Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 309: Apartment

Renly closed the taxi door, lifted his head, and looked at the old yet simple building before him, feeling nothing but unfamiliarity.

This was the new apartment Andy had rented for him. After the Toronto Film Festival, he moved in, but since then, he had been traveling nonstop—first to Telluride, then to Los Angeles and London to film 'Like Crazy', followed by 'Fast & Furious 5'. In the span of nearly four months, he had barely stayed here for more than a week.

Renly couldn't even remember the address of the apartment; he had to ask Andy temporarily to avoid the embarrassment of not finding his own home. After thinking for a moment, Renly vaguely recalled the apartment's simple and elegant interior, but the details were a blur, leaving him feeling more familiar with the Airbnb in Oahu.

"What floor again?"

Following his fragmented memory, Renly finally stopped in front of the door on the third floor. The reddish-brown carved iron door seemed somewhat familiar, though it puzzled him a little—wasn't it supposed to be a heavy dark brown wooden door?

There was a dark gray rug by the entrance, with a potted evergreen plant beside it—both excellent places to hide a key. However, Renly never placed his key there. He reached up above the doorframe with his right hand and, sure enough, found an old-fashioned brass key. Every time he traveled, he would hide the key in the same spot—whether it was in Knightsbridge, a shared flat, or this new apartment.

He unlocked the door and pushed the heavy iron door aside. The familiar yet foreign sight of the apartment interior greeted him, causing Renly to freeze for a moment, full of questions: 'Is this really my home?'

The décor matched his memory—the exposed iron pipes in the living room on the right side, the wardrobe in front used as a divider to keep the bedroom and bathroom private, and the black-and-navy-blue-themed kitchen. These details triggered his memory, confirming this was indeed the place he had moved into.

But something was off. The entire apartment was tidy and quiet, not a speck of dust in sight, and all the items were neatly arranged.

The problem was, after moving in, Renly had left all the boxes unpacked. He had planned to organize before heading to Telluride, but it never happened, and everything had remained packed and untouched, scattered across the living room.

When he returned, he had braced himself for a dusty apartment and the thought of unpacking those boxes made his head throb.

Now, the boxes had all disappeared, replaced by a clean, orderly apartment.

On the large bookshelf to the right of the bedroom, books were neatly stacked, while his guitar and keyboard were packed in their cases, leaning against the shelf.

Behind the sofa, his black cabinet held all his vinyl records in layers, and the center shelf was left clear, displaying various trinkets—a bullet casing he collected during the filming of 'The Pacific', a local tooth pendant gifted by a native while surfing on the Gold Coast, and a miniature ceramic figure from a London antique shop.

On the coffee table, there were a stack of wooden coasters, some matchboxes from different bars and motels, and his laptop was placed precisely in the middle.

He walked forward, opened the wardrobe acting as a screen, and found his shirts and suits hanging neatly in the front. The back section, designed with diamond-shaped storage spaces, held his T-shirts rolled into neat little towel-like cylinders, while his casual jackets and jeans were folded and placed in an organized manner.

Renly was certain—he hadn't done this.

There were plenty of things he wasn't good at, and tidying up was one of them. In his previous life, he had Ding Yanan to help him, and in this one, he had housekeepers. He had tried doing it himself once, but the result was so disastrous that someone had to redo the entire job. So, he had given up.

But what was going on here? Was it Andy? If someone came to clean regularly, that would make sense, but unpacking and organizing his things? That didn't seem likely. If Andy had planned to help, he would've handled everything at once during the move, not waited until later.

Renly sat down on the sofa, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

The call was answered after just two rings, and a voice with a hint of amusement came through, "I have a bad feeling about this. You didn't even call last time you were in London, so why are you calling now?"

"You didn't call me when you were in New York, either," Renly replied as he relaxed his muscles and settled into a comfortable position. He liked this sofa—it could double as a bed, offering relief from the constant reminder to maintain a noble posture.

"How do you know I'm in New York?"

"Because I'm sitting in my apartment right now." Renly's answer stunned the other person for a second, and then there was the sound of quick footsteps from the entrance. Moments later, Matthew Dunlop appeared at the door, ending the call and smiling as he saw Renly lounging on the sofa. "If Elizabeth and George saw you like this, they'd probably smash that set of blue-and-white porcelain dishes in fury."

"This is New York, not London," Renly quipped with a nonchalant raise of his eyebrow.

Matthew placed his briefcase on the kitchen counter, hung his coat on the rack by the door, and also hung up Renly's jacket, which had been thrown over the back of the chair. He then sat down on the nearby armchair. "How did you know I was in New York?" he asked for the second time.

"No one else arranges shirts from light to dark or alphabetizes books and vinyl records. Except you." Renly mockingly replied with a face full of disdain.

Matthew was a neat freak with OCD. Everything had to be in a specific order, or he'd lose it. His room now had the distinctive "Matthew" touch, and given their lifelong friendship, there was no way Renly wouldn't notice.

"How did you even know my address? I barely remember it myself." This was the question Renly was truly curious about. He glanced at Matthew, "Did you call Andy? How did you convince him? He wouldn't give out my personal info so easily."

As Renly said, Andy was the only person who knew this address. Not even the folks at Pioneer Village had it. If it wasn't Andy, it would mean Arthur had found it through investigation, which wasn't a good sign, though Renly wasn't overly concerned.

Matthew crossed his right leg over his left knee, a smile playing on his lips. For once, he had stumped Renly. "Your script. When we were in Notting Hill, I asked what that line was, and you told me."

Renly thought for a moment. It must've been the 'Like Crazy' script. When he left London, 'Fast & Furious 5' hadn't been finalized yet. He thought he'd be coming straight back after the Los Angeles shoot, so he had asked Andy for the new address at the time.

"No worries, Arthur didn't ask me about you." Without further explanation, Matthew understood Renly's concern. "But you should know, if they wanted to investigate, you wouldn't have much of an advantage."

With 'Buried' making a big splash during awards season and garnering attention from BAFTA, many British media outlets believed the film had a solid chance at earning recognition. As a result, Renly's face had been plastered all over the magazines and newspapers.

Renly pursed his lips, "Don't worry. They won't open the entertainment section, not even in 'The Times'." This made Matthew chuckle, and Renly continued, "So, are you here for work, or just visiting?"

"I think it's time to leave London," Matthew said plainly. "Remember Clive Reader from law school? The guy from Bristol?"

The British aristocracy often identified people by surname and hometown to trace their lineage.

Clive Reader was a commoner, but his exceptional social and conversational skills made him quite popular. During university, he managed to make inroads into the aristocratic circle, though they were mostly party friends. After graduation, they would go their separate ways, but it was still an impressive feat.

Now, it seemed that those with ability thrived anywhere, and Clive had made a name for himself even after leaving school.

"He opened a law firm here in New York, along with two other familiar faces. Charles Dormer is one of the senior partners. They invited me to join, so here I am." In just a few words, Matthew explained the situation, and Renly could piece together the rest.

"That guy's smart. Is he after your skills or your connections?" Renly hit the nail on the head.

Matthew smirked, unfazed, "Does it matter?"

Renly laughed, nodding in agreement. "Welcome to New York. As a gesture of goodwill, I think I'll let you have this sofa and continue staying in my apartment."

"Thanks," Matthew replied with an exaggerated eye roll. Then he pointed upwards. "My apartment is just above yours. But thanks for the generous offer of your sofa."

Renly spread his hands, feigning sincerity. "I can't help it. I'm naturally generous and love to share. It's probably the only reason Elizabeth likes me."

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