As his feet touched down on the soil of New York's Kennedy International Airport once more, breathing in the air laden with floating particles, basking in the feeble sunlight, Renly had to admit that this familiarity carried a sense of coming home.
Truth be told, Renly didn't particularly like New York. It was rainy, snowy, and windy here. A hurricane could lead to city-wide power outages, a snowstorm could paralyze the entire city, not to mention the consistently exasperating congestion. Yet, strangely enough, he had spent almost twenty years in London, less than a year in New York, and yet in this city, he had found a long-lost sense of belonging. Returning here felt like truly returning home.
Observing the congested airport road outside the window, Renly couldn't help but smile. No matter how bad it got, this was still home.
Upon leaving New York this time, he had initially thought the trip would be brief. "Buried" was merely an independent film with a short production cycle. However, to his surprise, two months had flown by in the blink of an eye, and summer was already waning. As he stepped out of Kennedy International Airport, he could already sense the scent of autumn in the chill of the sea breeze.
Dragging his small suitcase, he blended into the crowd, leisurely walking out. His mind pondered whether to take the subway or a bus back into the city. The view was a sea of people, many holding signs. Clearly, these were airport staff here to pick up passengers. However, amidst the surging crowd, finding his own pick-up was no easy task. He could only hope the passengers would have sharp eyes and recognize him on their own.
"Renly!"
Amidst the bustling noise, someone called his name. Renly's footsteps instinctively paused. He thought maybe a fan of "The Pacific" had recognized him on the flight back from Paris, as an air hostess had recognized him and asked for a photo during a service break. It was the first time he had encountered a fan asking for a photo, and it felt quite peculiar.
However, after scanning the crowd, he didn't spot his intended target. "Renly!" The call came again, and then he saw a man not yet thirty years old raise his right hand high and wave vigorously, attempting to catch Renly's attention. In his left hand was an airport pick-up sign. Printed in standard font were the clear words, "Renly Hall."
Catching Renly's gaze, the man broke into a delighted smile. "Renly, over here, over here!"
This is... an airport pick-up?
Renly was riddled with question marks. Who would be coming to pick him up? Could it be Stanley and the others sending a car? Unexplainably, his mind conjured images from gangster films, where under the pretense of picking up someone from the airport, the protagonist would be forcefully shoved into a car and kidnapped. Thinking this, Renly couldn't help but chuckle, then he quickened his pace, walking toward the direction of the person waving.
"Renly, welcome back." The man approached, extending a warm welcome. "Did you have a smooth flight? I heard it's been pouring in Paris the last couple of days. Shouldn't have affected takeoff, I hope?"
Things were getting stranger and stranger. How did this person know he was returning from Paris? And how did he know which flight he was on?
Suddenly, a flash of insight struck Renly: George Hall. If it was his father, then everything would fall into place. Andrew had been quite carefree, probably mentioned their encounter in conversation, and if George was inquisitive, he could easily deduce Renly's movements. As for the Paris side, using certain connections to investigate his flight details wouldn't be difficult.
However, why did George come to the airport to intercept him at this moment? Wouldn't it have been more convenient in Paris?
Renly couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. He decided to be straightforward and directly asked, "You haven't introduced yourself yet? I don't recall arranging for a pick-up service."
The other person's expression froze for a moment before he realized it, then he patted his forehead. "Apologies, forgot to introduce myself. I'm Nathan Pryer, Mr. Fisher's assistant." He flashed an apologetic smile, seeming a bit flustered, as if he wasn't entirely familiar with the job. "Let's talk as we walk. The crowd outside has gotten even larger, and it's not very convenient to park."
The unexpected answer left Renly both amused and exasperated. Clearly, his assumption was off. Nathan took a few steps ahead, but Renly remained rooted to the spot. "Remind me, who's Mr. Fisher?"
Noticing Renly wasn't following, Nathan grew a bit anxious and hurried back. "Mr. Fisher! Mr. Fisher?" He repeated the name over and over, trying to jog Renly's memory. After saying it four or five times, he finally realized and stated the full name, "Morgan Fisher."
Interesting.
Turned out to be Morgan Fisher, the most prominent agent in the past couple of years.
It was widely known that CAA had become the unrivaled giant in the industry. They had introduced a unique business model—total resource sharing.
In the traditional agent industry, resources were undoubtedly an agent's most important asset. Actor contacts, director contacts, producer contacts, contacts with major film companies, and so on, were all like a spider's web, intricately woven throughout Hollywood. Those agents at the pinnacle of the pyramid could indeed command the industry.
Typically, top-tier agents could be divided into two categories. One managed a dozen or so artists with varying specialties and levels of recognition. The other type represented top-tier artists with someone like Johnny Depp having the upper hand in negotiations.
However, CAA had broken these industry norms. They openly shared all their resources, internally. An actor could potentially have four or five agents, with one agent taking the lead, while the other agents provided suitable resources. Similarly, one agent could manage multiple artists. As long as one artist possessed suitable resources, it could lead to opportunities for other artists.
This model not only maximized the benefits of resources but also propelled the comprehensive rise of the agency's actors. Most famously, it was the case for the "Frat Pack".
Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell, Owen Wilson, and a dozen other comedy actors united under the banner of Hollywood's Frat Pack. Whenever one of them received a new project, CAA would stipulate that they must also sign one or two members of the Frat Pack, such as signing Ben along with Luke Wilson and Jonah Hill.
They employed this strategy to boost a whole batch of comedy actors and produced successful comedic works like "Meet the Parents", "Wedding Crashers", "Tropic Thunder", and the "Night at the Museum" series.
Facing the dominance of CAA, whether it was the veteran powerhouse WMA (William Morris Agency), the up-and-coming ICM (International Creative Management), or the rising stars like ETA (Endeavor Talent Agency) and UTA (United Talent Agency), none could form a direct confrontation. Although the industry now had the "Big Five" agencies standing side by side, CAA was clearly in a league of its own, far ahead and leading without rivals.
Under such a framework, Morgan Fisher had entered the spotlight forcefully. Three years ago, he had packaged the "True Blood" project and sold it to HBO, ushering in a vampire-themed resurgence. Subsequently, he had successfully promoted Kristen Stewart to the "Twilight" franchise, creating a box office miracle for the idol film genre. Bradley Cooper, who had lingered in Hollywood without much success for a decade, had found a breakthrough with Morgan's efforts, starring in "The Hangover" and gaining overnight fame. This year, his influence could be seen behind the highly anticipated new series "The Walking Dead", having at least pushed four actors into the cast.
Without exaggeration, Morgan, relying on his own efforts, had carved out a path in the face of CAA's encroachment. He was undoubtedly positioned within the top twenty Hollywood agents in terms of influence.
Renly knew Morgan because after "The Pacific" premiered, he had received a call from Fisher. However, that call had been extremely brief, lasting less than two minutes. Morgan had gotten straight to the point, inquiring about Renly's intentions and expressing a desire to meet and discuss potential cooperation.
Decisive and direct, succinct and clear.
That had been Renly's initial impression of Morgan. Later, after an inadvertent chat with Roy Lockley, Renly understood the true extent of Morgan's remarkable stature. Yet, after that, Morgan had never contacted him again. Clearly, Renly's value wasn't significant enough to warrant his attention.
Their next contact was today.
"Please extend my thanks to Mr. Fisher. I believe I can make my own way back," Renly smiled politely as he declined the offer. He had no connections with Morgan. The fact that Morgan had gone through the trouble of personally picking him up, and even obtained information about his flight, didn't sit well with him. He disliked the feeling of his personal privacy being exposed.
Nathan became flustered. "Renly, I mean, Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall." He jogged after Renly, anxious. "Please, you must get in the car. Morgan truly wants to have a conversation with you. He hopes you'll give him a chance." He followed closely, his mood tense. "Wait, are you planning to take a bus now?" Confusion crept onto his face, as if he had... lost his way.
The abrupt change in the situation made Renly burst into laughter. "Yes."
Nathan realized his mistake. "Sorry, I've only been here for less than a week. I'm not very familiar with the business yet." He then continued anxiously, "Morgan flew all the way from Los Angeles to New York specifically for you. He's set aside an entire day for you. His sincerity is absolutely genuine, without any discounts. He just hopes to have a face-to-face conversation with you..."
Just then, a car came to a halt by the side of the road. The rear door opened, and a voice called out, "Mr. Hall, please get in the car."
Renly looked up, observing a middle-aged man in a suit sitting in the back seat. Shadows obscured his features, but Renly could make out a pair of steady, unsharp eyes that exuded unwavering determination and confidence that brooked no refusal.