The baby-faced man didn't notice Anson's joke at all. His expression suddenly turned serious as he spun around and carefully observed the reporters in front of him.
His stance was like that of a Terminator scanning for targets.
The atmosphere in the area noticeably tightened.
Then, without further hesitation, the baby-faced man turned to Anson. "Mr. Wood, follow me. I'll protect you."
One second, he was like the Terminator, and now he's a bodyguard? So, if baby-face is Kevin Costner, does that make Anson...?
But there was no time for jokes this time. Baby-face strode forward, clearing a path, and Anson quickly followed.
"Anson, do you have confidence in the holiday box office?"
"How much do you think it'll make this time?"
"Was filming in Vancouver smooth?"
"What's your next move? Rumor has it you're preparing for an Oscar-level film. Is that true?"
"Would you consider starring in a rom-com?"
"Jennifer Lopez mentioned during the promotion of 'Maid in Manhattan' that if she had to pick a perfect prince, she thought you'd fit the image. How do you feel about that?"
"Do you believe 'Catch Me If You Can' will be a hit?"
One after another, a barrage of questions came at him like a tidal wave, instantly overwhelming Anson.
But baby-face, leading the way, cut through the chaos with the precision of a knife through butter. Gone was his earlier clumsy demeanor. His larger frame allowed him to push forward, parting the crowd with sheer force. The reporters fell back, creating a visible pathway, and for a moment, it was like Moses parting the Red Sea, revealing the tiled floor beneath.
He was utterly confused, but effortlessly followed in baby-face's wake, walking through the chaos unscathed.
The chaotic noise trailed behind them, but nothing could stop Anson from continuing forward.
Edgar opened the door for Anson. "Get in!"
Baby-face stopped, using his arms to shield Anson from the reporters, his serious expression unwavering as he watched Anson climb into the car. Once Anson was safely inside, he blocked the path behind them like a lone warrior facing an army.
Baby-face protected Anson as he got into the car, then quickly shut the door. Without missing a beat, he threw himself forward, pushing back the approaching crowd like a rugby player, effectively holding them off before swiftly jumping into the passenger seat.
The whole sequence of actions was fluid, clean, and efficient. If not for the small mishap at the end.
Just as baby-face tried to squeeze into the passenger seat, he lost his focus, thinking the danger had passed. He didn't duck enough while getting into the car, and his head slammed into the roof.
The dull thud sounded like wood hitting a gong.
Anson and Edgar both flinched, turning to stare in shock.
Completely unfazed, baby-face turned to Edgar, confused. "Mr. Cook, we can go now."
Edgar: ... "Are you sure you're okay?"
The impact had been so loud, they half expected to see the car roof dented. But baby-face just smiled brightly. "I'm fine. Mr. Wood, how about you? Did I do my job well?"
Anson blinked. "I'm fine. Everything's... perfect."
While saying this, he quietly pulled out a tissue and handed it over.
Baby-face looked puzzled. "To wipe off sweat? Oh my God, I must be drenched in sweat..."
Anson shook his head gently. "For the blood. You're bleeding from your forehead."
Watching baby-face cheerfully wipe the blood from his forehead while smiling at the rearview mirror, Anson turned to Edgar. "Where did you find this gem?"
Though Edgar was still a bit shaken, he had adjusted faster than Anson. "Don't ask me, ask Lucas."
Anson paused. "My Lucas?"
Edgar nodded slightly. "If I hadn't hired you a new assistant and security, Lucas probably would've stormed into the company to show me what a real security risk looks like."
"Hah." Anson laughed out loud. "Lucas talks a big game. He couldn't even kill a mosquito."
Edgar didn't respond, just gave Anson a meaningful look in the rearview mirror before starting the car and driving away.
In the end, Anson couldn't take it anymore—
Baby-face, looking awkward and clumsy, had tried to bandage his forehead but ended up wrapping himself like a mummy, wasting tissues left and right.
Unable to watch any longer, Anson stepped in to help.
However, as Edgar glanced at baby-face, then at Anson through the rearview mirror, he commented, "Are you sure? He's starting to look like Frankenstein."
Anson confidently retorted, "At least it's better than a mummy."
Without a first-aid kit in the car, they could only do a makeshift bandage for the wound. Anson sighed, doing what he could to help.
Anson looked at baby-face. "Noah, you good?"
Noah Newman nodded. "Mr. Wood, all good."
As he spoke, the tissue loosely wrapped around his forehead flapped in the wind, making him look like the injured walnut from Plants vs. Zombies. But Noah's eyes remained clear and determined as he stared straight ahead.
Anson blinked and silently looked out the window.
The journey wasn't smooth— Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on N0veI.Fiɾe.net
The paparazzi were chasing them.
In the past, Anson had only seen such chases in movies or on the news, like the infamous O.J. Simpson highway pursuit or the tragic Princess Diana car crash. These stories had shrouded paparazzi chases in mystery.
Anson was surprised to find himself in one for the first time.
It made no sense. He had no scandals, no gossip, not even any noteworthy news. So what were they chasing?
Anson rolled down the window, greeting the paparazzi with a wave, and Edgar didn't resort to any wild driving stunts. What should have been a tense chase turned into a leisurely afternoon drive, leaving the paparazzi baffled.
Confronted with such a laid-back Anson, they didn't know what to do.
In the end, they arrived at Malibu, with the paparazzi watching as Anson's car disappeared into the forest, out of sight.
The paparazzi were left empty-handed.
One by one, they started to question themselves: What just happened today? Why did it feel like they'd been taken for a ride?