed me."

Edgar was slightly stunned, "Are you saying he's just trying to scare me?"

Anson, "Yes, maybe the police will show up, and he'll run away without even getting close. However, this is just my guess. To be safe, you should still provide some information. Who knows if he has other crazy plans in his head."

Edgar: ... ... "Damn it."

Muttering a curse, Edgar, who was always smiling, rarely lost his composure, not hiding his annoyance and anger.

But it was only for a short moment.

Taking a deep breath, Edgar regained his composure and returned to his usual posture, "Maybe this is a warning."

"The situation is different now. Anson, I know you don't like having a bunch of people around you, but things like this can happen to you at any time. Daily safety cannot be taken lightly. You need a personal bodyguard."

Anson: ? ? ?

Hey, wait, how did things shift to me?

Edgar showed a smug smile, looking like his scheme had succeeded, "By the way, that person outside still needs to be dealt with. I'll report it to the LAPD again, not just here in Malibu."

After speaking, Edgar turned and walked outside, becoming busy again.

Anson was left alone in the wind, in a mess—

So, does that stalker really exist?

A little while later, Edgar came back, having dealt with everything efficiently.

Anson squinted and sized up Edgar. Edgar cleared his throat, "Anson, you need to be careful."

After speaking, Edgar looked at Anson with a well-behaved face, but his eyes were firm, refusing to give way.

Anson slightly raised his eyebrow, "Tell Luca I know."

Edgar: ... ...

Cough cough. Cough cough!

Edgar silently shifted his gaze.

Without needing a response, Anson knew he had guessed correctly, and rolled his eyes speechlessly, "So, I heard you've been so busy lately that you're sleeping while standing up. Is that true?"

Edgar immediately straightened his back, his expression becoming firm, "Of course it's true. My phone doesn't stop for twenty-four hours a day. I've already switched to silent mode now."

Anson looked at the frowning Edgar, "I thought this was a good thing. You like standing under the spotlight."

Edgar's head shook like a rattle drum, "No, no, no, I don't like it. I still like standing behind the scenes, otherwise, I would have become an actor."

In his words, he inadvertently revealed a sense of confidence.

To be honest, Edgar isn't someone who can grab your attention at first glance, but his low-key and restrained temperament can exude charm at the second or third glance.

Anson deliberately gently raised his chin, like a casting director, carefully sizing him up, "Indeed, you're suitable for the big screen."

Edgar: ... ...

Blinking his eyes, Edgar looked enthusiastic, "I specifically brought some after-dinner reading material today. If you have time, you can read it."