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Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—
Anson showed his phone screen to Ryan. Even though a string of phone numbers flashed by too quickly for Ryan to recognize, if Anson said it was Brad, then it was Brad.
Anson motioned for Ryan to take a seat. "Don't worry; they won't eat you alive. Even if they did, I believe you'd survive. I'll go and nudge Brad now. Who knows where that guy has disappeared to?"
Ryan opened his mouth, ready to respond, but before he could, Anson had already turned away, leaving him standing there. Still, a smile crept onto his face.
Boom!
"Anson, Anson! We did it! Our movie is a hit!"
Before Anson could answer the phone, James was already standing on the couch, arms raised in celebration.
Cut.
Pfft.
Everyone burst into boos.
"James, what happened to the review party?"
"Yeah, weren't we all supposed to watch it together? Why'd you sneak off?"
James quickly explained, "It wasn't me—it was the director. Apatow just texted me saying the movie's a hit. Half of Century City knows already."
Century City, located southwest along Santa Monica Boulevard past Beverly Hills, emerges into view upon entering Century Park—a stark contrast to the low-rise Los Angeles skyline, with its towering buildings. This area is an anomaly, almost like Atlantis, serving as Hollywood's heart, where talent agencies, PR firms, and movie studios all try to establish their offices.
Being in Century City means you've staked a claim in Hollywood.
Once a studio lot developed by 20th Century Fox, Century City has evolved over time into the entertainment hub of North America for film, music, and more.
When Judd Apatow tells James that "half of Century City knows," it means the news has spread across the core circles of the entertainment industry.
Everything is going as expected. All of Hollywood is watching—not just the "Spider-Man" crew, but everyone is keenly awaiting the film's reception and performance. This summer blockbuster rests squarely on Peter Parker's young, slender shoulders.
Even in 2002, when social networks were non-existent, news still spread quickly through Century City. A light breeze could carry the news.
"Really?"
"But you still shouldn't have gone ahead without us. We were all waiting to see it together."
"Anson, Anson, get over here."
The whole room was buzzing with excitement.
Anson paused his steps, a smile already forming on his lips—
Good news is always thrilling, no matter what.
"Three minutes, give me three minutes," Anson called out, stepping into the backyard with his phone, leaving behind the noise and chatter. "Hey, Brad, where are you? I checked your room this morning—no sign you came back. Chris and I were worried you might have passed out in some alley."
"Oh, I'm at the Hilton. I was completely wasted and passed out on a couch. God, I have no idea what happened last night." Brad's raspy voice came through the phone, sounding like a rusty tin can. You could almost feel the throbbing headache through the line.
Anson spread his hands wide. Why wasn't he surprised?
"So, where are you now? Do you need us to come pick you up? The review party is all set up, and it's not far away." Anson heard a tapping on the window, and when he turned around, he saw Chris.
Anson gestured to his phone, "It's Brad."
Chris widened his eyes. "How is he?"
Anson just replied, "He's fine," and then continued his conversation.
"Yeah, I called about that..." Brad hesitated. "Anson, here's the deal: I met a producer last night. Damn, I don't even know what I said to him, but he wants to talk to me about a project."
"That's great!" Anson's eyes lit up.
Brad let out a long breath. "I was hoping to push it to the afternoon, but I look like a mess right now, and my breath is awful. But he doesn't mind; he said we could just chat here at the Hilton. So, I might not make it back for the review party."
"No, no, no, don't worry about it." Anson waved his hand and gave a smile. "Brad, look, someone's noticed your performance. 'Digital Murder' is finally paying off. You should talk to the producer and show him what you've got. Believe in yourself."
Brad took another deep breath. "You know, I really wish I could make it back. I know how much this movie means to you and James."
"Ha, don't worry about it. Just know that next week, you're on trash duty. As for James, a case of beer should smooth things over." Anson couldn't help but feel a bit brighter. If Brad could land a role, that would be fantastic.
"Man, you should go freshen up and, most importantly, gather your thoughts. Make the most of this opportunity." Anson advised.
Brad seemed to finally relax. "Sure thing. Good luck, and tell James I'm sorry."
After hanging up, Anson stood there thinking—
Los Angeles is indeed a land of opportunity. If you stick with it long enough, chances are you'll get your break. Of course, the hardest part is the sticking.
So, he shouldn't worry. There's no reason to fret over the success or failure of one movie. He's seized every opportunity so far and has been enjoying his second chance at life. Why get caught up now?
Not lingering any longer, Anson returned to the bustling living room, where his friends were still chatting and messing around. They hadn't started reading the reviews yet, but Apatow's news had definitely sparked excitement.
Anson spread his arms wide and shouted, "Hey, guys! Are you ready? It's time to open Pandora's box!"
Roars, whoops, and hollers erupted.
Anson grabbed Chris and made his way to Ryan, quickly filling him in.
Sure enough, Ryan's face brightened immediately. The two even exchanged a high-five and whispered, "Hope Brad does well."
Chris couldn't help but get fired up. "He will! He definitely will. No worries."
Anson nodded in agreement. "Alright then, we should be ready to start. Oh, wait—popcorn! Chris, those buttered popcorns, bring them out, and then we can begin."
Chris nodded repeatedly. "Yeah, what's a movie without popcorn?"
With everyone pitching in, they finally got everything ready. Under their eager gazes, Anson opened his laptop, navigated to the website, and the moment of truth arrived—