In Edgar, one could see foresight, ambition, and decisiveness. From the very beginning, his decision to take an alternative path by investing a great deal of time in Anson and betting everything on him highlighted Edgar's wisdom.
However, Edgar had his limitations—
After all, he wasn't a know-it-all.
For this reason, Edgar was keen on communicating with Anson. He believed in Anson's perspective, which often pinpointed the crucial points and even sparked inspiration, opening the door to a new world.
And now, it was happening again.
"... This won't work."
With a casual remark, Anson swiftly dismissed Edgar's plan.
Clearly, this wasn't Brad Pitt; it was Brad Renfro.
That pitiful expression made Anson burst into laughter; meanwhile, not far behind, Noah looked over in horror—
"Fashion also requires exploration."
Brad Renfro stood hesitantly at the entrance of the carved gate, wondering whether he should turn around and leave. He glanced at the taxi parked by the roadside. Just making this trip to Malibu had already used up half his courage. If he stayed any longer, he wasn't sure he could handle it.
Edgar spread his hands with a calm expression. "I'm used to embarrassing myself in front of you. It's better than embarrassing myself in front of others. If I embarrassed myself at William Morris, I might not even have bones left by now."
Anson imagined the scene but found it hard to picture the backstabbing in the agent world. Having never experienced it, it still lacked some realism.
At that moment—
"If we choose these brand sponsorships now, we might be taking a risk."
"So, opting for these top-tier brands often means playing it safe, being rigid, lacking creativity, and missing uniqueness. It's not that they're bad, but what they offer might end up being just a soulless mannequin."
With a sigh, Anson turned to Noah. "Leave this client to me."
"Anson, I just wanted to talk, but if you think it's not right, you have my number." Brad's voice came through the walkie-talkie again, sounding a bit deflated.
Yet, Edgar didn't interrupt Anson, patiently waiting for him to finish speaking, his smile tinged with bitterness.
"Secondly, let's take a step back. Assuming fashion brands have figured things out and are boldly designing, we could uncover gems beyond Dior."
However, Anson hadn't gotten used to it yet.
Edgar didn't pause. "So, what's your suggestion? If we don't choose brand sponsorships, are we going to foot the bill ourselves?"
"If we go with brand sponsorships, in my opinion, your plan is likely to fail, and it could even have unintended negative consequences, wiping out the fashion image and reputation we've built so far."
As Anson's assistant, Noah had already moved into a guest room at Anson's villa, a room by the pool, taking care of all of Anson's daily affairs, including but not limited to driving, cleaning, doorman duties, and odd jobs.
"No uniqueness means no edge."
Realizing his movements might have been noticed, Noah quickly turned back, staring blankly ahead. However, his stiff neck and shoulders betrayed the storm brewing inside him.
Then Noah appeared. "Mr. Wood, I can handle this. You don't need to worry about such things."
Anson snapped back to reality, giving a meaningful smile. "Right, but also not quite. Captain, we may need a little extra help."
Anson gathered his scattered thoughts, smiled again, and apologized, "Sorry, I'm still not used to having someone other than Luca in the house."
A name long gone from Anson's life, without any news or signs, suddenly resurfaced without warning.
Anson realized Brad was still standing at the door.
Indeed, if Anson didn't want to see him, he didn't have to. After all, he owed Brad nothing, nor did he feel guilty. But upon reflection, it seemed unnecessary. After all, Hollywood is a small place. Even if they didn't see each other today, they might run into each other somewhere else.
Beep.
Edgar raised an eyebrow slightly. "Who? Tell me, and I'll find this person and convince them."
Ding-dong.
"Phew. That's why I needed your opinion."
Anson became slightly lost in thought.
In that brief moment, countless thoughts flashed through his mind.
To be exact, Anson hadn't quite gotten used to this villa either. Everything took time.
Or maybe, did he really need to meet him?
Anson noticed but didn't call Noah out, his gaze returning to Edgar.
"First of all, the current style of men's fashion is still in its early stages, almost primitive. The major brands aren't sure how to proceed, with hardly any noteworthy collections. So, Dior has a clear advantage, standing alone."
Straightforward and decisive.
Anson pressed the walkie-talkie, joking lightly, "Brad? Why are you here now? What's the reason behind this timing? Our last meeting didn't exactly end on a high note, so do I even want to see him?"
Facing Anson, Edgar took a deep breath, controlling his emotions and offering a smile. "Anson, I'm a little hurt right now."
Pause.
"Captain, what I mean is that the plan is feasible, but the execution needs a strategic shift."
Edgar remained Edgar. He didn't doubt Anson's judgment and had already decided to align with him, trusting him as always.
...
The other party seemed hesitant but eventually added, "It's Brad."
"You should come in now. Do I need to greet you at the gate?"
Edgar exhaled deeply, though pained and frustrated, he realized that Anson was right.
"Even if not one or two years, at least a quarter or two are needed for major fashion brands to figure out the way forward."
"But we must note that the more high-end the brand, the more focused on the market. And the closer they are to the mainstream, the more they avoid standing out, because the mainstream is where the money is."
The sound of the doorbell echoed from afar, like a deep chime resonating through the air, leaving a lingering tone.
If it had been anyone else, Edgar might have coldly mocked them without hesitation. He had his pride, his temper, and his resolve—he wasn't someone easily manipulated.
Noah gave a shy smile. "It's okay, you'll get used to it. Mr. Wood, do you need me to go to the gate to welcome the guest?"
No one expected that the voice from the walkie-talkie would be from a completely unexpected person. "Anson, it's me."
Anson tilted his head. "Wait, seems like we've switched roles here?"
"Hey, buddy, you're a little early…"
With a dull thud, the carved gate slowly opened, revealing a lush, green path ahead. Brad couldn't help but gaze forward.
Taking a deep breath, Brad waved at the taxi, then turned and started walking down the tree-lined path. His heart raced uncontrollably, and after two turns, he saw Anson standing at the door, smiling as he welcomed him.
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