Chapter 22: Nicole Falls Out with Shanahan
Having just been berated by William—practically shouted down to his face—
Ramirez was burning with the urge to snap back.
He wanted to accuse William of having no taste, of being narrow-minded, of not understanding art at all.
But then he remembered what José had told him.
And he swallowed his anger.
Because yes—Ramirez was an undercover plant.
Not only was he one of José's men, he was also José's cousin.
Granted, José had a lot of cousins—but that hardly made Ramirez expendable.
Before sending him to learn the ropes here, José had given him a simple instruction:
figure out how Valley films were made, learn the system inside out, then leave and start his own operation.
But people who drift around Hollywood almost always share one disease—
a burning desire to make real movies and become famous.
Ramirez was no exception.
Still, fear ultimately won.
Talking back to William was one thing.
But if José found out that Ramirez had sabotaged his plans?
That would be another matter entirely.
José had plenty of cousins.
Ramirez wasn't special.
So, suppressing his rage, he grabbed the script from the desk and stormed out of the office.
---
William watched his retreating back.
And instead of feeling satisfied, he frowned.
Something felt… wrong.
If Ramirez really was tied to a gang, then that meant William himself was standing in a very dangerous position.
"So this is what it feels like," William muttered to himself,
"having no real power—being easy prey."
As the thought settled in, William unconsciously struck a pose eerily reminiscent of Gendo Ikari, fingers steepled, eyes lowered, already calculating how to build strength of his own.
But before he could think it through—
The office door was pushed open once again.
Nicole Kidman walked into the office—just in time to catch a glimpse of Ramirez storming out, his face dark with anger.
She glanced after him, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"What was that about?"
"Just an idiot employee," William replied casually. "Nothing worth mentioning. But you—what brings you here?"
He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the armrests, studying her with relaxed interest.
"I just turned down my role over at Scott's production," Nicole said. "Their studio's here anyway, so I thought I'd drop by and see you."
As she spoke, she placed her handbag on the coat rack and walked over with unhurried elegance, seating herself directly on William's desk. Crossing one leg over the other, she smiled faintly.
William raised an eyebrow.
"You're awfully bold for someone who forgot she isn't wearing underwear today."
After that fleeting glimpse, he couldn't help but comment.
Nicole rolled her eyes.
"If I hadn't tested you last night, I'd seriously think you were gay."
William immediately raised both hands in surrender.
"Just to clarify—I'm not gay, and I'm extremely homophobic. Thank you very much."
In 1989, that statement didn't raise eyebrows. In another era, it would've detonated his career on the spot.
Nicole simply rolled her eyes again and pointed at the phone on the desk.
"I need to make a call to Australia. Mind if I use this?"
William gestured politely.
"Be my guest."
She picked up the phone and dialed her agent.
It didn't take long for the call to connect.
Nicole explained—succinctly—that she would not be participating in Days of Thunder.
The response on the other end exploded.
"ARE YOU INSANE, KIDMAN?! Do you have any idea what it cost us to get you that role?! Acting opposite Tom Cruise—and you just throw it away?! How dare you!"
The shouting was loud enough that William could hear every word from over a meter away.
He wasn't surprised.
Any agency would lose their mind over an actress rejecting a Tom Cruise project.
What did puzzle him—still—was Nicole's motivation.
She didn't know his future. She didn't know his trajectory.
So why was she betting this hard on him?
While William was still turning that question over in his head, Nicole calmly worked her way through the conversation, her tone soothing, persuasive—professional.
The result, however, was bleak.
After hanging up, she turned to William.
"My contract expires at the end of this year. They probably won't keep representing an actress who doesn't listen."
She gave him a faintly reproachful look, as if this were somehow his fault.
"You're going to have to take responsibility for this."
William stared at her, a row of invisible question marks hovering above his head.
After a long pause, he sighed.
"Wow. You're really something."
Still—her situation only reinforced one thing in his mind.
He needed his own talent agency.
It was only 1989. Plenty of future stars were still unknown—some hadn't even stepped into the industry yet.
If he signed them early, even if a few never made it big, he'd still come out ahead statistically.
No downside.
"Well," William said lightly, "how about this—when the time comes, I'll open an agency and sign you myself. Sound fair?"
He said it half-jokingly.
Nicole scoffed.
"Men. Always lying so smoothly."
Then she froze.
"…Wait. Are you serious?"
"Completely," William replied. "I really do plan to start an agency."
In the next instant, Nicole slid off the desk and settled directly onto his lap, looping her arms around his neck.
"That's… really sweet of you," she said, eyes glistening.
If William didn't know her so well, he might've believed the performance.
"Honestly, Nicole," he said dryly, "your acting is terrifying. Before I Go to Sleep is definitely winning awards."
She rolled her eyes yet again.
"You could at least pretend to be happy. Men who are too smart make women feel insecure, you know."
William patted her lightly on the hip, signaling her to get up.
Dealing with someone like her was exhausting.
Just as Nicole stood up and adjusted her clothes—
The office door swung open.
Katya walked in, holding a folder.
She froze the moment she saw Nicole tidying herself.
"Сука, блядь… эта шлюха вообще не умеет ждать?"
A rapid stream of Russian followed. (1)
No one else understood a word.
Katya cleared her throat.
"Sorry to interrupt. Should I… come back later?"
(1) Bitch, fuck... this whore doesn't know how to wait at all.