Thump. Thump.
Brad's heart was pounding wildly, almost as if it was going to leap out of his throat, making him feel nauseous.
He couldn't help but glance around. He had peeked inside from the doorway earlier, but now that he had fully entered, he could truly sense the scale of the villa.
Stunned, overwhelmed, and speechless.
He thought he'd feel envy, jealousy, or a flood of emotions, but surprisingly, none of that came. He was just deeply shocked, his mind momentarily frozen.
Until he saw Anson.
White T-shirt, blue jeans, white canvas shoes, and a smile on his face. He stood there, bright and relaxed, as if the sunlight falling on him became pure and clean.
Anson was still the same Anson, just like he remembered. The success of "Spider-Man" and all the attention from Hollywood hadn't changed him much.
However, Brad was no longer the same. Ridiculously, he tried to recall his own appearance in his memories but couldn't find it.
For a brief moment, he wanted to run, to flee. His mind was blank, all thoughts erased, not even knowing why he had come here. But his body moved on instinct, continuing forward, drawn to Anson's smile, as if his soul had left his body.
"Please…"
"I know… this is an unreasonable request… I have no right… and you don't owe me anything…"
"But."
Anson exhaled softly, "You look terrible."
Brad did indeed look terrible. He nervously fidgeted with his fingers, like a restless child, unable to stand still. His entire demeanor screamed unease, with dark circles under his eyes and bloodshot veins reflecting his exhaustion.
No one knew just how much courage it took for Brad to come to Malibu and stand at Anson's door.
Anson was a bit surprised.
He also felt a bit of sympathy.
Brad noticed a stranger behind Anson and immediately became tense, his body on high alert, watching closely.
From a distance, the first thought that crossed Brad's mind was simply this:
Anson didn't say much. Instead, he stepped aside and made a welcoming gesture. "So, how about it? Do you want to come in and have a look?"
And so, stammering, Brad withdrew once again.
It was hard to describe Brad's state in just a few words.
"Sorry."
"Sorry, Anson, I didn't mean to intrude. I just… whew, I just wanted to talk."
Because, after all, this was his own fault.
Anson knew Brad had struggled with alcohol and drugs. Although it wasn't his responsibility, he couldn't help but wonder what Brad had been through these past few months. It seemed like his very soul was worn out, with his exhaustion and fragility slowly leaking through.
Brad anxiously bit his nails. "I haven't slept in a week. Well, to be exact, I haven't slept well. I feel like I'm losing my mind."
"Sorry, Anson, I'm sorry, you don't have to listen to all this. I just…"
It made Brad feel incredibly uncomfortable, but he didn't have time to regret it.
He nervously rubbed his hands together.
Anson smiled. "Chris and James haven't been here yet. You're the first."
Brad felt a lump in his throat, tasting bitterness. He was on the verge of breaking down, his gaze shifting awkwardly as he failed to muster any words. Finally, he took a cautious step forward.
Anson turned to Noah, signaling him to relax. "Noah, could you get us two Cokes? Thanks."
If Brad wasn't drinking alcohol, he usually chose Coke—
Because it's high in sugar.
Brad waved his hands nervously. "No, no need… you don't have to treat me like a guest."
Anson just smiled without replying—
If not a guest, then what? They certainly weren't friends anymore.
Brad's expression darkened as he quickly averted his gaze.
Anson gave Brad a tour of the place. Then, they left the main hall and walked along the palm-lined path toward the backyard. The gray-blue ocean spread out before them, and the refreshing sea breeze opened up their view. The golden sunlight poured down unhindered, making it feel as though they could embrace the entire world.
Without meaning to, Brad muttered in awe.
"God, this house is beautiful." He tried to start a conversation, but it was clear he was out of practice.
Seeing Anson again, he didn't even know where to rest his eyes.
Anson, however, remained calm and composed. After all, he had experienced so many ups and downs in his past life, and this situation was nothing compared to that.
Anson shrugged lightly. "The property taxes are pretty terrifying too, not to mention the upkeep. I'm already worried about going bankrupt."
The casual joke made Brad crack a smile, finally finding some comfort. "Lucky for you, there's still a 'Spider-Man' sequel, right?"
"Thank God. No matter what people say, those paychecks are real," Anson quipped exaggeratedly.
Brad chuckled.
Anson did too, his lips curling slightly. After a pause, he said, "I heard about the Oscar project. Wow, that's something worth celebrating. So, when does shooting start?"
Though they hadn't kept in touch, Hollywood was a small circle, and news traveled fast, whether you cared or not.
What was surprising, though, was that Brad had landed the lead role in the project.
Earlier that summer, a new project had come into focus, produced by Frank Marshall.
Who's Frank Marshall?
One of Hollywood's top producers, Steven Spielberg's close partner. He produced films like "Indiana Jones," "Back to the Future," and "The Bourne Identity"—and those are just a few of his many hits. For the past 20 years, you could almost always find one of his productions in the year-end top ten at the North American box office.
His reputation, connections, and resources were top-tier. Any project that caught Frank's eye was guaranteed success in Hollywood.
Every project in Hollywood starts with a goal:
Is it a genre film or an art film? Is it aiming for the big European festivals or the Oscars? If it's a genre film, is it for the summer or holiday season? If it's an Oscar contender, are we targeting the acting categories or Best Picture?
These choices shape the entire production.
Naturally, many projects set their course from the very beginning. This time, Frank's project had its sights firmly set on Oscar season.
The reason was simple: the project was based on the book Seabiscuit: An American Legend, a biography with themes of hope from the Great Depression, making it a perfect fit for Oscar contention.
Frank's goal was to create a film that would attract widespread attention during development, and that's exactly what happened. Many actors were vying for the lead role.
No one expected Brad Renfro's name to emerge as the top contender, but the industry buzz was growing—
Could this finally be Brad's big break?