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"Damn it!"
Reese Witherspoon realized her cover was blown. Worse, the man in black before her might have known all along.
That overly polite greeting? Clearly mocking her poor stalking skills.
"Hell!"
Unable to hold back, Reese swore under her breath.
Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and squinted at the man before her, scanning for a way to turn the situation around.
Regaining her composure, she quipped, "Everyone says Anson Wood is a perfect gentleman, but who knew he had such a wicked side?"
The man in black was indeed Anson.
A sly smile tugged at Anson's lips, but he didn't deny it. "We both know Hollywood rumors can't be trusted. Otherwise, none of us would have a good reputation."
Anson? A pretty face.
Reese? Barbie doll.
Hollywood gossip wasn't kind to either of them.
Reese quickly pieced it together—Anson was teasing her in his own subtle way. Raising her chin slightly, she asked, "When did you notice me?"
Anson sidestepped the question. "Does it matter?"
Reese frowned, annoyed. "Of course, it matters. If you've been mocking me this whole time without my knowing, that's not exactly a good look for me."
Shrugging lightly, Anson said, "Then let's just say it was just now."
Reese caught the underlying sarcasm. Definitely not "just now." She sneered, "What's this—sympathy for the weak? Gentlemanly pity?"
Anson simply smiled. "Trying to shift the focus, are we? Making this about me? Isn't the real issue your stalking?"
"So, I've got myself a secret admirer now?"
For the past week, Reese had been tailing Anson.
Truth be told, Reese's stalking skills were mediocre at best. For someone as seasoned with paparazzi as Anson, her attempts were laughable—he'd caught on from the start.
But why? Anson couldn't figure it out either.
Clearly, it had to do with Walk the Line. Reese Witherspoon was one of the actresses the two Jameses had painstakingly persuaded to join the cast.
Much like Anson, Reese had been handpicked by Johnny Cash himself. Her sweet smile reminded him of a young June Carter, his muse and wife.
Reese came on board slightly later than Anson. Since the biopic revolved around Johnny Cash, building the cast around the male lead made sense. Once Anson signed on, the two Jameses focused on convincing Reese.
In real life, Reese was six years older than Anson, but this worked in their favor—June Carter was three years older than Johnny Cash, creating an unintentional parallel between their on- and off-screen relationships.
Reese hesitated, though. Negotiations dragged on, with updates like, "She's very interested" or "She's already met with the Cash-Carter family," but no firm commitment.
So why was Reese secretly stalking Anson?
Intrigued, Anson hadn't exposed her. He wanted to see how far she'd take this and what her endgame might be.
Even today, Reese seemed nowhere near a conclusion. Her clumsy attempts reminded Anson of Mr. Bean—a comedy of errors. Pretending not to notice was almost harder than addressing it.
But one playful jab from Anson was enough to make Reese laugh.
"Secret admirer?"
Reese shook her head. "No, you're not my type."
Anson considered this seriously and nodded in agreement. "You prefer boys, not men. Understandable."
Reese had been married to Ryan Phillippe for four years. The golden couple had fallen in love at Reese's 21st birthday party, swept up in a whirlwind romance that quickly led to marriage.
In just four years, Reese starred in Legally Blonde, solidifying her status as a top-tier actress, and Sweet Home Alabama, cementing her "America's sweetheart" reputation. Meanwhile, Ryan had appeared in films like Gosford Park and fathered two children with Reese.
Yet, Ryan's boyish good looks—a blessing early on—became a curse as he aged, limiting his roles.
Anson hit a nerve.
Reese paused momentarily but refused to back down. "So, someone couldn't wait to shed their teenage image at Cannes? Trying to prove you're more than a high school heartthrob?"
A sharp retort.
Feigning a wounded gasp, Anson clutched his chest dramatically but smirked.
"So," he countered, "which magazine was it? Vogue? Does Ryan mind you keeping that issue?"
Reese was caught off guard by the comeback, momentarily speechless. "Are you always this narcissistic?"
Anson replied confidently, "It's my only weapon. If I don't believe in myself, Hollywood will eat me alive."
After a pause, he added, "Like it's doing to Ryan."
Bullseye.
Ryan's self-assurance had waned as Hollywood boxed him into roles that didn't allow growth, leaving him disheartened.
Reese, visibly shaken, stood her ground. "I thought you'd empathize with Ryan."
"Why would a pretty face criticize another pretty face, right?" Anson spread his hands. "I could say the same about you."
Reese faltered slightly.
Anson pressed on. "So, what do you think? Can I handle Johnny Cash?"
Reese stayed silent, unwilling to reveal her true thoughts.
Her silence spoke volumes.
Anson smiled knowingly. "Let me guess—you don't think I'm the right choice for Johnny Cash. You doubt I can do justice to the role, and that's why you're hesitating about signing on."
"But I've already signed. You don't have a choice, and you don't want to back out. So, you decided to follow me, trying to see if this 'pretty face' has any substance."
"Well? Are you satisfied with what you've found?"
Reese said nothing but stood up straighter, studying Anson with newfound curiosity.
For the first time, she saw beyond the surface.
Anson was more than a pretty face.
(End of Chapter)