Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 114: Anti-Client

Fisher looked at the quietly emerging newcomer in front of him. Despite the stubble on his face, his handsome features still appeared somewhat youthful. Between his bold and uninhibited demeanor, his eyes remained calm as water, displaying a restraint and elegance beyond his years. It seemed as though all radiance had settled within him, permeating every cell of his body. Such contradictions yet harmonies made him stand out in the crowd, unlike the dazzling brilliance of Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise. His intriguing temperament always stood out.

It wasn't until he heard the mention of an Emmy nomination that the glimmer in his eyes revealed the fact that he was not yet twenty-one - or rather, that he was merely a Hollywood rookie.

Fisher had absolute confidence that with Renly in his hands, miracles could be created, perhaps even propelling him to become a top-tier superstar. But now, what intrigued him more was whether Renly had such ambitions.

"But this is just the beginning," Fisher's tone shifted slightly, "far from the end. The question now is, in this fame and fortune game of Hollywood, how far do you want to go?" In just a sentence, Fisher effortlessly regained control of the conversation.

Renly was on the verge of blurting out a sincere response, but just as the words reached his lips, he swallowed them back. Curiously, he looked at Fisher, "Shouldn't I be asking you that question? If I choose you to be my agent, what heights can you push me to?"

Who was the buyer's market, who was the seller's market, was a crucial matter. Fisher had taken the initiative to approach, so naturally, Renly wouldn't easily let go of this advantage. He was different from other ordinary newcomers; he wasn't too fixated on having an agent. Moreover, his bargaining power was increasing, wasn't it?

Fisher raised an eyebrow slightly. He didn't reject Renly's assertiveness. Surviving in Hollywood required more than just modesty; without enough aggression, it meant lacking ambition, and therefore, lacking value to nurture.

However, Fisher was somewhat surprised because from Renly's appearance, from his performance in "The Pacific," and various indications, Renly seemed to have a gentle personality. But now, it seemed the saying "never judge a book by its cover" was once again proven true.

"The sky is my limit," Fisher showed his domineering side for the first time. It was this attitude of disdain that had brought him to his current position. Obviously, he wasn't satisfied with it. "Twenty-million-dollar club, $55 million, Oscar-winning lead, lead role in a three-hundred-million-dollar production, productions where I also serve as a producer, collaborations with James Cameron and Meryl Streep... anything you can name, I can make it happen. The question is, do you have the capability for it?"

Fisher leaned back, crossing his legs casually. His posture, like a king on his throne, made it impossible to question his words and even harder to refuse his invitation. Even without an intentional rise in tone, his casual demeanor carried greater impact.

"Haha, you almost have me convinced," Renly would probably have been excited beyond words if not for his reincarnation. But he knew Hollywood didn't operate that way. The appearance of any top-tier star was the result of perfect timing, circumstances, and luck. An agent was just one piece of the puzzle, not the most crucial one. Luck and timing were paramount. Fisher was just bluffing, but considering his smooth sailing in the past few years, it was indeed convincing.

A hint of sarcasm was evident in his humorous remarks, which alerted Fisher. A strong personality was one thing, but being disobedient was another. For a newcomer without a background, arrogant defiance would only lead to self-destruction. Moreover, no agent would appreciate a newcomer constantly challenging them. No one.

"But what you said is not what I want. I want to reach higher levels," indeed, what Fisher mentioned was what everyone dreamed of nowadays, and Renly was no exception. The brightest stage in the fame arena, whether it was besieged or not, outsiders always wanted to step on it. But as Renly said, his true pursuit went beyond that, "I hope to truly integrate commerce and art. If that's my goal, what abilities do you think I need?"

Instantly, the initiative returned to Renly's hands.

Fisher thought he was arrogant enough, but upon hearing Renly's words, he felt an urge to laugh. Countless great artists throughout history had tried to perfectly blend commerce and art, seeking that golden balance. But even masters like Steven Spielberg, Stanley Kubrick, and James Cameron wouldn't dare claim they had found the key to success. Now, a greenhorn newcomer was boasting like this, akin to a baby wielding a pencil sharpener and claiming to defeat Sauron from "The Lord of the Rings." "That's an excellent joke, the best I've heard this year," Fisher chuckled, finding the young man in front of him more interesting.

However, Renly didn't laugh.

Fisher's laughter echoed in the car for a moment, but receiving no response, it gradually became awkward. Fisher's lips twitched slightly; suddenly, Nathan, sitting in the passenger seat, laughed unexpectedly, breaking the tension in the car. From awkwardness to a somewhat eerie atmosphere, this time it was Renly's turn to smile.

Nathan, trying to match Fisher's mood, had inadvertently disrupted the atmosphere. Turning his head, he saw Fisher's icy gaze and his heartbeat skipped a beat. He shrunk his neck and turned back, obediently sitting in place.

Fisher felt Renly was deliberately making fun of him, ridiculing him. This was clearly not a good sign. A flicker of anger ignited in his heart. Over the past few years, with his career flourishing, Fisher hadn't felt this kind of humiliation in a long time. His smile faded, his gaze hardened, "Do you know what your words just now imply?"

"That's precisely why I said them, isn't it?" Renly retorted calmly.

He didn't like Fisher's condescending demeanor, the perpetual sense of superiority evident in his words. Inside and out, Fisher exuded an air of "It's an honor for you that I've chosen you; you should quickly express your loyalty." What Renly needed was an equal conversation. Even though he was a newcomer, the relationship between an actor and an agent had never been one of superiority or inferiority. Both parties should cooperate on equal terms, mutually beneficially. So, he didn't like Fisher's superior tone.

Moreover, in this life, Renly came from a noble family. When it came to "superiority" or "condescension," he was absolutely no stranger. How could he be intimidated by Fisher?

"Are you serious?" Fisher paused, asking in a deep voice. Renly didn't speak, but pursed his lips, letting everything speak for itself, which made Fisher's expression darken even more, "Do you know what the perfect balance between business and art truly means?"

Instead, Renly smiled, "I thought you could give me the answer."

Fisher couldn't help but grunt, feeling like his chest had been stomped on. He didn't like Renly's arrogance, his sense of superiority. Perhaps Johnny Depp or Tom Cruise could get away with it, even if he didn't like it, he had to swallow his pride. But Renly? A fledgling nobody?

In Hollywood, there were countless actors nominated for awards, but very few could truly establish themselves in the industry. Not to mention just an Emmy nomination; even an Oscar nomination or win didn't mean much under Hollywood's vast commercial system. The distance between becoming somewhat known from complete obscurity, and from there to becoming a legend, was akin to an ant looking up at a giant.

To Fisher, Renly's grandiloquence was just a joke. So, Fisher chuckled, scornful and disdainful, "I think before we go any further, you better go to the Actors Guild and get a publicist to give you a lesson. Hollywood is a ruthless arena, not everyone can play in it, and not everyone can even get a ticket."

To Fisher, Renly was merely standing at the door, without even securing an entrance ticket.

"I think our conversation ends here today. Our cooperation will have to wait for future opportunities," Fisher's lips still maintained a faint smile, but the cold indifference and social aloofness were evident. The polite formalities of a social occasion were clear, but the distance was equally apparent.

"Frank, stop the car," without waiting for Renly's response, Fisher gave the order.

Nathan was startled, turning around abruptly, looking at Fisher in shock, "But, this is the highway!"

Compared to Nathan's surprise, Renly remained calm. He just raised an eyebrow slightly, then smiled at Fisher, "I guess, we're better off not cooperating. You and I both know, perhaps we won't have any dealings in the future, right?" With that, Renly pushed open the car door and walked away.

Efficient and straightforward, leaving no room for doubt.

Fisher was once again taunted, his lips twitching slightly. Just as he was about to say something, there was a "bang" as Renly's door closed. Fisher reflexively closed his eyes, then realized his own embarrassment. He pounded the sofa fiercely, trying to quell the boiling anger in his chest.

"And you, Nathan, you get out too," Fisher spoke again, "You're fired."

After Renly got out of the car, he looked around the surroundings. Unexpectedly, when he turned back, he saw Nathan's awkward expression. For a moment, he didn't react. The car beside them immediately drove away, leaving behind only exhaust fumes.

Nathan smiled shyly, awkwardly raising his right hand and waving stiffly, "Hi."