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Taking a deep breath, Kitchel composed himself, showing a calm demeanor. "Well then, we won't bother you any further for now."
Kitchel glanced at Mangold, who still seemed reluctant to leave, trying to persuade Anson further. With a subtle signal, he gestured towards Edgar, who had been observing quietly but intently. Despite Edgar's calm smile, Mangold understood and reluctantly pulled out his chair, standing with a visible sense of disappointment and frustration. His body language spoke volumes without the need for words.
Kitchel felt a twinge of sympathy but didn't know how to defend Mangold's position, so he simply smiled awkwardly at Edgar, trying to cover the awkwardness.
Unexpectedly, Anson spoke up, "Wait."
All eyes turned to him.
"If you don't mind, could you send me the script? I'd like to read through it."
There was a pause.
Suddenly, the air seemed to still, as the background noise of the café—customers chatting, the hum of the coffee machine—flooded in, almost as if someone had turned up the white noise to its maximum. Everything became sharply audible.
Kitchel and Edgar were both about to speak, but Mangold was quicker.
"Sure."
His eyes lit up with excitement, and he seemed to bounce lightly on his feet as if standing on springs.
"Of course, no problem."
Although Edgar had missed his chance to speak, he composed himself and said, "Send it directly to William Morris. I'll make sure it gets to Anson."
Mangold hesitated, casting a wary glance at Edgar before finally turning back to Anson, as though afraid Edgar might intercept the script.
Edgar couldn't help but smile wryly.
Anson glanced at Edgar, a faint hint of amusement in his eyes, before looking back at Mangold and nodding lightly.
"No worries. Sending it to William Morris is fine; I'll get it."
Mangold finally relaxed. "I'm really looking forward to hearing your feedback."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Mangold and Kitchel excused themselves and left the café without lingering further. As soon as they stepped outside, they took a deep breath of fresh air.
Kitchel paused, glancing back towards the café, watching Anson's silhouette.
Now that he had calmed down and the rush of adrenaline had subsided, he thought he would second-guess his decision, questioning whether Anson was the right fit for the project. As Anson had mentioned himself, could his acting be trusted?
So far, the most prominent label attached to Anson was still that of a "pretty face." Even though "The Elephant" had won the Palme d'Or at Cannes, Anson hadn't yet proven himself as an actor. Maybe he had box office appeal, but could this handsome actor really act?
Leonardo DiCaprio had faced similar skepticism. Despite Titanic having been a massive hit six years prior, when Gangs of New York came out, doubts and criticisms about Leonardo still dominated the conversation, filled with prejudice and taunts. And then there was Reeves.
One film, Catch Me If You Can, wasn't nearly enough to shed the "pretty boy" label.
So, could Anson really carry the weight of a role in a biopic, truly inhabiting the character and exploring their inner world?
These doubts persisted. Kitchel was no different from the general public.
He thought he would feel uncertain, regretful even, as his excitement cooled and his logical mind kicked in, expecting all of Anson's shortcomings to resurface.
But they didn't.
It was just an instinct, but that instinct had become clearer and more confident as time passed. He felt a strange sense of peace.
"James?"
Mangold's voice snapped Kitchel out of his thoughts. He turned and followed, taking a couple of steps forward before breaking the silence.
"Maybe he's a hidden gem, don't you think?"
"Aye, sir," Mangold replied playfully.
Kitchel smiled brightly.
Meanwhile, back in the café.
Anson looked up at Edgar but didn't rush to leave.
Edgar could see the amused glint in Anson's eyes. He straightened his expression. "Were they worried I wouldn't pass the script on to you?"
Anson shrugged lightly. "If you didn't like the script, would you intercept it?"
Bathed in Anson's bright gaze, Edgar eventually admitted, "I can't deny it."
Anson laughed.
Edgar threw up his hands. "Hey, it's my job. What's a manager supposed to do if not that? I'm not a babysitter. They shouldn't go behind my back and reach out to you directly."
Anson's eyes sparkled with humor. "Are you feeling threatened as a manager?"
Edgar cleared his throat, trying to change the subject. "The interviews—those are real. Three teams are waiting in your trailer."
Anson replied, "I don't doubt that. But I'm sure there's no rush, right?"
Edgar opened his mouth to argue but swallowed his words. "How'd you figure that out? Was my acting that bad? Did they notice too?"
Anson shrugged. "If you were seriously considering becoming an actor, you might need a bit more practice. Otherwise, you'll end up just like me—a pretty face."
The joke was clear. Edgar chuckled dryly and sat down across from Anson.
Anson explained, "If it was urgent, you would've sent Noah to handle the reporters while you stayed to keep them calm. But since you showed up yourself, it's clear the situation is different."
Edgar blinked, then shook his head in realization. "Is your brain always working that fast?"
Anson smiled. "So you shouldn't worry about me being tricked by them."
Edgar paused, then burst out laughing. "Right, I should be worried about them being tricked by you."
Anson smirked. "You say tricked, I say charm. Let's agree to disagree."
Edgar laughed out loud.
Anson glanced out the window, no longer seeing the two Jameses, then turned back to Edgar. "What's the matter? You seem unusually tense. Did you sprint over here?"
Edgar sat down. "Did you guys agree on anything?"
Anson responded, "You saw the outcome. I'm just going to read the script; that's all."
Edgar looked conflicted. "Anson, this might not be a good project."
Not surprising, but also not expected.
Considering the way Mangold and Kitchel had bypassed Edgar to speak with Anson directly, Anson had already guessed Edgar wouldn't be fond of it. Or perhaps the two Jameses had feared Edgar would be an obstacle, so they chose to go behind his back.
Now, Edgar's reaction confirmed this.
But why?
Anson looked at Edgar. "Is the script that bad?"
Edgar sighed. "To be honest, I don't know. I haven't read it. But that was James Mangold and James Kitchel, right? They're working on a Johnny Cash biopic, aren't they?"
Anson nodded.
Edgar continued, "Exactly. As soon as I heard them mention Johnny Cash, I knew it had to be that project, so I rushed over."
"Something feels off."