As the introducer, Darren felt like he was unnecessary, as if he shouldn't even be here. So, was this normal?
But after thinking it over carefully, it wasn't really surprising.
If Anson could turn a cameo appearance into a guest role after meeting David Klein for the first time, what difference would it make with Jeff?
Initially, Darren was only trying to lend a helping hand, but step by step, he found himself pleasantly surprised, as if he had stumbled upon a treasure. It wasn't just others; even Darren himself couldn't help but start wondering:
How far could Anson go in Hollywood's Vanity Fair?
Jeff seemed intent on testing Anson.
Firstly, because faces introduced through connections are countless, happening daily, and even with Jeff's sharp mind, it's impossible to remember them all. So what made Anson special? In Hollywood, everyone knows that events like tonight's are opportunities, but who will stand out?
Secondly, Anson had been making some waves in Hollywood lately, and Jeff was naturally curious.
Thus, Jeff didn't even glance at Darren. His eyes remained on Anson, and after responding with a few friendly remarks, he continued to speak.
"Tonight, you've certainly stirred up a bit of a mess."
"Mess"—Jeff used a word with negative connotations, subtly testing the waters as he observed Anson closely.
But Anson remained unfazed.
If he were eighteen, fresh out of the gate, he might have panicked at this moment; however, he wasn't.
"Indeed," Anson nodded slightly, his gaze clear as he looked at Jeff. "So, this is a good thing. I bet right now everyone is wondering: why him?"
One sentence, with two layers of meaning.
The first layer: In Hollywood, no news is bad news. For a newcomer like Anson, stirring up attention, even through a "mess," is a crucial step—it's undoubtedly a good thing. The source of thɪs content is novel⸺fire.net
The second layer: As everyone focuses on Anson, they will inevitably wonder who this guy is. A quick check would reveal that Anson has only one work to his name, *Friends.* What would people think next?
Curiosity and investigation would now surround Anson, and that included Jeff standing before him.
Anson met Jeff's gaze with a clear expression, making his point unmistakable: Look, you're curious too.
In other words, Anson had thrown the mockery back at Jeff, even he couldn't escape the intrigue.
How could Jeff not understand? A smile immediately crept up to the corners of his eyes as he said meaningfully, "You're smart, though you don't look it."
Anson's lips curled up as well. He playfully raised a small fist in a celebratory gesture, "Thank you. That means I've succeeded."
Even someone as seasoned as Jeff was momentarily taken aback, a beat behind, before his brain caught up and he understood—
The pretty-boy image is deceptive, much like how people often stereotype blonde women as being all looks and no brains. In reality, hair color has nothing to do with intelligence, so they can use this perception to their advantage, creating opportunities for themselves.
Anson was doing the same.
His handsome appearance was his best camouflage. People naturally underestimated him, assuming he was just a pretty face or a model.
Soon, they would realize how wrong they were—Anson, like a chameleon, could adapt.
Look, even Jeff wasn't immune to this misjudgment.
When Jeff realized Anson had playfully mocked him, not only did he not get angry, but his eyes also shone with admiration.
In Hollywood, there are plenty of beautiful people, and many smart ones too. But there are even more who think they're smarter than they are, overestimating themselves and failing to find their place.
Clearly, Anson wasn't one of them.
Jeff didn't look at Anson anymore but instinctively turned to Darren.
As the introducer, now seemingly sidelined, Darren spread his hands, his face calm, "Yes, I taught him everything."
That deadpan delivery of nonsense couldn't have been more obvious.
"Hah." Jeff burst out laughing. He finally understood why both David Klein and Darren, two seasoned foxes, were so keen on Anson. "Haha."
The laughter was sincere and pure, with no politeness or pretense. It was clear that Jeff genuinely appreciated him.
"Darren, oh Darren, you're not the least bit honest. Anson is much more interesting than you." Even though Darren was the one being addressed, Anson remained the central focus of Jeff's words, reflecting his current attitude.
Darren didn't mind at all. He spread his hands and said, "Jeff, I didn't make my way in Hollywood through charm and humor."
The brief exchange between Darren and Jeff sparked with energy, and laughter surged again.
If it weren't for someone calling him from the side, and if Jeff hadn't confirmed that he, as the host, had to attend to other guests, he would have been happy to stay and chat a bit longer.
In the end, Jeff turned and left, sincerely wishing that Anson would have a pleasant evening. As he walked away with a beaming smile, he took two steps, then turned back to glance at Anson and Darren again. His eyes reflected admiration as he gave Anson another look before finally leaving.
Actions always speak louder than words, and it was clear that Anson had made a strong impression, taking a significant step forward tonight.
As Jeff departed, Darren gently patted Anson on the back without saying much more. That simple gesture was the highest form of praise.
However, the night wasn't over yet.
Jeff was just one of many big shots, and opportunities were rare. The difference now was that Darren felt confident enough to let Anson explore and carve out his own path. He believed that Anson would handle things better on his own than if he were to personally introduce him to each important figure and have the interaction turn into mere formalities.
"Be free, just be yourself," Darren said.
Then, Darren walked away.
Anson hadn't even had the chance to start mingling or exploring the venue, and he still didn't know where the buffet table was—
He swore he was genuinely hungry.
For the awards ceremony, he hadn't eaten anything since 10 a.m. that morning, rushing from one place to another. Now, he needed to refuel with some sugar.
Just as he turned around, Anson saw Brad Renfro hurriedly making his entrance.
Brad's eyes were a bit nervous and unfocused, scanning the crowd frantically. When he finally spotted Anson, he rushed over as if clinging to a lifeline.
"Anson, I need help."
Though Anson didn't know what was happening, the tremble in Brad's voice made it clear how anxious he was.
Anson didn't rush things. He handed his champagne to Brad and said, "Calm down, take it slow."
Brad downed the champagne in one gulp, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as the drink wasn't as cold as he expected, likely due to the warmth from Anson's hand. But at this moment, Brad didn't care. He immediately emptied the rest of the glass into his throat.
"Ah... God, I, uh, oh, Jesus Christ, I think I've finally found the acting opportunity I've always dreamed of, but it seems to be slipping away. I don't know what to do."