The two lingered in the café until evening, with Simon explaining every detail of Run Lola Run to Sandra Bullock in depth.
Sandra Bullock had a straightforward personality and agreed without hesitation to Simon's request to dye her hair. She even said she'd start working out to prepare for the intense shooting ahead.
Finally, she had no objections to the $5,000 salary Simon offered.
That settled the lead actress.
In the blink of an eye, it was a new week.
After that Los Angeles Times article last Thursday, sure enough, over the next few days, some media shifted focus to the story of The Butterfly Effect.
Since they'd taken on the project, Fox noticed the buzz and started pre-release promotion for The Butterfly Effect. WMA was even happier to see the spotlight move from internal strife to the packaged project itself.
So, with nudges from all sides, the somewhat obscure term "butterfly effect" began catching more and more eyes.
Though many outlets started mentioning Simon's name in pieces about the Butterfly Effect script, Jonathan smoothly fended off any interview requests aimed at Simon himself.
As a newcomer, a $200,000 script sale was impressive, but he was still just a screenwriter not on most people's radar. Like how few remembered last year's newbie script Lethal Weapon fetching a hefty $250,000.
At the end of the day, script deals mostly caught the eye of fellow aspiring writers. Regular folks might notice, gasp in awe, feel a twinge of envy, and that was it.
So, Simon's life stayed pretty calm.
Having already told Roger, Simon didn't quit Griffin Supermarket that week. The chubby boss was happy to keep a hardworking kid on low pay.
After days of intense negotiations, WMA and Fox set the final signing for the Butterfly Effect package on Tuesday.
Simon arrived at WMA headquarters around 8:50 a.m., just as Jonathan's black Mercedes pulled into the lot.
Locking his bike, Simon walked over to Jonathan, who'd been waiting nearby, shook his agent's hand, and said, "Morning, Joe."
"Morning, Simon."
Jonathan smiled as they shook, but his gaze drifted to the bike.
He'd loaned Simon twenty grand before the San Francisco trip, and Simon had only spent five hundred.
But afterward, Jonathan hadn't asked for it back. Knowing Simon was still at the motel, he'd just urged him to find a proper place soon—that money was an advance on the Butterfly Effect payment.
Jonathan had figured with a sudden windfall, Simon would rush to upgrade his life. But here he was, still on that secondhand bike, outfit unchanged.
Admiring the kid's self-control with money, Jonathan still advised, "Simon, you should get a car soon. You can't get by in L.A. without one. Even if Fox's check takes a few days, that twenty grand should cover it."
Simon smiled and nodded. "I'll think about it soon."
Simon wasn't against improving his setup. He'd booked a real estate agent to rent an apartment in the next few days. Motel life had too many hassles.
But beyond that, he had no plans yet for a car or other gear.
For one, he was too busy—his schedule was packed, leaving little time for shopping.
For another, as prep for Run Lola Run deepened, Simon increasingly suspected he'd misremembered something crucial, making him extra cautious with spending.
At WMA, the other Butterfly Effect key players—director Brian De Palma, lead actor Matt Dillon, actress Elizabeth Shue, and more—arrived one by one.
After Lou Wasserman and the execs' brief involvement, the project was now fully Jonathan's.
They held a quick huddle, then headed to Fox Studios, not far from WMA.
At Fox, president Ronald Goldberg showed for the signing, along with producer David Giler for The Butterfly Effect.
The ceremony started at ten.
But it was low-key, by mutual agreement.
In a Fox conference room, with lawyers from both sides watching, Simon and the others signed their thick duplicate contracts repeatedly for over ten minutes, sealing the deal.
Then came a simple lunch at a studio restaurant, where the company heads introduced the staff who'd handle various aspects of The Butterfly Effect.
During this, Simon learned the first production meeting was next Monday, mainly to discuss script revisions.
Though confident his script was solid.
Revisions were inevitable—the studio could tweak based on needs or even exec whims.
Of course, Simon could refuse.
But then the studio might be thrilled to hire a more compliant writer, and Simon wouldn't get the remaining $60,000.
In a way, revision rights belonged to both studio and writer. No screenwriter wanted their work mangled into a flop. Better to revise it yourself than let someone else.
After lunch, Brian De Palma and the others drove off from Fox. Simon hitched a ride back to WMA with his agent—his bike was there.
"Fox pays out quick—if things go smooth, you'll have the check in days," Jonathan said in his office, eyeing the boy across from him. "So, Simon, two hundred grand—what do you plan to do with it?"
Simon grinned back. "Make a movie—you know that."
Jonathan chuckled. "Speaking of which, besides The Butterfly Effect, you still haven't shown me your other scripts. Especially Death Is Coming—the studio saw it first."
Simon pulled Final Destination from his backpack and handed it over. "Been too busy lately—I almost forgot to give it to you."
Jonathan took it but didn't flip it open right away. "Fox likes this story; I read the outline. Unique idea—not much worse than The Butterfly Effect. Simon, question is: sell it now for some cash, or wait till after The Butterfly Effect releases?"
Simon didn't hesitate. "After The Butterfly Effect releases, obviously. I've got that much confidence."
The Butterfly Effect was a greenlit Fox project; no date yet, but release wouldn't be later than next summer.
Selling now, under the option contract, wouldn't fetch much.
But waiting till after next year's release could change things.
Of course, it might not go better.
If The Butterfly Effect bombed big, Simon's second script price would soar. If it flopped, Fox would lowball harder—or drop him entirely.
Simon's five-year option deal with Fox gave them first dibs on his next two scripts. Basically, matching offers, Fox got priority.
Over years, studios had an unspoken pact: once a writer signed options, unless the company bowed out, others stayed away—leaving writers bargaining based on past hits.
If Fox passed on both scripts in five years, though, that initial $40,000 deposit was theirs to keep.
After that discussion, Simon brought up Sandra for Run Lola Run.
Hearing they'd settled on $5,000, Jonathan had no qualms. Busy with the Butterfly Effect package, he didn't know much about Run Lola Run—privately thought Simon's offer high.
But as Sandra's agent too, he kept quiet. Since they'd agreed, he told Simon to see Owen soon for a contract.
Agent cut was due, after all.
Simon had to head to Roger's store—he was on swing shift the last few days, 3 p.m. to 11 p.m. After chatting, he said goodbye.
Leaving Jonathan's office, Simon rounded a hallway corner when hurried footsteps echoed behind—carrying a brute vibe ready to barrel through anyone.
Wondering who'd be so bold at WMA HQ, Simon stepped aside, turned, and saw Matthew Broderick, face twisted in reluctance and rage, stomping along without regard for the quiet office.
A noisy mix of men and women trailed him.
Matthew Broderick clearly hadn't expected to run into Simon right then in the WMA hallway.
Spotting Simon ahead mid-stride, thoughts of recent events turned his reluctant anger to hate. He glared viciously at Simon, not slowing, brushing past toward the exit.
Simon didn't know WMA had sacrificed Norman Broca and Matthew Broderick to quell the mess quickly.
But sensing the hate in that glare, Simon felt a surge of wariness.
The six or seven behind Matthew passed too—the bar guy Simon had hoisted one-handed even tried a provocative bump, but Simon dodged easily.
This wasn't the place for trouble.
In the group, Simon spotted Courteney's old roommate, Kristy Swanson, but she acted like she didn't see him, arm-in-arm with a guy, blending with the other youths as they left.