236: Redoing My Life, Changes and an Offer

Three months had passed since the Weinstein exposé dropped, and nothing had been the same. In my previous life, it was just background noise, another news headline flashing across a screen while I worked through a soul-crushing desk job, trying not to get fired.

But now, thirteen years into redoing my life from the ground up and becoming one of the biggest producers and power players in Hollywood, it felt different. Immediate. Tangible. Like lightning cracking just overhead instead of far off.

And the lightning kept striking.

In the days after the first article broke, Harvey was fired from his company. Half the industry pretended to be shocked some were, but many weren’t. The more telling reactions were behind closed doors, some asking the question:

“Will it stop there?”

They were wondering if they were next.

A new word entered every conversation in the studios and other entertainment companies every meeting, every memo:

“Liability.”

That word reached Midas too, naturally. The difference? We were already ahead. While others were rushing through emergency background checks and vetting long-time collaborators, I had a head start. I didn’t have to do much. I'd made sure Midas was clean and well run. There were no liabilities here. 

I also wasn’t naïve. Just because we were clean didn’t mean we couldn’t be caught in someone else’s blast radius. I made sure we didn’t get caught up in that storm, either.

And what a storm it was.

Actresses and Actors came forward. Some names I remembered, and more than I remembered a lot more. Maybe it was memory playing tricks, but the wave felt bigger than it had the first time.

Studios were ordering full sweeps of producers, directors, showrunners, even staffers who’d been “grandfathered in.” 

Agents were on edge. 

Lawyers were feasting.

Publicists? In hell.

I was advised, like every other high-profile name in town, to avoid being seen in photos with certain problematic people, some of whom were once industry untouchables. Now, radioactive. It showed just how open some secrets had been all along. Everyone knew something. Now everyone was pretending they didn’t.

And just when you thought the news cycle couldn’t get heavier, three weeks ago the Cosby allegations dropped. So now it wasn’t just Weinstein. It was Weinstein, and Cosby and names that kept coming, some genuine and some made up which was a whole separate problem altogether.

It was a complete meltdown.

Which brings me to now sitting in one of the big glass conference rooms at Midas as we listened to the mandatory sexual-harassment seminar being delivered by two corporate reps from a firm we’re now paying way too much for.

“...If someone makes an offhand comment, even if they didn’t mean to offend, it’s still valid for a report. It’s about perception, not intention,” the woman at the front says.

A few heads nod.

“...The power imbalance is real,” the other rep is saying now. “It’s not just about overt misconduct... We all contribute to the workplace culture.”

I tune out again. Not because I disagreed. But because I already agreed.

After the seminar ended, I walked with Paul toward my office.

“I think there’ll be only about a month’s delay with John Wick 2,” Paul said, checking his phone as we walked.

I nodded, unsurprised. “We already expected that.”

And we had. I’d anticipated delays because I was one of the few who knew what was coming with Weinstein, and I’d adjusted accordingly.

Paul smiled slyly. “Yeah, it’s almost like you knew all this was going to happen.”

I gave a half shrug. “You hear things, Paul. Best not to think about it too much.”

He didn’t press, just nodded and switched tracks, updating me on other things.

“Birdman is progressing well,” Paul said.

Ah, Birdman, the longest pre-production in the company so far. Margot was in New Zealand shooting Z for Zachariah and wouldn’t be back for another week; most of her pre-production work would happen after that. Iñárritu’s insistence on practically rehearsing each shot before filming was time-consuming and expensive, but I knew the finished project would be worth it. 

I was hoping Margot would get an Oscar for this if she brought her A game. This could be the role that makes her be seen as a serious actress.

Paul then updated me on The Thing, which had finally wrapped and was now in post. We might need some extra shoots up north once winter hits, but the movie was essentially done, and in a year it would be released. The Thing was my return to horror and was heavily hyped even now a year from release so the movie was expected to do very well according to very very early projections.

Speaking of horror, there was another horror movie coming out next month that I was involved in: IT. I’d bought the rights from Stephen King years ago, and Sam, the head of Stardust Studios, had begun production immediately. That was the extent of my involvement other than suggesting Skarsgård for the role of IT. The movie fell into production hell for a while until Sam pulled it out and finally finished it. It’s set to come out next month.

“So,” Paul said as we neared my office, “this John Wick spin-off how about we move forward before the third?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. We need to strike while the iron’s hot.”

Paul nodded and then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. What about Ms. Gerwig?”

Ah, yes—Greta Gerwig.

Scarlett had become friends with her on a project they worked on last year. She was the one who recommended me to Greta to produce a movie whose script she’d been writing for years. I was immediately on board. You’d have to be insane not to be.

Lady Bird was an Oscar-nominated film; maybe it would win some this time around who knows. I also wanted a working relationship with Greta. It’d be the sort of investment that paid off for a long time.

“Make sure it gets done, Paul. I want us to do this movie,” I said to Paul.

He nodded, then added, “We’ll be stretching the budget a bit with that one.”

I waved a hand. “We’re doing quite well, Paul. Considering what our next two films are projected to make, we can afford it..and more.”

We parted in the hall, him disappearing into the elevator and I turned into my office.

Graves was already there, standing by my desk with my phone in hand.

“You had five calls.”

“Anyone important?” I asked.

Graves tilted her head. “Mr. Morgan called twice.”

That made me stop.

“Oh,” I said. “Henry.”

Henry Morgan. Not someone I’d spoken to in a while. It had been, what, four months since we last talked? He’d called then to congratulate me on the Oscar win. Before that, we’d met in person at WrestleMania 30 the year before.

I immediately dialed him back.

Henry Morgan was a lot of things—billionaire oil magnate, part owner of Stardust. But for me, he was the man who backed me when it mattered. His money and his connections helped Chris and me secure Stardust. That funding made the Nebula merger possible. That merger led to DC Studios. DC Studios led to the DCU, and so on.

There’s a straight line from Henry Morgan to this office I’m sitting in.

The call rang twice before he picked up.

“Danny,” Henry said, his Texas drawl sliding through the speaker.

“Henry,” I said, matching his energy with a grin. “Been a while.”

“Where you been, kid?”

“Been busy…old man…very busy. If you haven’t noticed, Hollywood’s kind of on fire right now.”

“Oh, I see that,” he chuckled. “So all the skeletons are finally coming out.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I hope our assets aren’t affected.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry. We’ve been ahead of the curve.”

“Good. Now, to why I called.” His voice shifted slightly still relaxed, but sharper. “This is important. I’ve got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you.”

That got my attention. “Alright. If it’s coming from Henry Morgan, it has to be big.”

“Oh, it’s big, alright. Only fellow billionaires like us can even afford to have this conversation.”

I laughed. “Still getting used to being called that, you know.”

It was true. I was worth nearly three billion now, a number so staggering, so far from the life I’d once lived, it still didn’t feel entirely real. Henry, of course, was worth more than triple that.

“Well, get used to it,” Henry said with a laugh. “’Cause there’s no use sitting on all that money. Now listen carefully.”

“I’m all ears.”

“I’ve owned a small percentage of the Golden State Warriors for a while now...,” he began.

I cut in. “Don’t you own part of the Mavericks, too?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, not missing a beat. “...don’t interrupt.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “Continue.”

Henry paused for a beat. “I’ve got a golden opportunity for you,” he said, then chuckled. “No pun intended.”

“Alright. Hit me.”

“You know Peter Guber?” Henry asked.

“Yeah he’s a producer.”

“Yes, and also one of the major owners of the Warriors. Guber’s got some liquidity issues. Nothing public yet, but he needs to divest quietly. He’s looking to offload his thirty-five percent stake in the team.”

I sat up a little straighter. “Okay... where do I come in?”

“Well, Danny, we do it together,” Henry said. “We both buy his stake. You put in, say, two hundred million or more I’ll cover the rest. My wallet’s bigger, but yours is no slouch.”

“Two hundred million?” I nearly choked.

“Yeah,” Henry said casually. “You can do that easy.”

“That’s a lot of money, Henry.”

“It’s chump change for you and me,” he said, not missing a beat. “What are you worth now three billion? Four?”

“Nearing three,” I said. “But still, two hundred million isn’t nothing.”

“Listen,” Henry continued, his tone turning serious. “This is a good investment, Daniel. The team’s on the rise. You and I have a lot to gain.”

“I don’t even watch basketball that much.”

Henry laughed. “Like I do.”

I let the silence stretch, weighing it.

“Just take some time,” he said. “Talk to your financial advisors. Sleep on it. Then get back to me.”

“Sure,” I said finally. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Henry said, satisfied. “Now I’ll see you next month. It’s my granddaughter’s birthday. We’re throwing something big at the house.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You better not,” he chuckled, and the call ended.

I slipped the phone into my pocket. Sports-team ownership. That wasn’t something I had planned.

I needed to talk to Carter. Run the numbers and see if i could do it.

=====

I went back to my desk, looking through the casting notes for The Usual Suspects. The movie was delayed scheduling issues, talent availability, and honestly there was no rush. It deserved more time, maybe a year or more.

I buried myself in work until I was interrupted by a meeting.

“She’s here,” Graves said as she opened the door.

“Send her in.”

The door opened and in walked a young woman blonde hair, sharp features, a confident stride. She was a year or two younger than me. I stood.

“Cassandra, yes?”

“Yes, Danie— I mean, Mr. Adler,” she corrected herself, flashing a wide smile.

I gestured to the chair in front of my desk. “Sit, please.”

She did. I followed suit.

“I heard about your grandfather,” I said. “Hope is doing alright..he did tell me he had some issue with his heart”

Her smile faltered for a second, her expression softening. “Yes… his heart. It was scary. But he’s doing better now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, sincerely. “That must’ve been tough. He told me you two were close.”

She nodded.

“Well, I’ve heard good things about you Cassandra. Serena’s been singing your praises—you helped update our casting process which has been a great help…. But… let me ask: how have you been liking it here? Mr.Lester did send me his favorite granddaughter to learn, after all.”

Cassandra straightened a little, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s been… great. I’ve been learning a lot. Though I really hope to get more involved on the filming side that’s where I want to be long-term.”

“You know,” she added, “since you’re going to be directing, Mr. Adler, and I’ve been working on the casting for it, I thought maybe I could be a part of it… with you…”

“Oh… sure, we can work something out,” I said, nodding. “But let’s talk about why I called you in.”

She shifted in her seat, eyes suddenly sharp, attentive. There was an intensity there, not nervousness. I couldn’t quite place it, but the way she held my gaze half a second too long, too direct made me pause.

Lester did mention she was a big fan of mine, maybe it was that.

“I know your father works for Fox,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “And with the merger, I heard he’ll be transitioning to Disney?”

Cassandra nodded.

“Well, I’ve been invited to a private dinner during D23 next week. There’ll be some key executives from Disney and Fox  there. I wanted to speak with your father, maybe have him introduce me to a few people.”

Before I could finish, she jumped in, voice bright, almost excited. “Oh I'll be there as well.”

She smiled. “I always go with him to those things. Kind of our thing.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “That makes things easier.”

Cassandra leaned forward a bit. “Will Margot be coming with you as well?”

I shook my head. “No, sadly. She’s still in New Zealand finishing a movie.”

Her smile widened just a touch. “Well then… maybe we could go together?”

“Didnt you say you go with you dad”

"I am sure he won't mind showing my boss around”

There was a beat of silence. I tilted my head slightly. “I’ll think about it, Cassandra.”

She beamed. “Can’t wait. …It’s a date!”

Wait—what?

Before I could respond, she stood quickly. “I should get back—Serena wanted me to…”

“Of course,” I said. “Don’t let me keep you.”

She turned and walked out. I watched her go, brow faintly furrowed. She was a bit odd, but seemed decent. For a nepo hire the daughter and granddaughter of very powerful execs she was good at her job and looked very passionate about the industry.

It needed more people like her.

.

.

.

Next chapter, Daniel goes to the Mouse’s house and finds out Star Wars is....

He wont be getting involved with star wars for years but this will be a starting point also some info on the coming sequels.

It’s been a rough couple of days for me. I’m not fully recovered from the stomach bug, but I’m feeling a lot better than yesterday. More chapters coming after the Green Lantern post tomorrow.