July 26, 1978 – Los Angeles
James sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, when Davis from Arthur Young & Co. stepped in briefcase in one hand, The man always looked unbothered by the L.A. heat, his tie perfectly straight, shoes polished.
"Morning, Mr. Rowan," he said, setting the briefcase down. "Hope I'm not interrupting genius in progress."
"Only paperwork," James said, standing to shake his hand. "Which I assume you've brought more of."
Davis smiled. "Afraid so. The cost of success, Fourth and fifth-week numbers. Friday the 13th is holding strong total gross just past twenty-eight-point-five million as of Sunday."
James scanned the papers. "That's still twelve percent higher than they predicted."
"Exactly," Davis said, pointing to the page. "Theaters are calling it a sleeper hit."
Davis then added, "You'll also be seeing you first disbursement within the week. Roughly a hundred and seventy thousand, your net cut after expenses."
James exhaled. "That's... surreal."
Meeting went on with Davis giving whole picture of the numbers.
He left with a nod, the quiet click of the door marking the end of the meeting.
James leaned back in his chair, staring at the sunlight on the stack of receipts.
The door opened again Linda stepped in,
"Davis?"
"Yeah. The numbers look better than ever."
"I figured. You've been smiling like a guy who just paid off his car loan."
He smirked. "I don't even own a car."
"You do now," she said. "The Mustang. You're buying it."
James blinked. "You're still on that?"
"Yes," she said flatly, crossing her arms. "You owe that car your love life."
"Pretty sure it's the other way around."
"Don't argue, just sign the papers when I bring them."
"Fine. What's that folder?"
"Oh," she said, handing it over. "Invoices, fan mail."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah. I wanted to take a day off, college friends are in L.A for graduation party."
he said. "Go have fun."
She hesitated at the door, "You'll probably spend the whole time pretending to work anyway."
"Pretending...I'm an artist."
"You're an insomniac with a typewriter," she said, waving as she left.
A few hours later, James looked up to see familiar faces Jerry, Paul, and Glenn, all from the old Friday the 13th crew.
"Well, well," Jerry said, stepping in first, "Hollywood's favorite horror prodigy, back at his desk."
"You guys just walk into people's offices now?"
Paul shrugged. "You left the door open. We took it as an invitation."
Glenn waved a brown paper bag. "Peace offering, maple donuts from Ralph's."
"That's the only reason I'm letting you in," James said.
They crowded into the small space.
"So," Jerry began, "what's next? You gonna let your old crew know before you start rolling again, or are we finding out in Variety?"
James leaned back, amused. "You three can't sit still for a month?"
"Can't afford to," Paul said. "Some of us didn't direct a box-office hit."
Glenn nodded. "I've been hauling cables for commercials. One guy made me wrap seventy feet of wire for a five-second shot."
Jerry bit into his donut. "And I've been building props for a tire commercial. A tire commercial, James."
James laughed. "At least you're still working."
"Barely," Jerry said, mouth full. "So when's the sequel?"
"Not yet," James said. "I'm just… thinking."
Paul smirked. "He's being coy."
"I'm being patient,"
"Fine," Jerry said, standing. "But when you do start, you better call us. We're not letting some other crew take the glory."
James raised a hand in mock salute. "You'll be the first to know."
They lingered for a few more minutes ,coffee, donuts, laughter then filed out, leaving the room messy.
July 28, 1978.
James was halfway through a sandwich when he heard footsteps in the hall. Two men stepped in both familiar faces from the early Paramount meetings back in May.
David Marks, head of the studio's distribution division, Beside him was Frank Sullivan from finance.
"Rowan," Davis said, smiling like a salesman. "Still running this place with just one secretary?"
"She's on vacation," James said, standing to shake hands. "So I've been promoted to answering phones."
Frank chuckled."Don't get used to it."
James sitting down asked,"What pleasure do I owe you to come in person."
Davis clasping his hands, "We'll get right to it. Paramount wants to acquire the full international distribution rights for Friday the 13th."
"That was fast."
Frank opened the folder, turning it toward James. "The offer is two million dollars, flat."
"Two."
"That's a generous number," he said finally.
"It's a fair one," Davis said. "You made a film on a shoestring. You proved it can sell. But you don't have the network or the resources to chase foreign receipts."
James nodded slowly. "I'll need a lawyer to look it over."
Frank smiled. "We expected that. We'll leave the draft."
Davis closed the folder. "We'd like an answer within the week. If you're good with it, payments settle in two months."
James shook their hands. "Appreciate the offer."
They talked for a while of small details then left.
When the door closed behind them, James was staring at the draft and number
Two million.
He reached for the phone.
"Howard Richman speaking."
"James Rowan. I got a draft contract from Paramount. Overseas rights."
"Send me the contract," Richman said. "If it's a straight purchase, there's not much to fight over except payment terms. But we'll make sure it's airtight."
James smiled faintly. "That sounds about right."
August 1, 1978
Linda was still out catching up with her college friends.
A note sat on top of the typewriter. Eat something. Don't burn the place down.
James annoyed tore the page and threw it in the bin, then slid a new page into his own typewriter.
FOOTLOOSE – First Draft
He typed for an hour. Then two.
He stopped only when he reached the name Ren McCormack and muttered,
"Kevin Bacon...Poor guy, He will have nothing left at this rate, Guess, I am stealing bacon from the Bacon."
He laughed and went back to typing.
August 3, 1978 – Paramount Pictures, Melrose Avenue
The lobby of Paramount was quiet.
Posters of Saturday Night Fever and Grease lined the walls.
James followed his lawyer, Howard Richman, through the corridor.
They were led into a conference room on the third floor. Davis Marks and Frank Sullivan were already seated, the contract laid out.
"Mr. Rowan," Davis said, standing to shake his hand."Let's make this official."
James smiled."Feels strange selling a movie that still hasn't left theaters."
Howard sat beside James, slipping on his reading glasses as Davis slid the contract forward. "Two million" Davis said. "Outright purchase of international distribution rights to Friday the 13th. Payment clears within two months."
James nodded slowly, flipping through the document.
Howard leaned in quietly. "All clear."
James signed.
Then Davis signed, then Frank, one after another.
Davis extended his hand across the table.
"Congratulations, Mr. Rowan."
James shook his hand. "Feels more like I just sold my first child."
Frank amused said, "Then consider us the foster parents."
Howard stood. "We'll have the certified copy sent to your office tomorrow."
They walked out into the bright afternoon sun with james $2 million richer.