Breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his back.
Edgar looked a bit disheveled. It was January, but he was sweating like it was the peak of summer. This made Anson's eyes fill with surprise.
Looking at the neat stack of scripts in Edgar's hand, Anson was even more puzzled—
A pile of scripts shouldn't cause this kind of reaction, right? Was Edgar some kind of delicate princess?
Still, Anson offered, "You could have asked Noah for help."
Before the words even settled, Noah, who had been waiting in the kitchen, eagerly turned around as soon as he saw Edgar's empty cup. "Of course, what do you need help with?"
However, Noah was so eager that the tray in his hand almost flew out, nearly turning into a deadly weapon. This scared Edgar enough to make him immediately squat down.
Luckily, Noah controlled it just in time, still unaware of the danger. "Mr. Cook, is there anything I can help with?"
Noah Newman, this young assistant, had been with Anson for a while now. Though he was rash, he was focused and simple-minded, not easily influenced by the outside world. During flash mob events, he had indeed helped Anson quite a bit, acting as half assistant, half bodyguard, willing to do the dirty and tiring work.
In just half a month, Anson had grown accustomed to Noah's company.
Edgar sighed, "Just be careful with that tray."
Even after being teased, Noah wasn't upset. He obediently nodded, put the tray away, and headed back to the kitchen.
Edgar felt like he had just punched a pillow, but said nothing more. He 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 pushover either."
"A crazy person just followed me all the way from Los Angeles to Malibu. First, he pretended to bump into me at a coffee shop, then waited for me outside the company, and then at a gas station. I thought I finally lost him, but then I saw him on Highway 1. I was so shocked I nearly swerved into the Pacific Ocean. All this sweat is from being scared."
Such relentless pursuit was dangerous enough to call the police.
Anson had never experienced this himself, but given the recent wave of fan frenzy, he felt a chill. "So what does he want?"
Edgar let out a long breath. "You."
Anson: ...
Edgar saw the expression on Anson's face. "To be precise, he has a project he wants you to join. I've already accepted the script and promised him that I'll read it seriously. If there's any news, I'll contact him. If!"
Anson raised his chin slightly, "So, have you read it?"
In Hollywood, this kind of thing happened every day. Writers who felt underappreciated, producers at the end of their rope, actors who didn't know what else to do—they all tried everything to grab at any lifeline.
And what they usually encountered were lies.
Those agents, producers, directors, and actors mostly just said they would read the script seriously but would toss it into the trash the moment they turned around, not willing to give it a second glance.
Of course, Anson wasn't planning to blame anyone—
After all, there were far too many people in Hollywood who needed saving, discovering, and redeeming. The truly talented ones might be one in ten thousand. Even the people at the top of the pyramid may have been passionate and hopeful before, sincerely wanting to help others, only to be met with disappointment and backlash again and again, eventually becoming indifferent.
Anything was possible.
But this time was different. Edgar might have encountered a stalker, and such people were often very dangerous, only a step away from exploding, so Anson asked the question.
Edgar took a deep breath. "Of course, I read it seriously and gave him my feedback. I don't think the script is right for you."
"In fact, I was very polite. It was a terrible script, completely lacking in talent. I couldn't see any reason why the role had to be you. I think he just wants to use your name to attract investors."
"But he still followed me all the way here, right to your doorstep."
No wonder.
Anson raised his chin slightly.
Edgar sized up Anson for a moment. He thought Anson would be nervous too, but—
He wasn't.
Edgar had to explain further, "I've already notified the police."
Not just for his own safety but also for Anson's.
"How come you're not worried at all?" Edgar glanced at Anson in disbelief.
Anson shrugged. "I trust your ability. You'll handle it well."
Edgar: ...
Anson continued, "Besides, I don't think he's a stalker; it's just a tactic. Otherwise, he shouldn't have come to you, because the decision-making power is with me. If he wanted to threaten or force someone, he should have followed me."
Edgar paused. "You mean, he just wanted to scare me."
Anson nodded. "Right. Maybe when the police show up, he'll run off before they even get close. But this is just my guess. To be safe, you should still pass on the information. Who knows what other crazy plans he might have."
Edgar: ..."Damn it."
He cursed under his breath, a rare sight for the usually smiling Edgar, showing his frustration and anger without hiding it.
But it was just a brief moment.
Taking a deep breath, Edgar regained his composure and returned to his usual demeanor. "Maybe this is a warning."
"Things are different now. Anson, I know you don't like having a lot of people around you, but this kind of thing could happen to you anytime. You need a personal bodyguard for safety."
Anson: ???
Wait, how did this turn to me?
Edgar flashed a sly smile, looking like his plan had succeeded. "By the way, we still need to deal with that guy outside. I'll check in with the LAPD again, not just here in Malibu."
With that, Edgar stepped outside and got busy again.
Anson was left standing there, utterly confused—
So, did that stalker even exist?
After a while, Edgar came back, having swiftly handled the situation.
Anson squinted at Edgar, who cleared his throat. "Anson, you need to be mindful of your safety."
Edgar finished his statement, looking at Anson with a face full of innocence but with a firm gaze that wouldn't back down.
Anson's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Tell Luca I got it."
Edgar: ...
Cough, cough.
Edgar quietly looked away.
Without needing a reply, Anson knew he guessed right. He rolled his eyes helplessly. "So, I heard you've been so busy you're standing up sleeping lately. Is that true?"
Edgar immediately stood up straight, his expression firm. "Of course it's true. My phone doesn't stop ringing 24/7. I've set it to silent now."
Anson looked at the troubled Edgar. "I thought that was a good thing. You enjoy being in the spotlight."
Edgar shook his head like a rattle. "No, no, no, I don't like it. I still prefer being behind the scenes. Otherwise, I would have become an actor."
In his words, there was a casual confidence.
To be honest, Edgar wasn't the kind of person who catches your eye immediately, but his low-key and subtle charm grows on you over time.
Anson raised his chin slightly, like a casting director, giving Edgar a once-over. "Yeah, you're made for the big screen."
Edgar: ...
Blinking, Edgar responded enthusiastically, "I specifically brought some after-dinner reading today. If you have time, you might want to check it out."