The Exposition Hall adjacent to the Shrine Auditorium was a fever dream of red and white. Thousands of yards of draped chiffon hung from the ceiling, illuminated by the glow of three massive, rotating Oscar statues. At the center of the room, an orchestra played on a slowly revolving pedestal, providing a lush soundtrack to the clinking of champagne flutes.
The mood was a bizarre mix of triumph and relief. Alex moved through the crowd with the gold statue still gripped firmly in his hand, his other arm linked with Claudia. She looked radiant, her eyes shining with pride as they were stopped every few feet by well-wishers.
They soon ran into a familiar group. Robert Downey Jr. and Sarah Jessica Parker were there, along with Diane Lane, who was part of the Rain Man team. Her husband, Christopher Lambert, hadn't made the trip, but she looked elegant as she embraced the group.
"You did it, Alex," Diane said with a warm, natural smile. "You actually did it."
"It was a hell of a night," Robert added, shaking Alex's hand firmly. "No exaggeration—you deserved that walk to the podium."
The girls began chatting with Claudia, eventually drifting toward a quieter corner of the hall to talk, leaving Alex and Robert alone. Alex looked at his friend, lowering his voice slightly.
"How are you doing, Rob? Really?"
Alex was looking for signs—that specific distance in the eyes that suggested the drugs were winning. Robert just shrugged, offering a casual, easy grin. "I'm alright, Alex. Really. Just enjoying the circus."
Alex nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. He could sense Robert was using, but it seemed controlled for the moment. He knew he couldn't force a change; he could only be there when the floor eventually dropped out.
Before they could go deeper, they were approached by a small group of impeccably dressed people, led by Anne Archer. Best known for her Oscar-nominated role as the steadfast wife in Fatal Attraction, Anne was the image of sophisticated Hollywood grace. She had spent years building a reputation for intelligence and poise on screen.
"Alex, congratulations on the big win," Anne said, her voice smooth.
"Thank you, Anne," Alex replied, offering a polite smile.
She chatted briefly about the ceremony before the pivot came. "You have such a clear, powerful energy. We've been talking about how someone with your stature could truly benefit from the technology at the Church of Scientology. We'd love to have you at the Celebrity Centre."
Alex didn't blink. He was an atheist through and through; he didn't believe in a traditional God, and he certainly wasn't going to swap that for a high-priced alternative.
Founded in the 1950s by science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard, Scientology emerged as a "spiritual technology" rather than a traditional religion. It posits that humans are immortal spiritual beings called thetans, who have lived through countless lifetimes but have become trapped in the physical universe and burdened by the "reactive mind."
The core practice involves auditing, a form of counseling often using an "E-Meter" to locate and erase engrams—mental imprints of past traumas. The ultimate goal is to reach the state of "Clear" and eventually ascend to "Operating Thetan" levels, where one supposedly regains total control over matter, energy, space, and time.
By the late 1980s, the organization heavily targeted Hollywood's elite through its Celebrity Centres, promising that these techniques could unlock limitless creative potential and professional success. To skeptics like Alex, however, the mix of space-age metaphysics and high-priced courses felt less like enlightenment and more like a calculated cult.
"I appreciate the gesture, Anne," Alex said with flat, professional clarity. "But I'm not a joiner. I don't believe in supernatural solutions, and I'm not interested in any 'technologies' for the soul. I'm comfortable where I am. Enjoy the party."
The group's smiles stayed fixed, but their eyes went cold. Alex's posture was unwavering; there was no flicker of hesitation or polite curiosity in his gaze that they could exploit. Sensing that no amount of persuasion would crack his resolve, they moved on without another word.
"What weird people," Robert muttered as they watched them walk away.
"A cult," Alex said shortly, shaking his head. "Stay distant from them, Rob. Trust me. Anyway, let's get out of here. The air is getting thin."
They gathered Claudia, Sarah, and Diane, and made their way toward the exit. Behind them, the orchestra continued to spin on its pedestal, playing for a room full of winners and losers.
******************
The next morning, the Hollywood Hills were bathed in a soft, golden light. Alex's mansion was quiet until the smell of fresh coffee and breakfast brought everyone to the terrace. Robert, Sarah, and Diane had stayed over, and the group gathered around a large wooden table.
Claudia was quiet, feeling a flutter of shyness. She had spent the night with Alex, and while the night had been magical—feeling almost inevitable that it would end in his arms—she was acutely aware that the others likely knew exactly what had happened.
To dispel the slightly uncomfortable air, Sarah Jessica Parker picked up the morning edition of the Los Angeles Times and slid it across to Robert.
"Read us the article, Rob," she said.
Robert snapped the paper open. "Alright, let's see. It says here that while the show was one of the 'worst organized' in history, the films actually made up for it. Huge popularity, intense competition."
He began reading the stats: "The Princess Bride takes the crown with 5 wins out of 6 nominations. Rain Man took 2 of 9, including Best Director and Original Screenplay. And Hayes Productions' other horse, My Left Foot, secured 2 Oscars from 5 nominations."
He tossed the paper down. "The article says Alex Hayes has a 'Golden Touch' that is growing to unbelievable heights. It says your success has become a constant in an industry built on luck."
"Man," Robert joked, "it seems the Oscars yesterday really sucked."
The table erupted in laughter. "That's what you took from that?" Sarah asked, grinning.
"Well, them praising Alex isn't new," Robert shrugged.
"Right," Diane added. "If Alex fails, that is the big news. His success is just a fact of life now."
Claudia looked at them, surprised. "Aren't you all exaggerating a little?"
"You aren't from our field, so you don't understand," Sarah explained kindly. "Claudia, how many films do you think he's produced between 1980 and 1988?"
"Ten?" Claudia guessed.
"Nineteen," Robert corrected.
"And every single one was a hit," Diane finished.
Claudia turned to Alex, her curiosity piqued. "Do you have some gift of foresight?"
The group laughed. Alex felt like she had hit the bullseye, but he masked it with a humble smile. "Something like that," he said.
After breakfast, the guests began to filter out. Alex walked Claudia to the car he had arranged for her. He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately.
"I'll call you this evening," he promised.
"I'll be waiting," she whispered, touching her lips to his once more before stepping into the car.
As Alex watched her leave, he walked back inside and glanced at the newspapers. One headline caught his eye: How Long Can Alex Hayes Streak Last?
"I hope it won't stop," Alex murmured to himself.
*************
The effect of the Oscars was immediate. Rain Man reclaimed the top spot the following weekend, bringing in $5.7 million and pushing its domestic total to $236.4 million. Internationally, the film had already grossed $231.2 million, bringing its current global total to $467.6 million. It was now on a clear path to cross the historic $500 million mark.
Meanwhile, My Left Foot had jumped to a $32.5 million domestic total, crossing $50 million mark worldwide.
The gold was nice, but the numbers were the engine that kept the dream moving.