Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 139: Dumbfounded

Chapter 139: Dumbfounded

A stranger's voice abruptly interjected, drawing everyone's attention. Renly scrutinized him for a moment, a bit surprised. "...Are you a paparazzo?" Earlier at the Nokia Theatre's side door, the reporters' faces were hidden behind cameras, making it hard to recognize anyone, so Renly hadn't identified the person in front of him.

"I prefer to be called a journalist, but..." Elliott shrugged. Paparazzi disliked the term "paparazzi" due to its negative connotation, and legitimate journalists also refused to consider them as peers. "I am indeed following you."

Elliott emphasized the word "following," curious about Renly's reaction. Teasing newbies was always fun; most newcomers overreacted upon realizing they were being tailed by paparazzi—too excited, too angry, or too resistant. Regardless of the reaction, as long as it was captured, it could sell well.

Renly raised an eyebrow, showing interest. "Are you being ostracized by your peers?" This response left Elliott momentarily speechless. Renly chuckled. "Otherwise, why would you end up here?" Renly glanced around and gestured. "I thought you were just a regular audience member."

Elliott was momentarily lost for words, then laughed at the absurdity of it all. "I'm more curious about why you're here, not inside the theatre giving interviews, or back at the hotel preparing for the after-party. Is there some inside story?"

When confronted, paparazzi feared no one—they lurked in the shadows, while celebrities were exposed under the spotlight. Such a sharp question wasn't easy for even veterans to answer.

"Actually, I'm lost. Can you believe it?" Renly smiled calmly in response.

Elliott was taken aback—what kind of answer was that? It was completely off-topic. But how should he respond? This unorthodox answer left Elliott genuinely puzzled. "Lost?" Elliott knew he should ask another question or counter with one, but he blurted out in confusion.

Renly nodded seriously, "There was a change of plans, and I lost contact with my agent. I'm not sure what to do next. So, I was planning to go to that 7-11 and call my agent." Renly pointed to the convenience store nearby, speaking sincerely.

Elliott looked over and saw the store under the night sky. He was bewildered—Renly didn't seem to be lying, but... it was just too ridiculous, wasn't it? "According to the plan, your agent should be waiting at the side door to take you back to the hotel to change before the after-party. Is that correct?"

"Yes, that was the plan." Renly agreed. "But we didn't anticipate this mishap." He pointed to the trophy still lying in the guitar case, now partially covered by paper bills. "I spent more time backstage than expected, and by the time I came out, Bryan Cranston's car was in the spot. A quick question, do parking spots have time limits after the awards ceremony?"

After the Emmy Awards, there's a series of official activities like group photos and interviews for winners, which can take over an hour—shorter for someone like Renly, but up to two hours for more popular figures like Jim Parsons.

Elliott nodded. "Yes, that's true."

Parking spaces are limited, so cars can't stay long. Agents typically coordinate times to ensure orderly departure. Big stars have some privileges, but newbies like Renly often struggle—many even leave by taxi.

Wait, why was he answering Renly's questions now? "So, you're saying you really are lost?" Elliott shook his head, trying to remember his original question.

"Do you know where the 'The Pacific' cast party is?" Renly asked further.

"Yes, in Beverly Hills..." Elliott wanted to bite his tongue—why was he answering so obediently?

Renly smiled broadly. "Great! Can you take me there? I planned to stop by the hotel first, but given the time, I'd better head straight over. No one wants to be late to a Steven Spielberg party, right?"

Renly retrieved his trophy from the guitar case, waved to Elliott, and signaled to Hope and her friends. The bar patrons whistled in farewell.

Renly lifted his trophy theatrically, making everyone laugh, then walked to the curb and hailed a taxi. The taxi stopped promptly, and Renly got in, looking up at the still-stunned Elliott. "Aren't you getting in?"

"Oh." Elliott snapped out of it, nodded, and quickly got into the car, closing the door behind him.

How did things get to this point? Why was he sitting in a taxi with Renly? And why was the taxi so readily available?

This wasn't New York—LA's taxi system was different. Most people had cars, so taxis were usually booked in advance. Hailing one on the street was rare.

But now, everything felt surreal, and Elliott couldn't wrap his head around it.

Elliott realized the taxi hadn't moved, still parked. The driver and Renly were looking at him. "I don't know the party's exact location," Renly reminded him.

Elliott understood, rubbing his aching temples. "Uh, head towards the Mulholland Drive area. I'll guide you from there."

The driver snapped his fingers. "Got it." He released the brake. "Going to the party, huh?"

For LA drivers, Beverly Hills was familiar territory. Each year, celebrity maps were updated for tourists to see star homes. Mulholland Drive was the most exclusive area, with a limited number of villas, often unavailable even to top stars.

"Yes, going to check it out," Renly said cheerfully.

Elliott shook his head, feeling like Alice in Wonderland.

Hope watched the taxi leave, then couldn't contain herself, screaming and jumping excitedly. This day, once a disaster, had turned wonderful. Not only did Renly win an Emmy, but she also had a close encounter with him. She would remember this day forever.

Hope's excitement spread to William and Graham, who also jumped with joy. Even Ed laughed heartily.

"Wait, wait," Graham suddenly remembered something, running to the bar. Hope and William looked puzzled, then saw Graham returning happily with something. "I recorded everything earlier."

"What!" Hope and William were shocked—they had been too thrilled to think about taking pictures or recording.

When Renly got in the taxi, Hope regretted not capturing the moment, but didn't want to be greedy. Yet now, Graham said he recorded it?

Graham nodded. "Yeah, I saw Renly performing 'Cleopatra,' and thought to record it all. But I was blocked by people, so I put my phone on the bar's windowsill. It had a perfect view."

"Graham!" William hugged his friend, expressing his joy.

Graham laughed. "It's a moment to remember." He looked down to check, but his phone didn't respond. Graham panicked. Hope and William froze. Graham tried hitting it against his palm and holding the power button, but it remained dead. He felt a chill.

"Uh..." Ed spoke up, and they turned to him. "Just a guess, but could it be the battery? We did perform for a long time, and smartphones don't last that long..." Ed hesitated, "Just a guess."

"Out of battery, it must be!" William patted Graham's back reassuringly.

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