I am Hollywood

Chapter 103: A Visitor



[Chapter 103: A Visitor]

Amy Pascal knew quite a bit about the stalled negotiations but didn't press the matter. Since the purpose of the visit had been achieved, she stood up and said, "Well then, I'll be on my way."

"I'll drive you," Eric replied, getting up as well. "Amy, it seems you didn't come by car?"

"My car is in for maintenance today, so I took a taxi to get here," Amy explained.

"That'll make things easier. I can take you back; it's tough to get a taxi around here," Eric offered eagerly.

Understanding that Eric had a point and considering her destination wasn't too far, Amy agreed.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

As they walked out of the villa, Eric opened the garage door and drove out an old Ford sedan that he still kept. Standing at the garage door, Amy listened to the muffled sound of the old Ford's engine, glancing curiously into the garage. It was empty save for the Ford and a stylish purple sports car parked in the corner, which could accommodate ten cars.

"Eric, with your wealth now, you could definitely get a better car," Amy said with a smile, gesturing towards the Ford and then looking at the purple sports car with curiosity.

"Are you talking about that Lamborghini?" Eric asked as he carefully opened the passenger door for her.

Amy nodded, climbed into the front seat, fastened her seatbelt, and said, "Yeah, that car is pretty gorgeous! Why don't you drive it? I remember that Al drove one, but his was silver."

Eric replied, "That Lamborghini was a gift from the company a few days ago. I'm not really good at driving it, though; I'd prefer to take it on the highway rather than around the neighborhoods in Los Angeles."

"Lamborghini is quite generous; that car must cost over two hundred grand," Amy remarked. Eric chuckled without responding. The car wasn't a standard model heading to market but a specially customized four-wheel-drive concept car worth no less than three hundred thousand dollars, despite the mantle of the Lamborghini brand. Meanwhile, the base model of the standard sports car was priced at two hundred forty grand, and the initial model was only two-wheel drive.

The generosity from Lamborghini was more about continuing their partnership with Eric. Though they had given away a luxury car valued over three hundred thousand dollars, the company stood to gain as their sales would surely multiply this year to at least three times its usual figures. In light of their profit margins, that concept car hardly amounted to a loss.

Just days after news leaked that his upcoming film would feature Tom Cruise and Tom Hanks, Lamborghini reached out to Eric, presenting the concept car and proposing a long-term collaboration deal.

He accepted the car without hesitation, but a long-term contract was a different matter. The rumors of advertising placements within films were already circulating in the industry, and this model of product integration was bound to take off years ahead. Given those circumstances, locking into a long contract seemed less than wise.

...

As they drove away from the mansion, Eric was about to get out to close the gate when a middle-aged man in his forties ran up and tapped on the Ford's window gently.

"Mr. Williams, Mr. Williams?"

The suddenness of the encounter caught Eric off guard. Not wanting to open the door without clarity, he paused and looked out. The man had a square face framed by a short beard, and his eyes showed eagerness and a sense of seeking approval.

Cautiously, Eric cracked the window open a bit and asked, "Can I help you?"

The middle-aged man noticed Eric's hesitation and quickly pushed a business card through the gap. "Mr. Williams, please don't misunderstand me! I mean no harm. I'm Jonathan Demme; you must know who I am."

Eric took the card and peered at it before scrutinizing the man's face further. Once he confirmed the resemblance to his past knowledge, his guard lowered.

The man was one of the three shortlisted directors who had been invited. However, after handing the matter over to Jeffrey, Eric hadn't followed up since he was focused on other pressing engagements.

First, there was the matter of Kepler initially insisting on Julia's fee being five million dollars. After Eric had a heart-to-heart with Kepler, he managed to convince him to accept three million.

The exchange hadn't been pleasant; Kepler had whined about it for ages, fearing the fee would diminish Julia's value. If the film turned out to be a blockbuster, her reduced fee would make it seem like a flattering gesture; but if it flopped, she might be waiting a long time before any higher offers came her way.

Conversely, Julia accepted Eric's arrangements without objections, and he noted her subtle intentions. She wasn't entirely happy with the price but went along with it, returning his hospitality in her own manner. During their several exchanges of glances, he could ascertain she felt like settling her debt to him.

At the end of the day, even though Julia had cried after their last encounter at his home, she deeply desired to break free from Eric's shadow. She perhaps thought lowering her fee was a way of repaying him, believing that in her next film she could confidently reject his influences.

Eric was not displeased; knowing Julia's career trajectory all too well made it simple for him to guide her. If he wished to teach the stubborn girl a lesson, making her star in a flop would suffice. He even found humor in the situation, curious about how she would flounder.

Things were coming together.

Al Pacino had personally put forward a name for the director: Martin Brest, the original director.

Al had ended up chatting with him at a party, and somehow their ideas aligned, leading Al to recommend him to Eric.

With him being the original director, Eric had little in the way of worries. After discussing ideas, he felt completely comfortable passing the reins of directing to Martin, who was now busy in preparations, with Eric occasionally helping out.

However, amidst all this, Eric hadn't prioritized the director search. He wasn't particularly anxious, with both his films and Herbert Ross's slated for a year-end release, giving him

ample time.

Thus it came as a surprise that Jonathan Demme, one of the potential directors, showed up unexpectedly today.

Since he couldn't linger in the car much longer, Eric opened the door and greeted the middle- aged man. "Mr. Demme, what brings you here?"

"Well," Jonathan began, "I received an invitation to direct this script not long ago. I had no idea it was personally written by you, Mr. Williams; it's simply brilliant! I responded to Mr. Jeffrey immediately, expressing my eagerness to direct the film. However, Mr. Jeffrey informed me that there were three candidates, and you would be deciding. I know my qualifications may not measure up to the other two masters, but I don't want to lose this opportunity. Could you spare me some time? I'd like to explore my vision for the film -- just half an hour would suffice."

Eric glanced back at Amy Pascal inside the car, feeling regretful. "I'm sorry, Mr. Demme, but unfortunately, I need to take this lady home right now, so..."

"I can wait, Mr. Williams; it's no problem. I can wait right here until you return," Jonathan

insisted.

Feeling a bit touched by Jonathan's persistence, Eric hesitated but said, "Why don't you get in the car, Mr. Demme? After I drop this lady off, we can find a place to talk properly."

"Is that appropriate?" Jonathan hesitated, glancing at Amy, uncertain of their relationship. He worried that it might seem awkward and leave a bad impression on Eric. However, Amy had overheard their conversation and quickly interjected, "Mr. Demme, get in the car. I'm not too far away; it'll just take about ten minutes."

Eric chimed in to encourage him.

"Then... I guess I'll impose," Jonathan said before carefully opening the back door of the Ford

and taking a seat with his bag.

Eric locked the gates behind him and returned to the car, starting the engine before leaving. With Jonathan Demme now in the car, the three of them maintained a quiet atmosphere throughout the drive, thankfully, as Amy's destination was relatively close, keeping things

from becoming awkward.

*****

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