Chapter 548 - 356: Don Quixote’s Name Is Really Useful

Chapter 548: Chapter 356: Don Quixote’s Name Is Really Useful

Claire glanced at Ryan. "No," she said, waving her hand as she collapsed onto the bed. "I don’t want to go out. I’m tired today."

After a brief silence, Claire’s gaze swept around the room before landing on the coffee table. She saw the packets of instant noodles. "Huh?" She reached out and picked up one of them. "How did you know I liked this flavor?"

Ryan froze for a moment.

Claire turned the packet over to check the flavor. "Did I tell you? I’ve been wanting to eat this flavor for a while, but it was sold out the last time I went to Jamaal’s store. It works out, I haven’t eaten either." She stood up and grabbed two packets. "I’ll go cook them. Wait here."

She squeezed out of the door and headed to the communal kitchen at the end of the hallway.

Claire didn’t actually like instant noodles. Ryan knew this. Once, Claire had even told Ryan to eat less of them, saying that eating too much salt and having a monotonous diet would make his face puffy the next day, which wouldn’t look good on camera.

Listening to the sound of packets tearing and noodles boiling outside, along with Claire’s soft muttering of, "Oh man, there isn’t even a single egg..." Ryan suddenly felt a little breathless. He stood up and thumped his chest.

A few minutes later, Claire walked back in carrying two bowls of instant noodles. There was no dining table in the room, and they were afraid of getting the quilt dirty if they ate on the bed, so the two of them squatted by the coffee table to eat.

Ryan held his bowl and glanced at Claire. At twenty-three, she was in the prime of her beauty. With her looks and figure, she should be dining in a Michelin-starred restaurant, not squatting with him in a five-square-meter rental room, eating instant noodles bought on credit from Jamaal’s grocery store.

Ryan didn’t know what to say. "Claire," he finally spoke.

"Hmm?" Claire responded vaguely, her mouth full of noodles.

"Never mind, it’s nothing." Ryan lowered his head and continued eating.

"I will work harder," Ryan thought. "I will give you the best life. I will take you to the finest restaurants, buy you the best clothes, and get you the most beautiful wedding dress in the world."

But he couldn’t say those words out loud yet. He knew Claire wouldn’t laugh at him, but he was afraid of sounding like a bad joke.

Claire let out another soft "Hmm?" and mindlessly chewed her noodles.

Early the next morning, Ryan’s phone chimed. Old Mike had replied to his message: "Come to the set at 8:00 AM."

Ryan quietly put on his clothes, poured yesterday’s leftover instant noodle soup into the kitchen sink, and drove his Honda Accord to Burbank.

It wasn’t even 8:00 AM yet, but a dozen or so extras were already lined up at the entrance. Ryan joined the line. From a distance, he spotted the assistant director in charge of casting today’s extras.

"Next," the assistant director said, briefly looking up. "Name?"

"Ryan Reed."

The assistant director’s pen paused on the clipboard. He shifted his gaze to Ryan’s face, scrutinizing him for a few seconds. "Didn’t you play the Guard Captain yesterday?"

"Yes," Ryan nodded, his stomach dropping. "The one with a line yesterday—"

"Then no," the assistant director shook his head, his pen crossing out Ryan’s name. "You had a full-face shot. What if there’s a continuity error?"

"I can wear a helmet!" Ryan hastily offered. "If I pull the visor down, you won’t be able to see my face—"

"Next." The assistant director was already looking at the person behind him.

Ryan stood rooted to the spot, watching as the assistant director registered the next person’s name. The surrounding extras cast glances his way—some with a hint of sympathy, but most with schadenfreude and indifference. His rejection meant there was one more spot available for them.

Ryan had wanted to fight for a chance, but he knew full well that an extra’s pride was worth less than a cigarette butt on the ground. Yesterday on set, no one, from the director to the middleman Old Mike, even knew his name. No one gave a fuck about him in Hollywood. The director only called him "Guard Captain." Even though he had repeated "My name is Ryan Reed" four or five times, no one remembered him.

"Ryan Reed?" a voice rang out. "What are you doing here?"

Ryan abruptly snapped his head up and looked behind him.

A middle-aged man with graying hair, dressed in a sharp suit, was stepping out of a Cadillac Escalade. He had spotted Ryan just before entering the set.

"You’re the gentleman from yesterday..." Ryan instinctively stood up straighter.

He was the one who had joined the conversation when Ryan was chatting with Li Wei yesterday. At the time, Ryan had felt that this man carried himself with a lot of status and flair.

"Good morning, Mr. Don Quixote," the assistant director said, breaking into a smile upon seeing him and taking the initiative to greet him. "You’re at the set so early? Where is Mr. Li Wei?"

"He’ll be here in a bit," Don Quixote replied casually. "Are you picking the extras for today?"

The assistant director nodded in affirmation. Don Quixote took a sip of his coffee and looked Ryan up and down for a few seconds. He saw the gray hoodie Ryan was wearing, his backpack with a half-broken zipper pull, and he saw Ryan’s eyes.

"You’re the one who played the Guard Captain yesterday, right?" Don Quixote said. "The one with a line."

"Yes, Mr. Don Quixote," Ryan said.

"What’s wrong with him?" Don Quixote asked the assistant director. "Did he get cut?"

"He had a full-face shot yesterday," the assistant director explained with a wry smile. "He can’t be on screen again today, or there’ll be a continuity error."

Don Quixote nodded. He didn’t say anything, just took another sip of his coffee.