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1627-1629

Added 2025-07-30 14:41:23 +0000 UTC

Chapter 1627: Barbed Words

A breath caught in his chest—words couldn't begin to describe what Will Smith was feeling. It wasn’t just anger or humiliation.

It was something electric, crawling under his skin, zipping through his scalp, then slithering down his veins to his fingertips, like ants gnawing at his flesh.

The joy and laughter outside stabbed at Will’s pride and confidence like daggers.

Will had been with Innovative Artists for over thirteen years, climbing from obscurity to television star to full-fledged A-lister—his entire career lived out within these walls. And yet… he had never been received like this.

Despite his many years navigating Hollywood’s shark-infested waters with poise, Will still had to take a moment to steady himself. Finally, he forced his emotions down and headed straight into the lounge.

Lust followed with a complicated expression.

“Will—” Lust had barely called out his name before cutting himself off. There was no stopping Will now—not unless someone wanted the storm to drag on even longer. He decided to let it play out. He’d handle the fallout. One way or another, Innovative Artists wouldn’t openly shield Anson.

And if Will ended up lashing out at Anson?

Who cared.

Will entered the lounge with a presence impossible to ignore. The glow of a megastar was impossible to dim.

Ahem.

He cleared his throat loudly, raising his voice for effect. “Hey! Peter Parker! What brings you to L.A.? I thought you were still holed up in New York.”

On the surface, it sounded lighthearted and teasing. But beneath that surface—it was sharp. Deliberate. He not only refused to say Anson’s name, calling him “Peter Parker” instead, but also suggested he had no business being on the West Coast.

A double shot of shade.

The room froze. All that warmth and cheer instantly evaporated as heads turned to Will in realization.

Anson, however, was the first to notice Will's arrival. Though Edgar instantly tensed up beside him, Anson remained calm.

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and stretched out his hand with a smile. “Agent J, does L.A. have its own Earth Immigration Bureau now?”

Will's face twitched—just slightly.

“Agent J”—a jab at Will’s Men in Black character.

Will had thrown a punch by mocking Anson’s Spider-Man as a juvenile role; Anson punched back by highlighting that Will hadn’t escaped the shadow of Men in Black.

And I, Robot? No one even remembered that movie. No one here, Anson included, could name Will’s character from it.

Sharp. Precise. Smile-for-smile. Unshaken.

People began filing out of the room, one after another. Supporting Anson was one thing—openly defying Will Smith was another. These Innovative Artists veterans knew better than to stick around for this power clash. They left with graceful exits—greeting Will politely and bidding Anson farewell.

Still, at the door, where Will couldn’t see them, they waved discreetly at Anson with apologetic smiles.

Small gestures—but revealing.

Lust, meanwhile, looked up at the ceiling, pretending not to notice any of it. The moment he stepped into the room, the rest of the crowd quickly slipped away. Once things were calm, they all gathered just outside, straining their necks and ears, hoping to catch any bit of conversation.

Will’s face bore a gentle smile, his eyes soft, his manner relaxed. You wouldn’t know he’d just lost his cool like a runaway train moments ago. He’d already regained his composure.

Losing control in front of the agency’s staff? That was acceptable.

But in front of Anson? Absolutely not.

Even though Anson had held out his hand first, Will ignored it, keeping Anson hanging. But Anson didn’t mind. He kept smiling, hand still patiently extended—showing almost superhuman patience.

Only when the room finally emptied did Will shift his gaze and act like he just noticed Anson’s waiting hand.

“Oh, sorry,” Will said, finally taking it. “Forgive my rudeness. If others found out, I might never live it down. After all, everyone wants a piece of Peter Parker—even Jaden.”

“Jaden—my son. His favorite superhero right now is Peter Parker.”

It sounded like a joke. Self-deprecating. Disarming.

When Will wanted to be charming, he could light up a room. But when he needed to strike, he could do so with quiet, lethal precision.

Like right now.

Jaden Smith. If Anson recalled correctly, he was about six years old this year. Will’s implication was clear—Spider-Man is a kid’s movie. His six-year-old liked it. That’s all there was to it.

Praising with one hand, slapping with the other.

Anson, of course, knew how much Will adored this child. He had an older son from his first marriage, but they were estranged. Jaden, however, was different. When Jaden showed interest in acting, Will practically bent over backwards to support him—even taking secondary roles to help his son shine.

But… Jaden was just not made for it. His career flopped so hard that even Will’s couldn’t stay unaffected. It nearly dragged them both down, until Will finally had to pull the plug.

Still, Jaden had been gearing up for a Hollywood comeback this year or next.

So Anson smiled brightly. “Really? That’s great! If Jaden’s interested, maybe we can find a part for him in the third Spider-Man film. Let him see the set up close.”

Will: ……

His smile nearly cracked.

If Anson actually brought Jaden into Spider-Man 3, it’d fulfill the kid’s dreams and completely overshadow Will. Where would a so-called megastar father stand, watching his son fawning over another man in a red suit?

Will wasn’t even sure how to process it. Was Anson doing this on purpose?

But they didn’t know each other—so how could he hit the nerve so precisely?

…Was it just in his head?

Damn it!

Will’s grip on Anson’s hand tightened instinctively. The smile on his face became more rigid. “Heh, of course.”

“You’re at your peak now—enjoy your fifteen minutes of fame. We’re all jealous.”

Every word was like a dagger wrapped in velvet.

Edgar couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up abruptly.

But Will cut him off immediately, not missing a beat. “Oh? You don’t think this is an insult, do you? In Hollywood, we call this a compliment. Everyone’s waiting for their own fifteen minutes—it’s not something just anyone can grab.”

“So congratulations. Congrats.”

Chapter 1628: Fifteen Minutes

Back in 1968, Andy Warhol famously said, “In the future, everyone will be world-famous for fifteen minutes.”

In simple terms, it means every ordinary person gets their fleeting moment in the spotlight. But once those fifteen minutes are up, everything goes back to normal.

That was long before the internet existed, yet Warhol already foresaw the ultimate trajectory of our entertainment-obsessed culture.

And that—was the hidden truth behind what Will had just said.

Anson Wood? You’re just a shooting star. After fifteen minutes of fame, you'll fade into obscurity. No one will remember you. Hollywood is full of one-hit wonders like you—people who got famous overnight and vanished just as quickly.

But even getting those fifteen minutes isn’t easy. Not just any random nobody can achieve it. So, really, you should be grateful and make the most of it.

A smile laced with a dagger. Sarcasm dripping beneath the politeness.

Will was a veteran in Hollywood for a reason—he knew exactly how to hit where it hurts and how to make others surrender with a smile.

No wonder Edgar was unusually furious.

And yet, Anson smiled.

Genuinely. A real, heartfelt smile that lit up his whole face. His eyes were bright as he looked straight at Will. “Of course, we should cherish it. After all, not everyone can be Will Smith.”

Will tilted his chin ever so slightly, a flicker of pride surfacing.

“Not everyone gets to enjoy their one hundred and fiftieth hour of fame, like you do.”

Will’s smile froze—

Was Anson calling him old?

In an instant, Will’s expression darkened, storm clouds gathering.

“An evergreen. Like a Christmas tree, right? What type of tree is that again?” Anson asked casually.

Edgar nearly burst out laughing. He tried to hold it in, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “Fir,” he replied.

Anson nodded thoughtfully. “Right. Coniferous, isn’t it? Actors should be like Will Smith—evergreen. A living fossil of Hollywood.”

With each word, Will’s face grew darker.

He knew Anson was young, but he hadn't expected such a sharp tongue.

“I heard once that Will is around the same age as my dad. I couldn’t believe it. I still picture you as the Fresh Prince. But today…”

Anson let the sentence trail off meaningfully. Then, in a friendly gesture, he gently placed his left hand on the back of Will’s right hand and gave it a soft pat.

“I’ve heard Botox is really trending in Hollywood these days. It’s supposed to have miraculous anti-aging effects.”

“Oh wow, Will, your face is looking kinda stiff… You haven’t already had Botox, have you? I heard it can cause temporary facial muscle issues after the injection…”

Will clenched his jaw, holding back an outburst. His chest was practically heaving. “No, I haven’t had Botox. I don’t need Botox.”

You’re the one who needs Botox. Your whole family needs Botox!

Will spat the words out slowly, through gritted teeth, barely keeping his fake smile in place.

Meanwhile, Edgar was struggling hard not to laugh.

Anson eyed Will up and down. “So it’s not Botox. Hmm. Could it be the disappointing box office numbers lately…”

Will cut him off immediately. “No, I’m fine. Everything’s great.”

He had to stop Anson before this verbal bloodbath got worse. He glared at him. “Maybe you should be worrying about yourself.”

“Oh? Are you talking about getting kicked out by William Morris?”

Will could barely contain the glee in his voice.

To his surprise, Anson responded with a perfectly somber expression. “Yeah, that was a rough breakup. I don’t really want to talk about it… but fortunately, CAA welcomed me with open arms.”

“This place really is a warm and cozy haven, don’t you think, Will?”

Will: …

He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Of course! Warm! Like spring!” Will forced out the words, each one practically snapping his teeth.

He had to leave. If he stayed here any longer, he might lose it—and once he did, he’d become the clown in Anson’s story.

He couldn’t afford that.

“Welcome to CAA. Hope you last your fifteen minutes,” Will said with a forced smile.

Anson gave a polite nod. “Thanks. I just hope I didn’t steal your fifteen minutes.”

There’s a lesser-known follow-up to Warhol’s quote: Not only does everyone get fifteen minutes of fame, but within those fifteen minutes, a new celebrity can rise and replace the old one.

Was Anson blatantly declaring war?

Will’s face turned stone cold. He was furious. “Well then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Without another word, Will turned and stormed off. He didn’t even bother with the usual polite farewell.

Stay calm.

Stay composed.

His exit had to look smooth. He couldn’t let anyone see the storm raging inside him. One wrong move and he’d look like a loser running with his tail between his legs.

He wasn’t running. He wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t backing down!

Once inside the elevator, with Rust following him, the doors finally closed, shutting out all the curious stares.

AAAAAHHH!

Will finally exploded. He clenched his fists and let out a raw, guttural roar.

No cursing, no insults—just a pure, frustrated scream, letting every bit of suppressed anger out.

AAAAAHHH!

The whole elevator shook.

But just then—ding!

The doors slid open again. The elevator hadn’t even moved—it opened right back onto the same floor, exposing Will’s meltdown to everyone.

Will froze. Rust froze. Everyone in the hallway who had been whispering and eavesdropping also froze.

Total silence.

Irene stood there, stunned, hand still on the elevator button.

She let go.

The elevator paused for a second, then the doors slowly slid shut again in total awkwardness.

Irene blinked a few times and turned to her coworkers. “I swear, that wasn’t on purpose.”

BOOM.

Laughter erupted like a bomb.

Loud, unstoppable belly-laughs that spilled through the cracks in the elevator door and echoed inside like a cruel soundtrack.

Will felt utterly defeated. His shoulders slumped. He didn’t even have the energy to stay mad anymore.

Irene found it all hilarious, too—even though she hadn’t meant to embarrass him. She thought the elevator had already gone down. She hadn’t wanted to ride it with Will and Rust in the first place. How was she supposed to know it was still on their floor?

She shook her head and turned toward the reception area.

Anson was walking out, greeted personally by Kevin Shuman.

Anson smiled at Irene and made a calming gesture with both hands. “Relax. Just relax!”

That made Irene chuckle. She couldn’t help it.

Anson looked away and noticed Kevin studying him. Meeting Kevin’s eyes, Anson gave a confident, open look—quietly asking if there was something he wanted to say.

Kevin smiled.

First impression?

He already liked this young man.

Chapter 1629: Stirring the Waters

Kevin Hewin—one of the true top-tier agents in the business—had seen countless talents, but seeing Anson in person still caught him off guard.

It wasn’t just about looks. It was something deeper, a sense of maturity and composure that seemed far beyond someone in their early twenties.

Meeting Anson’s gaze, Kevin smiled. “Don’t worry. Will’s going to come around.”

Anson gave a small smile. “We’re talking about Hollywood, right? The higher you climb, the more attacks you attract. I’d say that’s a good sign.”

Confident, poised, and honest.

Kevin was once again pleasantly surprised. He’d heard plenty of rumors, but only now did he truly understand the fascination. “Now I get why Asha can’t stop talking about you.”

Anson shrugged lightly. “I just hope it’s not all bad things.”

Kevin laughed out loud. “Well, you’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”

As they walked a few steps forward, Kevin noticed what was ahead. “Looks like someone’s been waiting eagerly.”

Richard Loft and Brian Loud had already stepped out of their offices, standing at the door to greet Anson personally.

Kevin raised his voice teasingly, “So, you guys don’t trust me to seal the deal?”

Brian threw up his hands. “You can’t blame us for being cautious. After all…” As he spoke, he walked up to Anson with a smile. “Welcome to Creative Artists, Anson.”

From the grand welcome party to the personal attention from top executives, every detail made it clear—Creative Artists was pulling out all the stops to show their sincerity.

All eyes in Century City were turning toward Creative Artists. Just a few blocks away, the offices at William Morris were noticeably quieter.

The chaos at William Morris still hadn’t settled, leaving them with no time to worry about what was happening with Creative Artists and Anson. It wasn’t until the news broke that the agency's veteran agents started paying attention—and started thinking.

Outwardly, they mocked the move: “It’s just Anson Wood. And look at the circus Creative Artists is throwing for him! They must be getting desperate. With expectations this high, this partnership might sink before it sails.”

They were united in opposition, ready to take on Creative Artists together.

But behind the scenes, doubts began to stir.

These people weren’t stupid. Creative Artists wouldn’t make such a bold move without a reason. And with Anson’s massive deal with Sony-Columbia still echoing through Hollywood, the possibility of him landing a $100 million paycheck couldn’t be ruled out.

So the real question: How had William Morris let it get to this point?

A storm was sweeping across Hollywood.

And it wasn’t just shaking up the industry—moviegoers felt it too. News that Anson had signed on for Spider-Man 3 gave the market a much-needed boost of energy.

Spider-Man 2 had been in theaters for three weeks and had been smashing records non-stop, pushing the summer box office of 2004 to new heights.

But the frenzy wasn’t limited to the theaters. The buzz outside the film itself kept fueling interest, drawing more and more people to the movie. The real game-changer? It wasn’t just movie fans showing up anymore—people who usually didn’t care about movies were now buying tickets.

That’s where the real potential lay.

Two years ago, Spider-Man exploded onto the scene. Now, the sequel had taken that momentum and turned it into a full-blown cultural phenomenon.

It was genuinely starting to feel like the days of Titanic again—a nationwide movie craze.

By the fourth week of July, as Anson re-signed with Sony-Columbia and joined Creative Artists amid intense media buzz, the box office was on fire.

However, Spider-Man 2 couldn’t hold onto the top spot for a fourth consecutive week.

Let’s not forget—it was summer. The bloodbath of summer blockbusters. Even grabbing one weekend crown was hard enough, let alone four in a row.

Last week, I, Robot failed to dethrone Spider-Man 2. But this week? Two heavy-hitters entered the arena at once.

The competition was brutal.

Both new films were highly anticipated and launched in the same week, squeezing everyone else’s earnings. And interestingly, both had connections—however indirect—to Spider-Man.

One was The Bourne Supremacy.

Two years ago, the original Bourne Identity hit theaters with little hype but won over audiences with its cool, edgy style. It turned out to be both a critical and box office success, launching Matt Damon to new heights.

Back then, Matt and Anson had worked together on a film in New York, and their movies—Spider-Man and Bourne Identity—dominated the box office at the end of 2002.

Now, The Bourne Supremacy was following Spider-Man 2 into theaters.

The other was Catwoman.

No introduction needed—this was a superhero flick from Warner Bros., clearly riding the wave created by Peter Parker’s rise. They even brought in Oscar-winner Halle Berry to lead the project, hoping it would kick off a new era for DC adaptations.

Originally, Spider-Man sought a newcomer to play the lead, but Warner Bros. stuck to their big-name strategy—just like with Batman. So this time, Catwoman was all about Halle Berry. The marketing blitz put her front and center, showcasing her post-Die Another Day star power—and her stunning figure.

Both movies came out swinging. Bourne had a $75 million budget, while Catwoman cost a whopping $100 million to make. Backed by Universal and Warner Bros., the promotional efforts were relentless.

With Spider-Man 2 entering its fourth week and its audience starting to thin out, the door was open. The question now: Could Matt Damon or Halle Berry pull off what Will Smith couldn’t?

As it turns out, yes—but with a twist.

For Matt and Halle, this was a crossroads moment. One would break through and secure their spot among Hollywood’s elite, joining the coveted $20 million club. The other would hit a wall, possibly missing their last shot at headlining a major blockbuster.

That’s Hollywood for you.

Hard to believe one movie can make or break a career? Maybe. But the industry is cold and ruthless. You may not see blood, but the stakes are brutally high. If you win, it’s hard to lose again. If you fail, a comeback becomes nearly impossible.

North American Weekend Box Office, July – Week 4, 2004: