Joy never expected an actual lunch invitation from Tom's mom, but when it came, she said yes in a heartbeat. One sunny afternoon, she showed up at Mary's place in New York.
Over tea and easy conversation, Mary welcomed her like family. For the first time in forever, Joy felt that cozy, grandmotherly warmth she'd been missing since her parents died.
Watching Mary and Tom tease each other made her a little jealous (the good kind). The last time she'd been around real motherly love was… well, never with Hughes. His own relationship with his mom was colder than a walk-in freezer.
Mary was clearly fascinated by Joy. "You're one tough cookie," she said warmly. "Tougher than Tom was when he started out. That boy used to call me crying about how brutal Hollywood was. If his stepdad and I hadn't kept pumping him up, I don't know if he'd have made it."
Tom shot his mom a playful glare. "Mom, do you have to air my dirty laundry?"
Mary and Joy both cracked up.
Joy could tell right away that Mary was kind, sharp, and super easy to talk to. She already adored her.
Mary gestured at the giant basket on the table and laughed at herself. "Tom told me you're a hot-dog fiend, so look—I went overboard. Curry dogs, bacon dogs, cod dogs, eel dogs, chili-cheese classics… I didn't want to risk you hating any of them."
Joy's eyes went wide. There had to be ten different kinds. She grabbed one of each and took a bite—pure happiness exploded in her mouth.
"Mary, did you seriously make all these from scratch? They're insane! I want to eat here every day!"
Mary beamed. "Anytime you're in New York, you march right over. I'll stuff you silly."
Joy waved her hands. "I can't let you cook like this all the time—you're not twenty anymore!"
Tom finally spoke up, smirking. "Trust me, she loves you already. Cooking for you makes her happy."
Joy gave in with a sheepish grin. "Fine, fine—I'll be your hot-dog guinea pig. Deal."
Mary asked a million eager questions about La La Land, and Joy happily answered every one. It was obvious the older woman was head over heels for the show. Bonus: proof the musical worked on every generation.
On the ride home, Tom drove while soft music played on the radio.
He glanced over. "Gaultier says you're heading back to L.A. soon?"
Joy nodded, staring out the window. "Yeah. I'm gonna miss the show like crazy, but real life's calling."
Tom chuckled under his breath. "Mom's gonna be crushed. She's obsessed with your work."
Joy flashed him a sweet smile. "I'll visit her all the time. Have you tasted those hot dogs? I'm addicted."
Tom laughed. "If it's just about the hot dogs… I can make them too, you know."
Joy's jaw dropped. "Wait, seriously? When did you learn?"
Tom shrugged like it was no big deal. "Twenty-something years ago, when I first got to Hollywood. Daytime auditions, nighttime shifts at a hot-dog stand. Otherwise rent wasn't happening. Two dogs a day was basically my diet."
Joy's face softened. "No wonder Mary said you almost quit. Sounds rough."
Tom grinned. "Rough? I was one sad audition away from starving, dramatic-style."
Joy watched the city lights streak by. "Look at you now—total payback. All that grind paid off."
He teased, "So you're using my tragic backstory as motivation?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't get cocky, mister. But… yeah, guilty. When I was at my lowest, your story kept me going. That's why idols are idols—they're proof it's possible."
Tom's smile turned genuine. "You're gonna blow right past me. You've got the talent, the guts—everything."
Joy's grin went full wattage. "Thanks. I plan on it."
At least now she had real money in the bank. The Broadway profits from La La Land meant she wouldn't have to beg for financing on her next movies. Huge weight off.
Broadway chapter closed—for now. Hollywood was waiting, and the road was still long.
Then something clicked.
"Hey," she said suddenly, "I heard you're in talks with MGM about buying United Artists?"
(In her previous life, Tom and his producing partner Paula Wagner did exactly that in 2006—took over the 80-year-old United Artists, grabbed a big chunk of equity, and ran day-to-day operations.)
Joy had an idea brewing.
She wanted in. Even a small piece of UA would mean she'd never have to grovel for distribution again. No more giving away half the profits to studios just to get her movies in theaters. UA already had its own pipeline—development, production, marketing, the works. Perfect.
Plus, UA was owned by MGM, which was owned by Sony—one of the Big Six. If she ever got blackballed by the other majors, Sony would have her back.
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
Joy took a breath. "Because I want a piece of it."
He actually swerved a little. "You want to be a UA shareholder?"
"Yep. I don't have cash to buy in straight-up, but I've got something better than cash." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "I'll trade future franchises. Everything I own right now—sequels, remakes, whatever—gets signed over to UA. And if you guys trust me, I'll pre-commit: my next movies get made at UA. You'll make a fortune off me. As a bonus, I'll sign a three-picture deal, one new movie every three years. If they hit like Juno and Source Code, UA cleans up."
Tom thought it over, fingers drumming the wheel. "Tempting. Juno and Source Code are legit golden tickets. If you could guarantee every film does those numbers, Paramount would hand you shares tomorrow. But nothing's guaranteed."
Joy was ready for that. "Then let's make it a bet-on-myself deal. Ten-year contract. Three movies, one every three years. Each one has to triple its budget (300% return). If they do, I get 15% of UA and you split profits 55-45 in my favor. If even one bombs, I give back 5% equity. If all three flop, I'm out completely and you keep everything. After ten years, if I hit the targets, I'm just a shareholder—no obligation to keep making movies with UA."
Tom shook his head immediately. "55-45 is never happening. 63-37 is more realistic."
Joy bit her lip, then nodded. "63-37 works. As long as you're in."
Tom exhaled. "My yes doesn't matter yet. UA is MGM's subsidiary, MGM is Sony's. MGM owns 70%. I'm buying 30% and will probably run the place, but any new shareholder—especially 15%—has to be approved by MGM. And honestly?" He looked her dead in the eye. "Right now, they'll laugh you out of the room. You're not there yet."
The words stung, but Joy didn't flinch. "So what gets me there?"
Tom kept his eyes on the road. "Franchises. That's the entire game right now. Harry Potter, Bourne, Mission: Impossible, Bond, Spider-Man, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Shrek—give MGM a new cash cow series and they'll listen. Shoot the first one, make it a monster smash, then hand the whole franchise over in exchange for equity. That beats any gambling clause or old-movie catalog you could offer. Do that, and 10% is yours easy—no questions."
Classic Tom Cruise—zeroed in on the heart of it in ten seconds flat.
Sacrifice one franchise? Please. Joy could rattle off ten more blockbusters from her old life.
She tapped her lip, gears already turning. "So if I deliver a billion-dollar franchise starter before the end of the year…"
Tom laughed softly. "Then yeah, MGM would be stupid to say no."
Joy's eyes lit up like Christmas. "Challenge accepted."
He glanced at her, half amused, half worried. "You're actually excited right now, aren't you? Most people hear 'impossible' and back off. You just lean in."
She grinned. "Gotta shoot your shot, right? Miracles don't happen if you never try."
Back to Hollywood with a brand-new mission.
Yeah, miracles happen.
And she was about to make one.