"Under standard terms, theaters keep about fifty percent of a film's box office," Bruce said. He paused, then fixed Peter Brown with a sharper look than before. "So I'm willing to wager against half of that thirty-million-dollar gap.
"AMC doubles the number of screens you're currently giving Paranormal Activity. You keep the film in release for at least forty-five days. If the domestic box office clears fifty million dollars, then we settle exactly the way exhibitors and distributors normally do.
"But if the film fails to reach fifty million, Matrix Pictures will compensate AMC for fifty percent of the shortfall, based on AMC's share of the film's total box office."
Peter Brown's expression shifted.
"So you're proposing a side bet."
"That's exactly what I'm proposing."
Peter studied him in silence.
The young man sitting across from him looked nothing like a first-time operator stumbling around in a business meeting. He was steady, composed, and carrying himself with a level of confidence that made Peter take him more seriously than he had ten minutes earlier.
Call it recklessness. Call it conviction. Either way, anyone willing to push this hard for his own interests deserved a certain amount of respect.
Then Peter said, "I'm still going to pass."
Bruce's heart sank.
His voice turned hard.
"Why? This deal is all upside for AMC."
Peter nodded once.
"It is. And I'm still saying no."
That was the moment Bruce's face finally hardened.
The irritation he had kept under control surfaced at last. He had come here with what he considered a serious offer. He had taken the downside on himself. He had given AMC a chance to benefit without assuming meaningful risk. And the answer was still no.
He met Peter's eyes directly.
Across the room, Wendy Solo watched the two men lock eyes and felt her own chest tighten. The air in the office had gone sharp enough to cut with. She had never seen Bruce look quite like this before. No matter how successful he already was, he was still nineteen, and people always assumed nineteen-year-old men were one bad moment away from losing control.
Then Bruce smiled.
Just like that, the tension broke.
"All right," he said calmly. "If Mr. Brown doesn't want to do business, then we'll leave it there."
Peter rose with him.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for us to work together in the future. And for what it's worth, I'm still looking forward to the second National Treasure. Even more than that, I'm looking forward to the day you bring it to the screen. When that happens, I'll make sure you get all the screens you need."
Bruce looked at him for a second, then smiled faintly.
"Appreciate that."
He kept his manners, shook Peter's hand, and left with Wendy.
Peter stayed where he was and watched them go until they disappeared beyond the doorway.
Only then did he let out a quiet breath and smile to himself.
"Nineteen. Still too green."
He turned toward the blonde secretary who had been sitting in on the meeting.
"Mina."
"Yes?"
"Tell Alex to give Matrix's Paranormal Activity another fifty screens."
She blinked. "Another fifty?"
Peter had just refused them.
So why was he increasing the booking anyway?
"Just do it."
He did not bother explaining.
Mina, still clearly confused, nodded and left.
Peter leaned back in his chair and spoke half to himself.
"Too green is still too green. But when someone's worth investing in, you invest. We're going to be doing business in this town for a long time. And he's sitting on a pile of bestselling rights."
...
The second Bruce walked out of AMC's office building, the smile disappeared from his face.
His expression turned dark.
Objectively, based on what he remembered about Paranormal Activity, he could have pushed the number higher. He could have gone above fifty million. But the steady, faintly mocking look in Peter Brown's eyes had stopped him.
Bruce understood something very clearly.
The moment he looked too eager, he would lose control of the negotiation.
Worse, Peter would walk away with exactly the wrong impression: that Bruce was another rich amateur who did not understand the movie business and was trying to buy his way through it on arrogance and instinct.
Even if Paranormal Activity eventually proved him right and won the bet, he would still be remembered as a lucky novice instead of a serious operator.
So Bruce had forced himself to stop.
He might be new, but the image he wanted to project was very specific: smart, controlled, and bold when necessary.
Not reckless.
Not vulgar.
Not some overexcited rich kid throwing money around because he didn't know any better.
The best people in business rarely wanted to partner with a hotheaded newcomer who looked like a temporary accident.
Once they got into the cab, Bruce said, "Call the hotel and check us out. We're flying straight back to Los Angeles."
Wendy glanced at him carefully.
"Mr. Guo, this was only the first meeting. A failed first round doesn't mean much. We still have time to go back and try again."
Bruce cut her off with a small motion of his hand.
"No. Peter Brown's eyes told me everything I needed to know."
He fell silent after that.
Wendy looked like she wanted to say more, but in the end, she held it back.
They went to the airport together, booked seats on the one o'clock flight back to Los Angeles, and grabbed lunch while they waited.
Just before boarding, Bruce turned once and looked back at Kansas City stretched out in the distance.
Then he let out a long breath.
For the first time since leaving AMC, the expression on his face finally softened.
"The last six months have gone too smoothly," he said. "Everything kept breaking my way, and I started thinking I was smarter than I was. One serious setback, and I was already close to losing my balance."
He gave a quiet, self-aware smile and shook his head.
"Still too green."
Then he looked over at Wendy, who had been stealing worried glances at him ever since they left the meeting.
"Sorry. I know I worried you."
Seeing that familiar calm confidence return to his face, Wendy finally exhaled. She even lifted a hand to her chest like she was physically letting the tension go.
"You really did," she said. "The look on your face back there was terrifying. I've never seen you like that before."
Then, after a pause, she added, "If you've adjusted now, should we go back and prepare for a second round?"
Bruce shook his head.
"No. I still don't know exactly why yet, but Peter Brown's attitude was too clear. That door's closed."
Right then, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
"Kevin."
He answered.
"Mr. Guo, good news. Alex Sandra from AMC's exhibition department just called. They're giving Paranormal Activity fifty more screens when it opens."
Bruce stopped cold.
"AMC? You're sure?"
"Yes."
Bruce was quiet for a beat.
"Did they say anything else?"
"No."
He thought for another second, then shifted tracks.
"What about Carmike? Did you get an answer?"
"I did."
Bruce's voice sharpened. "They agreed?"
"Of course they did. It's a deal with no downside for them. Why wouldn't they? Mr. Guo, I assume AMC agreed too, right?"
"No. AMC turned us down."
Kevin was silent for half a second.
"What? That makes no sense. Why would they reject a performance guarantee that costs them nothing? And if they rejected it, why are they giving us another fifty screens?"
"That," Bruce said slowly, "is exactly what I'm trying to figure out."
"Did they give you any reason?"
"No."
Then Bruce asked, "Any word from Buddy?"
"Nothing yet."
"All right. I'll be back in Los Angeles this afternoon. I want a full report waiting for me on AMC and Peter Brown. Detailed. I want to know exactly where I lost that room."
"Understood. I'll get started right now."
Bruce ended the call and turned back to Wendy, who was staring at him curiously.
"That was Kevin. Carmike accepted the guarantee."
Wendy's eyes widened.
"They accepted? Then why would AMC refuse?"
Bruce shook his head, still thinking.
"I'd like to know that myself. And one more thing. Kevin says AMC's adding fifty screens anyway."
Now Wendy looked just as confused as he felt.
Bruce leaned back in his seat and looked out the window, his thoughts turning over the same question again and again.
What exactly was Peter Brown playing at?
...
The office was not large, maybe forty square meters, sealed off from the outer workspace by thick glass walls.
Inside, two dark wooden bookshelves stood against the walls, stacked with titles like The Wealth of Nations, Socioeconomics, Financial Derivatives and Innovation, An Economic History of the United States, The Elders of Zion and Modern Israel, and Religious Wars. The wear on the pages made one thing clear: these were not decorative books.
In front of the shelves sat a broad desk cluttered with an HP computer, a printer, and stacks of papers. Two chairs faced the desk from the outside, with another two behind it. Off to one side sat three single-seat armchairs arranged for visitors.
Other than that, the room held only a water dispenser in the corner and a few plants.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing wasted.
Knock knock.
"Come in."
Wendy stepped inside carrying another stack of files.
The moment she walked in, she saw Bruce exactly where she expected him, still bent over his desk, buried in documents, brow furrowed, completely focused.
When he finally looked up, Wendy caught sight of his eyes and nearly froze.
They were bloodshot.
He had clearly been pushing too hard.
"Mr. Guo," she said carefully, "Mr. Morris is back."
Bruce straightened a little.
"How did the talks with Cinemark go?"
"Very well. They agreed to double the number of screens they were originally giving us."
Bruce nodded once.
"Good."
At least that part had moved the way it was supposed to.
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