After the high-level meeting, David and the Friends production team began discussing the direction for Seasons 7 and 8.
Setting aside plot developments for now, they reached a consensus: inviting A-list actors as guest stars was a solid idea. It would generate buzz, create highlights, and spark fresh chemistry, opening up new possibilities for the script.
For example—Brad Pitt.
Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt were in the midst of a passionate relationship, with their wedding planned for July after the current season wrapped.
Undoubtedly, they were Hollywood's most talked-about on-screen couple at the moment. If Brad agreed to guest star, it would effortlessly ignite media frenzy and viewer interest.
Guest stars were indeed a viable direction.
And now, here was another opportunity—
Anson.
Injecting fresh energy into the show with a new face while testing the waters for audience reactions to guide Seasons 7 and 8.
Once the idea took root, it couldn't be stopped. David eagerly shared it with his friend, sparking a brainstorm.
His boldness and directness, however, gave Darren pause.
As a producer, Darren understood the importance of guest stars.
For Sex and the City, they were either eye-candy or A-listers—always tied closely to the plot and characters. But Friends was different. Everything revolved around ratings.
So, Friends' guest stars were usually top-tier Hollywood film actors, with promotional campaigns starting from the official announcement.
Of course, there were exceptions.
Like Maggie Wheeler.
A veteran character actor from ER, The X-Files, Seinfeld, and How I Met Your Mother, she was far from A-list—not even B-list. Yet her Friends character, Janice Litman, became a beloved staple.
Such cases, however, were rare.
Which meant if Anson became a guest star, the pressure of ratings and reception would fall squarely on his shoulders.
Darren had a bad feeling. He suspected David was using Anson as a lab rat. His producer instincts zeroed in on the issue.
His mind raced.
But Darren also acknowledged that risks were sometimes necessary.
Hesitant, Darren asked, "Are you sure about this?"
Unlike Darren, David grew more convinced and excited the more he talked. He believed this was a brilliant idea.
"Darren, how should I put this?"
"A golden boy. Yeah, that's it."
"Anson… he's got both intensity and nuance. I'm not just talking about his looks—his acting too."
"He's really, really interesting. Truly."
David's enthusiasm was overwhelming, leaving Darren momentarily speechless. "I don't know about 'really really,' but interesting? I'll give you that."
Still… when a gift landed in your lap, you didn't push it away.
Besides, even if this gamble failed, David would bear the consequences. As for Anson? Darren could always step in to smooth things over.
With that in mind, Darren steadied himself. "You're pairing him with Jennifer? Have you asked her yet?"
David laughed heartily. "Overthinking now, are we? Starting to worry?"
By now, Darren had regained his composure. "Heh, what's there to worry about? I'm sure Anson will be treated well, right, dear David Crane?"
A pause, then a pivot. "Speaking of which, the kid's so earnest he doesn't even have an agent yet. Let's talk compensation."
"This season, your guest star budget's barely been touched, right?"
Click.
Anson closed the office door behind him and turned to find Frank standing frozen at the desk, eyes wide with shock.
Frank stared at Anson, then at the office, his gaze darting back and forth like a ping-pong match.
His brain short-circuited.
Finally, his eyes settled on Anson again.
Normally, during face-to-face conversations, people looked at each other's faces—a general view, not direct eye contact—as a sign of politeness.
But Frank wasn't sure what happened. He lifted his gaze, met Anson's eyes, and—once again—found himself drowning in those blue depths.
Then, the still-fresh memories from the bathroom came flooding back.
His mind went blank.
First thought: This guy just barged into David's office. Oh no, oh no—he's gonna get fired on the spot. David's temper isn't something just anyone can handle. I just went to the bathroom—when did this guy sneak in?
Wait… temper?
Why is it so quiet in there? David didn't lose it?
Rarely one for gossip, Frank's mind raced, piecing things together. An absurd idea popped up: So this is the parachute kid here for the audition?
"...Anson Wood?" Frank blurted out, his thoughts a tangled mess.
The moment the name left his lips, he prayed silently: No no no, please let him deny it.
But—
"Yes, that's me."
Frank's heart plummeted in freefall, yet trembled faintly at the deep timbre of Anson's voice.
"Sorry, while I was waiting, Mr. Crane called me in, so I went straight in. Hope it didn't disrupt your work."
Anson raised a finger to his lips in a shh gesture, lowering his voice. "Mr. Crane's on an important call right now."
Frank stopped breathing. He couldn't tell if he was thrilled or terrified as he gaped at Anson, who flashed him a smile, waved, and strolled off. His brain buzzed, thoughts exploding like firecrackers.
Blinking, it took him a while to regain his senses. Only then did he remember the gossip he'd spread in the bathroom. How much did Anson hear?
So this is what it feels like to get caught talking behind someone's back.
This is bad. Really bad.
Wait—who the hell is this guy?
Instinctively, Frank crept to the window, peeking through the blinds to scan the parking lot, searching for Anson. He gnawed at his nails, leg jittering uncontrollably, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst from anxiety.
After a brief wait, those long legs reappeared under the sunlight, his tall frame casting a lengthy shadow—imposing and straight-backed.
Anson seemed hesitant, as if he'd forgotten where he parked. He scanned the sea of Fords, Volkswagens, and Chevrolets, unsure where to look.
Then, he pulled out his keys and hit the unlock button.
Beep beep.
The sound echoed through the lot.
Frank's heart seized. Like a man possessed, he followed the noise—only for his brain to short-circuit completely. His soul seemed to vacate his body, leaving nothing but a deafening roar in his skull.
Anson, meanwhile, shared the sentiment.
Staring at the sleek, silver Aston Martin before him—
Who the hell drives an Aston Martin to audition for a guest role?
Well… guess this'll do.