"So, how are things?" I asked Andrew, who was sprawled lazily on a floating bed in his pool, soaking up the Californian sun. His sunglasses gleamed, and a half-empty glass of whiskey rested precariously on the ledge nearby.
"Troy! Come join me," he called out, gesturing toward another bed. A bikini-clad woman was stretched out on it, her toned legs glistening with sunscreen. Calling her a woman felt like a stretch, for she couldn't have been older than nineteen or twenty.
"Why don't you give us some space, sweetheart?" Andrew said in a voice thick with infatuation.
"Sure, Andy," she purred before leaning over and pressing her lips against his, kissing him with deliberate slowness as if not aware of my presence at all.
I cleared my throat loudly. The girl finally pulled back, shooting me a mischievous glance as she slid off the float. She walked toward the house with a deliberate sway in her hips, her wet hair trailing down her back. Just before stepping inside, she slipped a hand under her bikini bottoms to adjust them, tossing me a not-so-subtle wink that lingered long after she disappeared indoors.
As soon as she was gone, I turned to Andrew. "Isn't she a little…young for you?"
Considering Andrew had been my father's classmate in college, that was saying something.
"You know what? I don't fucking care anymore," he said flatly. "My wife of twenty years cheated on me and left, all because I was busy making enough money to afford this." He gestured toward the sprawling white mansion behind him, its glass windows flashing in the sunlight. "And the worst part? She took half of everything because I couldn't prove the affair in court. I think I deserve a little fun now. The only reason she didn't take the house too was because of you, and how you deferred most of my income."
When Andrew had started suspecting his wife's infidelity, he'd asked me to hold back his earnings, releasing them only after the divorce was finalized. I hadn't objected. He managed my accounts and could have moved the money without telling me if he'd wanted.
"Anyway, how can I help you today?" he asked with forced cheer.
I shook my head. "Just wanted to know how things are going with the deals I instructed you to try. Especially with Disney and Warner."
"We finalized the Universal deal for $1.5 billion," he said quickly, dodging the harder part of the question.
"I didn't ask about Universal, I already knew that," I replied with a deadpan look.
He finally sighed. "Disney is being stubborn. They're not willing to let go of their vault. They want to keep doing what works for them: holding content hostage and milking nostalgia so audiences pay premium prices for their 'exclusive release' of titles. They're afraid that if everything goes on streaming, they'll lose a big chunk of revenue."
"Did you offer them a higher price?" I asked.
"Of course I did," Andrew said heatedly. "Three billion. I even told them to name their own figure, but they still refused. Warner, on the other hand, wants to talk to you personally before moving forward. Steve must have mentioned it."
"He has," I said with frustration. The last thing I wanted was another lengthy negotiation with Warner. I hated that.
"We've still secured libraries from four of the big six studios," Andrew reminded me, his tone brightening. "Not exclusive, but more than enough for your plans with Netflix. On top of that, we acquired streaming rights from MGM, Lionsgate, and Starz for a combined one billion. Again, non-exclusive, but they're in perpetuity, just like all our other deals."
I exhaled slowly. "You're right. These are all very good deals."
I turned toward the driveway, already thinking of the car waiting for me.
"Leaving so soon?" Andrew asked.
I shrugged. "I just needed an excuse to drive my Lambo. Otherwise, I would have called you. Now I have to get back to my hotel room and get ready for the Golden Globes."
The upgraded security system at my new home was still unfinished, and I wasn't willing to take chances. For now, the entire top floor of the Four Seasons served as my base.
(Break)
I stepped out of the car into a storm of camera flashes, the night sky illuminated as if it were daylight. Paparazzi pressed forward behind the velvet ropes, their shouts blending into a chaotic chorus of my name. Even after a decade in showbiz, I still hadn't gotten used to the frenzy. Why the fuck did it matter what I wore on the red carpet? That was exactly why I'd chosen the plainest black tuxedo I could find. Everyone already knew I had more money than I knew what to do with; I had no need to flaunt it with something flashy.
Sure, it felt nice when people complimented how I looked, but the world going crazy over my outfit and hairstyle had grown old fast. Still, avoiding it was impossible.
Keeping an easy grin plastered on my face, I turned and extended a hand to my mother, who had thankfully agreed to accompany me tonight in Scarlett's absence.
"Did I tell you that you look gorgeous tonight?" I asked as she stepped out, her gown shimmering beneath the barrage of flashes.
"You did," Mum replied with a knowing smile as she hooked her arm through mine. "But I'm pretty sure you say it just for the sake of it. You repeat it every single time we appear at one of these shows."
"Not my fault you always manage to look elegant," I said warmly, leading her down the carpet as the fans screamed behind the barricades. Their excitement spiked the moment I waved, and the security detail tightened formation around us.
For a second, I almost broke protocol to greet the fans properly, the urge to shake hands and take pictures pulling at me. But the security team had made it clear: no mingling, not after the multiple attacks on my home in LA. With the sheer number of guards forming a wall between me and the crowd, anyone could have mistaken me for the President of the United States.
So instead, I only waved from a distance, watching their faces light up regardless.
"Looking forward to the night, Troy?" A female voice rang out as I moved further down the carpet.
I turned to see a young reporter, mic in hand, her face lit with excitement. "Hey! How are you doing, Rose?" I greeted her with a gentle smile.
Her eyes widened. "You remember me?"
"Of course. We met at the Grammys red carpet," I reminded her. Then I shifted my gaze to the man standing beside her, microphone at the ready. "And you must be Randy. Good to see you again."
The man looked pleasantly surprised. "You've got a good memory. So, tell us—what do you think are your chances of winning the award tonight?"
I tilted my hand in a so-so gesture. "Pretty normal. I already have enough Globes on my shelf. Honestly, I'd rather see it go to Mickey Rourke or Sean Penn this year instead of me."
Rose raised her brows, intrigued. "Not Leonardo DiCaprio or Brad Pitt?"
I chuckled softly. "Do you want everyone else to hate me? To answer your question, all of them were amazing in their roles, and I'm not sure I couldn't have done a better job than any of them. But some performances just stay with you long after the movie ends, and for me, it happened with two performances this year. Sean Penn won an Oscar not too long ago, so I'd prefer to see Mickey Rourke take this one."
Randy nodded thoughtfully at my answer before leaning forward with his next question. "Do you think it's fair that you're nominated in the leading category rather than supporting? [The Dark Knight] was a Batman movie, after all, not a Joker movie."
"Yet Christian Bale and I have similar screen time," I argued. "Actually, Christian and I both submitted in the leading category. Aaron Eckhart went for supporting, and I truly believe both of them deserved nominations. But I'm happy [The Dark Knight] made it into Best Picture, and Nolan into Best Director, because without a doubt, this is the best film of my life so far."
Before I could continue, Mum gave my shoulder a light pat, the signal I needed.
"As much as I'd love to keep talking, I shouldn't hog all the attention tonight," I said, glancing behind me just in time to see Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie step onto the carpet, drawing a fresh wave of camera flashes. With a polite nod to the interviewers, I guided Mum inside.
The sensation was strange, even for me. Despite being surrounded by the world's top one percent, the way eyes followed me made it feel as though I were some rare specimen that had escaped a lab.
"Smile," Mum murmured. "It'll all be over soon."
I slipped a smile back onto my face and escorted her through the foyer. The main hall was only half-filled; most guests were still lingering in the lobby and greeting one another beneath the chandeliers. I was scanning the crowd when someone stepped up to me.
"Hey! Troy, right?"
I blinked, genuinely surprised. Was there actually someone here who wasn't certain of who I was?
Dropping my voice into a gravelly tone, I answered, "No. I'm Batman, Ms. Hathaway."
The woman before me was none other than Anne Hathaway, known for [The Princess Diaries] and [Brokeback Mountain], though my favorite of hers was still [The Devil Wears Prada]. She broke into laughter at my joke, shaking her head as if trying to dispel her nerves.
"I'm so sorry," she said quickly. "I get a little awkward around people I admire." She stepped closer, almost stumbling, and caught herself by grabbing my forearm.
"Oops, sorry. Just lost my footing for a second."
I looked at her blankly, unconvinced. The way her hand lingered, nails pressing lightly against my sleeve, made it obvious that it wasn't an accident. By now, I was far too familiar with people thinking they could take advantage of my youth with seduction. And notice how I used the word people instead of women, because many men had hit on me as well. You get used to it pretty quickly in Hollywood.
I gently freed my arm and slipped it around Mum's waist instead. "This is my mother, Kathy Kloves."
Anne's face lit up instantly. "Of course, I know her. I love your work in television. [The Inbetweeners] is one of my favorite shows ever."
Someone had done her homework. Now I was wondering if this whole thing was an elaborate plan of hers.
"Thank you," Mum replied evenly, though there was a faint edge of frost in her voice. She had likely reached the same deduction as I.
Anne's attempt at whatever that was hadn't rattled me. Hollywood conditioned women to view charm and seduction as tools of survival, especially against men in power. And now, after my purchase of Sony Pictures, I have enough influence to shape careers, or destroy them. Everyone knew it.
"I hope you win tonight," Anne said warmly before slipping back into the crowd. "You deserve it."
And just like that, she was gone, swallowed by the sea of piranhas, all looking for even a faint smell of blood.
"The audacity," Mum huffed, shaking her head. "That girl thinks we're all blind."
I chuckled. "Forget it, Ma. That's Hollywood for you."
"You better not get used to it," she shot back, narrowing her eyes. "Or I'll be telling Scarlett."
"Hey! Not that I was going to do that," I protested with a grin, "but whose mother are you?"
She broke into laughter, and soon I was laughing along with her, the awkwardness from earlier dissolving into easy warmth.
"Listen," she said suddenly, lowering her voice. "I have to catch Sally Field about a project we've been discussing. I'll be back in a bit, okay?"
I nodded for her to go ahead and drifted toward the drinks counter. The bar was draped in white linen and flanked by waiters in crisp uniforms, champagne bottles chilling in silver buckets. I bypassed the wine and whiskey for a glass of Sprite. Normally, I avoided sugary drinks, but tonight felt like an occasion worthy of an exception.
Before I could take my first sip, a familiar voice greeted me.
"I hope you're satisfied with the music videos I made for your third album?"
Stephen Daldry, my long-time collaborator, stood nearby with a radiant couple at his side.
"Steve!" I broke into a wide smile and hugged him. "Good to see you again. As always, your work is exemplary. Loved [The Reader]." Then, turning to the woman beside him, I added playfully, "No offense, but it could have done with fewer sex scenes."
Kate Winslet burst out laughing. Her husband, Sam Mendes, nodded solemnly as if agreeing with a point he had wanted to make himself.
"Don't we all know that?" Kate said once she caught her breath. "Unfortunately, Harvey Weinstein was insistent. He said no one would watch a so-called 'boring Holocaust film' unless it had something to lure people in."
I'll admit, as much as I detested Harvey Weinstein, he wasn't entirely wrong. In my first life, I'd watched [The Reader] out of curiosity for Kate Winslet's nude scenes, especially since the protagonist was close to my own age at the time. It had fueled more than a few fantasies of mine.
"To be fair," Kate continued with a sly grin, "when I signed, I was told I'd be doing those scenes with you. I was actually excited about corrupting you and taking your on-screen virginity."
I turned toward Daldry. He shook his head firmly. "Not me. Weinstein."
"I suppose that's the role of a powerful producer," Sam Mendes said thoughtfully. The Oscar-winning director of [American Beauty] had another film in contention tonight: [Revolutionary Road]. "Harvey knows how to pull the right pieces together. By hook or by crook."
That was bullshit. I knew it, Sam knew it, and with the subtle roll of Kate's eyes, she knew it too. So I changed the topic back to a previous topic.
"Technically, I lost my virginity already in this show called [The Night Of]."
Kate shook her head. "You did, but you were clothed in it, weren't you? That doesn't count."
I don't think it worked like that, but I didn't argue with her about a trivial topic like that.
Just then, another figure slipped into our group, drawing attention immediately, Kate's co-star from [Titanic], and more recently, [Revolutionary Road].
"Troy!" Leo greeted me warmly, pulling me into a hug as though we were lifelong friends. Technically, we had known each other for a while, though more as acquaintances. Once, I had even been meant to attend a party with him; an invitation that Scarlett and Ryan Gosling had hijacked for that terrible prank of theirs.
"You never came to that party I invited you to," Leo said, pulling back with a grin.
"You never sent me the invite," I shot back. "And no, I wasn't dating Scarlett at the time, so she doesn't count."
He gave a rueful nod. "I heard about that prank they pulled on you. Alright, then. This year you'll be nominated for sure. We'll go together afterwards."
"Sure," I replied casually, though inwardly I was doubtful. Hollywood parties were little more than excuses for people to get drunk, do drugs, or hook up. Or all three together. None of which interested me in the slightest.
Before the conversation could stretch further, Mum returned. The circle around me greeted her politely, and she turned to me with her usual quiet authority.
"I think we should head inside," she said. "It will only get more crowded later."
I nodded, offering her my arm. Together, we walked into the glittering ballroom, where the chandeliers blazed with light and the air buzzed with the mingling voices of the industry's elite. Our table was set at the very front, just off to the right, and as fate would have it, we were sharing it with Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep.
Anne looked uneasy, her gaze flicking nervously between Mum and me. Mum, unimpressed, met her with a steely stare that left no room for misinterpretation. I chose to ignore that small drama and turned my attention to the true legend at the table.
"Hi!" I greeted Meryl Streep with genuine warmth, bowing slightly before kissing her hand. "I'm a huge fan of yours, Ms. Streep."
I had stopped saying that to most celebrities lately, but she was the exception. Her craft was unmatched. People argued she collected too many awards, but every accolade was earned. I had never seen a performer who could embody any role with such effortless mastery.
"Back at you, young man," she replied with a smile that crinkled at the corners of her eyes. "I don't usually care for fantasy films like [Harry Potter], but thanks to you, I had to watch them. Same with [The Dark Knight]. You were remarkable. I'd say you're bound to win tonight."
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "Though I wish I could return the compliment. If we're being realistic, it doesn't seem likely for you this time."
She laughed and leaned in to give me a gentle hug. "I love your honesty. Do you know how many people have insisted I'll win tonight? When I know perfectly well I won't."
"Kate Winslet?" I guessed.
"Kate Winslet," she confirmed with a knowing nod.
I had the distinct feeling that if we ever did a film together, the two of us would get along perfectly.
Just then, a male voice called out over the speakers, "Ladies and gentlemen, to present the first award of the night, please welcome…"
And just like that, the ceremony began.
________________________
AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com