"…Trust me, the movie will be a success…"
"Wow, I can't believe Sam actually pulled it off."
"The project we discussed last time…"
Anson quietly maneuvered through the crowd, trying to keep a low profile as he prepared to leave the "Spider-Man" premiere party early.
It wasn't exactly early, considering it was already 3 a.m. The once-bustling party had entered a semi-drunken state, and even if the star of the premiere left, no one would really notice.
After the premiere, Sony Columbia had thrown a party at the Beverly Hills Hilton—not a celebration, but an extension of the premiere to gather journalists, critics, producers, and actors for a social event.
At this stage, critics still maintained their professional demeanor, or at least tried to. They wouldn't easily be bought by the film company; in fact, maintaining their authoritative image could lead to more income, far beyond what a party could offer.
The true purpose of the premiere party was to gauge and prepare.
They'd test the waters with critics and journalists. If the reviews were poor, the film company's marketing team could devise a strategy overnight, hoping to salvage the situation and at least make a push for the opening weekend.
Of course, the party wasn't all about discussing "Spider-Man." Producers, actors, and directors were all trying to seize opportunities and make connections.
No one should miss out on a chance.
Amidst the clinking of glasses and the mingling of scents and styles, surrounded by lights, smiles, flattery, and alcohol, Anson's shoulders were almost completely stiff from the evening.
Finally, with the noise and commotion behind him, he reached the hotel entrance and waited for a taxi—
Taking a deep breath of the crisp early morning air, the stark contrast of the desert climate became apparent, and his skin prickled with goosebumps. Yet, the cacophony in his ears gradually faded, and the world quieted down again.
Behind him, a voice called out.
"That Prius, thanks."
Instinctively turning around, Anson saw a slim, somewhat brooding young man handing the car keys to the valet and then shoving his hands into his pockets, his body slightly shivering.
Noticing Anson's gaze, he looked down at his slightly thin suit and gave an awkward smile. "My agent said it's better to dress up rather than focus on warmth. Looking good is more important."
Anson chuckled softly. "But compared to the girls, at least we have jackets."
The boy laughed heartily at the joke. "I can't complain."
The boy then stepped forward and extended his right hand. "Ryan Gosling. Sorry, I didn't introduce myself. I'm…"
Anson shook his hand politely. "I know, Brad's friend. I attended the premiere of your movie. Thanks for coming to our premiere tonight."
Ryan looked surprised and then chuckled after a moment. "So you remember."
Three weeks ago, "Digital Murder Case," starring Ryan Gosling, Brad Lanflo, and Sandra Bullock, had premiered in major theaters. Even though it was a spring release, the movie had a grand premiere—after all, it was Sandra's leading role and a wide release across North America.
Brad's invitation led Anson and Chris Evans to attend the premiere, while James Franco had gone to Atlanta for an audition and missed it.
In return, Anson invited Brad and Ryan to tonight's "Spider-Man" premiere, hoping to boost their exposure.
For emerging actors like them, any exposure is valuable.
Looking at the somewhat cautious Ryan, Anson's smile broadened. "If you can't remember in such a short time, it's either a choice or early Alzheimer's. Either way, there's nothing we can do about it."
Ryan blinked, then laughed heartily. "Haha."
Looking around, Ryan seemed puzzled. "Where's your ride?"
Anson explained, "I didn't drive. I've had the hotel front desk call a cab for me; I just need to wait a bit."
Ryan lifted his chin slightly. "Not driving was a smart decision. I've been refusing to drink all night because I drove here. God, you wouldn't believe how many dirty looks I got."
Though Ryan came from the Mickey Mouse Club, making him a child star, transitioning in Hollywood after childhood is tough. So, Ryan started with independent films and steadily made a name for himself.
Naturally, tonight's grand premiere party was a first for him, and he lacked experience.
Ryan's self-deprecating tone made Anson chuckle. "I didn't drink tonight either. Even though no one cares that I'm under 21, I thought I'd be very tired after the party, so I didn't drive."
Ryan's eyes lit up. "Smart!"
Pausing to look at Anson, Ryan asked, "So, you're not yet 21?"
Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. "No, actually, I'm 41."
Ryan looked at Anson seriously—so convincing.
This made it even funnier, and Ryan couldn't help but laugh heartily. "Haha, Brad never mentioned you were such a fun guy."
Anson shrugged lightly. "Maybe because I'm not a woman?"
Ryan burst out laughing and slapped his thigh, realizing the joke was about Brad focusing too much on women and never talking about his good friends.
Brad: knee struck.
As they spoke, Ryan's silver Prius arrived, faster than a taxi.
Ryan took the keys from the valet and hesitated a moment. "Do you need a ride? Even if I can't thank you for the invite, at least I can show some courtesy."
Anson was about to decline when Ryan added, "I promise I'm not driving tired."
A playful remark lightened the mood.
Anson, not being overly formal, looked at the valet. "Please notify the dispatch to cancel that cab."
In front of him, Ryan had opened the passenger door and was waiting.
Anson was surprised by Ryan's quick actions.
Ryan glanced at Anson. "Wait, you don't want to sit in the back, do you? That would make me the driver."
A smile appeared in Anson's eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not treating you as a chauffeur. My driver needs to be stronger and taller."
Ryan, "Ouch, my knee!"
Amidst the banter, Anson climbed into the passenger seat, and Ryan got behind the wheel, starting the engine and slowly driving away from the hotel.
As he glanced back, Ryan noticed Anson yawning. It was unclear if it was his imagination, but in the shadows, there seemed to be a hint of fatigue and loneliness.
Originally, Ryan didn't want to ask, as it was Anson's personal matter, but Anson happened to look up and meet his gaze. There was no time to dodge, and avoiding it would seem even more awkward.
This made things a bit uncomfortable.
Ryan, "I wasn't snooping, really."