Chapter 10
Hi all, here is the next chapter of this story. First, I would like to start by thanking Alpha_astro for the list. That was very helpful. LUFFY3D2Y, thanks for the review. To answer your question, the MC's overall goal is to be remembered as a once-in-a-lifetime genius. So yes, he will be opening his own publishing house. He also wants to cross boundaries into TV, music, and maybe even stage plays. Does he get there? Who knows?
(Spoiler Alert. Don't read if you don't wish to know what I plan for the following chapters.)
I have always planned to show the MC's more human side. His flawed side. I don't want him to come off as too perfect. To do that, I have always planned for him to have children by several different women down the line. Starting at a young age. That said, should Salma Hayek be one of them?
With all that out of the way, I hope you all enjoy the chapter.
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"Courteney, I have to ask, is it true?" Conan O'Brien asks.
"Is that true, Conan?" Courteney asks.
"Is it true that you were passed up for the starring role in Scream?" Conan asks.
"Oh god, I knew you would ask that," Courteney says with a moan of displeasure.
"Well, there are a lot of rumors out there, Courteney. That you were the first choice for the role of Carla Ordóñez, but refused to take it." Conan says, and the crowd starts to clap wildly.
It wasn't surprising to Courtney or Conan, as it was Salma Hayek's breakout role. A role that, by all rights, should have been Courtney's.
Hiding a look of frustration and anger behind one of good cheer, Courtney says, "First, let me just say, Conan, despite what the tabloids say, I have no hard feelings towards Salma. Yes, she got the role over me, and I was upset, but I never once had a negative opinion of her. So, let's get that out of the way. But to answer your question, no, I didn't pass up the role of Carla Ordóñez, who at that point in time didn't have an official name yet."
"You didn't? Can I ask what happened then?" Conan asks.
"Well, to be honest, Conan, I took some bad advice from my agent at the time. When I first read the script for Scream and saw the role they wanted me to play, I thought. I can do this. This would be a fun role because Carla Ordóñez was so different from my role as Monica on Friends. But my agent, someone I trusted at the time, told me he didn't think the role was a good fit for me. I, of course, disagreed." Courtney says.
"To be fair, I can see why he would think that," Conan says.
"So can I, if I am being honest, but at the same time, I was scared of being tight cast and thought. This role could show the world I can play anything. So, I told my agent I wanted this role. Get me this role. I don't care what it costs." Courtney tells him.
"Well, clearly, that didn't happen," Conan says.
"It did, but it didn't. You see, a good agent always looks to get their client the best deal possible. That is exactly what my agent tried to do, but because the budget for Scream was so small, there was little room for negotiation. I believe the final offer I received was around $1.7 or $1.6 million for the role. Which I would have been happy to take, but my agent thought I was worth more." Courtney says to Conan.
Who tries to toss in a joke to lighten the mood, "How dare he?"
This gets the crowd laughing, and Courtney, to her credit, pretends to laugh as well.
Then she says, "I know, right? Anyway, my agent tried to negotiate a higher amount, but New Line wasn't budging. So he comes to me and says This is what they are offering, and they won't go any higher. And I was like, fine, I will take that amount, but then he started parroting what everyone else was saying at the time."
Believing he knows what she is saying, Conan asks, "What was everyone else saying?"
Letting out a breath, Courtney says, "That Ceaser Espnar was a one-hit wonder. He would never make it in Hollywood, and anyone associated with him would take a hit when Scream bombed at the box office."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute, Courtney. Ceaser had just been nominated for an Academy Award and a BAFTA Award earlier that year." Conan says to her.
"I know, and that is what Jennifer told me when I told her about the offer for the role. She even told me I should take the role because even if the movie weren't any good, it would still most likely be a hit just from all the exposure Ceaser was getting." Courtney says this time, letting out more than a little bit of frustration.
"But you didn't take it, and it became one of the best horror movies of the '90s," Conan points out.
"That it did, and I got a new agent," Courtney says playfully, but in truth, she was hoping that prick was bagging groceries somewhere right now for costing her that role.
-1996-
You know, looking back now, as I sat in a chair next to Wes, looking at the TV monitors of all the cameras that were currently filming. I must say that I had severely underestimated the difficulty of being a director. Even after watching several notable examples and seeing firsthand the stress that came with being a director, I never truly realized the pain they went through until I sat in the director's chair. And I was in the fucking chair next to the director's chair. Where you could watch and see all the tiny details as people fucked up around you.
It was an experience, and fuck, I was really starting to question my desire to direct now, especially after sitting and standing by Wes's side these last few months. As an assistant producer on Scream, there wasn't a lot for me to do once it got underway. So I went to Arnold, planning to ask him to put me on the lighting crew again. Only for Arnold to beat me to the punch. But he didn't put me in lighting. No, sir, he made me one of the assistant directors under Wes and told him to teach me as much as possible without delaying filming.
At this point, Wes and I were not exactly getting along, primarily due to the issue with Courtney Cox. We didn't like each other beforehand, and after that, there was no better way to put how much we disliked each other. We, honest to God, just didn't like each other. It was just one of those things. You put two people together, and for some reason, they don't get along. We argued over everything throughout the whole filming. From random changes to the script to lighting, when the actors did well or were shit, and what was a good take and what wasn't. I mean, it was terrible, and more than once, I thought about killing the guy.
That said, as we approached the end of the filing process, I just knew that one day I would be thanking Wes when I won Best Director. We may not have agreed on much, but when Arnold told him to teach me as much as he could during filming, he did just that. Whatever I thought I knew about filmmaking, he corrected or showed me how wrong I really was. It was another sign that I was taking directing too lightly. Just because I could see the films in my head as they were made didn't mean I could do it myself, and, according to him, while I had a natural talent for writing and lighting, that didn't make me a filmmaker. I had a long way to go before I could even consider working on a major motion picture.
However, when I told him that I was planning to try my hand at TV before moving on to directing an actual movie, he nodded his head. After all, a 22 to 44-minute TV show was a hell of a lot shorter than 90 to 130 minutes. So he agreed with David that it was a good place for me to start. Because, in his words, when I fucked up, it would be less of a big deal.
"Cut, that is a wrap, people," Wes says while everyone starts to clap.
Happy that this nightmare, and that is what it was, a fucking nightmare, was over. After we got down, filling the opening with Tiffani, who knocked it out of the park, things quickly went downhill. It was no one's fault, really. After all, we were working with mostly new faces and actors with little experience. With only a few veterans on the set, who didn't have the star power to pull everyone else up during filming. David Arquette and Salma did their best to lead the others, but they didn't have the credibility to make them listen.
Then there was our so-called star, Neve Campbell, who had come close to suffering a nervous breakdown more than once. As the star of the movie and a young actress, there was considerable pressure on her to deliver. Especially as she was working with a legend like Wes Craven and me, who had been nominated for an Academy Award and a BAFTA. Neither of which I won, but that didn't matter. The fact remained that while Neve had been struggling for the last eight years to catch a break in Hollywood, I had already become an accomplished writer who could talk with the bigwigs like Arnold and Wes as equals.
All of this combined caused her to have a terrible first week of filming. I am unsure how many NGs she had that week, but I remember us getting up to take 47 or something like that on one scene. And all of them because of a mistake she had made. Honestly, she got very close to being fired if it weren't for Wes and me running interference with Arnold, who wanted to fire her and kick her ass off-set.
Luckily enough, I had a way with people, and after taking her somewhere more private to talk, she straightened up. It really didn't take that much; people just needed to understand that not everyone does well under pressure. So, to help her out, I took her out for some drinks and dancing. Then, I discussed my concerns about the movie with her. I told her that, despite not looking it, I was worried about the movie too. And that seemed to help her realize she wasn't alone out there in her fears. We were both under a lot of pressure, and she could lean on me for help.
"Thank fucking God it's over," I say out loud as I lean back in my chair.
"Welcome to the world of Hollywood directing, kid. I hope you have a very unpleasant stay." Wes says to me as he leans back and lets out a breath.
"Go to hell, old man," I say as I start to get up, while Wes lets out a dry laugh.
Yet before I can go too far, I hear Wes say, "We have a winner, you know that, right?"
It is now my turn to let out a dry laugh, "Ya, I know."
"See you at the after-party, kid," Wes says.
"See you, old man," I say with a slight smile on my lips.
Ya, I think it was safe to say I hated the old man, but I didn't hate him that much. I think to myself.
As I walk towards the exit of the building, I spot Neve walking towards me with a smile on her face.
"Hey, Ceaser," She says to me.
"What's up, Neve?" I responded.
"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you would like to join me for a drink?" She asks, trying to sound casual.
You know, for an actress, she was horrible at being subtle, and for a moment, I think I may have made a bit of a mistake when I took her out that night. I'm not even sure what it was that I did, but somehow, I endeared myself to the girl. Yes, endeared is a good word for it. Mostly because I didn't want to admit that she probably wanted me to bend her over and fuck her. Don't get me wrong; she was cute, but I didn't want her to think I was interested in her. Not right now, when I was still unsure what was going on with Salma. It was supposed to be nothing at first, but I couldn't lie to myself and say there wasn't something going on that ran deeper.
"Sorry, Neve can't. I am meeting up with Salma for dinner." I tell her and see a flash of something in her eyes. I didn't want to call it jealousy, but I wasn't blind to it.
"Oh well, that is fine. Maybe next time," Neve says to me.
I smile at her and say, "Maybe, catch you later, Miss Scream Queen."
"Hey, Ceaser," Neve calls out again.
"Hmmm?" I ask as I turn around
"Do you really think I will be the next Scream Queen?" Neve asks me, looking a bit worried now.
"You know, people keep asking me if I think this will do that or whatever. So let me put it this way. I will see you on the set of Scream 2." I say, then walk out of the building, finally getting into my car, and drive off.
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You know, I don't know if I believe in love. Having never experienced it in my admittedly short life. Having had nothing and no one from the moment I was born left me with doubts that such a thing was real. But then I met my lawyer's parents and saw how much they loved each other, and I started to question if it was real. Why was I wondering this right now, some may ask? Well, it was just one of those funny little thoughts that popped into your head at the strangest times.
Especially now, of all times, when I was balls deep in Salma's cunt while I pulled her hair and smacked her ass while fucking her like a bitch in heat. It seemed kind of like an inappropriate time to be thinking about love. Seeing as I was currently treating her like a slut. Not that she seemed to mind. As she begged me to fuck her harder.
"Ohhhhh shitttt Ceaser yessss, yessss harder. Please fuck me harderrrrr. Harderrrrr ahhhhhhh," She screams out for all to hear while she grabs the sheets and tries to meet my thrusts with her own.
God, you wouldn't know it by looking at her, or maybe you would, but Salma was a sexual deviant. I mean, right now, what we were doing was more or less tame compared to what we had done since we started fucking. Sure, I was hitting her ass hard enough to leave bruises, but that was nothing compared to some of the things Salam allowed me to do to her in the bedroom. I mean, I had paid whores to enable me to do basically what I wanted to, but I was always careful not to go too far. When I was with Salma, I thanked God I knew what her schedule was like. I really didn't want her to show up to a swimsuit shoot or something after those nights. If she ever did, I had a funny feeling that I would get a visit from the cops shortly after.
After a few more thrusts, I bury my cock deep inside her one last time before cumming inside her. Neither wearing a condom nor caring if she was on some form of birth control. Call it shitting of me, but I didn't really care if she got pregnant or not. Seeing as I was man enough to accept responsibility if she did end up pregnant. But seeing as I had been fucking her raw for several months now, and nothing had happened, I was pretty sure she was on something.
After I am done with her, I pull out of her tight cunt and grab a towel before leaving the bedroom and letting her rest. I went to the living room and picked up my notebook from the table. Opening it up, I read over my notes before grabbing a pin and starting to write, wondering what to do next. Of course, getting started on the sequel to Scream was a must, but I wasn't sure if anyone would pick up the two other incomplete scripts I had at the WGA. I had to be ready just in case someone did.
Around 30 minutes later, I heard a shower turn on, and about 20 minutes later, it shut off. Then, a voice calls me from the bedroom doorway, "Really, Ceaser? We just got done having sex, and you go straight to work."
Looking up, I see Salma, fresh out of the shower, standing in the doorway in a thin robe that leaves little to the imagination.
"Would you prefer it if I had left?" I ask her.
Smiling, she says, "Honestly, I thought you had. So I guess this is better."
She then starts to make her way over to me, and I say, "So you're saying I fucked you so hard that you had no clue if I left or not? Good for me."
Salma hits my shoulder playfully as she takes a seat and says, "You did all right."
I give a dry laugh at that and go back to writing.
After a moment, she asks, "So what are you working on? Shakespeare in Love?"
"Na, not right now. It's proving harder to write than I had thought it would, so I am working on something else now." I say to her.
"Well, duh, it's hard, Ceaser. You're trying to write a romcom, and frankly, you're not the most romantic guy I have met. Great in bed, but you are not a romantic." She says in a teasing manner.
It was cruel of her to say so right to Ceaser's face with such a straight face of her own, but the sad truth was she wasn't wrong. After thinking about it for some time after the BAFTA Award, Salma still wasn't sure what the fuck she was doing. Fucking a 19-year-old the way she was. It was initially because she had found Ceaser's drive and ambition attractive. But after that one time after the Academy Awards, she had told herself she would never do it again. Then came the BAFTA Awards, where she invited him to her room again after they got back to the hotel. Knowing full well he wouldn't be leaving till the following day.
At that time, she told herself it was because she was grateful to him for giving her the chance to be in Scream. Then, on the 3rd time, she convinced herself that it was only for the sex. Which he was really good at. It was around the 5th or 6th time that she finally stopped coming up with excuses for why she was letting him screw her, whenever he felt like it. The fact of the matter was that there was something about Ceaser that she just liked. She couldn't say what it was because she was sure it wasn't love, but there was no denying that there was something there. It really just came down to her liking him and enjoying spending time with him. Why did she enjoy spending time with him? Well, he just treated her like an equal. Well, not in the bedroom, but when it mattered.
"You don't have to tell me. I was there in the room when you were screaming, remember." I tease her.
Which earns me a soft kick to my shin. "Bastardo pervertido,"
I start laughing, grab the foot that just kicked me, and massage it. Much to her pleasure.
"Thank you, by the way, for your help on Shakespeare in Love. I wouldn't have gotten as far as I have if it weren't for you." I tell her.
Though the truth was, I didn't need her help. The only reason I had asked her for help with the script in the first place was because, after thinking about it for a time, I was making a pretty big leap here. Even after Scream was a success, and it would be a success, people may not be willing to accept that I wrote a rom-com. New Line would no doubt want the sequel to Scream right away, but I somewhat doubted they would be willing to take a risk on something so different from my previous works. That is where Salma came into the picture.
By using her as a springboard to bounce ideas off of. I set up a reason why someone like me could write something like Shakespeare in Love. Then, by putting her name on the script, the people at the studio would think differently about it, or so I thought. You see, she may not have been a writer or a big star, but Salma was a woman. Roncon's were made for women, so people should take the script seriously by default. If I wrote a script that one woman enjoyed, the typical thought process should be, if one likes it, why wouldn't another? I even planned to give Gwyneth a call to ask for her help as well, just for extra padding. Well, that and get her to talk with her godfather, Steven Spielberg, to see if she could get his seal of approval for me. Maybe even get him to direct it. Both of which would be great, but I would settle for the first over the latter.
Smiling at me, Salma says, "You're welcome; just don't forget to put my name on the script like you promised."
"You got it," I say to her.
Things go quiet for a bit as we both relax. Enjoying each other's company till Salma pulls her foot away and replaces it with the other. Then she says, "So you and Neve Campbell."
"What about us?" I ask.
"Nothing. I was just wondering if something is going on there," Salma says.
"Nothing is going on," I tell her.
Rolling her eyes, Salma says, "Come on now, Ceaser, I am not blind. I have seen the way she looks at you. Are you interested in her?"
Looking at her and then away, I say, "Not really."
"Really?" She asks, not believing me.
"Don't get me wrong, she is hot, and I would be down with having some fun with her, but…" I start to say, then leave it hanging.
"But what?" Salma asks.
Again, I look at her and say, "But I am not sure what it is we have."
Okay, she takes it back; Ceaser could be romantic occasionally. She just didn't think he noticed it when he was. "So let me get this straight. The only reason you are not interested in her is because of me?"
"Ya," Is all I say.
Feeling her heart beating a bit harder, Salma says teasingly, "Wow, Ceaser, I didn't know you could be so romantic."
Pushing down on her foot with my thump a bit harder till I hear a hiss of pain, I say, "Watch it, Miss Hayek."
I then go back to massaging her foot the right way, but I can still feel the smile on her lips.
"You know, Ceaser, I won't hold it against you if you want to see her. I mean, while I am flattered that you're not because of me, you're still young, so I don't expect you to be loyal to me." Salma says.
"You don't expect me to, but do you want me to be?" I ask her.
She says nothing for a time, seeming to think it over before saying, "I don't know."
Putting her foot down, I look at her and say, "You know, Salma, I think I am too young and stupid to know what a relationship is. But if you want me to stay loyal to you, I will give it a shot."
She never told me if she wanted me to be loyal to her and her alone that night. We just stayed silent for the rest of the night. Eventually, I got up and dressed before returning to my apartment, where I lay down on my shit cot and looked up at the roof—thinking that I really needed to move to a better place soon. This place fucking sucked.
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It was a lovely night tonight, I thought as I looked up at the sky from inside the limo I was taking to the premiere of Scream. It was Oct 25th, and I was about to arrive at my 2nd red carpet event with Salma by my side. Who, despite our previous discussion about the nature of our relationship, had changed little. We were still meeting up to fuck and go out on dates so the press could see us, but that was about it. I think we had silently agreed just to leave things as they were. After all, there was little point in overthinking things and putting unneeded pressure on each other. We both already had enough pressure on ourselves without adding more.
For example, right now, with the upcoming release of Scream. So much had changed from the Scream I knew in my head to the one that was coming out that I was no longer sure if it would be as successful as the one I knew. I could pretend like I knew it would be, but the cold, hard truth was that I didn't. Unlike Se7en, which remained completely the same, Scream underwent numerous changes, not in the movie itself, but in casting, advertising, and release date. I was in uncharted waters, and it made me nervous.
However, when the limo came to a stop, and I got out, none of those worries showed on my face. I just shoved those worries down and showed the cameras the face of a man who was utterly sure of myself. Again, however, all they really wanted was the image of Salma, whose fame was only growing as she appeared in magazines and commercials for top-of-the-line companies. It was safe to say that she was nearing A-list status and that this movie could push her over the edge. As for me, this was only my 2nd time at the plate, and I needed another hit if I wished to stay relevant, not to them of course. The media didn't matter too much for someone like me, but to the ones who actually mattered—the people who would buy and produce my scripts.
Again, I didn't show any worry. There was little point in doing so. I thought to myself as we entered the TCL Chinese Theatre, where the premiere was taking place. Looking around, I noticed the rest of the cast standing off to the side or talking to the media, doing an excellent job of not showing their own fears—especially Neve Campbell, who was laughing and joking with the news reporters. I was glad that she was no longer a bundle of nerves. It wouldn't do for her to look worried or scared at this point.
"Ceaser, Ceaser over here." I hear Tiffani Thiessen call out to me.
Although Tiffani wouldn't be in the movie for long, she did play a significant part in it. So, of course, she was invited to the premiere. The reason she was calling me over, however, was that after she filmed her scenes, I had kept in touch with her. With her being a fan of mine and me being a man of my word, I kept true to what I had told her and immediately started to work on a script for her. Though she was under the wrong impression that she had somehow inspired me to write something for her. Not that I had made a promise to myself to see her move over to the big screen. Not that it really mattered why I was writing one for her.
Walking over to her, I say, "How is it going, Tiff?"
"It's going well, Ceaser. Salma, it's a pleasure to see you again." Tiffani says, leaning in for a hug and a friendly kiss on Salma's cheek.
"It is good to see you too, Tiff," Salma says in a friendly enough voice, but it is hard to tell if she meant what she said.
There was no reason for Salma not to like Tiffani, but it was impossible to tell who hated whom in Hollywood. So, I did what any wise man would do and moved things along without thinking too hard about it. Was that cowardly? Maybe. Did I care? Not even a little.
"Did you get the script I sent your agent?" I ask her.
"I did, and oh my god, Ceaser, it's brilliant. Do you really think someone will pick up The Strangers and cast me as one of the female leads?" Tiffani asks.
Looking over at the entrance to the room where the Scream will play for the first time, I answer, "We will find out shortly."
"Oh, it's going to be a hit. I know it." Tiffani says with complete confidence.
And you know what? When someone is right, they are right, and in this case, Tiffani was right. We were just getting to the part of the file where she died, and the way she portrayed the feeling of sheer fear, terror, struggle, and surprise was just perfect. I could tell the audience was on the edge of their seat. Both scared and thrilled at the same time, yet no one was expecting Tiff to die, and when she did, I could hear everyone take a deep, shocked breath. The supposed star of the movie was dead, and all this was revealed within the first 20 minutes of the film.
It was at this moment that I knew I had my 2nd hit.