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78.26% Snakes and Ladders (A Hollywood SI/OC) / Chapter 51: The Aviator

บท 51: The Aviator

Author's note: I now have a p-word as you all know, so if you feel like reading 5 advanced chapters at the measly price of $3, then do join. The link is in this book's bio, or you can just search 'Archonstine' followed by p-word on your browser.

Also, join my discord will ya? For movie and tv-show recommendations and character images. And also it's the one place where I ask you all for suggestions. The link is in this book's bio.

P.S, donate some power stones while you're at it. And maybe... write up a review?

 

6th July 1997 (Saturday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

I pulled up to the building's entrance at 5:45, parking my car near the sidewalk and putting on rock music on my Walkman.

I kill the engine and sit patiently, fighting off the temptation to needlessly glance at my wristwatch, as I eagerly await the reason for this expedition. You see, Charlize hadn't had any particularly high paying roles yet, and her most famous appearance had garnered a Best Supporting Actress nomination in Golden Globes, thereby serving as her big break. But it was a low-budget independent production, had just about crossed its production budget in gross, and an art-house film at its core.

So no big paycheck.

No big paycheck, equals limited funds, and even coupled with her modeling gigs, she had nowhere near enough saved up to buy a house for herself.

And that I suppose is the reason why I am stewing in my car outside a high-end motel of all places.

I tap the steering wheel rhythmically for the next 5 minutes, bobbing my head to Led Zeppelin, who thankfully exist here, and have released several classics of theirs.

Several, not all. Apparently in this demented timeline, after releasing their legendary 4th album, they… kinda died.

Honestly it didn't shock me that much, considering the fates of several famous personalities are significantly different here, with quite a few of them not even existing.

What did shock me however was the cause of their death… their plane crashed.

Yep, their private plane, the infamous 'Starship', a Boeing 720, experienced a heavy bird strike, and they exploded miles away from the California coastline, in a massive explosion.

In fact, a vagabond photographer who was out and about that night, was somehow lucky enough to perfectly capture the moment in a photo, which he sold for several thousands, and made him an overnight celebrity. He even launched his own photography studio 4 years later to immense success, and married a Scandinavian model, after amassing a net worth in several millions.

Reading about his story in his biography was not only all kinds of shocking, but rather darkly amusing. I mean, the fact that the death of a few people somehow facilitated the success of others, simply due to the enormous spectacle their demise turned out to be… unbelievable.

Just as I was about to sink into my retrospective thoughts, I heard a tap from my right.

It was Charlize, knocking on my car's side glass, and pointing down towards the… the handle.

I swiftly unlocked the door, and took the moment to stuff my Walkman and headphones in the glove compartment… After all, I'll have no need of them, I'm certain my hands will be full, and my mind thoroughly engaged, as I embark on this evening of romance with my date, who looked mesmerizing.

I could be biased, considering I know exactly how well she'll end up looking over the years, but even now, few could even hope to compete with her ethereal allure.

Uma Thurman comes to mind…

No! Bad Ricky!

As I chastise myself for my perverted line of thinking, I hear, "What'cha thinking?" in a teasing tone.

Without missing a beat I reply, "How stunning you look this fine evening, ma Cherie!" I flash a charming smile, as I run my eyes across her body.

"Thank you… What does 'ma sherry' mean- oh don't you dare laugh at me Poly!" She exclaimed, when I let out a light snort at her 'cute' question.

"It means darling in French." I nevertheless answer with a cheeky grin.

"Calling me Darling before we've even set out-" She slowly claps her hands sarcastically, "you certainly are bold for one. Well then, you're the one who insisted on this so tell me, what's the plan?"

I turn the key in the ignition, and my Nissan R390 whirs into life.

Yep.

I got a sports car.

Just the other day actually, and oh boy, was it one of a kind.

A Nissan R390 GT1, a racecar that won at Le Mans this year and is set to race next year as well. Apparently they detuned a model and modified it for road use, and according to their claims, it can reportedly reach a top speed of 220 mph.

And since it was a modified version, and had to be pre-ordered with specifications, it cost me a nice and hefty sum of a million dollars.

Yeah… you heard that right.

A million fucking dollars… for a depreciating asset.

From a financial standpoint, the deal sucks ass… but who the fuck cares?!

Not me!

Even after making strategic investments in real estate, bonds, and hedge funds, I've still got excess of $10 million just sitting in a bank, losing its value in spite of the interest rate offered.

Inflation truly is a bitch.

"The plan… is exactly what we discussed yesterday. Dinner, and then a tour of Tinseltown."

"... Ok, spill. What's the REAL plan?"

"I just told you. Dinner and then a tour of Hollywood… and my amazing company of course. Don't tell me that's not enough for you?"

She gave me a flat look, before turning her head back, "... I'm not going to bother thinking up a response to that."

Have it your way!" I chuckled before stepping on the gas.

"So… dinner. Where exactly?"

"Oh, just this little place on Hollywood Boulevard. I go there all the time really, twice a week minimum. We have a reservation for 6:30, so- get ready for a long drive."

"Huh. Hollywood Boulevard… What's the name of the restaurant?"

"It's just a really old steakhouse-"

"Musso and Frank Grill?"

Oh… she knows. Did not expect that.

A little disappointed at having my surprise ruined, I reply in a slightly disgruntled manner, "Congratulations! You want a trophy or something? Oh wait, you're a consummate professional. How about an Oscar replica?"

She didn't reply with a quip, like she normally does. A quick glance at her pretty face told me exactly what her worries were.

"Oh, loosen up a little will you?! I asked you out, so naturally I'm paying-"

"No! We'll split the bill." She shot back stubbornly.

"... My dear atomic blonde," I begin, "I sincerely doubt you have enough cash to foot even half of the bill we'll rack up. No-no, don't look at me like that, you know it's not a dig at your situation. You think I'm that superficial? Just relax ma Cherie, and enjoy! That's all I ask. I'm the one who planned and set it all up, so naturally it's my responsibility to see it through."

Huh, it seems my words finally soothed her ruffled feathers, as her expression softened.

"Hold on… what do you mean, planned and set it all up? It's a reservation, all it requires is a single phone call I bet for someone like you… Aha! I knew it! You do have something planned after dinner!" She exclaims in triumph, finally disregarding the awkwardness from before.

On the other hand, bloody hell. I spoke too fucking much.

"-Like I keep telling you, we'll take a tour of the city of angels."

"You know? Normally, I would believe you and leave it at that. But that self-satisfied grin on your stupid mug whenever you bring it up, tells me it's gonna be unnecessarily grandiose or somethin'. Now am I right?"

"... Let's just say, we'll be taking the scenic route… and leave it at that. You're not getting another word out of me on that."

"... Fine."

And with that, we settled into a comfortable silence for the next few minutes, occasionally making small talk but mostly, she was content in looking out the window and enjoying the view as we sped through the dusky streets of L.A… until-

"WHAT THE-" I slide the window down before pushing my head out and yelling with fury, "GO BACK TO DRIVING SCHOOL YOU IMPOTENT FUCK-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU PEDANTIC ASSHOLE, YOU WANT ME TO COME OUT AND FLOOR YOUR ASS?"

The nerve of this reckless motherfucka! Breaking a red light and almost crashing into my million dollar car?!

Just as I was about to reply-

"Oh PLEASE! THERE'S 2 OF US AND 1 OF YOU!! WE'LL KICK THE LIVING CRAP OUT OF YOU 9 WAYS TO SUNDAY IF YOU STEP OUT THE TIN-CAN YOU CALL A FUCKIN' CAR!" Charlize joined in.

She stuck her head out as well, yelling all kinds of expletives, making gestures with her middle finger that no graceful lady should ever have known, let alone subject others to them… I think I'm in love.

A few seconds later, the man just drove past us, keeping his head down with a sheepish expression, clearly not willing to tango with my kickass date for the evening.

Even after he left, and I started driving, it seems her temper had not simmered down a lot.

"I swear to God, the nerve of some people here! Almost barreling straight into me-"

"Ma Cherie… that was the greatest thing I've ever seen. No, I'm serious! The way you just started going at him, like firing bullets from an assault rifle, it was quite literally the most amazing thing I've ever witnessed on a date-"

"Oh stop! Stop teasing me-"

"That's the crazy thing, I'm not! Teasing you I mean, let me repeat. That was the greatest thing I've ever seen on a date. Period."

Oh, the blush that overcame her face that very instant… in the words of the immortal God of sarcasm… Could she BE any hotter?

We walked towards the door at a sedate pace, arm in arm, as we bonded in our mutual hatred for drunk drivers.

Well… he wasn't drunk, not really. But she didn't know that, she just assumed and started raging at his very memory.

And I was too busy agreeing with her, throwing my own 2 cents in every now and then, to actually correct her.

The doorman opened with a welcoming smile.

"Mr. Stirling! A pleasure to have you with us this fine evening! Please, this way. Your table is ready."

"Thanks Cliff! How's the kid by the way? You give him a name yet?"

"Yes actually! He's now officially Greg Keitel. We named him after my wife's uncle Greg, who passed away last year."

"Oh, that's wonderful! Not the passing away bit, that's tragic and you have my condolences. Greg is a great name though!"

"Honestly- I wanted him to be Harvey, you know after Harvey Keitel and all but-" He leaned in a bit to whisper, "My wife was in labor for 16 hours and his head was the size of a cantaloupe… I wasn't about to argue with her any time soon."

"... You're a wise man Cliff. Anyways, thanks for escorting us, and oh! Do forgive me for my manners! Let me introduce you to the lovely Charlize Theron!"

"A pleasure Ma'am, hope you enjoy your dinner." He took a low bow, before departing to cater to others.

Charlize just looks around the room, awestruck as she recognizes a few faces around us.

"Ok- I know this place serves the Hollywood elite, bu-but this?! A separate room? And the people here- oh my gosh Ricky look! That's Joanne Harlow!" She nearly squeaks out.

"Ah! Aunt Joan! Haven't seen her in months now… are you a fan?" I ask, as we take our seats.

Her gaze doesn't shift away from 'Joan' though.

"A fan?! She's my inspiration! She's the reason I took up modeling in New Yo-. Hold the fuck on… did you just call her, Joanne Harlow, one of the biggest supermodels of the 70s, Aunt?!"

I nod casually, maintaining a calm composure outwards as I start perusing the menu. "Yep. It's what she told me to call her a decade ago… when she was spending a few nights here and there at my home." I clam up, for no other reason than to mess with her.

"Well?!" She asked, finally having lost her patience as her almond shaped blue eyes kept darting over to my dear 'Aunt's' table.

"Well what?"

"Ricky I swear to God-"

"Okay, okay! Relax, just look at the menu and decide what you want to order. I'll tell you the story once the food comes, we've got all night after all!"

"... Fine. Just one thing. I don't know what's good here, my first time and all. So, lobster. They can't go wrong with that I suppose."

"Excuse me?!" I ask, scandalized, "This is Musso and Frank! Nothing ever goes wrong here. But yeah, you're not wrong. Their baked stuffed lobster is pretty good."

"What about Lobster Thermidor? They have that right?"

"... They do, but only on Thursdays. You're out of luck I suppose… Unless you want to come here next Thursday as well? I'm sure that can be arranged, my schedule is wide open-"

"No!"

Huh… the instant rejection, followed by slight panic-

"I-I'm busy next week and-" She fumbles, desperately trying to think of an excuse.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding ma Cherie, next week's been booked to hell and back for me. Next month actually, cause now all the remaining scenes left are mine. Also, relax will you? If you're not comfortable, just tell me! Don't feel obliged to accept, or even think up an excuse or something! Your frankness is actually an excellent change of pace for me, and just one of the many things that made me ask you out!"

Aha!

STRIKE!

The dumbstruck expression on her face indicates I subverted her expectations in all the right ways!

That's a point in my favor I suppose!

After some chit-chatting here and there, the wine finally arrived.

"From our collection of Pinot Noir, Old World, a 1985 Camille Giraud, from Cote De Beaune." The server opened the bottle before proceeding to pour it into our glasses. "Enjoy, Sir. And Madame." Before swiftly exiting.

We pick up our glasses, "Cheers." before I take a sip-

Oh hell no!

"Wait! Do-don't just gulp it all down! It's a premium 1985 reserve! For the sake of your god, sip it! How else will you taste it!" I cry out at the blasphemy I was witnessing in broad daylight… I mean, enclosed moonlight.

"Sorry? I promise I'll sip the next glass, it's just that- I think I saw Harlow looking at me, and it felt like she judging me or something-"

"That's because she was judging you."

Her eyes widened as if she had just received some devastating news… which I suppose, she had, if taken in the wrong context.

And so I quickly clarify, "She was judging you, for being on a date with me. She's wondering what might have compelled you to sacrifice an evening of your life to the devil in disguise, aka me."

"What?! Ricky, I thought you called her Aunt! Aunt Joan?! Why would she- just what?"

With a sigh, I take another sip of my beautiful red wine, before launching into an explanation. "The food isn't here yet, but I might as well spill the story. So here goes… once upon a time… my dad seduced her. And she kept getting seduced. I had to muffle my ears with a pillow for days, to even get a wink of sleep. And every morning after, she would join us for breakfast, and talk down at me patronizingly, calling me chubby little Ricky, as I just sat there, eating my eggs, taking one for the world. I was sick of it. Plus, her eyes always told a different story. She had fallen in love with my dad, and wanted to marry him… but he didn't want that. For him, she was just a fling, a way to scratch the itch so as to say."

I take a pause, as the food finally arrives, two plates of crab cakes, along with a filet mignon, a baked stuffed lobster, and a Caesar salad.

She continues looking at me with rapt attention, clearly eager to find out what happened next.

So I graciously obliged, "Long story short, he told her no, and she thought I was the obstacle. She never liked me since then. Also… there was an incident that occurred a few years ago… it caused quite the little kerfuffle."

"What incident?"

"These crab cakes are delicious! Here, you should try one-"

"What. Incident."

"... Okay so. My dad was taking her out to this fancy ass dinner one day. The thing is, he had promised to watch the game with me that same night. We were at an impasse, when I might have said…"

"Said what?"

"You have to understand Charlize, I didn't realize she had arrived and was right outside the door, so it slipped out-"

"Said what?"

With a heavy sigh, I dispense the line, "I said and I quote, 'Come on dad! Bros before Hoes!' And then the door opened." I held my face with my hands, as Charlize broke out into enchanting peals of laughter, not even caring about the fact, that I had called her 'inspiration' a whore.

"Oh! My God was that hilarious!" She squealed, still busy laughing at my expense.

… For some reason, it didn't bother me at all. The sound of her laughter was practically music to my ears.

"Oh I just realized! Your father must have spanked you silly!" She gasped, clearly enjoying the mental image she had conjured up on assumptions.

"No actually. He just looked amused, and ruffled my hair a little, before departing. I suppose the lack of scolding, or not defending her, alienated her even more to me. A month later, they broke up."

"But, he didn't punish you or anything? Or even scold you a little? You did call his girlfriend a… whore to her face. In South Africa, you would've been slapped silly." She deadpanned.

"Well, this is U, S, motherfuckin' A. The land of freedom and liberty… My dad didn't punish me, he just told Wyatt to take care of that on his behalf." I switched tracks midway, eliciting another guffaw, as I continued in a self-deprecating tone.

"Wyatt, the butler. The disciplinarian in my life, who would never hesitate to set me straight if I fucked up… For that remark? He made me clean the backyard, do the dishes, and when I quipped about him being too lazy to do his job… wipe the floor of all rooms… It took me hours, BUT! I endured. And I came out stronger than bef- Oh come on!" I give up, as her laughter resurges in full force, her eyes mocking me every second.

Setting a humorous tone for the dinner, we continued chit-chatting for nearly an hour, as I shared one crazy story after another, ensuring not a second goes by where she experiences even a smidgen of boredom.

It also had some fringe benefits by the way. Apparently recalling humorous stories from my past and narrating them in an exaggerated manner was a skill in and of itself.

PING!

Anecdotal Comedy skill has leveled up!

Anecdotal Comedy Lvl 31

The gamer just straight up rules.

"Well… I don't know about you, but the night is still young, and I did promise you a tour of LA."

"Yeah, what's that about? It's been 2 hours, and I still don't know what the hell you've planned?! Rickyyy! Tell me, won't you?" She asked in a husky tone, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously, as pouted a little.

Minx.

"I have told you 8 times, so let this be the 9th and final time, it's meant to be a surprise! So co-operate a little okay? I guarantee you'll have fun."

"... Fine."

"Thank you. Now back to the car. The tour of this city will start from a certain destination, and we need to get there by 8:30 latest." And just then, the valet arrives with my baby-

"What's the destination?"

I glare at her semi-seriously, causing her to finally stop nagging the living hell out of me.

We get in the car, and I promptly open the glove compartment, pulling out a black blindfold and flinging it lightly at her lap. "Put it on, and don't you dare sneak a peek. Trust me, I'll know if you do it."

She looks at the blindfold with hesitation, prompting to reassure her a little, "Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Do you trust me?"

"... Yes."

"Put it on. I promise it'll be for a half an hour max. We'll arrive by then. I just want to see the expression on your face when you realize what I've got in store for the night." I smirk.

"How long now, Poly?"

"Not that long, 'my sherry'."

"Stop it! Don't call me that!"

"What? Sherry? Nope, you're stuck with that one. It's your fault for not knowing French."

"Well I'm sorry! But we can't all be geniuses Poly!"

"Seriously, how many languages are you fluent in again?"

"Lost count."

"No you didn't! You never lose count of anything!"

"You're goddamn right I don't. Why? Cause I am a genius!"

"Oh shut up will you? Now tell me, can you speak Afrikaans?"

"Nope."

"... jy's 'n idioot."

"Hey! I'm not an idiot!"

"I knew it! You do know Afrikaans! Let me guess, it's a part of your surprise or something right?"

"... You're weirdly perceptive when you're blind, anyone ever tell you that?"

"No! Because no-one, I repeat no-one, has ever dared to put a blindfold on me."

"So what you're saying is, that I'm special."

"... How long, Poly?"

"Just a minute, my sherry."

And this time, she did not raise an objection to me calling her sherry.

"Aaaannnnddd, we're here! You can take off the- okay, you just threw it away I guess. That's fine."

And the moment her eyes land on my surprise…

SNIP

"POLY! Did you just take a photo of me gawking at that?"

"... No?"

"Give me the camera Poly."

"No! You'll have to take it off my dead body!"

"Don't tempt me, you know I will!"

"... Fine."

After deleting the photograph of her dumbfounded visage, she turned towards me again.

"So… how rich are you exactly?"

"... Well that's a weird question to ask sherry!"

"Oh really? See I think it's perfectly valid, considering your surprise apparently consists of a FREAKIN' PRIVATE PLANE!"

Relax, would you? My father bought it this year when I got my pilot's license. I didn't buy it-"

"Hold on… there's no pilot in there?"

"Well, there's one right in front of you! And don't worry, by the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to get a license of your own. Now come on! The tour of Tinseltown awaits!" I strut forward in excitement, dragging her along by her hand, as she holds tight.

I open the door, before gesturing for her to get in, "Ladies first."

She hesitates a little, excited, but nevertheless a little apprehensive.

"Do you trust me, my sherry?" I ask in a joking tone, but my eyes convey utmost sincerity.

She looks deep in my eyes, before rolling them hard and swiftly walking into the jet.

The plush interior aside, the Gulfstream GV has a capacity of 18, 14 passengers, and 4 crew members.

Only this time, there'll be no crew, just me and my sherry.

"Now look below. You see that lit street? That is the world famous Hollywood Boulevard. The sidewalk to the right might seem familiar to you now. Any guesses?"

"The walk of fame." She breathed out, eyes wide, as she took in the sight of the LA skyline, from the co-pilot's seat no less.

"All right! Now last but not least, the piece de resistance, I give you one of the most posh and expensive neighborhoods in the known world, and incidentally where I live… Beverly Hills!"

"Oh… which one's yours?"

Down on your right, you see it?"

"No, all the houses look alike. Plus there's no lights so-"

"Okay, I've heard enough," I say, as I get out of my seat, and move over, leaning behind her seat, as our faces touch sides.

I point towards the veritable fortress that I call home, "See there? Follow my finger- yeah! That one. The one with the soccer field and the swimming pool, yep, that's home sweet home. Ever since I was born."

"... And all of a sudden, I no longer feel bad about you taking the bill at Musso and Frank's." She remarks dryly.

"Really? And it took my house for that to happen? Was my car and plane not enough?" I turn towards her, not moving an inch, as she tilts her neck a little towards the back.

"Not nearly enough. You were just so sweet… I thought I was taking advantage of-" I interrupted her with a scoff.

"Oh please! If anyone's taking advantage of anyone, it's me doing it so please, don't even- go there."

"Ok."

Huh, no snarky comeback. I guess the wine's buzz finally died down huh?

Liquid courage indeed.

"... Hold on… you're here."

"Yes I am?"

"Then who's steering the plane?!"

"Why, you my sherry. Just keep your hands steady, and don't make a move- here, " I lean forward, my arms encircling her seat as I reach for her hands holding the steering mechanism.

"Just keep it steady, and feel the hum through your hands… and look towards the front-"

But she didn't. Look towards the front.

She was looking at me, I noticed as I turn my head towards her.

Our eyes meet again, only this time, our faces are close enough to feel the other's breath on our skin.

We keep gazing at each other for a second, inching closer, but never truly reaching out.

So I took the initiative, and closed the distance.

And fireworks might as well have erupted into the night sky… or deep within my mind as our tongues intertwined.

I take my left hand off hers, and bring it to her cheeks to caress it gently, as we separate for a second… before rushing back in and this time… she was just as enthusiastic as I was.

 

Author's Note: There you go folks! An extra long chapter (4.5k) for those of you starved for romance!

P.S, I have never written a romantic scene before and this is kinda my first time, so please, oh please tell me how you found it in the comments. Your feedback means everything to me.


บท 52: South Park

Author's note: I now have a p-word as you all know, so if you feel like reading 5 advanced chapters at the measly price of $3, then do join. The link is in this book's bio, or you can just search 'Archonstine' followed by p-word on your browser.

Also, join my discord will ya? For movie and tv-show recommendations and character images. And also it's the one place where I ask you all for suggestions. The link is in this book's bio.

P.S, donate some power stones while you're at it. And maybe... write up a review?

 

8th August 1997 (Friday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

Serene.

If there is one word that perfectly encapsulates my life since that banger of a date till now, it's serene.

Over 30 days without any unexpected incidents occurring inexplicably, and things just going according to plan.

Not a single hitch anywhere.

My movie? Well, filming wrapped up over 3 weeks ago, and so did the soundtrack.

And by soundtrack, I'm not just referring to the score. To give the movie a 60s feel, I had to track down a few songs from their era that would go well with certain scenes, and moonlight as background music.

Tracking them down was no biggy really, it took a few hours at most, but purchasing their licensing rights to use them for this movie? That was another matter entirely.

But luckily, that was none of my concern. Nope, it was Dixon's.

See Dixon as a producer, had to be seen pulling his weight a little, since almost everything even remotely logistical was being taken care of by daddy dearest, so I assigned him a series of tasks that would be done a lot faster if a bigshot in a bespoke suit tried throwing his weight around a little.

And lo and behold! There was not a single mess that I had to clean up! Apparently, Dixon might be an asshole alright, but he's definitely good at what he does for a living. It's how he managed to climb to his position without any prior connections to exploit in Paramount.

Granted his father probably pulled a few strings somewhere, considering he used to be one of the biggest agents in the 40s, even briefly representing one of the most prolific leading men to have ever graced the silver screen… Cary Grant himself.

Yep, he exists here. Though his career is vastly different from his OTL counterpart, most notably the number of patriotic movies he starred in before 1945, exploiting WW2 sentiments for years at length.

This marred his romantic persona a bit, but he still maintained a footing in the genre, managing to build a legacy for himself in American cinema.

Anyways, Dixon promised swift results, and he more than delivered, not only meeting deadlines but also surpassing a couple of them, which led to post production, starting days before it was going to.

And just like my past full-length features, I helmed the editing and sound mixing, steering the ship with an iron hand.

So all in all, I was way ahead of schedule, and along with editing, I also engaged in the marketing efforts for Good Will Hunting, leaning heavily into the relatability factor of it, and mostly engaging in press junkets and interviews.

Good Will Hunting didn't really have any particular X-factor, through which I could develop a radical marketing strategy to make it go viral. It was a fairly traditional psychological feel-good drama, with stellar performances and a tight screenplay. Obviously my directing and editing efforts will be lauded, even more considering it's only my 2nd venture overall, so I'm looking forward to that.

But before the Venice Film Festival, there's not much I or anyone can do to assure its quality, beyond traditional marketing approaches, to get the word out of its existence.

Sure, the trailer mostly garnered positive reviews from industry insiders, and general movie-goers, and the interviews worked out pretty well.

But the strategy this time relies on factors that are simply beyond the control of our marketing team. The core of their plan checks out though, and I more than support it.

Their plan mainly involves capitalizing on the critical acclaim it'll undoubtedly receive in the festival, and so they set the release date to 4th September.

You see, Good Will Hunting has been chosen to compete for the Golden Lion, so we can already claim it as a nomination for the prestigious category, but our claims won't truly be validated before 7th September, the day the awards will be distributed with much fanfare.

Now, we can't keep the dates too close, considering a 4 day weekend gross would really help in establishing positive results overall, and 7th September is a fucking Sunday of all days.

So 4th Sept, on Thursday, Good Will Hunting will release in over 3000 screens across the nation.

And the very next day, it'll be released worldwide, with dubbing and subtitles in over 12 languages…

Yep, we paid extra for that. Since we had some leftover budget, we decided to use it all up, instead of returning it to the studio, considering how meager the sum was in the grand scheme of things.

Plus dubbing wasn't really as expensive as expected. Why? Well because… I did it.

All languages, all scenes, all characters.

I still remember Pacino's face when I spoke Italian with the fluency of a native, imitating his voice to perfection.

Sigh… those were the days.

And then he had to fucking screw me over for Disney of all things.

Not to worry, I'm sure he'll come running right back, once CMIYC hits the theaters on December 25th, a Thursday.

It's a nice little coincidence for sure, considering how Thursday is quite literally the best day to release a movie any goddamn week, and the fact that Christmas is a cornerstone of our marketing campaign doesn't exactly hurt.

Beyond marketing efforts, a lot of planning took place as well, since Daryl pointed out how I could leverage the influence I will gain once the movie releases, and how I needed to be prepared to be thrust into the public spotlight without any reprieve.

And thus, came forth a series of strategic charitable donations, made by me to select institutions that I trust will utilize my funds optimally, and anchor a certain reputation to my name.

Crafting a PR image is truly one of the most tediously frustrating things I've ever had the displeasure to plan in this unhinged timeline.

But disregarding all that, I have also had my fair share of fun this past month, taking part in all kinds of appealing activities with my girlfriend, the delightful Miss. Theron.

Yep, I can call her my girlfriend now. We talked it over, and long story short? We're both willing to give it a fair shot.

Why, just last week, we did one of the boldest things we'd ever done in our relationship.

We went public with the nicknames.

Now the press knows my nickname for Charlize, and vice versa, which provided a little fuel for the tabloids, who were rushing around to cover our little 'workplace romance', as they had mistakenly characterized it.

I wasn't about to correct them though, considering they weren't really slandering me, and it was free publicity for my film, something I would never shy away from since I want some robust box-office figures to cement my credentials as a commercial film-maker of the highest order.

And so, things have been going steady for a while now, no new wrenches in any plans that I know of.

9th August 1997 (Saturday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

"You want me to- what?"

"Do you really want me to repeat myself?" I side-eyed, only to get a fiery reply.

"Do you really want to test me by getting snarky?"

A moment of silence followed.

"That's what I thought. Now, tell me again, and this time- you trim the damn fat from your little 'pitch'. Understand?" Dad questioned, before taking a seat behind his mahogany desk, his left leg on his right thigh as he proceeded to make himself comfortable, before focusing on me.

"Loud and clear. Now… I'll simplify things for you, and skip the financial hyperbole… I want Stirling Studios to purchase a significant stake in a television channel, going by the name of 'Comedy Central'. To be honest, I would have purchased a stake myself through a holding company, but my cash reserves are running low right now and my liquidity is just not at the level I want it to be. So I'm here in your office… pitching you a stock."

"Pitching me a stock… like one of those wall street jackasses. Son… this channel, 'Comedy Central'," Damn, were the air quotes necessary? "I haven't even heard of it. Which cable providers-"

"Barely any."

"... What?"

"Listen dad, this is not some frivolous expense on my part. Comedy Central is not on any major cable providers, and its popularity is at an all time low actually-"

"Then why the hell do you want to jump into that well?"

"Because in a matter of days at best, that well is gonna transform into a fucking well-spring! And once the floodgates open, there's no stopping it! I know, cause I checked."

"... And what did you find out exactly? What could you have possibly run into, to prompt such a passionate pitch?"

"In 4 days, on 13th August, a revolutionary animated show is going to capture the hearts and minds of households across America. 'South Park', as it's being called, is going to change things around. The Nielsen ratings? I saw the pilot that was being floated around, and I guarantee you… it's gonna set records Dad. Now, the contract was airtight, nothing we can do to acquire the rights to the show, but the channel itself? I mean right now, Viacom owns a majority stake, but… guess which 2 companies own 12.5% apiece of it? Clayton and Paramount. Close to 30% is in the hands of independent financiers, idiots who don't realize the gold mine they've got in their hands! They think it's a fucking paddy field, producing wheat. We're not gonna get a chance like this again Dad-"

"So you're saying-"

"2 weeks. The next 2 weeks, buy up whatever you can. And then see the results for yourself. The market valuation is subpar right now, but once 'South Park' debuts… shit's gonna the fan. And since we don't want it flying all over our faces, we buy the fuckin' fan… What do you say? You in?"

"... Prepare a report, and leave it on my des-"

I slam the desk with my hands, rattling it, "NO!"

Dad just stared at me in outrage, too hungover on my disrespectful behavior to see the merits of my idea in full. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you out right now?!"

"How about 5 million reasons?"

"... What?"

"South Park season 1's finale, will easily net over 5 million views. A Nielsen rating of over 7.5%... we don't have time for a report. My predictions? They aren't a possibility dad… it's inevitable. You wanna compete with the Big 5 right?" I change tracks at the last second, to wipe off his remaining hesitance.

"This is the first step dad. Look at all of them, Warner Bros, Universal, Clayton… they all not only branched out, but built new fuckin' trees from scratch. That's why they're a forest, while we're here sidelined as shrubbery. They all invested in cable, hell, they have their own flagship channels, with some of the biggest shows of all time! We don't have that, we'll probably never match their success if we enter the game this late… but we're not truly entering are we? We'll just be piggybacking on a participant, someone who's gonna a major fucking player down the road-"

"Yeah but- it's a risky investment Ricky. It's not as simple as you're making it out to be-"

"Have I ever failed you?"

"... Wha- No! It's not about you Ri-"

"Do you doubt me?"

"Not really- not all actually. Your predictions have a tendency of being accurate as hell. But I need more information Ricky-"

"I'm right here Dad. I know everything. Ask me whatever you want, I've got all day." I say, before proceeding to lounge back on the chair.

"... You're not gonna let this go are you?" He asked, his voice distinctly tired and exasperated.

"Why ask, when you already know the answer?"

"Conformation for one… Fine. I'll call a board meeting tomorrow. You'll tell them everything you told me right now. And for god's sake… behave yourself tomorrow." He chastised lightly, before promptly dismissing me.

Huh. I guess I got to some part of him, otherwise he would have flat out shut me down, before shooing me away with his… shoe.

Get it? Shooing me away with his… shoe?

"I'm hilarious."


บท 53: A Haunting in Venice

Author's note: I now have a p-word as you all know, so if you feel like reading 5 advanced chapters at the measly price of $3, then do join. The link is in this book's bio, or you can just search 'Archonstine' followed by p-word on your browser.

Also, join my discord will ya? For movie and tv-show recommendations and character images. And also it's the one place where I ask you all for suggestions. The link is in this book's bio.

P.S, donate some power stones while you're at it. And maybe... write up a review?

 

27th August 1997 (Wednesday)

Ricky Stirling (POV)

I laid down on the bed, my naked posterior facing up, but covered by the blanket to preserve my dignity in some form. I raise my head up from the pillow, my eyes following her frantic movements as clothes all but fly in the air… in her rushed attempt to pack her bags.

Bags… Plural.

While all I had packed for the 10 days trip to Italy was a mini-suitcase.

Then again, I can't really blame her for her preparation, considering all I had stowed away in my bag was 2 pairs of formals, for the premiere, and awards ceremony, essential toiletries, briefs, socks, and a few other utilities.

I didn't bother to pack casual wear, mostly because I planned on buying a bunch of clothes from Rome, if only to blend in with the locals. My mastery over the Italian language, and my Sicilian accent locked and loaded, will make it a piece of cake really.

Also… I'm rich as hell. Why travel with clothes, when you can just buy new ones from any corner of the world?

And also because I really wanted to add another dimension to the famed proverb, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. It's quite literally the sole reason why I am planning on spending 2 days in Rome, starting tomorrow, before taking a Le Frecce high-speed train to Venice, for the eponymous Film Festival.

I rest my head on the palm of my hand, my elbow on the bed, as the duvet slides off a little revealing everything north of my nipples to the air-conditioned motel room.

"No need to sneak a glance you know? You can stare all you want, I personally, would love nothing more." I smirk teasingly, catching her wandering eye, as she blushed momentarily… before scowling, and going back to ignoring my glorious presence.

"Don't tell me you're still mad about it, my sherry? So I sprung up the dates without warning-"

"The plane leaves tomorrow morning Ricky! And you didn't bother telling me, until 15 mins ago after we had finished our nightly romp?!"

"Well, I sure as hell wasn't gonna tell you in the middle of it! Or before it, really. Then you would've started packing, and wouldn't make time for the… romp as you so innovatively labeled it."

She stared at me in disbelief, her right eye twitching all over the place, as she harbored thoughts of punching my perfect face. Then she glanced at my sharp jawline, before dropping the stupid, albeit tempting line of thought. "What else should I call it then? Coitus? Copulation? Fucking like a pair of bunnies-"

"How about making love? Sounds more refined than its varied synonyms."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. And seriously, don't spring these things on me at the very last minute 'kay? I'm a busy woman, living paycheck to paycheck. I can't afford to be as spontaneous as you."

"Makes sense, I guess. Sorry. The original plan actually, was to fly with the cast on 31st August, but I had always wanted to visit 'The Eternal City', and the cradle of the Western Civilization."

"I'm sorry, the- what of what?" She questioned, as she recommenced her hasty packing.

"Cradle. Of Western Civilization. It's always been a fascination of mine." I said, sitting up on the bed, as the comforter slid off my torso. "The city, which served as the capital for 3 major civilizations. The Roman Kingdom, Roman Republic, and the famed Roman Empire. It has been referred to by many as the first ever sprawling metropolis of this world. So a change in plans had to be facilitated-"

"Without consulting me-"

"I'm sorry. No really, I am. Yes, I do have the emotional bandwidth to feel apologetic, as ludicrous as it might seem- No, I'm not reading your mind, for an actress, your poker face sucks ass. Now, before your wayward thoughts so rudely interrupted me-" She scoffed loudly, rolling her mesmerizing set of eyes, "We're gonna explore Rome together. Just think about it Sherry, our first ever trip as a couple." I shuffle towards her, my knees propelling me forward on the bed, as I look up in her eyes, grasping her lithe hands.

"A tour of the city- no, not like that, a proper tour! We visit historical monuments all day, capture amazing memories of a lifetime, a romantic dinner where we'll wine and dine… before the night devolves into passionate bliss, as we fulfill our carnal desires-"

"Oh Come on! You jus- you had to ruin it didn't you?" She pushed me away, ensuring I fell back onto the bed, back first as I chuckled.

"It's what I do dear… It's what I do." We shared a glance before she finally cracked a smile, as she continued her packing frenzy.

6th September 1997 (Saturday)

Vanessa Campion (POV)

"Madame, for today, you will be seated in the mezzanine section."

"Mezzanine? But yesterday, I had a seat with my fellow jury members in the center of the theater! The VIP box, 'symbolizes my authority and importance within this festival' or so I was told by Mr. Renard. Am I being replaced, my dear boy?" I jokingly ask.

To his credit, the usher replied instantly, "The mezzanine too is symbolism at its finest Madame. After all, the unique vantage point it provides, displays your elevated status to any and all attendees."

Oh my. Young, handsome, and quick with his tongue... I might just snag him for the night if someone doesn't try and stop me.

"Bold. And quick with your tongue." I lean in a little, cupping his butt, as he stiffens a little, whispering in his ear, "find me later. You might just be in for a treat laddie."

He stutters a little, before taking off, no doubt in a desperate effort to get the hell away from me.

A chuckle breaks out to my left, "Now why did you have to do that? You realize he's not going to come back here to escort us out when the movie ends right? We'll get lost all over again for goodness' sake!" My fellow Jury member, Dijon Laurent commented, an irritated glint in his eyes.

"Oh relax, will you?! Let a 'madame' have her fun once in a while! Life gets boring once you cross the 60s. But you would know all about that wouldn't you?" I ask the 70 year old balding man, with one of the most wrinkly faces I've ever seen.

He simply grunts before taking his seat.

"Ah! Goddamn it!"

"What's the matter? Is the seat too plushy?"

"Vanessa… you do Pilates right?"

I nod lightly, "Yes. I've been doing it for a decade now."

"Never stop. I'll tell you one thing from experience… Arthritis will suck the life out of you. You'll be like me, grunting and moaning, while simply bending your damn knee joints to take a seat. It's the reason I retired… Until now."

"Oh yeah! This must be a trip down the memory lane for you huh?! 2 Silver Lions, and a lifetime achievement award, you've certainly made a name for yourself out here! How long has it been since the last one? What, 10-20 years?"

"8. I was in the running for the Golden Lion. For the first time in 23 years. I'm half convinced it was out of pity, if nothing else. And Takahashi's 'Shirohe-San', was voted on unanimously. The 3rd ever unanimous vote in here. I probably didn't even make the goddamn shortlist and now here I am, judging these little mon chou, while I sit in the mezzanine, listening to your annoyingly deep voice."

"Hey! It's not that deep! And hush, will you? The movie's starting!"

He nods serenely, before asking, "What's the name?"

"Just look at the screen, they'll show the name. Plus, how the hell would I know?"

"You're the Jury President! Why would you not know?!"

"Well you're a member of the Jury too! Didn't you get the memo?"

And while we bickered back and forth, a new voice pierced our little spat, "Oh would you two stop talking for the next 2 hours?! It started for god's sake!" My fellow Jury member, Martin Hagel, shushed, before exchanging a glance with the other 5 Jury Members, as they settled into their seats.

The title flashed onto the screen… 'Good Will Hunting'.

Huh.

Interesting.

An American entry of all things. They usually prefer Sundance and Toronto, last I heard. Could be on account of an American not winning the Golden Lion, or the Grand Prix Award since 1986.

11 whole years. Oh sure, there were a number of entries over the years that were good, even half-way decent. Why, one of them went on to win big at the Golden Globes… 'Jitter Jelly' was the name last I remember of it.

And with that, I forgo any and all intrusive thoughts, as I, along with my fellow Jury members, become the embodiment of professionalism, immersing ourselves in the cinematic experience of the film titled, 'Good Will Hunting'.

The starting credits rolled in, as a sweet melody played out in the background…

...

Hold on… what?!

I directed an incredulous expression towards my fellow jurors, solely to see whether they shared my disbelief.

They did.

One of them, Danny Trehaan, finally broke the silence, "What the fuck? Who th- who the fuck is this guy? He directed the movie, scripted it, edited it, produced it, supervised the casting, and composed the goddamn score? Hold on, I thought this was a commercial movie? It was released worldwide 2 days ago but this… is this art-house by any chance?"

"Ricky Stirling… wait. It said this was an Ambrose Stirling production… who the fuck is Ricky-"

"Hold on, his name appeared after Pacino… did he act in this as well?"

"This shit can't get more art-house, if it tried to-"

"Everyone, shut up!" I hushed, as silence befell the mezzanine.

"The guy made an effort, so let's honor it like we always do! This 'Ricky' is probably sitting in the VIP box right now, and you'll get your answers at the end. So hush and watch!"

Finally… some peace and quiet.

"Son of a bitch. He stole my line." 'Sean' smirked, as he closed the door behind him.

The screen cut to a car driving away into the sunset, as a song started playing out.

~Two tickets torn in half~

~And a lot, of nothing to do~

The closing credits started rolling in, as lights flooded the hall.

But a white spotlight made itself distinct, as it fell on the center seats, the VIP Box, shining light on… 'Will'.

'Will Hunting'... No.

"Ricky Stirling." Dijon whispered out, as he wiped away the tear marks on his cheeks from about 15 minutes ago.

Not that I'm in any position to poke fun at others… It was a powerful scene. The hug… the acceptance of the undeniable… half the audience was in tears.

I myself almost shed a few, before wiping away at my eyes with my napkin, my left one, turning a little red in the aftermath.

Everyone's eyes followed the spotlight… as all was quiet for a few seconds… before the tension popped like a balloon, and a frenzied cacophony of hoots, whistles, and applause filled the air.

And rightfully so.

Dijon started it… I followed him a split second later, prompting the rest of the Jury to do the same.

And in a matter of seconds, a standing ovation followed.

Led by Dijon, the man with arthritis, but following our example, it spread to the darkest corners of the hall, as everyone applauded the surrealism of it all.

The movie, with its tight script, emotionally driven narrative, engaging score, and absolutely masterful performances by the cast… dug deep into the hearts of everyone here today it seems.

And in the center of it all… 'Ricky Stirling', a man clearly in his early 20s by the look of it… waving away at the audience, taking deep bows in all the general directions, as he basked in the impact of his outlandish achievement. And to think, someone so talented had escaped the Jury's notice till today.

The standing ovation lasted a good few minutes, before everyone finally settled down, most of them not leaving their respective seats, for the sole reason of sticking around for the Q&A session.

And frankly I had a few questions of my own to ask… So did my fellow members of the Jury.

"To think someone so young… could accomplish something so… uncanny." Danny remarked.

We all shared his thoughts really, he was simply the one to break the silence.

"Fellow Jury Members," I raised my voice slightly, drawing their attention, "This is the final film in the competing category. The awards ceremony is in 2 days. We'll reconvene for deliberation on the winners, and then the voting will commence tomorrow evening. You'll be notified of the timings later today. But first… I believe you all had questions for young Ricky… it seems you'll have your opportunity to quench your respective curiosities in a few minutes."


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