Heading south, at an intersection, Anson made a turn westward, and soon, he saw another café. Unlike the brightly colored café he had seen earlier, this one was a chain store with standardized décor.
Anson paused, feeling slightly puzzled. In the original owner's mory, this should have been Pasqua Coffee, a chain based in San Francisco. But now, it had been replaced by a dark green Starbucks.
Nevertheless, Anson imdiately spotted Edgar sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, wearing sunglasses and feigning relaxation. However, his body was tense, his crossed legs rigid, betraying his unease.
As soon as Edgar saw Anson approaching, he quickly removed his sunglasses and waved him over.
Before Anson could even sit down, Edgar was already staring intently at him, speaking cautiously, as if afraid that a louder voice would startle him.
"So, you didn't run into him?"
If they had t and talked for a while, it would have taken at least ten to fifteen minutes. Factoring in waiting in line, setting the stage, and creating an opportunity, it would have taken at least half an hour. But now, how much ti had passed?
The most likely explanation was that Sam hadn't shown up, and it had all been for nothing.
Anson shook his head and looked around. Seeing that no staff mber ca to stop him from bringing in his takeout coffee and that the atmosphere around them was peaceful, he relaxed and sat down.
"No, Sam was there."
"However, Scott Speedman beat to him and started talking with Sam. They're still talking now."
At the first half of Anson's sentence, Edgar grew anxious, unsure of what had happened; but at the second half, Edgar quickly caught on, a contemplative expression appearing on his face.
After thinking for a mont, Edgar looked at Anson, his gaze steady. "You're not the type to retreat easily, so what else happened?"
Not only would Anson not back down without a fight, but Edgar also believed that Anson was highly adaptable and would definitely co up with another strategy.
Anson chuckled. "There's no sha in running when you can't win."
Edgar was montarily stunned. For a split second, Anson had him fooled, making him doubt his understanding of him. But soon, seeing the calm smile on Anson's face, he realized what was going on and patiently waited for the rest of the story.
Sure enough.
Anson took a deep breath. "I don't think Sam would appreciate this kind of visit."
Anson then briefly summarized his observations and recounted the entire sequence of events, which left Edgar in silent contemplation.
After thinking it over, Edgar let out a sigh. "You might be right. Whether or not Sam seriously reviewed the audition materials, even if he didn't look at them at all and knows nothing about you candidates, after eting you, he could still recognize you during the waiting period for the audition. Sam might assu this whole thing was deliberately planned."
Anson lifted his chin. "And he would be right."
Their encounter was indeed carefully arranged.
This ant that Sam's initial impression wasn't very positive. Regardless of whether the chance eting at the café could deceive him, Sam's preconceived notions could beco a potential obstacle.
Thus, Anson's decision to leave was the right one.
Edgar chuckled silently, choosing not to respond directly to Anson's remarks, but his mind wandered to another concern, his tone showing a trace of hesitation. "About tonight's dinner... we might need to reconsider."
"Dinner?" Anson caught onto the key word.
Edgar didn't hold back.
"I've been in contact with the company, hoping to connect with one of the producers who can arrange a private dinner with the director."
"If that doesn't work out, I could track Sam's whereabouts through cab drivers and hotel doorn, and then orchestrate a chance eting at a restaurant."
"I was thinking we could have a al and talk—away from the pressures and burdens of the audition process—and then convince him face-to-face that you're the perfect choice."
"But now, it seems we might need to rethink this."
Despite the rush and the urgency, Edgar had managed to devise a plan within just 24 hours, leveraging the resources of William Morris Agency to get things moving. This was the first glimpse of Edgar's professional capabilities as an agent.
Anson also considered it carefully—
If it were the producer who arranged the eting, this would fall into the category of an "open strategy," one that is commonplace in Hollywood. Sam might not be so resistant to it.
Moreover, though both scenarios involved "chance encounters" and "ambushes," an ambush before the audition is a calculated move when the other party is unprepared; however, a eting after the audition would be a legitimate business eting. The sa situation, yet with vastly different implications.
Anson didn't rush to a conclusion but instead offered another possibility: "How about we wait until after the audition before making any decisions? We might get so insights from the audition experience itself. Or, perhaps by the ti it's my turn, they may have already made their decision."
Edgar raised an eyebrow. "So what then? If they've already made their choice before your audition, you'll just give up?"
Anson shook his head gently. "No. If they've already chosen soone, it just ans we need to go all out. At that point, there's no difference between subtle or overt strategies. We'll have to take the risk and try everything we can."
"Since we've co all the way to New York, we might as well face them directly and give it our all. Even if we crash and burn, at least we tried. Or more precisely, even if we fail, at least we made the attempt."
"We should take the gloves off and give it our best shot."
His tone was calm, yet there was an unmistakable fire in his words.
Edgar smiled, nodding slightly but choosing to shift the conversation instead of replying directly. "So, after you took control of the situation, you decided to leave without hesitation."
Anson spread his hands. "At that mont, leaving was the best choice."
Retreat to advance.
Edgar agreed, "A wise decision." He gave a thumbs up, then shifted the tone of the conversation. "Of course, I also need to apologize for not gathering detailed enough intelligence—I missed Scott Speedman."
Anson, however, didn't mind. "Now it finally feels like I'm competing for a big role. It's a battlefield, full of unexpected challenges, where pure talent isn't enough."
Anson recalled Hayden's audition. And, of course, Jas's audition.
Edgar nodded slightly, though he wasn't nervous, worried, or discouraged. Instead, there was a gleam of excitent in his eyes. This was the kind of work he craved.
Then Edgar looked up at Anson.
"Before you head to the audition, there's one more thing. I'm not sure how useful it might be, but I think you should know."
"Sam Raimi, during that one-hour eting, managed to convince Sony Columbia and Marvel's naysayers. I've managed to get so reliable information on how it happened."
Surprise!
Whether it would be useful or not, this was undoubtedly crucial information.
"When Sam was twelve years old, his parents gave him a Spider-Man painting for his birthday. From that mont on, he fell in love with Spider-Man."
"To be precise, that was in October 1971. Spider-Man only began his own comic series in May 1963. In other words, these comics accompanied Sam throughout his childhood."
"It wasn't just Spider-Man. Sam also loved other Marvel comics. He's passionate about them, not just cramming in so last-minute research. The influence of these stories and characters played a profound role in his growth."
"One hour, Anson. He spoke for one full hour."
"And the next day, all the producers and executives unanimously agreed to let Sam direct. They believed he was the perfect choice."
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