Since they intended to extend an invitation, naturally they required someone familiar to act as an intermediary.
Warner's management had a knack for handling such matters. In an incredibly short span of time, they arranged everything, selecting the right candidate.
Connections and favors – both were readily available, a perfect match indeed.
And the surprise lay in the identity of the person being invited; at least, Lyman hadn't anticipated it.
Anyway, when he heard Tom Cruise inviting him for a meal at the gathering, Lyman felt nothing amiss.
...
The evening breeze carried a slight chill within a luxurious car.
Tom occupied the driver's seat, simultaneously driving and engaging in casual conversation. "During those days, I really appreciate what you did."
Lyman, seated in the back, softly reassured, "It's not a big deal. In my opinion, it's just that some people were envious, and you happened to be unlucky."
"Still, let me express my gratitude. Being involved in "Miscreant" and achieving such success now – it has greatly helped me."
Sighing, Lyman responded, "Oh, come on. Why bring this up? If we calculate it this way, don't I also owe you my thanks? We've cooperated once, so why act distant?"
"True." Tom chuckled, "Let's just say we're mutually thankful."
Suddenly, the atmosphere turned silent.
Lyman felt something was off. He glanced at Tom through the rearview mirror and inquired with a smile, "Why did you suddenly decide to invite me for dinner last night? And you even came all this way to pick me up?"
Tom continued driving steadily without speaking.
Seeing his demeanor, Lyman grew more certain and pressed, "Did something happen that made you seek me out? Come on, spill the beans. You're hemming and hawing like an old gossip."
"The day before yesterday, a friend of mine came over, asking for my help with something."
Lyman became even more certain that Tom might have a favor to ask, "And then?"
"He's a member of Warner Bros.' management..."
"Hold on. What?" Lyman exclaimed, surprised. "Why would someone from Warner approach you?"
"I've collaborated with them in the past, so we have a decent rapport. As for this matter, I didn't see any harm for you, so I didn't decline."
"Considering the circumstances, why does it involve me?"
"Because of you. They want to collaborate with you."
"Couldn't they have spoken to me directly? Wouldn't that be better?"
"Last time they approached you, you turned them down, didn't you? This time, they're hoping to give it another shot, a face-to-face discussion. That's why they approached me." Tom appeared somewhat embarrassed, "To put it plainly, this invitation isn't mine. It's from Warner. I'm just lending a hand."
"How did it end up involving me again?"
"It's because of you. They want to collaborate with you."
"Why can't they talk to me directly?"
"They did try on their own last time, but you brushed it off. Now, they're thinking of giving it another shot, having a face-to-face conversation. That's why they reached out to me." Tom seemed a bit embarrassed. "To be honest, the one inviting you today isn't really me; it's someone from Warner Bros. I'm just lending a hand."
The conversation flowed effortlessly, creating a relaxed atmosphere.
After all, when Warner's people asked for his assistance, he couldn't easily refuse. Maintaining face with such a large company was essential, and Tom wasn't naïve; he possessed both emotional intelligence and adeptness.
If he lacked these qualities, he wouldn't have reached his current stature.
"It seems they have a film project and are interested in having you direct," Tom added.
Lyman paused briefly and inquired, "What kind of project?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but once we're there, they'll naturally discuss it with you."
The car continued on, arriving at a restaurant called "Melissa".
This was a French cuisine establishment that also boasted the world's finest selection of red wines.
Gayot had ranked it in the "Top 40 Restaurants in America", perched high within a building close to Santa Monica Beach.
Most of the tables and suites were positioned along the side closest to the sea, offering guests a view of the ocean.
The reason for delving into this detail was that this restaurant was, in a way, a field of fame and prestige that considered social status in an unconventional manner.
Without true influence, even securing a reservation was a challenge.
And the choice of this dinner venue demonstrated their earnestness and regard. It was a restaurant led by renowned French chefs – the intention behind such a choice was evident.
In the deepening Los Angeles evening, nearing eight o'clock, Tom skillfully parked the jet-black Cadillac and handed the keys to the rapidly approaching valet.
Lyman alighted as well, following Tom into the restaurant.
The interior was spacious, but there weren't many diners. Substantial partitions separated different sections, ensuring guests' privacy.
The head hostess at the entrance noticed the newcomers and promptly greeted them.
"Good evening, gentlemen," She looked up and assessed the two men before her.
Tom's face was nothing short of familiar to her, but the man beside him was somewhat unfamiliar.
In her mind, she quickly searched her information database, connecting the dots with Tom's identity. Almost immediately, she found the corresponding name.
"Lyman Lattes, French, a rising Hollywood director, with consecutive successful films," Julie mused, extending a polite nod and her right hand, "Gentlemen, please follow me. Mr. Meyer is already here."
Proceeding along the carpeted corridor, faint piano music wafted into their ears.
Before long, Julie halted before a private room, turned around, and smiled, "Mr. Lattes, Mr. Cruise." She indicated that they had reached their destination.
She tapped on the door and then opened it for Lyman and Tom to step in.
Inside, a person was already seated, his appearance somewhat familiar. He seemed to be the executive CEO of Warner Bros., but what was his name?
Lyman couldn't recall. Indeed, he didn't frequently exchange pleasantries with these individuals; how could he remember so clearly?
At this point, Tom chose not to linger. He exchanged a slight greeting with the person, indicating a good rapport between them, then patted Lyman's shoulder and left without saying anything.
The spacious private room fell into silence.
"Director Lattes, please have a seat."
The man stood up, revealing a slightly pudgy beer belly.
"Going to such lengths to invite me, it truly surprises me," Lyman responded without pretense, taking a seat across from him.
"We didn't intend for it to be this way, but the calls we made and the offers we extended, none of them seemed to work. It left us a bit helpless. Apologies for disappointing you. It seems you're more interested in having dinner with Tom Cruise rather than me..." The man spread his hands, a mocking smile on his face.
Lyman blushed at his words. That was indeed his issue.
Ever since "3 Idiots" garnered decent results upon its release, he had been incessantly invited by numerous film companies. It became so bothersome that he eventually left it to his agent to handle. He finally understood why CAA had assigned a specific agent to answer calls – sometimes dozens of calls would come in a day, and without someone dedicated to handling them, it just wouldn't work.
His instructions were quite straightforward: perfunctory and polite. After all, if he truly had a project he wanted to collaborate on with someone, he wouldn't resort to this approach.
However, he hadn't expected that after Warner's repeated unsuccessful attempts to invite him, they would resort to using a familiar face as a middleman. Their efforts were indeed meticulous.