Santa Monica.
Daenerys Entertainment headquarters. Simon was saying goodbye to Kevin Costner, Jessica Lange, Michael Blake, and the others. Dances with Wolves was set to start shooting next month, and they had just wrapped a production meeting.
With Simon's backing, Kevin Costner would direct and star, also taking a producer credit. Jessica Lange who had worked with Daenerys on Steel Magnolias last year played the female lead, Stands With A Fist.
Compared to the original, the new version had a significantly stronger cast.
Jessica Lange, despite multiple Oscar nominations and a Best Actress win in 1983, had never commanded huge paychecks. For the supporting-leaning role of Stands With A Fist, she earned just $1 million.
Thanks to The Bodyguard's success, Kevin Costner had solidified his A-list status. But the deal had been signed before that film, so his combined directing and acting fee remained $6 million.
Given the challenging animal and child scenes—always among the toughest in Hollywood—plus extensive outdoor sequences, Simon allocated a $25 million budget, higher than the original.
He had full confidence in Dances with Wolves and wasn't stingy where it mattered.
Still, $25 million was the limit.
Simon took budget discipline seriously and led by example. Batman, despite heavy use of new technologies and effects, was nearing completion without a single dollar over budget.
In the first-floor lobby, Simon saw off Costner and Blake, then shook hands with Jessica Lange, who carried a small shoulder bag. "See you next time, Jess."
She smiled. "You're not coming to Jonathan's party tonight?"
"Of course I am."
It was Friday, July 14.
On Wednesday, WMA had announced another major shake-up: president Norman Brocka was out, and vice president Jonathan Friedman was the new president, joining the board.
Though a month apart in release, both The Bodyguard and The Sixth Sense would cross $100 million domestic this weekend. Daenerys had scheduled a massive celebration for both films on Saturday. To avoid clashing, Jonathan had set his own party for tonight.
Jessica's smile widened. "Then we'll see each other again later."
Simon teased, "Looking forward to it."
She laughed lightly.
After a few more words, the Dances with Wolves team left. Simon turned to head back upstairs when he found Jennifer already behind him, holding a folder and staring at him oddly.
He hadn't been flirting, just joking with Jessica so Jennifer had no reason to be jealous. He headed confidently toward the stairs. "What's up?"
She handed over the folder. "Peter Butler from the Los Angeles Times just faxed over a draft article. About you."
Not jealousy, then.
An article about himself wasn't unusual.
With his rising wealth and fame, major North American papers now routinely sent pieces about Simon to his PR team or Daenerys first to avoid lawsuits or bad blood.
He flipped it open. Title: "He can see dead people."
Familiar.
Then it clicked: from The Sixth Sense. Cole to Malcolm: "I see dead people."
With that in mind, he skimmed the text.
"After closely following Simon Westeros for three years, I've had one persistent question: where does all this staggering talent come from? He was an unknown orphan from San Jose—maybe hardworking, maybe smart but nothing in my understanding explains how a twenty-year-old has achieved what he has."
"I've entertained countless theories. Maybe he's an alien. Maybe he was part of some secret experiment. Maybe he's not even him anymore a body double, a spy. He's fluent in multiple languages, after all--exactly what a top spy would need."
"None of them held water."
"Until recently. After seeing The Sixth Sense, I realized this might be the answer I've been looking for."
"Simon Westeros can communicate with the dead."
"Don't worry, no spoilers."
"The title comes from the film's TV spot: the boy tells the doctor, 'I see dead people.'"
"Now apply that to Simon Westeros: 'He can see dead people.' Suddenly, everything that puzzled us makes sense. An orphan raised in the system would have had no access to music, painting, film, foreign languages. For a kid from the bottom, no matter how driven, the resources simply weren't there."
"But what if his teachers weren't human? What if they were ghosts?"
"Everything falls into place."
"I even believe his nervous breakdown three years ago was tied to this."
"Then he came to Los Angeles and instantly became a cinematic genius."
"For an eighteen-year-old who might have seen only a handful of movies? Impossible. But Los Angeles has no shortage of filmmakers. Over half a century, the city must have accumulated an army of expert ghosts. If Westeros could enlist an elite squad, he'd naturally become a 'genius.'"
…
The piece was long. Simon read it with amusement, lingering at his office door so long he forgot to go in.
Leaning against the frame, he finished, looked up at Jennifer's still-odd expression, then glanced sideways at the empty air to her right. In a low, spooky voice: "Neil, they've figured us out."
Having read the draft already, Jennifer was halfway immersed. She instinctively looked right, a chill running down half her body, goosebumps rising.
Seeing he'd actually scared her, Simon grinned and lightly traced a finger along the exposed nape of her neck as she turned.
The touch sent warmth through the other half of her.
Hot and cold together, her cheeks flushed.
She glared, annoyed. He strolled inside like nothing happened. She followed, waiting until he sat behind the desk. "Should we call the Times and kill it?"
Simon leaned back in his chair. Instead of answering, he asked, "Jenny, do you think I can talk to ghosts?"
She hesitated. "I… I don't know."
He changed tack. "Are you afraid of death?"
Caught off guard, she answered honestly. "Yes."
"I'm terrified of it," Simon said, fingers brushing the folder. "That's why I desperately wish this article were true. Because if ghosts exist, death isn't the end. If it's just the end of one journey, not the final stop, why fear it?"
Jennifer nodded, but the curiosity in her eyes lingered, perhaps stirred by the piece.
Simon smiled. "I'll just say I've been through some things. But rest assured, I'm not an alien, not a robot, not a spy, and definitely not a medium. I'm just Simon Westeros. That's all."
She knew even this vague explanation was rare from him. Her lips curved slightly. She pointed at the article. "So, this?"
"Let them run it. Perfect extra buzz for The Sixth Sense. Send copies to Burbank and Pat Kingsley have them monitor the fallout. Step in if anything crazy starts spreading."
She nodded, checked her watch, five o'clock.
As she turned to leave, a knock sounded.
Simon called entry. Nancy Brill walked in.
Quitting time didn't exist for him. He and Nancy still had Blockbuster's IPO to discuss.
After burning cash on expansion for over six months, Blockbuster was dry again. As major shareholder, Daenerys had a duty to help. Through their connections, Blockbuster had secured a favorable $100 million five-year loan from Citibank earlier this month.
But endless debt wasn't sustainable.
Shareholders agreed: take the company public.
It would take about six months, by then the loan would be spent. Once public, Blockbuster could raise capital far more easily through follow-on offerings, bonds, stock swaps easing cash pressure dramatically.
Jennifer left after greetings. Simon joined Nancy in the seating area for easier document reference.
He didn't think much of the article.
But when the Los Angeles Times ran it the next day, the reaction exceeded expectations.
"He can see dead people."
"He sees dead people."
The logic was airtight.
If Simon Westeros could talk to ghosts, everything about the past few years made perfect sense.
Major papers reprinted it. A wave of "proof" that Simon was indeed psychic swept North American media.
Direct interview requests went nowhere. Pat Kingsley issued a brief public dismissal of the piece's absurdity and left it there. So reporters pivoted back to San Jose, his childhood and to people who had known him.
Perhaps suggestion played a role, but old acquaintances suddenly "remembered" odd childhood incidents that supported the theory.
Some journalists revisited Watsonville psychiatric hospital.
Confidentiality agreements Janet had signed with staff stonewalled them, but that only fueled curiosity.
Eventually even Janet called from Melbourne, half-joking, asking if he really was psychic. Her grandmother's heirloom necklace meant as her dowry had vanished after the her death. Could he ask where it was?
Simon gruffly suggested they tear the Johnston mansion apart; it would turn up.
The frenzy lasted days, spawning wilder theories. Good thing it wasn't the Middle Ages, he might have ended up at the stake. To prevent total loss of control, Daenerys's media team and Simon's personal PR went into damage-control mode.
On the other hand, exactly as Simon predicted, it gave The Sixth Sense another box-office jolt.
Claims that Cole was essentially Simon's childhood "self-portrait" pushed even skeptical holdouts into theaters.
July 14–20: third week down just 2.7%. Another $38.25 million. Cumulative: $118.86 million.
The phenomenon not only joined the rare three-week $100 million club it surpassed Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade's $110.65 million over three weeks and two days.
In its seventh week, The Bodyguard also crossed $100 million: $104.25 million total.
After a quiet first half, Daenerys delivered two domestic $100 million hits in one year.
Overall North American attendance hadn't grown much. Daenerys's dominance inevitably squeezed the other studios.
And so, certain things began to happen.