Chapter 41 – His Frustration Is My Pleasure
"After Christmas, I'll be heading over to Europe. In the meantime, make sure the editing of Phone Booth gets done properly!"
Outside the nightclub, Aaron gave instructions to David Fincher and Quentin Tarantino. The editing of Phone Booth was being handled at Propaganda Company.
"Are you planning to attend the Sundance Film Festival?" Fincher asked.
"Depends. If necessary, we might give it a shot," Aaron replied. He had no objections; a festival appearance could bring some extra attention.
"Alright."
"Then let's head back," Aaron said, wrapping his arm around Nicole Kidman as they stepped into a taxi.
"Aaron, Nicole, you're leaving?" Johnny Depp emerged from the club with Winona Ryder draped over him. Judging by his expression, he'd probably indulged in quite a few substances.
Aaron smiled. "Yeah… next time."
Two days before Christmas, Phone Booth wrapped up its 20-day shoot. Editing began immediately with Fincher in charge and Tarantino assisting.
Burbank, Los Angeles: at Dawnlight Film Company's office on Justin Street, between Victory Boulevard and the 5 Freeway at Riverside Ranch north of Hollywood Hills—
A two-story, old commercial building was undergoing necessary renovations.
Across the street, Jack Wells sat across from Aaron. "Recently, Warren Beatty's been spreading some negative press about you and Phone Booth."
"You know how he is—hiring a few newspapers costs him next to nothing."
The film's only real publicity hook was Nicolas Cage; the rest of the cast were largely unknowns.
Aaron chuckled. "It's a low-budget thriller under $2 million—what's there to criticize?"
"Just empty talk. Seems he still hasn't forgotten you," Jack noted.
Back at CAA, Aaron had arrogantly bet that Dick Tracy's box office wouldn't even reach half of Pretty Woman's, which had obviously irked Beatty.
Jack reminded him, "Don't forget Dustin Hoffman is in Dick Tracy. He doesn't like you either; it could affect your career."
Hoffman's high standing at CAA could indeed create obstacles for Aaron's future talent management.
"So… how's your career going?" Aaron asked Jack, who had always been on decent terms with him. Jack had persistence but average insight into artist development.
"Not bad. Besides handling some of Steven Soderbergh's work, Ms. Wagner has me assisting Tony Scott as one of his assistant agents," Jack replied.
"You know, Soderbergh's been idle most of the time, vacationing or stuck in France. My new actors don't have many opportunities."
Aaron understood why Paula Wagner assigned Jack to assist Scott. He advised, "You know Kevin Costner just joined, right? The one who directed Dances with Wolves."
"You should find some time to talk to Ms. Wagner. Tell her you want to be Costner's assistant agent."
"Why? Assisting Scott is already a coveted position."
Aaron sighed. "Trust me, Costner is going to make a big splash as a director this time. I've studied Dances with Wolves—it's an excellent project. You won't do much with Scott, so better to position yourself elsewhere."
"Besides, I want to collaborate with Costner on a film myself."
"Really?" Jack Wells, who had long trusted Aaron, was impressed.
"Of course!" Aaron's Ghost had chosen Kevin Costner for its lead.
Jack nodded. "Got it. Keep an eye on Warren Beatty. Phone Booth is your first movie—if it fails, it'll be tough. That guy holds grudges; I've seen him humiliate people at CAA more than once."
Aaron laughed. "Probably because I was on good terms with you?"
"That's minor. Agents get treated badly all the time. But Beatty… he just looks for trouble."
Jack tapped the table. "Want us to find a chance to give him a good beating?"
Aaron paused, then smiled. "Simple, brutal, and very satisfying—sounds perfect."
After becoming a millionaire, Aaron Anderson wondered if his courage had somehow shrunk.
"He's always surrounded by bodyguards and assistants. Not exactly easy to get to him," Jack mused.
"Just wait for the right moment," Aaron shrugged.
"Isn't Warren Beatty always cozying up with Madonna lately? Whether it's publicity for Dick Tracy or whatever, the fact is, he cheated on Sean Penn and drove them to divorce."
"Sean Penn has a fiery temper. Get a few bold reporters to confront him about this, stir him up a bit."
Of course, Sean Penn might get physical with reporters—you'd need some seriously tough journalists for this.
Jack chuckled. "I wonder if Sean Penn will go after Beatty once he finds out."
Aaron handed him a $5,000 check. "Find a chance to do it. The key point: Beatty slept with Penn's wife. Add some extra spice, use your own judgment."
"The National Enquirer, the New York Post—these gossip tabloids don't need instructions. They'll dig this up themselves. Also, that Vanity Fair reporter we've worked with loves celebrity scandals. Have her write a piece."
High-profile stars like Beatty and Penn—or even pop queen Madonna—make headlines that sell themselves.
Jack took the check. "Sure, this will affect Beatty, but it doesn't really help Phone Booth, does it?"
Aaron smiled wryly. "Relax. Beatty hates me, I hate him more. Watching him squirm… that's my pleasure."
"Even better if we can dig up some risqué photos of him—ruin his reputation entirely."
Aaron wasn't patient by nature. Grudges didn't go unpunished.
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