Anson had transmigrated.
Just a second ago, he was standing in for an actor on set for lighting tests, when he heard a cry of "Careful!" and then everything went black, followed by a sharp pain.
The next second, he found himself in a square bathroom stall, collapsed next to the toilet.
Sitting on the toilet lid for a full fifteen minutes, Anson finally managed to sort through the jumbled memories of the original owner, realizing he had come from Shanghai in 2023 to Los Angeles in 2000—
April 1st, but this was no April Fool's joke.
Anson Wood, the original owner, had come to a production company for an audition on the recommendation of Darren Star, but what specific project, what role, what the situation was, his brain was as blank as paste, with practically no useful information.
He glanced down at the Nokia brick phone in his hand, "the ultimate weapon of mass destruction," its heavy weight in his palm feeling remarkably real.
Creak.
The sound of a door opening came from the bathroom, and a continuous conversation drifted from outside to inside.
"…Wasn't the audition at Central Casting supposed to be over a couple of days ago? I thought filming for episode twenty-one was next Monday. I even heard there was an argument on set yesterday, saying the filming schedule was too tight. What's going on with this drawn-out audition?"
"Heh, if Jennifer Aniston personally called to recommend an actor, you could be two days late for the audition too."
"Oh, Jennifer, always Jennifer! This isn't the first time. If the other actors find out, there's bound to be another argument."
"Wait, shouldn't she be past that? Isn't she and Brad getting ready to get married? I thought she'd kicked those habits! Could the rumors circulating on set lately be about him?"
"You saw it yourself, he didn't even go to Central Casting. David personally greeted him. If the producer personally greets him, doesn't that answer everything? Honestly, I think today's audition is just a formality."
"Ah, no wonder!"
"What's wrong?"
"Haven't you heard? The writing team had a big fight yesterday. I heard the head writer and David locked themselves in the office and were yelling at each other. The atmosphere has been tense lately, and yesterday they almost came to blows. So David is taking the heat for Jennifer."
"No, no, that's not right. I heard Darren recommended him?"
"Darren? Which Darren?"
"Darren Star?"
"Oh, that Darren."
The thin door provided no soundproofing whatsoever, or rather, the enclosed space of the bathroom was like a theater, with its own surround sound, every rustling word drilling into his ears without missing a beat.
That was a lot of information.
Darren Star, Anson had just thought the name sounded familiar, and now he finally remembered.
As a producer, he had launched high-profile series such as "90210" and "Melrose Place" in the nineties, and reached the peak of his career at the turn of the century with "Sex and the City."
For younger viewers, he was probably most familiar for producing "Emily in Paris" in 2020.
So, this work, with a producer named David and Jennifer Aniston as a cast member, must be—
"Friends"!
He had heard rumors before that the "Friends" cast wasn't as harmonious as it seemed on the surface, and that Jennifer Aniston, who became a huge star thanks to the series, held a special position and could even influence the producer's decisions. Now it seemed that it wasn't just hot air.
So, Darren Star recommended the original owner to his friend David Crane—the producer of "Friends"—to get him an audition for a role in the series, but this audition opportunity caused a stir in the crew, leading to a conflict between the producer and the writing team, even brewing a storm, which David finally controlled:
Insisting that the original owner come to audition today.
Aha!
So, what should he do next?
Please, how do you get an elephant out of the refrigerator?
Now, he was going to do just that—
Step one, open the door.
Step two, leave the bathroom.
No sooner said than done, he stopped posing like The Thinker, stood up, straightened his clothes, swept the scattered white powder into the toilet and flushed it away. The conversation outside was immediately cut off by the sound of the flush. Anson didn't hesitate and pushed open the stall door.
The air was very quiet.
The three people standing in front of the urinals turned around at the same time towards the source of the sound, dumbfounded and jaw-dropped, clearly not expecting this scene.
Frank Simons' brain stopped working for a moment, and he subconsciously wanted to scold, to take the initiative and control the situation.
But when he saw the man in front of him, the words caught in his throat—
Those deep and clear blue eyes were like the sun-drenched Aegean Sea on an August afternoon, the sparkling brightness filled with a hint of laziness and freshness, making people relax involuntarily, easily capturing the attention of others.
Clearly, this man was "eavesdropping," and at this moment he was completely at a disadvantage, one against three, but the man exuded a sense of calm and composure, without a trace of panic, instantly pushing all the pressure onto the three of them, and then they realized that the situation seemed not so good.
They were caught red-handed gossiping.
The scolding voice just couldn't come out.
Then.
The man strode forward with his long, slender legs, reaching the sink in just two or three steps. His estimated height of at least feet (188 cm) and the overwhelming pressure he exuded made the three men in front of the urinal feel uncomfortable even from a short distance, causing them to subconsciously take a small step back.
"Ah!"
Frank felt a warm sensation on his calf, and his pants were wet.
He turned around.
"Ah! Ah, ah, ah!"
He looked around wildly.
The floor was a mess.
Frank looked down at the map on his pants, almost unable to catch his breath. When he turned his head, he only saw the tall and upright figure passing by. He didn't even realize he had moved a small step inward, making way.
By the time he realized what had happened, he felt a burst of frustration, and he heard a chuckle in his ear.
"Careful, it's slippery."
Frank: You!
His face flushed red, and he clenched his fists, but before he could even raise them, the man's figure had already disappeared.
Outside the door.
A mess of curses and swear words came from behind him. Even though he couldn't see anything, he could imagine the chaos inside. Anson let out a soft breath.
"The elephant" has left "the refrigerator", so what's next?
Emma Roberts?
Her aunt is the Hollywood superstar Julia Roberts. Because of her aunt's connections, she got acting opportunities at a young age and entered Hollywood early.
And so did Anson Wood.
Darren Star is not Anson's godfather, but he is a good friend of the Wood family. He can be said to have watched him grow up. When he learned that Anson was interested in acting, he took it upon himself to introduce Anson to auditions. Anyway, for Darren, it was just a phone call, so he had today's opportunity.
In his previous life, he was just an ordinary worker in a film crew, standing behind the camera watching the actors surrounded by cheers and applause under the spotlight. A day's income was a number he could never touch in his entire life. He could only stand in the mud and look up at the stars.
But he never thought that he would now have the opportunity to step from behind the scenes to the front, not as a stunt double, but standing in front of the camera as himself? And he was back to eighteen years old, an age when a brand new and bright future was opening up before him, a fresh start.
He paused slightly, adjusted his direction, and walked towards the corridor without hesitation.
It was not until this moment that Anson had the opportunity to take a good look around—
A narrow corridor, messy props, broken lighting, and staff coming and going, their feet barely touching the ground. Film and television production companies are just like any other company, with nothing special about them.
At the end of the corridor, there was a glass-walled office. At this time, all the blinds were down, and there was another separate desk at the door, covered with various documents and three fixed telephones.
Based on experience, that should be the office of a senior leader, but at this time, the secretary's desk was empty. The staff coming and going didn't seem to mind, they just left the documents in their hands on the desk and then turned and left, with their own way of operating in the chaos.
Anson stepped forward and sat in the chair against the wall opposite the secretary's desk, slightly sorting out his thoughts, trying to recall more information about the audition—
Since it's an audition, what work, what role? Is the audition segment required in advance or prepared by myself?
However, before he could develop his thoughts, the office door opened. Anson reflexively looked over, but no one came out. Someone was holding the doorknob, facing inside with their back to the door, and a frustrated voice came from inside, cursing.
"…What the hell are you joking about?"
"Yes, I know, but…"
"I clearly told them that a small role would be fine, but now they are changing the outline for a role. Isn't that just asking for trouble? A bunch of idiots, if the filming next Monday is a disaster, I'll make them all beg on the streets."
"But, are you sure it doesn't matter? That's Darren Star, a random small role…"
"Darren-damn-Star, so what? This is my show, understand? NBC and HBO are different, we are watching the ratings every week here. If you casually find an unknown person as a guest, and the ratings plummet, are you going to clean up the mess for me, or is Darren Star going to lick my ass?"
"David, so now…"
"You let them continue to complete the script first. Get out! Get out, get out!"
Before the voice faded, the person quickly left the office and closed the door, and then there was a muffled crash from inside, and the glass wall shook slightly.
The person turned around and saw Anson. He was about to speak, but he didn't expect the office door to open again. A horse face tanned bronze from sunbathing with a few freckles poked out, his brows furrowed, his anger still not dissipated.
"Frank? Frank!"
"Where's Anson? What time is the appointment? If he hasn't shown up yet, push it back half an hour, I need to make a few calls."
In the midst of the rage, a figure slowly stood up, tall and outstanding in temperament, with a faint smile on the corner of his mouth.
"Good morning, Mr. Klein."
Dear book friends, the new entertainment author begs for collection! Don't raise books, because the current recommendation positions are directly linked to the number of follow-up readings, so raising too many books is easy to kill! Qimao is here begging you big guys, focus on following updates, supplemented by raising readings, begging!
