Actor in Hollywood

Anson was seriously considering whether he should go out for a bagel and a cup of coffee before clocking in for work. Surely it wouldn't matter… right?

At that moment, Anson noticed a pair of eyes on him and instinctively turned to look.

The chubby, round-faced guy had a nervous, panicked, and scared look in his eyes, as if he were a seven-year-old child witnessing his parents fighting.

Anson was taken aback. "They're not fighting."

The chubby guy's face was full of confusion: *What nonsense are you talking about?*

Even though the chubby guy didn't say a word, his expression couldn't have been clearer.

The scene in front of him increasingly resembled a moment from "Scenes from a Marriage"—not the recent TV series, but the original six-hour version by Ingmar Bergman from 1973.

Anson cleared his throat. "This is called a professional discussion. Even though they seem like they want to strangle each other right now, trust me, it's all for the sake of professionalism."

Off to the side—

"I question your taste!"

"Calling The Beatles a classic? I question your professionalism!"

"What's with classical music acting so superior?"

"I haven't even called pop music shallow, so why are you feeling so insecure?"

In just a few exchanges, it had devolved into personal attacks.

The smile on Anson's face slowly froze and was almost impossible to maintain.

Moreover, Anson noticed the chubby guy's twitching mouth—it looked like he was struggling hard to hold back laughter, and the scene was on the verge of collapsing.

So—

Anson extended his hand, offering the coffee he was holding. "Coffee?"

Gulp.

The chubby guy glanced at the coffee and instinctively swallowed. It was clear that he sneaked a peek at the commotion nearby with the corner of his eye.

That look clearly indicated that he was counting heads to see if taking a coffee for himself would leave anyone in the studio without one.

Anson observed the scene but didn't say anything—

This chubby guy wasn't actually that young. He wasn't a baby-faced kid with arms like lotus roots and a smile like a fresco. He was a young man in his early twenties, with a faint shadow of stubble on his jaw, probably even older than Anson.

If there had been any doubt before, that little action made it clear. He had clearly experienced life in the real world for quite some time and knew the survival rules of the office.

—Six cups.

Anson had bought six cups of coffee, having bought an extra one on a whim. Even if the chubby guy took one, no one else would be affected.

After scanning the room, the chubby guy finally realized that there was indeed an extra cup of coffee.

A smile crept up on his face, and he looked up. "Is there a latte?" he asked, licking his lips as if he was already tempted.

However, before Anson could respond, they were rudely interrupted.

"Anson!"

Dustin had noticed Anson's voice and shouted out like a thunderclap.

"You wrote the song. How do you think the arrangement should go?"

Swish, swish, swish.

All eyes turned to Anson, who lifted his coffee in a small gesture of acknowledgment.

Dustin rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Is coffee really important right now?"

Anson remained unhurried. "Of course, it's important. I see that you're all running on low energy, and now you're arguing without coherence. Your thoughts aren't clear. You need to replenish your sugar levels."

Dustin: ...

Miles: ...

Just a moment ago, the atmosphere was tense and full of conflict. Now, the tension dissolved into thin air.

Anson looked regretfully at the coffee in his hand and then handed it to the chubby guy. "There's a latte in there somewhere, but I can't remember which one."

Chubby guy: ??? Hey, hey, wait a minute, what do you mean by that?

Lily, who had been trying to find an opportunity to chime in but couldn't, finally bowed her head and giggled. Connor, on the other hand, let out a long breath, warmly welcoming Anson's arrival.

But Anson didn't respond to the chubby guy. Instead, he straightened up, facing Dustin and Miles, and got straight to the point.

"In terms of arrangement, I also want to keep the song light."

"'Wake Me Up When September Ends' was composed with various emotions mixed in, trying to blend them into the simplest, most unadorned words."

"Of course, we could produce the song in a grand, magnificent, and elegant way. But that would drown the song's rich and delicate emotions in the instruments."

"Miles, the reason our performances can move people is the emotional connection, not the complexity of the arrangement."

"The arrangement is not the goal; it's a bridge, a bridge to reach the final goal. 'Viva la Vida' should be grand, but 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' should be simple."

Miles appeared thoughtful.

Dustin raised his chin, revealing a smile. He knew he hadn't misjudged Anson.

However, Anson wasn't finished.

"But from the perspective of the entire album, different instruments create different atmospheres. Not just the cello, but a series of classical instruments appearing at different points change the character of the songs. This is also the color of our album."

"If we keep the arrangement simple, 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' becomes just another ordinary punk song. I'm not saying punk is bad; I'm just asking if there's still a need for this song to be on the album. Maybe next time?"

"If we just complete the arrangement with guitar, drums, and keyboard, this song won't fit with the tone of the entire album. Forcibly including it would make it stand out, even undermining the album's cohesiveness."

"This brings us to a question: What kind of band are we, and what style of album are we making? That's the big picture."

Now it was Dustin's turn to be deep in thought.

Miles shook his head. "No, the lyrics of this song fit the album perfectly. We should keep it."

Anson snapped his fingers. "I agree."

Dustin looked at Anson, and so did Miles. Anson had gone full circle only to end up right back where they started. So, what's the solution?

Dustin, ever true to his character, didn't hide his irritation and rolled his eyes openly. "You've hogged all the attention, playing both good cop and bad cop, and you still haven't provided any answers. So, what do we do?"

Anson, however, played coy and turned to look at the chubby guy, who was staring at the coffee cup with a conflicted and sorrowful expression, as if trying to sniff out the latte's true identity.

"By the way, why is he here?"

Dustin only now realized there was an unrelated outsider in the room. "Ryan, I thought you'd already left."

The chubby guy immediately turned around, straightening up and trying his best to appear calm and collected. "Oh, you said you'd give me the master tape, but you didn't, so..."

Dustin smacked his forehead. "Damn, my awful memory. He's Timbaland's assistant, here to pick up a master tape."

As he spoke, Dustin turned and began searching for it.

"Sorry, I thought I'd already given it to you. Oh, God, what am I doing?"

But he didn't expect Anson to turn to the chubby guy. "What do you think?"

The chubby guy blinked. "Me?"

Anson nodded. "We're brainstorming, and different ideas colliding can only be a good thing."

Not only was the chubby guy surprised, but Miles and the others also focused their attention on him.

The chubby guy, who had been trying to identify the latte, suddenly became the center of attention. Even Dustin, caught off guard, stopped what he was doing and looked back and forth between Anson and the chubby guy, unsure of how to respond.

Chubby guy: Uh, can he just grab the coffee and run away?

read more inpatreon

belamy20