At three o'clock in the afternoon, the sun was hanging in the sky. Although Halloween was soon, as long as you stood in the sun, you could still feel a hint of heat. This is the climate in Los Angeles.

However, Sean did not feel hot at all when he did this. The words of Vilsa before leaving gave him a bad premonition. Maybe the other party was just intimidating, but maybe... in the case of message blocking, no one could analyze the result.

However, since the other party has been looking for him privately and has tempted him and threatened him, maybe the final result should be soon, right? Maybe he should tell Reis about this before this.

Just as Sean was thinking about this, Reese, with a gloomy face, drove an electric car from the office area: "Shawn, come up, hurry up."

He was greeting him from afar, which made Sean feel worse, so he got in the car honestly and did not mention the matter at noon.

Soon, the electric car carried him and Reese outside a small hut in the office area. A middle-aged man was walking out. When he saw Reese, he immediately showed a helpless expression.

"Wait, Phil," Eric Rees yelled after getting out of the car, "Wait!"

"Eric..." Philip Rosenthal raised his hands and wanted to speak, but was interrupted by the other party: "I brought him. As long as you want, we can gather everyone again and have a full-scale audition. You might as well see his performance before drawing a conclusion."

"Okay, Eric, listen to me," Rosenthal put his hands on Reese's shoulders, "You know, I support you, I believe you can do a good job, and the two episodes that you wrote and produced before were also very popular after the airing. But, but there are more people who support Jeremy, I have to think about the entire TV series."

"So, are you going to give up on me?" Reese's face became very ugly. "You don't even want everyone to judge fairly?"

"Sorry, Eric, I can't change the rules of the game, the producers basically support him, and..." Rosenthal sighed, "Jeremy has been working as a screenwriter since the founding of this TV series."

He didn't say anything further, reached out and patted Reese on the shoulder, and walked forward to the distance. As for Sean, he didn't even look at it.

Reese stood there for a long time before suddenly kicking the wheel of the electric car in anger. At the same time, he kept scolding "****" and "****". He vented violently, and lasted for several minutes before he leaned on the electric car with his head in his arms.

"Sorry, Mr. Reese." Sean, who had been silent next to him, said so.

"What's the use of saying sorry? Can they change their minds if you say sorry? Can you make that damn bastard pay the price?" Reese suddenly yelled again, his eyes flushed red, as if he wanted to kill someone.

Although Sean took a step back, he did not show a look of fear, but looked straight into his eyes.

After a while, Reese, who finally controlled his emotions, sighed and leaned on the electric car again: "Sorry, Sean, I should be the one who said sorry... You are very good, a good young man, it is my fault to bring you in..."

He smiled bitterly and straightened his body: "I'm sorry, it's all over."

Then, Rees was a little shaking, and walked towards Rosenthal's departure with fatigue, and the electric car was not cared about.

Sean stood there without moving. As early as when Rosenthal said the first sentence, he knew something was wrong. Although he was mentally prepared, his heart completely sank to the bottom.

Why is this happening? He couldn't help but ask himself, and his hanging hands clenched into fists. Although he kept telling himself in his heart that it was nothing, just a failure and nothing could succeed, the huge feeling of loss still enveloped his heart.

It ended like this, how could people be content! I did nothing yet! Sean, who was a little dazed, walked aimlessly. When he came to his senses, the studio of "Everyone Loves Raymond" was already in front of him.

He quickly rubbed his face a few times. Although he was very stuffy before, after walking for a while, his mentality has somewhat adjusted. No matter what, he always has a mature soul.

However, just as Sean packed up his stuff—not much, it could be done in a few minutes—the annoying voice rang in his ears: "What, are you leaving now?"

Without hiding the sarcasm in his tone, there is no doubt that there will be no one else except Lehman Vilsa.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not seeing you in the face of being in a down-and-out manner. I just happened to come to the crew if I had something to do. After you wasted two days, you have to hurry up and adjust to get the broadcast of the previous and next week." Seeing Sean watching, Vilsa raised his hands.

Having said that, the condescending sneer was obviously saying: I'm just here to see you get out.

"It seems that it's very likely that I can't catch up." Sean replied lightly.

Vilsa couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, looking a little dissatisfied, as if his calmness and counterattack made him very upset.

"It's not your final word, Sean," Vilsa snorted contemptuously, "I'd better consider yourself-seeing your appearance now. If you agree to my proposal at noon, how could you look like this pitiful."

"It's just a failure," Sean replied calmly, "Everyone has times of failure."

"It's just a failure?" Vilsa narrowed her eyes. "It's really touching. Although I hate you very much and I hated you from the beginning, I still couldn't help but applaud your persistence at this moment. But unfortunately, this is useless."

He leaned closer and stared at Sean with a mocking look: "Every year, thousands of people come to Hollywood with the dream of becoming famous. They have talents and appearances, but unfortunately they can achieve their goals less than one ten thousand. You are just one of them or even worse, because you don't even know who you are! So what if you persist? You can't change anything, you will just keep running around between studios, and then stand outside the office waiting for others to decide your destiny! You will only leave after being used, and then leave in shame. You can't do anything because you - nothing!"

Sean didn't reply again. He knew that no matter what he said at this time, it would only attract more ridicule, so he remained silent, picked up his only few items - uncooked pure water, two books for ease of boredom and a coat - and walked out strode.

"A poor dog falling into the water!" Even though he walked far away, he could still hear Vila's voice.

After clenching his fists, Sean tried his best to thrust his chest and his mouth tightly. It was not until he was about to leave the studio area that he turned into the nearby bathroom, entered the compartment, closed the door and sat on the toilet lid, he suddenly pulled up his sleeves, and then bit his arm hard.

He was curled up on the toilet, trembling all over, his eyes closed and his head shaking, as if he was biting with all his strength.

After a while, Sean gasped and relaxed, let go of his arms and breathed in big mouthfuls, and there were deep tooth marks on his forearm. After dozens of seconds, the crazy beating heart finally calmed down, he took a deep breath. He stood up and walked out of the compartment, straightened his chest, looking no different from before, as if... he would never be knocked down.

After coming to the parking lot and finding his old Ford, Sean was stunned because a guy in a suit and tie was standing next to him, and it seemed that he had been standing for a long time.

"Do you know what the reality is like now?" Frederick asked, leaning against his Mercedes-Benz with his arms in his arms, unable to see his emotions with a stern face.

"It's just a failure," Sean shrugged, "I won't just give in."

The agent didn't say anything. After watching him open the car door and throw the things in his hand in, he called him again: "Shawn."

"Hmm?" Sean looked up.

"I'll invite you to drink." He looked at him.

"I……"

"I know a good place if I don't go to the bar."

The dark brown wine bottle drew an arc in the air and flew over. Sean immediately reached out to catch it, bite the bottle cap, then leaned down and took a big mouthful of it, then breathed a long time.

"I prefer German stout. The soft malt fragrance is very popular, but unfortunately there is no more authentic nearby." Frederick, who also took a big sip with a bottle, said. Although he was still wearing a suit and leather shoes, the collar was wide open and the tie was tilted. He sat on the hood and stepped on it with one foot, throwing the style of a successful person out of the sky.

"I still like Budweiser. I like its aftertaste of wheat that only comes after drinking it." Sean replied, looking at the city at the foot of the mountain, "The place is very good."

The sun has begun to go west, with a slightly dim sunshine, and there are no tall buildings besides the city center, but it looks huge. Although it is not as beautiful as the night view, it also has an indescribable feeling. The huge Hollywood sign is on the mountainside thousands of feet away from the straight line, facing Sean and the others, which is very conspicuous, forming a diagonal with the city at the foot of the mountain. If the photographer stands here, he will definitely take very beautiful photos.

"Of course, there was a time when I liked to drive to the slopes here, drinking beer and watching the whole of Hollywood and even the whole of Los Angeles." Frederick said in a tone of emotion, "then I will feel calm, feel exhausted, and feel that I will not be knocked down..."

He said this and his expression was quite subtle: "I used to want to be an actor or a star, and I wanted to stand in front of the spotlight and be hugged by others, but my father told me that being a star is very glorious, but those behind the stars who push him up are the most powerful, so I finally chose to be an agent."

He took a big sip of beer, and Sean listened quietly: "I came to Los Angeles in 1986, as old as you are now, and then worked in the ICM mailroom for almost three years. The mailroom of the broker company is very good at training people. Several CAA giants have worked in the WMA mailroom. My boss, Ali Emmanuel, David Greenblatt, Rick Rosen, etc., have also worked in the ICM mailroom. Then, I worked as an assistant to Ali Emmanuel for two years. God, that was really a hellish two years. God knows that Ali has so many swear words, and the opening of his mouth is related to genitals. Many people can't get through it. I got over it, so I got a formal broker job in 1992."

He suddenly stopped, looked away for a long time before turning to Sean again: "Do you know, why did Sandra Brock and George Clooney fire me? Not because I told them what to do, but because I told them not to do anything."

Sean opened his mouth, but didn't say a word.
Chapter completed!