1451-1455

Chapter 1451: So That’s How It Is 

Jon couldn’t help but swallow hard, his nerves, anxiety, and unease trickling down like a bead of sweat sliding along his temple. 

They were worried Anson might shut the door on them to protect his image. 

Comedy movies usually came with tags like “breaking your image,” “crude humor,” or “goofing off and looking ridiculous.” That meant sacrificing your polished persona. Typically, only the chubby guys, hairy dudes, or oddballs were willing to toss their dignity aside for a laugh. The handsome ones? They stuck to looking cool and striking poses in other films. 

That’s why so many women swooned over a good-looking guy who could crack a joke or a gentleman with a sense of humor— 

It’s rare. 

Over the past few months, Anson’s actions had shown he was ready to shed the “pretty boy” label. But ditching that tag and throwing himself into comedy to mess up his image? Those were two very different things. Night and day. 

“Oh, crap.” 

While Scott seized the moment to pitch, Jon had a sudden, gut-punching realization of their fatal flaw. 

Damn it! 

When it was just the two of them brainstorming, everything flowed smoothly. They thought they’d covered all the bases, planned every angle perfectly. 

But now, standing in front of Anson, their plan was falling apart—riddled with holes, blindsided by one surprise after another, completely off the rails. 

Jon wanted to crawl into a hole. 

Looking at Anson, he forced a smile, though he was pretty sure it looked more terrifying than a clown’s grin. 

Anson noticed. Even though he was lounging on the sofa while Jon and Scott loomed over him, his view was crystal clear. 

The corner of Anson’s mouth ticked up. “Relax, that’s probably not my biggest worry right now, is it?” 

Comedy? 

Okay, that’s a little interesting. 

Anson glanced at Jon. “It’s a fresh idea. Hollywood’s made plenty of hangover movies, but hardly any that really dig into the hangover itself.” 

Using suspense techniques in a comedy—that’s what made The Hangover a box-office dark horse. 

It hooks you with a mystery, grabs your curiosity, and keeps you chasing the truth through the fog. Director Todd Phillips’ knack for pacing and suspense was the real MVP, holding the film together amid the chaos and absurdity, never letting the audience lose focus. The whole movie was like a rollercoaster—start to finish in one wild rush. 

Crazy as it sounds, the humor and gags were just the icing on the cake. 

In other words, the concept was the heart of the project. 

So Anson cut straight to the chase. 

Jon let out a small breath of relief. If Anson wasn’t flat-out rejecting a comedy project from the get-go, they still had a shot. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Jon said. “It’s based on a real story.” 

“Our friend, Tripp Vinson—he’s a producer. His movie After the Sunset hits theaters this November. Pierce Brosnan, Salma Hayek, Woody Harrelson—a seriously talented guy.” 

“Not long ago, he got married. His bride’s an agent at William Morris. We wanted to surprise him, so we took him to Vegas for a bachelor party.” 

Anson tilted his chin slightly, glancing at Scott. 

Jon caught it. “Right, like Scott just said, that’s when it all went down.” 

“And then Tripp vanished—right from his own bachelor party. The next day, he woke up in some club, no memory of the night before, just handed a bill. A huge bill.” 

“We got inspired. What if Tripp didn’t even know where he was and couldn’t reach us? What if he just disappeared? And we had to piece together what happened that night—or else Adriana, his fiancée, would kill us.” 

Aha, so that’s it. 

Turns out, this creative spark wasn’t some stroke of genius from Jon and Scott. It came straight from real life—an almost identical incident. They just took what happened, cranked up the drama and chaos a notch, and bam, there’s the script. 

That explained a lot. 

Now, Anson was about 80% sure the project Jon and Scott were pitching was the Hangover he knew. 

Maybe they just had the spark, the idea, but the script wasn’t funny enough yet. Could be the dialogue, the plot transitions, or the pacing. Even if they had a draft, it hadn’t gotten any traction. Later, someone with a sharp eye—like Todd Phillips—might’ve picked it up, polished it, and turned it into the Hangover that took off. 

The timing made sense. 

Jon’s mouth went dry. He licked his lips, watching Anson nervously. 

But Anson didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gestured lightly. “Sorry, excuse my manners—I haven’t even invited you to sit down yet.” 

Jon’s heart leapt, a rush of warmth surging through him— 

This meant Anson was willing to have a real conversation. They’d nailed their one-minute shot. 

He turned to Scott, ready to exchange a look, only to see Scott already plopped down across from Anson, grinning. “Can I grab a coffee?” 

Jon’s chest tightened! 

But Anson stayed chill, chatting with Scott about the weather, coffee, whatever—waiting patiently as their drinks arrived and they took a sip to wet their throats. He even looked ready to keep going about New York’s air quality, which made Jon antsy. 

“Anson, uh, so we…” Jon stammered, cutting Anson off, too shy to just spit it out. 

Anson chuckled. “Oh, right, I’m wasting my precious daydreaming time chatting with two strangers. Let’s get back to it.” 

Jon caught the playful jab and flushed a bit. 

Scott, though, laughed heartily. “Anson, you’re hilarious. Has anyone ever told you you should try comedy?” 

Smooth move! 

Anson laughed out loud but didn’t take the bait. “But why me?” 

“I mean, it’s a fun project—you hooked me in sixty seconds flat. But I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who’d bite.” 

“You just mentioned Tripp Vinson. He’s a producer himself. Look at his cast list—he’s got connections.” 

“And Tripp’s wife—fingers crossed they make it down the aisle—Adriana’s an agent too, at William Morris. She’s no small fry either.” 

“And you guys? From how prepared you were, this can’t be your first rodeo pitching a project. You’re not just sitting on your hands, right?” 

“So why me?” 

Sharp, clear-headed, clever, cutting. 

Even with flattery thrown his way, Anson didn’t lose his edge. In the middle of Hollywood’s glitzy chaos, he stayed grounded, zeroing in on the real question— 

He wasn’t about to be an easy mark. 

Chapter 1452: Reputation Precedes 

Jon’s heart was pounding, his palms sweaty. He couldn’t believe it—he and Scott, two bumbling idiots, had actually tried to blackmail the guy sitting in front of them. 

Even if you stacked their combined brainpower, it wouldn’t come close to rattling Anson. One wrong move, and they’d be the ones sold out without even realizing it. 

For a fleeting moment, Jon wondered: Had chasing down Anson been a colossal mistake from the start? 

Meanwhile, Scott—blissfully clueless— blurted out whatever popped into his head without a filter. 

“We tried, we tried, we tried everything, but it all flopped. Then Jon thought of you.” 

“Let’s be real here. You gave The Butterfly Effect a shot, you gave Walk the Line a shot—we figured you’d give The Hangover a shot too.” 

“The original plan was to go straight to Edgar Cook, but Adriana shot that down…” 

He didn’t finish before Jon cut him off. “Scott!” 

Jon shot Scott a look of sheer panic, then turned to Anson with a flustered smile. “Anson, don’t listen to Scott’s nonsense. I can explain—let me explain.” 

Anson tilted his chin up slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips, as if to say, “I’m not stopping you, so go ahead and explain.” 

Jon froze under Anson’s gaze. Uh… 

How exactly was he supposed to explain this? 

Luckily, Anson didn’t seem intent on forcing an explanation. His smile widened, and he slowed his tone, calm and unruffled. “Looks like the word’s getting around Hollywood.” 

“Forest Films is making a name for itself. We’re open to all kinds of possibilities—welcoming directors, writers, actors, producers to take a swing. The buzz is spreading, and that’s a good thing.” 

If Lucas could seal the deal on the Sin City project next, it’d be Forest Films’ first venture without Anson in the lead. Their reputation would grow even more—just as Anson had planned. 

“And me? I’ve got a reputation too. A devil, apparently.” 

Jon felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Anson… Anson! It’s not what you think, I swear.” 

Anson waved it off, unbothered, signaling he wasn’t digging deeper. “Don’t worry about me and Adriana. You should be more concerned about your own relationship with her. You’re the ones who are friends with her—not me.” 

Fair point. 

Truth be told, Anson didn’t need to ask to figure out the “Adriana” situation. 

Edgar had mentioned it to him before: William Morris, their agency, thrived on internal competition. Even within the same company, agents were rivals—survival of the fittest, jungle rules. 

For the past two decades, Creative Artists Agency (CAA) had dominated the industry with their top-down, unified “package deals,” revolutionizing how Hollywood agents operated. They’d even earned the ultimate compliment: “There are two kinds of people in Hollywood—CAA and everyone else.” 

Naturally, people wondered: Why didn’t other agencies just copy CAA’s playbook? 

Because it wasn’t that simple. CAA’s success was tied to a specific moment in time. 

Take Michael Ovitz, the guy who built CAA’s model and took it to the top. After leaving to become president of Disney—only to crash and burn in just a year—he tried to recreate his magic with a new agency. 

Ovitz figured he’d done it before—launched Tom Hanks, Tom Cruise, Nicole Kidman, Julia Roberts, even brokered Sony’s takeover of Columbia Pictures. If he could do it once, he could do it again. 

Nope. Same system, same approach, and it tanked in less than three years. 

CAA’s model was a one-time wonder. 

So, despite CAA’s massive influence shaking up Hollywood, no one else followed suit. Meanwhile, William Morris stuck to their old-school ways and held strong as the industry’s number two. 

Cue the familiar chaos. 

Inside William Morris, “Anson Wood” was a lightning rod. He’d catapulted Edgar to the top in no time, but that spotlight came with enemies. Edgar, a newbie with no roots, had hitched his wagon to Anson and soared to the pyramid’s peak. The backlash—inside and outside the company—was just as fierce as what Anson faced. 

Open attacks were easy to dodge; the sneaky ones were the real killers. 

Backstabbing like Adriana’s? It’d been happening for a while—more than once or twice. Edgar never griped to Anson about it, but Anson had caught whispers on set: actors poached from Edgar’s roster by other agents. 

Hiding info, jockeying for roles and projects—it was all par for the course among agents. Nothing shocking there. 

That’s why Edgar was hustling to build his clout, forging connections and carving out his own network. In this new era, information was power. He had to keep his eyes and ears open, staying ahead in the cutthroat game. 

So, Adriana? Anson didn’t need to dig—he could connect the dots himself. And he had no plans to get involved. 

Agents had their own battlefield. 

Today was no different. 

Jon and Scott showing up to pitch Anson—did Trip know? If Trip did, what about Adriana? 

The ones who’d have to face Adriana weren’t Anson—it was Jon and Scott. 

In all this behind-the-scenes scheming, Anson was the one who could stay chill. His focus? The project. Just the project. 

He tossed out a pebble, sending ripples through Jon’s mind, but didn’t give him time to dwell on it. Anson pulled the conversation back on track. 

“Alright, let’s say Trip struck out and couldn’t hook a producer. What about you two? You’ve got your own connections, right?” 

“Or is this your first-ever gig?” 

Scott opened his mouth on instinct, but this time he wised up and glanced at Jon. His impulsiveness had already thrown things off today. 

Jon, lost in his own head, didn’t respond. 

Scott didn’t care—he’d asked permission, sort of. “No, of course not. Come on, no way.” He paused, his confidence wavering just a bit, a hint of guilt creeping in. “It’s our second project.” 

Second? 

“Ha.” Anson let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you’re not wrong. It’s definitely not your first.” 

Chapter 1453: Mending the Fence After the Sheep’s Gone 

Scott could faintly pick up on the teasing in Anson’s words. 

But it wasn’t hostile. 

He let out a couple of awkward chuckles, which sounded oddly out of place coming from his hulking frame. “We’ve been trying to break into the industry for a while now.” 

Hollywood seemed like a land of opportunity, but more often than not, people just circled the edges, never quite finding a way in. It wasn’t easy. 

“But we just got our first big break. The first script we wrote together is officially in production, set for a summer release next year.” 

“Rebound, starring Martin Lawrence, produced by 20th Century Fox.” 

“Honestly, we pitched this project to 20th Century Fox too, but they thought the idea was flat-out dumb. We also tried Miramax, hoping Harvey Weinstein might give us a shot, but for some reason, we never heard back.” 

Once Scott got going, he couldn’t stop. 

Jon finally snapped out of it. “Scott!” 

He gritted his teeth, cutting Scott off mid-ramble, his words hissing through clenched jaws. “Anson doesn’t care about all these nitty-gritty details. You don’t need to lay our whole life story out on the table.” 

He muttered under his breath while flashing Anson a smile uglier than a sob— 

Who wants to hear they’re not the first choice, or the second, or even the third? That they’re just a backup plan after a desperate, failed lap around town? Who’d be happy hearing that? 

Especially when that someone was Anson—the hottest name in Hollywood right now. 

Anson! 

Anson Wood! And here Scott was, basically offering him leftovers, wasn’t he? 

Good lord! 

Jon sank into despair. What kind of teammate was this? 

Anson’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he waved it off. “No worries. This is Hollywood, after all—a place drowning in sweet talk.” 

“Sure, when you’re negotiating a project, everyone says you’re their top pick. But how much truth is in that? You know, I know, we all know. No point in getting too hung up on the details. At the end of the day, it’s the work that matters.” 

“When we’re talking movie projects, the fact that Forest Films is even on your radar means we’ve done something right these past few months. That’s a win.” 

“Real talk, though—you’re looking for a producer, not an actor, right?” 

“Who’d have thought? I’ve only produced two projects, and now that’s got more pull than my acting. Should I be flattered?” 

Jon: … 

He was beyond saving. 

The denial was right on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out on instinct. 

But under Anson’s gaze, Jon couldn’t get the words out. He just stared, frozen, feeling more exposed than ever. 

Not physically—psychologically. Every little corner of his mind, every sly, hopeful thought laid bare. There was no hiding, no escaping. It left him flustered, his scalp tingling. 

Scott, sitting beside him, kept shooting glances Jon’s way, hesitating to speak. When Jon stayed silent, Scott couldn’t hold back any longer. 

“Jon, I told you, there’s no point in hiding it. Hollywood’s got no secrets anyway.” 

“Besides Miramax, Tripp’s still waiting on a response from New Line Cinema. It’s just been so long, we’re not holding our breath.” 

“Anson’s gonna find out eventually. He won’t care.” 

Jon was speechless, staring blankly at Scott. Wasn’t this just flat-out telling Anson that Forest Films was another backup option while they cast a wide net for a big fish? 

But Scott didn’t catch Jon’s frustration at all. He blinked back, confused. “Jon, if Anson minded, he wouldn’t have invited us to sit down after seeing through our little scheme from the start. Right?” 

That last bit was directed at Anson— 

“Big guy, big brain.” 

For some reason, that phrase popped into Anson’s head. Scott might look straightforward and simple, but maybe he was the real sharp one here. 

Anson flashed a smile, sidestepping a direct answer to either of them. “So, besides the script, do you have a project plan?” 

Scott shook his head. “Nope. We just write the script. Everything else? Clueless.” 

In other words, budget, scope, director, cast—all blank slates. For Forest Films, that was a plus. 

It meant they could build the whole thing from scratch, shaping it into a project that was truly theirs. 

Scott paused, then added before Anson could reply, “About the cast, though—we really do want you to star in it.” 

Anson’s eyebrow ticked up. 

From every angle, these two were clearly hunting for a producer. They’d staked out Anson because of his clout and influence—same playbook as Eric and McKee with The Butterfly Effect. 

So what was Scott getting at now? 

Jon shot a nervous glance at Scott, then darted his eyes to Anson. Was it too late to fix this mess? 

Anson: “Why?” 

Scott: “Because of your charm.” 

Anson burst out laughing. “So you need a pretty face?” 

Jon nearly choked. 

Scott chuckled. “Yes, but also no.” 

“Anson, look, in Hollywood, movies like this have a formula. Three core characters: one’s the screw-up, one’s the funny guy, one’s the cool, charming one. Each has their role, their label. The sparks between them create the chemistry.” 

“David O. Russell’s Three Kings, the Coen Brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou?—they all follow that. Two leads, three leads, whatever—there’s a pattern.” 

“So yeah, we need a ‘pretty face’—someone cool, charming, who pulls the audience in and bounces off the other two.” 

“But it’s not just that. This ‘pretty face’ can’t just be a prop. He’s got to anchor the story, hold it together in the chaos. Like Ocean’s Eleven—tons of stars, but the whole thing still revolves around George Clooney.” 

“That role’s not just about looking good. Not just anyone can pull it off. Beyond charm, he needs gravitas.” 

“Anson, we want you to be our George Clooney for this.” 

Three Kings, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, Ocean’s Eleven—all had one thing in common: George Clooney as the leading man. 

Out of nowhere, Scott nailed it. He spun out a pitch that was convincing, infectious, and turned the whole vibe around. 

Chapter 1454: A Little Spark 

The coffee shop hummed with the usual rustle of hushed chatter, but the little corner around Anson had fallen into a brief, quiet pause. 

When Scott started talking, even Jon assumed he was just scrambling to patch things up—trying to smooth over their mess and appease Anson. 

But then! 

No one could’ve predicted Scott would pull out such a convincing spiel—not even Scott himself. When he finished, he turned to Jon with a giddy grin, nudging him with his shoulder, barely containing his excitement. 

Anson caught the whole exchange, and a smile crept onto his lips. 

Still, he kept his cool. “So, you’re saying you want me to be the next George Clooney?” 

Scott: …Uh. 

Anson pressed on, “If you think George Clooney’s the perfect fit, why not reach out to him? Or do you figure he’d pass on a project like this, so you settled for me instead?” 

Scott: …Help! 

Just as Scott looked ready to crumble, Jon stepped up to the plate. 

“No, we’re just sketching out the character’s vibe.” 

“Truth is, George Clooney doesn’t fit this role—not at all. You’ve got a charm that no one else in Hollywood has right now. Handsome but funny, youthful yet suave, with this sunny exterior that’s got a touch of melancholy underneath. That unique mix brings so much potential to a character.” 

“You’re the one who’s perfect for this project.” 

“Honestly, when we were writing the script, we’d toss around ideas like, ‘Man, if Anson played this part, it’d be incredible.’” 

“But we didn’t have the guts.” 

“Adriana was only part of it. We didn’t dare hope you’d actually take this on, and we weren’t sure this script could land you a $20 million paycheck. I mean, you’re Anson Wood.” 

“The one and only Anson Wood.” 

“After going round and round, we couldn’t shake the itch to take a shot. So… yeah, we came up with some dumb tactics today. Turns out, we were thinking way too small.” 

“We should’ve just asked you straight-up. We should’ve handed over the script with confidence. We should’ve trusted your judgment.” 

“Anson, trust me—you’re the ideal pick for this script. Even if you don’t want to decide right now, you should at least give it a read.” 

“You won’t regret it.” 

Wow— 

Applause! Jon’s quick thinking deserved a standing ovation! 

Not only did he bail Scott out of his blunder, but he tied everything together, making it all sound plausible. Then he seized the moment to pitch again. 

Sure, there were still some holes and contradictions, but he’d smoothed it over enough to save face, lowering their stance and doubling down on sincerity. 

Impressive! 

Even Anson had to give props to Jon’s slick recovery. 

“Alright,” Anson said. 

Jon froze. Scott froze. Neither of them could process what just happened or what Anson meant by that single word. 

A total 180—leaving them both dazed. 

As the silence threatened to settle in again, Anson clarified. 

“I mean, you can leave the script with me. I’ll give it a thorough read.” 

“But I’m on vacation right now, and I’m not exactly itching to jump back into a film set. You might have to wait a bit. That said, if it’s about producing, Forest Films’ door is always open. You can head to the company—I’ll give them a heads-up and set up a meeting. You can sit down and hash it out.” 

Whoa! 

The shock hit them hard—too perfect, too surreal. Jon and Scott just sat there, stunned. 

They’d ambushed Anson with every scenario in mind, including the slim chance of pushing the project forward. But Forest Films actually opening its doors? It felt too good to be true, like they were floating midair. 

That’s it? 

So simple, so straightforward—and they’d just scored a breakthrough? Anson was willing to read the script and they’d landed a chance to pitch directly to Forest Films? 

One second, they’d been teetering on the edge of a pit, hearts pounding. The next, they were on top of the world, over the moon. 

What the heck just happened? 

Neither knew how to react. They mumbled some awkward thanks, exchanged a few polite words, and then bailed—leaving Anson in peace before they accidentally messed up their golden opportunity. 

It wasn’t until they stepped outside, the muggy summer air hitting their faces, that reality started trickling back. Jon glanced at Scott and found Scott staring right back. 

A quick look, and they both blinked, brains still lagging. 

Scott hesitated. “Did that just…?” 

Jon wasn’t faring much better. “Anson just now… Did I get that right…?” 

Words trailed off, half-formed—thoughts too tangled to finish, too afraid that saying it out loud might pop the dream like a bubble. 

Then, bit by bit, it sank in. Tingling fingertips, blood pumping hot—a surge of energy slammed into their chests. 

A pause. Jon gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Scott held his breath and nodded back hard. Confirmation locked in. 

They both shrieked. 

“Ah! Aaaah!” 

Pure, uncontainable joy burst out. They screamed, laughed, and faced each other, then took off sprinting down the New York streets—chasing, racing, letting loose. Laughter spilled out like sunlight, scattering everywhere. 

Ah, haha, ahh! 

Whooping and cackling, they ditched all sense of the world around them, tearing through the bustling streets in their own bubble. 

Raw, vibrant energy exploded out of them, rippling through the city’s stagnant streets like a pebble in a pond. 

Inside the coffee shop, people felt the vibe. Heads turned, faces puzzled but tinged with a flicker of envy. 

In New York, the norm was hustle, stress, and anxiety. Two lunatics sprinting wild down the street? That was a sight to see. 

Then, curious eyes drifted back to the corner of the coffee shop. 

That guy lounging on the sofa, sprawled out like a cat napping in the afternoon sun—his face half-hidden in shadow, sparking imagination. 

So, were they talking about a project? A collab? Did it work out? What kind of project? Who was that guy? 

Speculation buzzed in the air. 

But in New York, stuff like this wasn’t rare. The prying glances didn’t linger long before pulling back. The coffee shop settled into its usual hum. 

After popping up for a quick breath of fresh air, everyone sank back into their own worlds, tuning out the noise. 

That’s New York—busy, loud, but cold at its core. In a way, it suited Anson just fine. 

Chapter 1455: Missing the Point 

Anson sat quietly, tucked into a corner, in no rush at all. Amid New York’s hustle and indifference, he happily faded into the background, blending in effortlessly. 

He picked up the book he’d been reading earlier and flipped through it slowly, though his mind was still buzzing, trying to piece everything together. 

Now, Anson could finally pin down who Jon and Scott were. 

It all clicked because of Rebound. 

Not that the movie was some massive hit—Anson hadn’t even seen it, just heard of it. But it marked a turning point in Martin Lawrence’s career. 

Back in 1995, Martin Lawrence and Will Smith teamed up for Bad Boys. That film was a huge success and shifted the industry. 

Some might wonder: Bad Boys wasn’t especially hilarious or action-packed, so why did it become a cultural phenomenon back then? 

The answer lies in the era. From Rodney King to O.J. Simpson, racial tensions in early ’90s LA were boiling over. White cops had a rotten reputation, and it got so bad that Black communities wouldn’t cooperate—creating huge hurdles even for Black officers. It sparked all kinds of social issues. 

Then came Bad Boys: two Black cops as leads. They goofed off and traded jabs, but they also got stuff done. Martin Lawrence and Will Smith crafted a pair of approachable, down-to-earth cops who’d actually stop and listen to regular people. 

That was a big deal—a breakthrough. It echoed the success of Beverly Hills Cop from the ’80s but went further given the times, leaving a mark on both culture and society. The box office boomed, and the DVD rental market later crushed it too. 

That moment launched Martin Lawrence and Will Smith to new heights. Will, of course, shot straight to the top as a box-office titan. 

After Denzel Washington, Will Smith unexpectedly became the torchbearer for Black actors. 

Martin couldn’t quite match Will’s stardom, but he held his own on Hollywood’s front lines for the next decade—until Rebound. 

Rebound cost $33 million to make but only pulled in $17 million worldwide. Rumor had it 20th Century Fox lost nearly $30 million once marketing costs were factored in. 

All the trust, all the hype—it vanished. Martin’s pull as a leading man took a brutal hit across Hollywood. 

So Rebound became the last film he headlined. 

He still landed roles after that, but no producer would risk giving him the top spot again. His credibility was shot. 

It wasn’t until 2018, with the reboot of Bad Boys for Life, that a semi-retired Martin reclaimed a starring role. 

No doubt, Rebound was a defining moment. 

And the two co-writers behind it? Jon Lucas and Scott Moore. 

Thanks to Rebound, Anson finally dredged up those buried memories. 

Like Eric and McKee, Jon and Scott were a writing duo—practically inseparable. But unlike Eric and McKee, who fizzled out after The Butterfly Effect, Jon and Scott kept going. 

After The Hangover blew up, it was like they’d snagged a golden ticket. They churned out more scripts: Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, Four Christmases, The Change-Up—all comedies. None were massive hits, but they didn’t flop either. 

The secret? Comedies don’t cost much to make, and there’s always a steady demand for them. Big studios churn out a batch every year, something sci-fi can’t claim. That gave Jon and Scott room to breathe and grow. 

Later, they stepped up as directors too, juggling both writing and directing: 21 & Over, Bad Moms, A Bad Moms Christmas. They never hit superstardom, but they carved out their own niche in Hollywood. 

If you mention Bad Moms, Anson could picture the duo as directors and writers pretty clearly. But here’s the surprise: The Hangover was theirs too. Anson’s memory of Todd Phillips was so strong he’d completely overlooked their contribution. 

Sorting his thoughts, Anson didn’t rush. He picked up the script and started flipping through it, tuning out the coffee shop’s comings and goings. He dove into the story, rediscovering its charm. 

Even having seen the movie in his past life, reading the script still made him smile. 

What made The Hangover brilliant wasn’t the punchlines or plot twists—it was the situation. 

A ridiculous, over-the-top mess that somehow felt totally plausible, spiced up with a dash of dramatic flair. Toss the characters into that chaos, and even their simplest reactions turned absurd. Las Vegas—its glitz, its excess, its isolation in the desert—sold the whole thing. 

That blurry line between drama and reality? That’s where the real laughs lived. 

So, the big question staring him down: 

In his past life, The Hangover hit theaters in 2009 and became a box-office miracle. Now, bumped up to 2005 or 2006, could it pull off the same magic? 

It was all up in the air. Anson couldn’t predict the future, but his gut and his head both said yes. The movie’s success wasn’t tied to 2009—it was about the film itself. 

So he called Lucas and laid it all out. 

After his long-winded spiel, the line went quiet. Lucas didn’t say a word. Anson glanced at his phone— 

Signal issue? 

“Lucas?” he prompted. 

“…I thought you were on vacation,” Lucas finally replied. 

Anson was about to crack a joke, but Lucas cut him off, cool and firm. “Anson, this isn’t your job. Edgar, me, even Noah—we’re the ones who handle this. They shouldn’t be bothering you like this.” 

“Especially not while you’re on vacation.” 

“Let this slide once, and it’ll happen again. Hollywood’s full of vultures—they’ll catch wind of this and never leave you alone. You’ll be swamped. We can’t let that happen.” 

Clearly, Lucas was zeroed in on something completely different from Anson. 

Anson tried to explain a few times but got shut down every time. Eventually, he gave up, letting Lucas ramble on. But he couldn’t hold it in—the whole thing struck him as funny, and he let out a snort. 

The more he thought about it, the funnier it got. The happier he laughed.