Chapter 19
Sorry for the late update. Everyone's life got busy there for a reason, and I had little time to write. Anyway, here is the next chapter. Shout-out to Umut_Cepken_6839 — I may bring up Drew Barrymore again at some point, and thanks for the reminder about other things to invest in. I had forgotten about those.
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"Sometimes, I regret becoming a director. The childish egos, behind-the-scenes conflicts between stars, creative differences, unions, and the constant pressure from producers can drive a person crazy. There are endless demands to stay within budget, requests to change a scene, and suggestions on how to tone things down. You hear constant questions like, 'Is this appropriate for children?' It's overwhelming. I swear, if God is real, I deserve to go to heaven just for not losing my temper and killing someone. Because there have been times when I've come this close to it." - Caesar Espinar
-1998-
Some things just can't be changed, no matter what you do. A perfect example of this is James Cameron. He is a genius, and even after I was stabbed, that wouldn't change a fucking thing. To most people, "Scream 2" was set to be the movie of 1997, but no, forget that. "Titanic"—a film that I alone foresaw—took the top spot instead, completely overshadowing "Scream 2" as if it were nothing. I wasn't angry, to be honest, since I knew it was coming. But still, it stung a little that even after nearly dying, that pretty boy Leonardo DiCaprio managed to outshine me.
Okay, maybe I was a little upset, but come on. You nearly die for a woman you don't even know, and suddenly you're the hottest guy in Hollywood for like ten minutes. You fake a romantic scene with a girl in a movie and pretend to die for her, and just like that, you're the talk of the town. I swear, people are so fickle. The folks at Warner Bros. were confused about why I kept pushing for a later release date for "Selena." This is why. "Leo-mania" was at its peak, and if I remember correctly, "Titanic" would dominate the box office for 16 weeks, which would prevent "Selena" from reaching number one. Not that I expected it to, but it certainly would have had a better shot if "Titanic" had some time to cool down.
By the end of 1997, a few things were becoming clear to me that I had either ignored or pushed aside for too long. My original goal when I moved to Hollywood was to establish myself as one of its top writers. However, I unexpectedly achieved this much faster than I had anticipated. While I had ideas for future films in my head, I realized that statistically, at least one of them should have flopped by now. Yet, all of them made over 100 million at the box office, earning me a reputation as the writer who could deliver a 100-million-dollar movie. This reputation was further solidified by Jennifer's recent hit single.
"If You Had My Love" was released last week and quickly soared to number one, with its music video becoming MTV's most-watched video. This rapid success catapulted Jennifer from a relatively unknown actress to superstardom almost overnight. Suddenly, everyone wanted to interview her or take pictures of her. Unsurprisingly, she reveled in the attention, just like anyone in her position would.
As for me, I was taking a backseat for the time being, relaxing after a somewhat difficult year. "Relaxing" was the keyword —not stopping, I reminded myself as I walked into Warner Bros.' headquarters. I had received a call from Arnold Kopelson, who had become my go-to person at Warner Bros. I wouldn't say we were friends per se. Still, at this point, Arnold was one of the few people in Hollywood I trusted not to try to thoroughly screw me over if he had the chance. Because of that, when he called, I showed up. I owed the guy my respect, if nothing else.
When I walk into his office, he gets up, and we shake hands.
"Caesar, it's good seeing you. How are you doing?" Arnold asks with honest concern in his voice.
I will share this: the only reason Arnold and I weren't truly friends was because of the business we were in. If it hadn't been for that, we would have been very close. You see, it is when you're facing death that you discover who your real friends are. Not many people visited me when I was in the hospital. The few who did were the ones I was closest to, but none of the WB executives came, and even those I had collaborated with multiple times didn't show up. However, among those who did visit, Arnold was the last person I expected to see, especially since he came when it was still uncertain whether I would survive. Perhaps he was just concerned about losing his investment, or maybe he genuinely cared about me. Regardless, until our deal was complete — and perhaps even after that —I would make sure he got the best scripts I had to offer.
"Good enough, Arnold. So what's up? Why did you call me? You know the doctors said I should be taking it easy for the time being." I say to him.
"I know, but the studio executives wanted to see if you are still unwilling to write the script for Scream 3," Arnold says to me.
Yes, that was something I had forgotten. After the success of Scream 2, Warner Bros. became tired of allowing New Line to hold the rights to such a lucrative franchise. They effectively forced New Line out by having me set the price too high for New Line to match. I was told that if I didn't ask for at least 1.2 million dollars, they would be distraught with me. It was a hint I wasn't foolish enough to ignore, and I made sure to inform Robert about it. He wasn't pleased either, but in the end, he understood that I had little choice but to set the price so high, which ultimately forced him to decline the third-movie opportunity.
Although I understood the hint, it didn't stop me from hitting back at Warner Bros. I sold them the rights to develop as many scripts as they wanted for $5.2 million and a 10 percent share of box-office revenue. Both domestic and international. This was my way of signaling that I was finished writing for the franchise. Unlike Robert, they weren't as receptive to this move. In fact, according to Arnold, I had upset a few people among the higher-ups. However, it wasn't too many of them, as they still wanted to collaborate with me—just not on Scream.
"You already know my answer, Arnold," I say as I take a seat on a couch in his office.
After grabbing a bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses, he joins me. "I figured as much. Though I am surprised you are so upset about what they did to Robert."
Picking up one of the glasses he had poured whisky into, I take a sip and say, "It's not about Robert, Arnold. I don't like…" I take a moment, then say, "Being given hints."
Taking a sip from his glass, Arnold says, "I had guessed as much. If it's any consolation, I tried to warn them not to try that shit with you."
"I know, Arnold. You're not that stupid." I say, and we both chuckle a bit at that.
Then I added, "So are you going to tell me the real reason why I am here? You wouldn't call me to get an answer you already knew the answer to."
Nodding his head, Arnold says, "As sharp as ever. Okay, I will just cut the bullshit. You know the WB network has several shows in the works, right?"
"I have heard a few whispers. Something about a show about three sisters, right?" I ask him.
"That is right. The show is called Charmed, and it was created by a woman named Constance M. Burge. Do you know her?" Arnold asks me.
"Ya, I have met her a few times." In this business, you eventually encounter everyone who matters, whether you realize it or not. The real question is whether they're worth remembering. Honestly, she wasn't, and she likely wouldn't be if it weren't for "Charmed" and a show called "Royal Pains" that would premiere later in the next century.
"How would you feel about working with her on the show for a while?" Arnold asks.
I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I think it over for a bit before saying, "You know I am busy with Spielberg. We start filming in a month. I won't be available till after the movie is done."
"I know that, and that is why I am not asking you to work on the set or even with the actors. All we want from you is to look over the scripts. Maybe write a few yourself if you have time." Arnold says to me.
I look at him, and my eyes convey that I understand why he wanted me to write for the show, despite my lack of experience in the TV industry. Warner Bros. was frustrated that I had refused to write Scream 3, and now I was collaborating with DreamWorks Pictures. They were worried that I might start exploring opportunities with other studios, even though I generally preferred to work with them. They likely wouldn't feel this way if they were aware of the agreement between Arnold and me that was kept confidential. However, Arnold is a smart man and wouldn't disclose that information publicly.
"And what is WB offering me for my time?" I ask him.
"Twenty-five thousand per episode you write and 5 for every script you review," Arnold says.
"That is a hell of a deal," I tell him.
"When you're the best in Hollywood, you get top dollar. You know that." Arnold says to me with a smile.
I made it seem like I was thinking it over for a bit, but he knew I would take the deal. "Fine, but you need to do something for me."
"Name it," Arnold says.
"I have a new script," I say to him.
"Give it here, and I will make sure you get top dollar," Arnold says, interrupting me.
"That is the thing. I am not looking to sell it, Arnold, not unless I get to direct it." I say to him
Once he hears this, any trace of a smile on his face disappears, and he sits back. "That is quite the thing you're asking for, Caesar."
"I know," I answer back plainly.
Pouring himself another glass of whisky, Arnold takes a sip and asks, "How much are we in terms of the budget?"
"Forty million," I answer him.
Running his hand over his mouth and chin, Arnold says, "Forty million is a lot of money, Caesar."
"Still less than what I have made WB so far." I point out to him.
"That is true," Arnold says while thinking it over.
Caesar had indeed brought in significantly more than 40 million dollars to WB, but it is also true that he had never directed a movie before. He had always been open about his ambition to direct someday, yet he has not even attempted any experimental films to date. Now, he is aiming to direct a major motion picture.
"You may be asking for too much, Caesar," Arnold says.
"I know, and that is why I am not asking to do it this year," I tell him.
Raising an eyebrow, Arnold says, "You're not?"
"No, as you are aware, in my contract to work on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, there is a clause that states that I get to direct at least three episodes. With supervision from Joss, who can cut in if he doesn't think I am doing a good job." I tell him.
"I am aware. Go on." Arnold says.
"Well, we will soon find out if I'm ready to direct. If I am not, well…" I say, leaning back.
Arnold takes some time to think this over, "It's still a big risk, Caesar. Let's say for a moment that you do a good job on the show, and the episodes are a hit. TV isn't the silver screen. You're asking me to take a huge risk here."
"No bigger than the one that got me into Hollywood in the first place," I say to him.
This made Arnold chuckle slightly. It was true, after all, and it reminded him that David was right. There was something about Caesar that went beyond his status as a brilliant writer. No other writer could have accomplished as much as he did in the short time they had been in Hollywood. Yet Caesar almost made it seem effortless.
"We will evaluate how Selena performs and how you do with Buffy. If everything goes well, I will reach out to some contacts, but this won't be easy. I need to review the script beforehand." Arnold said. After all, what was one more risk at his age?
"As soon as I get it copyrighted. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to meet with someone." I say to Arnold as I stand up.
"Say hello to Tiff for me," Arnold says with a smirk, knowing who I was going to see as well as being one of the few who knew about Tiff and Salma's condition.
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I once read an article in my youth that suggested that when a woman becomes pregnant with a man's child, she becomes more attractive in the eyes of that man—and not just his, but also others'. Now I have seen pregnant women before and honestly thought it was total bullshit. While they weren't unattractive, I had never perceived the so-called "glow" that people often talked about. However, here I was, sitting across from one of the mothers of my soon-to-be children, and I had to admit that my opinions had changed. Even as she devoured what I believe was her sixth taco, I found her appealing in a way I hadn't expected.
"What?" I hear Tiff ask.
"Huh?" I ask in turn.
"You're smiling," She says to me.
"Is that wrong?" I ask her, still smiling.
Her eyes narrowed. "No, but it's that smile you get when you're thinking of something completely perverted."
I waved her off and said, "It's nothing. I was just thinking about something else you could put in your mouth."
She tosses a piece of food at me for that and says, "You're disgusting."
I shrug my shoulders and say, "What can I say? It's been a while for me, and you look really sexy right now."
That made her smile a little. Tiff still hadn't fully forgiven Caesar for what happened the night he got stabbed, or for the things he did afterward. He risked his life, but for what? To sell himself to the public even more? However, in the end, she knew she couldn't stay angry at him forever for saving someone else's life. If anything, she blamed her hormones for her overreaction. This was their first meeting since the breakup, mainly because he didn't hesitate to start dating that Jennifer Lopez girl. Still, she ultimately forgave him because she understood it was a fake relationship.
"Oh, what is wrong? Not getting any from your new girlfriend?" Tiff says in a teasing voice.
"No, it's not that. Well, it is, but getting stabbed fucked me up for a while. After that, we have been busy." I say to her.
"That never stopped you and me before." She says again with a smirk as she leans forward, showing off her larger tits a bit. They may have been hidden behind her modest shirt, but they still stood out.
"True, but Jennifer and my relationship is unconventional," I tell her.
"Not for this industry, it isn't." She points out with a laugh. It was true after all. Around 60-70 percent of all relationships and marriages in Hollywood were fake.
"Hmmm," Is all I say to her.
For a moment, neither of us says anything—that is, until she brings up a new topic.
"Salma told me she had you sign some paperwork."
I look at her and say, "You two are talking now?"
"We chat. Kind of have to, seeing as we share something in common now," Tiff says as she rubs her stomach.
"True," I answer.
Looking slightly downcast, she says, "I am sorry, Caesar."
Again, I waved her off and said, "It's not a big deal. It's not like she's trying to keep me away from my kid or from signing the birth certificate. She just wants what is best for the kid."
"By making the father give up all his rights to his child?" Tiff asks.
I lean back and say, "You were not the only one who reacted badly to what I did, Tiff. The only difference is she never stopped talking to me."
"You never called," Tiff points out.
I nod my head at that. She had a point, so I switched topics, saying, "Thanks for not criticizing me publicly. I had half expected you to do so when they found out you were pregnant. People have already guessed that I am the father of Salma's kid, though she has yet to come out and say so."
Smiling softly, Tiff says, "Don't think I wasn't tempted to."
I laugh a bit at that.
"So, is there any word on when Salma will announce that you are the father?" Tiff asks.
"No clue. She may never actually admit to it." I tell her.
"The old let people think what they will, huh? I can see the appeal. "Tiff says.
She had been dealing with her own significant challenges due to the pregnancy, both within her family and beyond. Her father expressed disappointment, while her mother showed a confusing blend of happiness and anger about her being pregnant out of wedlock. As for her fans, their reactions were mixed.
"It hasn't been all bad. Aside from the threats to my person from your fan base, a lot of good has come out of all this. Paramount called. All my demands have been met." I tell her.
"You mean The Strangers is a go?" Tiff asks with a hopeful smile.
"That is right. They know they can no longer fuck around with this anymore. Too many people are interested, and while the other studios haven't offered me everything I want yet, it's only a matter of time before they do. So Paramount finally gave in to my demands to avoid losing out on making a deal at all." I told her.
"Yes," Tiff says in excitement.
"Just remember when you call Elizabeth that you let her know this has to be a hit. No fucking around and no drama. I am already walking on thin ice with WB for refusing to write Scream 3. If Selena fails for some reason, all the goodwill I built with them over the last two years goes right down the drain." I tell her.
"Don't worry, Caesar. You are not the only one taking a risk here. Now, let's talk about something else." Tiff says to me.
"Like what?" I ask.
"Like what we are going to name the baby," She says with a smirk, and I smile as we start to go over names.