An encore.
Two encores.
Although the gang of scoundrels led by Judd Apatow were just grains of sand in the vast ocean of Hollywood and had not yet formed a small group, their camaraderie was palpable. One by one, they cheered and showed their support, creating a lively atmosphere for the encore party.
After the encore, James and Seth went straight off the stage to thank the audience, and the bustling crowd gathered together, causing a brief period of chaos.
Edgar went against the current.
Regardless of the circumstances, since we're already here, and we've chosen to stay, we should at least make an appearance, demonstrate our presence, and build a network of connections.
Otherwise, how could I justify missing out on afternoon tea?
Edgar's attention was drawn to a short man who had been pushed aside by the trend of enthusiastic greetings and pleasantries. He was standing next to the young man who had just noticed him. Edgar thought carefully for a moment—
Sam Levine.
Born in 1982, eighteen years old, not tall, probably around 5.4 feet (166 cm), average appearance, somewhat cute but also a bit of a homebody.
Such actors are not typical handsome men and beautiful women, and may never get a leading role in their entire career, but in fact they are very popular in Hollywood.
Because they are the protagonist's friends, the villain's henchmen, and the heroine's lucky charm; although they are not dazzling, they are indispensable.
For agents, this doesn't mean instant fame, but it does mean stable income, since an agent's income comes entirely from a percentage of their clients' film and television fees.
If my memory serves me right, Sam has only appeared in one TV series so far, "Freaks and Geeks," but he still doesn't have an agent.
Such a role would be beneath the notice of top agents, but Edgar could give it a try and steadily expand his horizons in this way.
"Green leaves" have always been a very important component of works of art.
Moreover, Sam was standing with the owner of that gaze.
Killing two birds with one stone.
Edgar walked naturally toward Sam and greeted him.
"Hey Sam, good afternoon. Today's performance, especially your scene with James Franco, clearly shows you did your research on the character."
Lying through your teeth is the first lesson in the basic course for becoming a broker.
Sam was flattered. "Wow, thank you."
Edgar smiled, gestured to Sam, and then looked at the figure beside him. "And who is this?" Very well, the change of topic was very natural.
Sam didn't think much of it. "Oh, Anson, this is James' friend."
A half-smile flickered in Anson's eyes as he extended his right hand. "Anson Wood."
At this moment, Edgar finally looked directly at Anson's face. He was rugged and handsome, refreshing and sunny. In just one glance, he made a deep impression. "Edgar Cook".
Edgar could sense the deeper meaning in Anson's eyes, but Anson said nothing, and the two exchanged a knowing glance.
This is also a remarkable person.
Edgar made his judgment based on his first impression.
Then, Edgar looked at Sam again and asked, "Excuse me, do you have an agent?"
Sam paused for a moment, then said, "No, not yet."
Edgar gently raised his chin, revealing a confident smile. "I think we'll meet again."
As he spoke, he took out his business card and handed it over.
Sam took the business card, glanced at it, and couldn't hide his surprise and excitement. "Oh, you work at William Morris?"
Sam couldn't help but glance at Edgar again—
Low-key, reserved, and composed.
Sam had assumed Edgar was in his thirties after their brief encounter, but upon closer inspection, he realized he was no more than twenty-five.
Despite having very youthful features and skin, her overall demeanor is remarkably composed, making her appear older than her age.
At first glance, he was unremarkable, easily forgotten, and easily swallowed up in a crowd; but upon second glance, he was slightly different: short brown hair, black eyes, a height of about 5.7 feet (175 centimeters), a slightly thin body, and a particularly gentle temperament.
Like warm jade.
Is this definitely an agent?
Sam was somewhat uncertain.
Bathed in scrutinizing gazes, Edgar remained calm, neither arrogant nor humble, and nodded slightly in acknowledgment, "You can contact me anytime."
The self-promotion was simple yet to the point, without appearing overly eager, and then, seemingly casually but smoothly, he turned to look at Anson.
Are you an actor too? Do you have an agent?
Edgar was slightly nervous—
He figured Anson probably already had an agent.
With such looks, such poise, and such charisma, how could someone walk the streets of Hollywood without an agent?
unreasonable.
Anson... thought about it, and he wasn't sure either.
But if I remember correctly, Darren said that the agent's matter was not urgent and that he should handle it.
Just as Anson was about to speak, he saw a figure coming towards Edgar from behind. He was about to warn him when the person bumped into Edgar's shoulder hard.
The collision of shoulders was solid and fierce, clearly intentional.
Edgar's attention was completely focused on Anson; he had no eyes in the back of his head and was caught off guard by the collision, almost falling forward.
With an emergency stop, Edgar barely managed to regain his balance. Despite his seemingly frail physique, he surprisingly possessed impressive core strength.
Turning around, Edgar saw James Franco's nonchalant, cynical face. He stretched his shoulders and smiled, "You just happened to break my shoulder perfectly, thanks."
James shook his head repeatedly with a grin, "No, no, no, I barely touched it, I just brushed against it."
Then, James looked at Anson and Sam, spreading his hands, "Or rather, I can't control my power."
As he spoke, James rubbed his biceps.
Sam swallowed hard, unable to hide his worry, and handed over the business card. "James, you're talking to William Morris's agent."
For these young actors whose careers were just beginning, William Morris represented the pinnacle of the industry, something unattainable.
James was also somewhat surprised, but showed no signs of tension or panic, continuing to laugh and say, "Oh, oops, I think I said something wrong."
"Feel sorry!"
"So, what should I do for you to forgive me?"
The words were an apology, but the expression was that of a joke.
James has always been a bold guy.
Anson looked at Edgar, wondering how Edgar would respond and seize the opportunity to retaliate fiercely.
However, Edgar didn't take it to heart and deliberately put on a serious expression. "For example, if you give me a glass of red wine now, or beer if you don't have any."
The banter lightened the mood instantly.
Swords flashed and shadows fell, appearing and disappearing in the midst of laughter and conversation, their sharpness seemingly imperceptible, the surging undercurrent vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Anson had heard before that life is like a play, and everything depends on acting skills, especially in the world of fame and fortune. Now that he's in Hollywood, he's finally had a real eye-opening experience.
James took the business card from Sam, glanced at it, and shook his head repeatedly. "Sam, dear Sam, don't be fooled by the name William Morris."
"This guy might be a fraud."