The atmosphere in Paula Wagner's office was suffocating. Three days had passed since Alex had been handed the script in Palm Springs, and in that time, the screenplay for Sex, Lies, and Videotape had circulated through the highest echelons of CAA. Paula had read it with mounting concern; Michael Ovitz had read it with cold, hard disbelief.
Ovitz was there now, leaning against the doorframe before finally taking a seat. He was the man who made sure the agency's most valuable assets stayed on the paved road, and he knew Paula alone couldn't steer Alex away from this cliff.
"Alex, let's talk about the reality of the market," Ovitz began, his voice a low, controlled hum. "You are the 'Golden Boy.' That is your brand. We currently have a standing offer from Paramount for a massive action tentpole. They are offering fifteen million dollars as an upfront salary. You would be the highest-paid actor in the history of cinema before a single frame is even shot. That is the correct route. This..." He tapped the script on Paula's desk. "...is a detour into a dead end."
"It's not a detour, Michael. It's a transition," Alex replied, his voice steady. "I've spent years building the brand. But if I don't move out of my comfort zone now, the brand becomes a cage. Graham is a challenge. He's complex, he's broken, and he's nothing like the characters that made me famous. I need the audience to see I can do more than just smile and save the day."
Paula leaned forward, her tone softer, playing the mediator. "We want you to grow, Alex. But this is too far. An impotent voyeur? It's a dialogue-heavy indie film. And this Soderbergh kid is twenty-five and has never directed a feature. There's no action, no hook. Why take a chance like this when you're at your absolute peak?"
"That's exactly why I'm doing this," Alex said. "I'm at the peak and I'm young. If I take a risk and I fall, I still have the time and the strength to climb back up. But if I don't move now, I'll be stuck playing the same character until the audience is bored of me."
"And what if you fall too low?" Ovitz asked, his eyes narrowing. "What if you fall so far that the industry decides you're no longer worth that fifteen million?"
Alex leaned forward, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, Michael. Have you seen the script? It doesn't take much money to make this. With the popularity I have now, I can make this a success on the opening weekend alone just by being on the poster."
That was the moment Ovitz's mask slipped. The patronizing, "mentor" persona vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp-edged rage. He wasn't used to being lectured on risk by a twenty-something actor.
"I've seen this with so many people, Alex," Ovitz hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. "You've had a run of luck that most people in this town would kill for, and it's made you feel invincible. You think your success is a law of nature, but it's a house of cards. Arrogance is the first thing that kills a career in this town, and you're sounding very arrogant right now."
Alex stood up, his gaze locking onto Ovitz's. The room felt smaller as the two men squared off. "When I re-signed my contract with the agency last year, you promised you wouldn't interfere with my creative choices. I'm not asking for your advice on the script—I've already decided to do it. I'm here for your expertise in getting the right crew and managing the logistics. That is what I pay you for."
Ovitz's face flushed a deep, angry red. He wasn't used to being talked back to, especially not by a client he felt he owned. The silence in the room was brittle. He stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"If you want to flush your career down the toilet for an art project, don't expect me to be there to hold the light," Ovitz spat. He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the office, the heavy door thudding shut behind him with enough force to rattle the frames on the wall.
Paula looked at the door, stunned. "He won't forget that, Alex. Nobody talks to him like that."
"Maybe someone should have a long time ago," Alex said. He looked at Paula. "Contact Steven Soderbergh. Tell him I'm in. And tell him I'm personally investing half of the film's budget. I want to make sure this movie has exactly what it needs to succeed."
Before Paula could voice her own doubts, Alex turned and left the room.
________________________________________
As Alex steered his Mercedes through the winding, sun-dappled roads of the Hollywood Hills, the hum of the engine provided a low-frequency backdrop to his racing thoughts. Michael Ovitz clearly believed he was the architect of the "Alex Hayes" phenomenon—that without the iron-clad packaging of CAA, Alex would still be just another face in a sea of actors.
But Alex knew the truth. CAA hadn't built him.
When he first joined the agency, it was Aunt Nancy who had managed him from the very beginning, navigating the shark-infested waters of the industry with a fierce, maternal protectiveness. She had been the one to support every risky choice, every pivot, and every "gut feeling" he ever had.
Over the years, it wasn't just luck that had guided him; it was his uncanny ability to see a glimpse of the future.
He felt gratitude for CAA; he wasn't blind to the fact that their contacts had been the fuel for his takeoff. But that debt had been paid back tenfold. Alex had brought more capital into that agency than they had ever invested in him.
They were forgetting the most important part of the equation: this was a cooperative relationship. It was client and customer, not employee and employer.
It would be better if Ovitz realized that soon. If not, there were plenty of other agencies in Hollywood ready to take him in as a client.
**********
Two days later, Paula Wagner sat across from Steven Soderbergh in a quiet, sun-drenched cafe.
"Alex is ready to star in the film, Steven," Paula said, skipping the pleasantries.
A slow, disbelieving smile spread across Steven's face. "He... he said yes? Truly?"
"He did," Paula confirmed. "But there is a condition. He wants to invest half of the budget himself."
Steven's smile faltered. He looked troubled, shifting in his seat as he adjusted his glasses. Paula immediately read the concern on his face—the fear of a superstar producer steamrolling a young director's vision.
"He won't interfere, Steven," Paula affirmed, her voice steady. "He may offer suggestions from time to time, but he's been very clear: the final decision is yours. He wants to be a partner, not a boss."
Steven went quiet, processing the weight of that statement. He realized that a star of Alex Hayes' caliber had no reason to touch a project this small, let alone put his own money into it, unless he truly loved the material. It was a rare vote of confidence in the script itself.
Steven let out a long breath and nodded. "I think... I think I'm okay with that."
"Good," Paula said. "Now, what is the budget for the film?"
"I was thinking around one million," Steven said.
Paula shook her head. "Steven, Alex's lowest-budget film to date was The Breakfast Club at two million. Let's set the budget for this at two million. Alex will cover one million of that personally. It gives you the equipment, the locations, and most importantly, the time you need to make this a masterpiece."
Steven thought about it for a moment, the logistical doors swinging wide open in his mind. "Two million. That makes things a lot easier."
"Who else have you cast?" Paula asked, taking out a notebook.
"Andie MacDowell, Peter Gallagher, and Laura San Giacomo," Steven listed.
Paula noted the names. She was fairly certain none of them belonged to CAA—not yet, anyway. If they were going to be sharing the screen with Alex Hayes, they were about to receive massive exposure. She mentally filed them away as potential new clients to sign while their stock was rising.
As she stood to leave, Steven hesitated, looking at her closely. "You... you don't seem entirely happy with Alex's decision."
Paula stopped and looked at him. She decided to be honest. "We all advised against this, Steven. Every one of us. Alex and Michael Ovitz had a massive confrontation over this project. Michael thinks he's throwing away his momentum." She paused, seeing the flicker of doubt in Steven's eyes before she extinguished it. "But Alex didn't care. He told us he believed in the script. He believed in your script."
Steven was visibly flattered. And the weight of the industry's skepticism only made him more determined.
"I hope you don't let him down after the trust he's placed in you," Paula added.
"I won't, Ms. Wagner," Steven said quietly. "I'll show everyone that Alex made the right decision."