Chapter 68: Are You Kidding Me?
On the outskirts of Los Angeles, John Levin and Jack Wells stood by a fire, burning every trace of clothing and other evidence.
"You really think those gangs will buy this setup?" Jack asked skeptically. "Lorel was Bloods, Crippled Juan was Crips—but they were just low-level crew leaders."
John shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Those two gangs are always killing each other. As long as nobody comes sniffing around your set again, it's mission accomplished. You've got bigger things to worry about—didn't your friend say he'd bankroll you to start your own security company?"
The last of the guns had been stripped and scattered in pieces across different dumpsites. All traces erased.
Jack's eyes lit up. "Yeah. He believes in me—says I'm smart, capable. Hell, the guy's only twenty and already a multimillionaire."
John smirked. "Then it's simple. Quit CAA. Hire a few guys, take contracts to secure film sets. Prove yourself, and your friend will back you for real."
Jack mulled it over, then nodded. "You're right. CAA's a dead end. Running with him, I'll make more money anyway."
"Exactly. Now let's head back."
---
With Lorel out of the picture, Boyz n the Hood finally ran smoothly. Aaron's attention, of course, was fixed on Ghost, but Jack Wells handled security on Singleton's set with deadly seriousness.
As for a few dead gangbangers? Nobody in L.A. seemed to care.
---
South Central Los Angeles, West 70th Street.
John Singleton was staging a street fight scene. Nearby, Jack Wells watched with growing unease. "John… do you really need to push it this far? That's an actual gang fight."
Singleton nodded calmly. "I just need a few shots. Nothing sells authenticity like the real thing. The raw truth of gang life—that's the message."
Moments later, Jack hurriedly pulled Singleton, Quentin Tarantino, and a few others away from the brawl.
"Relax," Singleton reassured him. "That was just Bloods and Crips mixing it up again. Looks like Lorel and his boys—the same ones who tried messing with our set—got themselves killed. Some home invasion gone wrong. Their bodies turned up last night. Happens every day around here."
He clapped Jack on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it. This is exactly why Aaron wanted a producer keeping an eye on security."
Jack's eyes widened. A week before anyone found Lorel's body? Could it have been the Crips symbols they'd planted that night?
He shook his head. Better not to dwell on it. What mattered now was keeping Boyz n the Hood safe. "Just don't pull this again, John. Shooting near real fights? It's too easy to get caught in the crossfire."
Singleton smiled. "Don't worry. I've got more than enough footage already. Once I cut it together, the realism will be undeniable. Next, we're shooting in Compton—Crip turf. Should be quieter there."
For him, the only goal was making a great film. Everything else was noise.
Beside them, Quentin Tarantino was practically buzzing, camera hoisted on his shoulder. "This is cinéma vérité! Pure realism!"
Jack exhaled slowly. Looking at these filmmakers, he suddenly wondered: Are they crazier than the gangs themselves?
---
Meanwhile, on the Ghost set…
Aaron was chatting with Kevin Costner about his new film Dances with Wolves.
"My original cut ran four hours," Costner admitted with a sigh. "But Orion panicked. They said no theater would dare program something that long. So we cut it down to three."
Aaron chuckled. "Four hours would've been suicide. No exhibitor wants to give up that many showings per day."
Costner shrugged, resigned. "Orion's in financial trouble. They're banking on Dances with Wolves as their Oscar play—it's an epic Western, and they think it'll bring them back."
"I'm looking forward to it," Aaron replied smoothly. "A Western epic could strike the right chord."
"It won't be long now," Costner said. "Test screenings are right around the corner…"
Aaron nodded, feigning interest. Truthfully, Dances with Wolves didn't matter to him. It wasn't his project. What did interest him was Orion's other film in production—The Silence of the Lambs.
---
That evening, at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard, Aaron arranged a quiet meeting with Jennifer Connelly's agent, Nancy Josephson.
"Surprised you called me," Nancy said, arching an eyebrow as she sat across from him.
Aaron smiled. "I just want to ask you a few things."
"What I can tell you, I'll tell you."
"Fair enough," Aaron leaned in. "I'm curious about Orion's new thriller, The Silence of the Lambs. The star is Jodie Foster, and the project was championed by Mike Medavoy. Both of them are your clients, right?"
Nancy nodded. "Jodie's one of ours. That's no secret. And yes—Mike Medavoy is also under our wing. The Silence of the Lambs was his last greenlight at Orion before leaving for Sony. It's faced a lot of pushback, though."
Aaron already knew why. The source novel was a hit, but Thomas Harris's earlier book Red Dragon had flopped in its adaptation (Manhunter). The director, Jonathan Demme, was known mostly for quirky comedies. The screenwriter was a rookie. And the actor cast as Hannibal Lecter—Anthony Hopkins—was a washed-up Brit who could barely land roles in Hollywood anymore. Outside of Jodie Foster, the package looked weak.
Still, Medavoy had fought through resistance and scraped together a $19 million budget. The same ballpark as Dances with Wolves—except Costner's picture had already gone over budget.
"I've heard Orion's considering skipping a wide theatrical release," Aaron said, watching her carefully. "Pushing The Silence of the Lambs straight to video to get cash back quickly. Any truth to that?"
Nancy's eyes flickered, but her tone stayed cool. "That's for Orion to decide. We're just the agency. And for the record, Lambs was never one of ICM's packaged deals."
Aaron knew that Jodie Foster—an Oscar winner—had even taken a pay cut down to $1.5 million because she loved the material.
"What if," Aaron pressed, "someone wanted to acquire the rights? North American distribution, maybe even the adaptation rights?"
Nancy pursed her lips. "The international rights are already gone. But domestic distribution and adaptation rights are still with Orion. Don't expect them to be cheap."
Aaron leaned back. "Dawnlight is interested in The Silence of the Lambs… but right now, I don't have the cash."
Nancy nearly choked on her coffee. She set the cup down, staring at him like he'd grown a second head. Orion was drowning financially, desperate for liquidity—and this kid was saying he had no money?
"Are you kidding me?" she said flatly.
Aaron just gave her a disarming grin.
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