Soon, William White backed off from the temptation; the charm of those ladies was overwhelming. For his safety, he decided to distract himself.
Scanning the room, he spotted a group. He casually grabbed a glass of champagne and walked over.
"Fellows, I'm William White. Mind if I join?" William White smiled, hoping to strike a friendly note by calling them fellows.
You see, in today's Hollywood, besides White Films, these guys were heavyweights.
Since the success of Star Wars, Lucas and Spielberg had become big names. Both were from USC, and though calling them fellows was a bit of a stretch considering the years apart, it wasn't inaccurate.
However, William White had earned his stripes to use the term, which was giving them respect without trying to flatter.
"Of course not. We were just talking about how your films make so much money," Lucas chuckled, and others raised their glasses.
"Just luck. Maybe the audiences' tastes shifted, and luckily, I'm into comedy," William White laughed it off. At their level, any other explanation felt inappropriate.
After greetings, William White realized Lucas was looking for investments. From the brief introduction, he knew they were talking about Raiders of the Lost Ark.
He was indeed interested in investing in that film, but sadly, Lucas was holding onto the sequels.
Truth be told, the third film in the series was the best. While the first two were decent, William White wasn't desperate.
Don't be fooled by its high box office; the production wasn't cheap, at least 30 million bucks. With Lucas and Spielberg taking their cuts, the profit wouldn't be impressive.
A sure-hit film without sequels would lessen merchandise profits too.
Perhaps William White lacked negotiation skills. Lucas hesitated, only promising to consider. Spielberg seemed unfazed; if they couldn't secure funding, White Films was a solid choice. At least their marketing team was top-notch.
...
The unexpected encounter with Lucas freed William White from temptation. If he could also successfully invest in Raiders of the Lost Ark, that would be even better. Unfortunately, Lucas was quite shrewd. William showed interest just from a brief description, proving that the script was exceptional.
Lucas had faced many rejections for this darn script, so it was surely not a matter of modest doubt.
The situation was different now. William White was willing to invest and wasn't too hung up on the profit-sharing ratios. Their debate mainly focused on merchandising and sequels.
In other words, William White had high hopes for the movie. He didn't blink at the $30 million budget; it seemed perfectly reasonable to him. You gotta understand, the movie he was making at the time only had a budget of $10 million.
Lucas thrived in the wolf-den that was Hollywood, not because of sheer luck.
What kind of blockbuster was Star Wars?
That's the kind of property every major studio would kill for, and Lucas holding onto it wasn't by chance.
Lucasfilm was doing better than DreamWorks. If we just talk about directing skills, Spielberg was undeniably more talented, but Lucas had the edge in running a company. If the old guy hadn't gone through so many divorces, he might be a billionaire by now.
...
After wrapping up a dull dinner party, William White decided to head home directly. If he struck a deal for Raiders of the Lost Ark, he might have been in the mood to party a bit, but now Lucas had killed the fun with his delay tactics.
"Man, going up against this old fox, I'm really out of my league," William White realized that he would definitely be used.
Hollywood giants were in a sensitive phase, and every move of William White would be scrutinized. Even if attitudes didn't change immediately, the movie would be re-evaluated.
Don't find it odd; luck is something they believe in big time.
If investing in William White's movie seemed impossible, investing in a movie he favored wasn't a bad idea either.
Although slightly frustrated, William White didn't care too much. He couldn't snag every blockbuster.
If someone actually did that, they wouldn't just be making money -- it'd be a surefire way to crash and burn.
Balance, balance is key.
Every time AMD was on the verge of bankruptcy, it was often Intel that lent a helping hand. Their love-hate relationship could practically be its own movie.
Turning his thoughts around, William White thought this might actually be intentional -- the constant clash between the two companies effectively wiped out the competition in the chip industry. It might just be a grand scheme.
Aren't people always grumbling about Intel's incremental progress?
Then AMD shows up, usually leading for a year or so, only to get crushed again, and then it's back to incremental progress.
...
William White was here to enjoy life. As long as nobody troubled him, he wouldn't go looking for trouble. There's no end to making money, and dealing with overly complicated finances seemed pointless.
This incident also reminded him that professional matters should be handled by professionals. He really was not cut out for negotiations.
If he faced Lucas, the old fox, again, William White would insist on signing an exclusive agreement where Lucas could only deal with him under the same conditions.
Turns out, he wasn't wrong. The dinner party quickly became gossip fodder, and Lucas smoothly sidestepped recent embarrassments.
Hollywood was a thoroughly capitalistic place. To avoid being controlled by investors, the best choice was to gather a group of them.
Lucas was naturally a master at this. By the next day, the situation had changed. The old guy not only secured several investments but also nearly finalized his distributor.
Regarding Lucas's apology call, William White couldn't do much but roll with it. Thankfully, he was young and shameless enough that Lucas at least owed him a favor.
The old guy didn't want to offend him either. A favor is a favor. If he could help, he would. If not, he'd just apologize.
...
Even after Christmas, Home Alone was still raking in ticket sales, and though its box office numbers had dwindled, they were far ahead of other films during that period.
At this rate, even if it didn't surpass Police Academy, the difference probably wouldn't be significant.
"Fulton, is the venue set up?" William White couldn't waste time worrying. He had important matters to handle.
"It's all arranged, young sir. The food is sorted too. Everything's shipshape."
With only two days left until the press conference, William White realized this year's hustle was just starting. Besides this arcade project, he needed to expedite his comics.
While he didn't doubt his team's abilities, he decided to inspect personally. After all, his people lacked experience, and fixing issues now was better than being too late.
The small six-story building looked a bit gaudy. The walls were covered with game character graphics.
They were still in the early stages and couldn't afford a big headquarters. Land in the US was cheap, with no chance of skyrocketing prices.
"David, have them turn up the ventilation. There's still a bit of a smell." Walking into the company lobby, William detected a strange odor. His senses were keen; he couldn't stand chemical smells.
"Sure thing, boss. I'll get it handled right away."
"Also, get some air fresheners. We can spray them today, but it can't be done when the event kicks off in a couple of days."
His staff had no choice. They didn't notice any odor, but if the boss said so, with or without a scent, they had to comply.
After a tour of the office and finding nothing amiss, William White left surrounded by his bodyguards.
*****
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