"Knock! Knock! Knock!"
Eric woke up to the sound of knocking at the door. Gal Gadot was no longer beside him.
Looking at the clock, he saw that it was already half-past eight in the morning. Today was Monday, and she must have left for the filming of Happy Death Day.
"What the hell? Who's knocking?"
The door handle turned, and Judy appeared in the doorway, standing with her hands on her hips.
"Eric, why aren't you up yet? It's time for work!"
"Work? To hell with it! I'm the owner of the company. If I want to go to work, I go. If I don't want to, I don't."
"Get lost. I haven't finished sleeping yet."
Judy looked at him sternly.
"So, being the owner means you don't have to go to work? You can just lie around in bed?"
"Obviously. Otherwise, what's the point of being the owner?"
"Hold on. Didn't you say you had meetings, which is why you were late by a few hours? Were you actually just sleeping?"
"Nonsense! I really did have meetings then. Now close the door and get out."
Suddenly, Eric felt a cold rush as Judy pulled the blanket off him.
"Wow! Even bigger than yesterday!"
Eric shot her an annoyed look.
"Judy Newhouse, you're a woman. Act accordingly!"
"For your behavior, I could sue you for sexual harassment, you know? And, of course, it's bigger in the morning."
Judy touched her chin thoughtfully.
"But you were busy yesterday. How did you recover so fast?"
"I possess natural strength and talent. Now give me back the blanket! If Rafaeli sees, it'll be awkward!"
"Don't worry. She's already gone. It's just us in the room. And it's not the first time I've seen you like this. In four years at college, I saw every part of your body."
With those words, she moved closer and grabbed him by his manhood.
"My goodness, very firm indeed."
Eric pushed her hand away. Judy had always been like this. At work and in life, she was a different person entirely. She kept the roles of boss and friend distinctly separate.
After the incident, Judy eventually dragged Eric out of bed and drove him to work in her Lincoln.
…
At the office, Bordeaux handed him a report.
"Boss, here are the launch plans for three projects. According to the producers' calculations, the total budget comes to around 40 million dollars."
Eric glanced at the report, which mentioned A Quiet Place, Don't Breathe, and The Hangover.
The budget for The Hangover was the highest—around 20 million dollars. A Quiet Place was set at 15 million, and Don't Breathe, being a low-budget film, was estimated at 6 million dollars.
After a moment of thought, Eric adjusted Don't Breathe's budget to 5 million dollars and increased The Hangover to 30 million dollars. He left A Quiet Place as it was.
"Don't Breathe is a film with a limited number of locations. Most of the scenes take place in a single house. The most important character is the blind veteran. The other roles can be played by newcomers or lesser-known but talented actors. Find suitable candidates."
"By the way, offer the roles to Tom Hardy, Michael Fassbender, and James McAvoy. If they fit, we'll lock them in."
"And confirm if they're willing to sign a multi-film contract with MGM. If yes, compile a list and get it to me."
Bordeaux took notes.
"Boss, you have a lot of faith in these actors?"
"They have solid acting skills and potential. They're worth developing."
Eric pointed to The Hangover.
"There's no room for cutting costs on production here. Film it in Las Vegas, and, aside from the main trio, bring in big-name stars for cameo roles."
"For example, I want Tyson himself, not tricks or body doubles. Also, find well-known actors for other cameos. Spare no expense on this."
"I promised the role of Phil Wenneck to Ryan Reynolds. The other roles—go through casting."
"By the way, what about Elizabeth Olsen as the daughter in A Quiet Place? What do you think?"
Bordeaux shrugged.
"I think it's a great idea. You're the boss, and your decisions have always been right."
Eric smiled.
"Since when did you learn to flatter?"
Bordeaux also smiled.
"Since I decided to grow up."
"Well, it looks like you succeeded. Invite Billy, Warren, and Judy to dinner at my place tonight. You haven't been over since Christmas, and Emily often asks about you all."
Bordeaux nodded.
"I won't forget. By the way, we got word this morning that filming for Kung Fu Hustle by Star Overseas has started."
Remembering the contract, Eric said:
"It's time. A May start was expected. Transfer the first payment to Stephen Chow's account. Who's producing for them?"
"Baggins, an old-timer from the production department. He's been there a week already."
"Good, understood. Go handle it."
Bordeaux turned to leave but paused at the door when Eric called out to him again.
"Wait, I suddenly remembered. How's the Monster project progressing? Ever since we wrapped on Transformers, Patty Jenkins seems to have vanished. I haven't heard from her in ages."
"Haha, boss, she just hasn't visited you. But we met last week. She came to discuss the budget, but there's still no final decision."
"It's taken this long, and still no decision? What's the problem?"
Bordeaux spread his hands.
"The issue is with the lead actress. Patty Jenkins is trying to reach an agreement with Charlize Theron. Whether she can convince her is the key factor for the film's budget."
"In my opinion, her choice is off. In fact, the entire production department thinks the choice is off. This is Charlize Theron, a sexy goddess with model-like looks, while the film's protagonist needs to be rough and unattractive. Wouldn't it be more logical to cast an actress who fits that description?"
"Eric, if you hadn't given Patty Jenkins full control, we'd have surely stopped her from making such a controversial choice."
Images from Monster flashed through Eric's mind. Indeed, who could have thought Charlize Theron would transform so completely? But the world loves when actors sacrifice their beauty for a role, and thanks to her talent, Charlize eventually won the Oscar.
"As the story progresses, Patty Jenkins will probably convince Charlize Theron. In that case, I'll pay them a visit on set," thought Eric.
...
Evening at the Coopers' Residence in Beverly Hills
Everyone sat around the table, stuffed from the meal. A small maid brought out dessert.
Warren patted his growing belly:
"Oh, God, my stomach's protesting, but my taste buds are begging for more, more."
Judy frowned:
"Shut up, Warren. I think you've put on at least twenty pounds since the last time we met. You used to look like a football, but now you're turning into a basketball."
"Look at your chest. It's bigger than mine. I'm a D-cup, and you're probably an F by now."
Warren glanced at his chest, lifting it with both hands, making everyone around feel a bit nauseous.
Eric smacked his forehead:
"Warren, you really need to lose some weight, or I fear you'll fall ill."
Billy added:
"Not just a fear, it's a certainty. If you go to the hospital right now, they'll probably diagnose you with obesity."
"You have to lose weight, or else if you get sick, your family will blame Eric for it."
Under the pressure from his friends, Warren reluctantly set down his dessert.
Everyone knew how difficult it was to lose weight. Controlling one's appetite was just as challenging as controlling other urges. Losing weight solely through willpower was an incredibly difficult task.
"Warren, do you have anyone you like? In your case, if you found a girlfriend who could keep an eye on you, you'd have a better chance at success."
Warren shook his head.
"Is there anyone who likes you? You're now a leader at A.K. Film; surely some aspiring actresses have shown interest?"
"They have, but I know what they're interested in. And it sure isn't love," Warren replied, blushing.
Bordeaux slapped him on the back:
"Are you crazy? This is Hollywood, the world of entertainment. You think you'll find true love here? 'Titanic' was fiction. Be realistic. Enjoy yourself while you can and stop dreaming of fairy tales."
"But I still want to try. Honestly, I already like someone," Warren admitted.
"Who?" the four of them asked in unison.
"Bema."
"Who?"
"Bema Hardy."
The other three didn't recognize the name, but Eric instantly understood.
"Warren, you know she's already 35, right?" he asked, surprised.
"Thirty-five?! Do you have some kind of Oedipus complex?" Judy exclaimed.
"So what? Is love dependent on age? I've been talking to Bema for six months, and she's a really charming woman."
"But Bema Hardy is a strong and ambitious woman. Are you sure you can handle her?" Eric asked directly.
"If I can't handle her, let her handle me," Warren mumbled.
Those words instantly made him the star of the evening. The four friends raised their thumbs in admiration.
Afterward, Eric pulled Billy aside.
The sound of clinking beer glasses echoed.
"Billy, you recently went to the UK to buy the rights to 'House of Cards.' How are things going with Michael Dobbs?"
"It's going well. We've met a few times. I know his wife Rachel better since Michael is often away, so I had to go through her to get in touch with him. Their relationship is good—they've been together for many years. Ultimately, he agreed to sell us the rights to 'House of Cards' out of respect for her request."
"Why did you suddenly ask about him? Did something happen?"
"As I recall, you said he's a politician, right? And that he has a certain amount of power."
Billy nodded:
"Not just a certain amount of power. Michael Dobbs is a member of the Conservative Party, a former chief of staff in Thatcher's government, and now a deputy chairman of the Conservative Party. He has considerable influence."
"Eric, what's going on? Why did you suddenly ask about him?"
Eric took a deep breath and looked at Billy:
"If you could contact Michael Dobbs, that would be great. You might need to go to the UK again soon."
"For what?" Billy asked.
"Haven't decided yet. I'll let you know when it's necessary."
Eric patted a puzzled Billy on the shoulder:
"Come on, let's get back to the others."
Eric's thoughts were still occupied with the situation involving Michael. Journalist Martin Bashir, who defamed Michael Jackson, worked for the BBC, a British broadcaster. For a political figure like Michael Dobbs, dealing with a journalist, even a well-known one, would not be difficult.
After speaking with Michael, Eric suspected there might be shady deals between this guy and Sony. They could involve the BBC, but there was no direct conflict of interest between the BBC and Michael Jackson. Even if they wanted to create sensational news, they didn't have to choose Jackson. They could have found material in the Middle East, Asia, or Africa that would attract more attention.
If it was just one journalist involved, Eric was willing to pay for the necessary evidence and had no issue asking Michael Dobbs for help.
And if he could get key evidence, it could be a powerful weapon in an unpredictable situation.
"Damn, looks like I'll have to channel my inner Louis Litt!" Eric thought.
Apart from Martin Bashir, there was another figure involved—Jordan Chandler, who accused Michael Jackson of molestation in 1993.
In the original timeline, Michael Jackson was fully exonerated only after his death in 2009, when Jordan Chandler admitted that the allegations were false and made up by his father, Evan Chandler, to extort money from Michael. Only then did the public believe in his innocence. Unfortunately, he didn't live to see that moment and couldn't clear his name while alive.
After Jordan Chandler's statement on November 5, 2009, his father, Evan Chandler, shot himself. That scoundrel left the world without facing the public's and Michael Jackson's fans' wrath.
The investigation also revealed a recording where Evan Chandler and a psychiatrist discussed their plan. The evidence existed, and if it could be found, Michael Jackson's name could be cleared once and for all.
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