Chapter 139

The Greatest Showman

That unfamiliar voice abruptly interrupted the conversation, and everyone simultaneously turned to look. Renly sized up the speaker, a little surprised. “…Are you a paparazzo?”

Back at the side entrance of the Nokia Theatre, the reporter’s face had all been hidden behind his camera, making it hard to see clearly, so Renly couldn’t recognise the person in front of him.

“I prefer to be called a journalist, but…” Elliott Court shrugged. Paparazzi didn’t actually like being referred to as “paparazzi”—the term carried a derogatory connotation. Professional reporters also refused to consider paparazzi to be part of their ranks. “But yes, I was following you.”

Elliott emphasised the word “following,” curious to see how Renly would react—messing with rookies was always the most fun. Most newcomers, upon hearing they were being trailed by a paparazzo, would overreact—either too excited, too angry, or too defensive. But regardless of the reaction, as long as it was recorded, it could sell for a good price.

Renly raised his eyebrows slightly, looking intrigued. “Were you ostracised by your peers?”

Elliott was momentarily speechless, making Renly let out a soft chuckle. “Otherwise, how else would you end up here?” He glanced around and gestured vaguely. “I thought you were just an ordinary audience member.”

Elliott found himself at a loss for words, then laughed at the absurdity of it all. “What I’m more curious about is—why are you here instead of inside the theatre doing interviews? And you haven’t gone back to the hotel to prepare either. The after-party is about to start. Is there some kind of inside story here?”

If it came to a confrontation, the paparazzi weren’t afraid of anyone. They hid in the shadows, while celebrities stood exposed in the spotlight. This kind of sharp question, let alone for rookies, wasn’t easy for even seasoned pros to answer.

“Actually, I got lost. Do you believe that?” Renly replied, still completely calm, he said it all with a smile on his face.

Elliott was stunned—what kind of answer was that? Completely off-topic. But then, how was he even supposed to respond to that? The reply was so unpredictable, it left him confused. “Lost?” Elliott knew he should probably respond with another question or counter with one of his own, but the words just slipped out.

Renly nodded earnestly. “The plan changed. I lost contact with my agent, and I wasn’t sure what to do next. So, I was planning to head to the 7-Eleven over there to call my agent.” He pointed to the convenience store not far away, speaking sincerely.

Elliott turned to look—and there it was, a convenience store in the night. He was baffled—Renly didn’t seem to be lying, but… this was just too ridiculous, wasn’t it? “According to the plan, your agent should’ve been waiting at the side entrance, ready to take you back to the hotel to change, then head to the after-party.”

“Yes, that was the original plan,” Renly confirmed. “But we didn’t anticipate this unexpected situation.” He gestured to the trophy still lying inside the violin case, now partially covered by paper bills, only a corner peeking out. “We spent more time backstage than expected. By the time I came out, Bryan Cranston’s car was parked at the meeting spot. Quick question: Are there time limits on parking spaces after the awards ceremony?”

After the Emmy Awards, there were a series of official events—for example, all winners had to take group photos, the winning crews had to take photos, winners had to do brief official interviews, and trophies had to be engraved… All of this took over an hour—as Renly was relatively fast. For high-profile people like Jim Parsons, two hours wasn’t unusual.

Elliott nodded. “Indeed, you are correct.”

Parking nearby was limited, so long-term stops weren’t possible. Normally, agents coordinated approximate timings with each other and with their talent, to ensure smooth exits. Of course, this wasn’t a guarantee. Big-name stars had more leeway. But for newcomers like Renly, it was more difficult—many had to grab a cab on their own, with no car provided.

Wait a second—why was he the one answering Renly’s questions now? That wasn’t right! “So, what you’re saying is… You really were lost?” Elliott shook his head, trying to remember what his original question even was.

“Do you know where The Pacific crew’s after-party is being held?” Renly asked further.

“In Beverly Hills…” Elliott started answering reflexively, then instantly wanted to bite his tongue. Why did he just go along with the question so easily?

Renly broke into a wide smile. “That’s perfect. Can you take me there? I was thinking of going back to the hotel first, but looking at the time now… to avoid being late, I’d better head over right away. No one wants to be late to a Steven Spielberg party, right?”

He bent down and retrieved his trophy from the violin case, waved at Ed, and then signalled to Hope and the other two. The bar patrons behind him started whistling to send him off in style.

Renly raised his trophy and dramatically showed it off, which made everyone burst into laughter. Then he walked to the curb and raised his hand to hail a cab. One pulled over smoothly. Renly got into the backseat, looked up, and saw Elliott still standing there in a daze. He called out, “Aren’t you getting in?”

“Oh.” Elliott snapped out of it, nodded, and quickly got in, closing the door behind him.

How had things developed to this point? Why was he sitting in a cab with Renly? More importantly, how had the cab shown up just like that? (T/N – Nothing weird about that, he is a main character after all)

This wasn’t New York—Los Angeles had a very different taxi system. Since almost everyone owned a car, people usually had to call a taxi company in advance to book a ride. Hailing one on the street was possible, but extremely rare.

Yet now, everything about the situation felt bizarre. Elliott was having trouble wrapping his head around it.

He then noticed the taxi wasn’t moving—it was still parked. Outside the window, the group of young people from before were still there. Elliott turned his head and saw both the driver and Renly looking at him expectantly. “I don’t know the party’s location,” Renly reminded him.

Elliott suddenly realised, rubbed his aching temples, and said, “Uh, head toward the Mulholland Drive neighbourhood. I’ll direct you from there.”

The taxi driver snapped his fingers. “Got it.” Then he released the handbrake. “You guys heading to a party over there?”

For LA taxi drivers, Beverly Hills was very familiar territory. Every year, gossip magazines and websites updated “celebrity maps” of Los Angeles, encouraging tourists to hop on special buses to tour celebrity mansions. The Mulholland Drive area was one of the most exclusive and private neighborhoods. It was entirely gated, and even top-tier stars couldn’t necessarily buy property there—because the villas were all taken. They had to wait until someone decided to sell.

“Yes, going to see the sights,” Renly said with a cheerful smile.

Elliott shook his head. Why did this all feel like he had fallen into Alice in Wonderland?

Back at the bar, Hope watched the cab fade into the distance with a longing expression, then couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a scream. “Ahhh!” She jumped up, bursting with excitement. This was all too incredible. What she thought would be a disaster of a day had turned into a dream. Not only had Renly won an Emmy, but she had also interacted with him up close. God, she’d remember this day forever.

Hope’s excitement was contagious. William and Graham couldn’t suppress their own joy and started jumping up and down too. Even Ed, standing off to the side, was grinning from ear to ear.

“Wait, wait!” Graham suddenly remembered something and dashed toward the bar. Hope and William looked at his back in confusion, then saw him grab something from the bar’s windowsill and come running back, beaming.

Before they could ask, Graham said excitedly, “I recorded everything earlier!”

“What?!” Hope and William were both stunned—they had been so caught up in the excitement of meeting Renly that they completely forgot to take photos, let alone record video.

When Hope saw Renly get into the taxi, she had felt a bit of regret—if only they’d captured some footage tonight. But hey, you can’t be too greedy, right? And now Graham was saying he had it recorded?

Graham nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, when I saw Renly performing Cleopatra, my first thought was to record the whole thing. But I was standing in the crowd, and the angle wasn’t great—people kept getting in the way. So I placed my phone on the bar’s windowsill instead. The spot was just right and captured everything perfectly.”

“Graham!” William pulled his friend into a tight hug, expressing his overwhelming joy in the most direct way possible.

Graham chuckled sheepishly. “It’s a moment worth remembering.” He then lowered his head and took out his phone to check the recording. But when he pressed the power button, the screen stayed black. Panic immediately set in. William and Hope also froze. Graham anxiously tapped the phone against his palm, then pressed and held the power button for a long time—still no response. A cold chill spread through his entire body.

“Uh…” Ed’s voice came from behind them. The three turned around in unison.

“It’s just a guess, but… maybe the phone’s out of battery? I mean, our performance earlier did go on for quite a while. Smartphone batteries aren’t exactly known for their endurance…” Ed still sounded a little unsure. “Just a guess, though.”

“No battery. That’s gotta be it!” William patted Graham on the back repeatedly, trying to comfort him.

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