Chapter 73 – Careful with Auditions
"Alright, that's a wrap! Ghost is officially finished!"
"After two and a half brutal months, tonight we're celebrating properly—Aaron has already booked the Culver Hotel for the party…"
As director Edward Zwick announced the final shot, the entire crew erupted in cheers.
"Oh, I'm definitely drinking tonight."
"I just want to sleep for three days straight…"
Nicole Kidman, finally relaxed, drove back to Aaron Anderson's place in West Hollywood.
Meanwhile, Aaron himself had just left a dealership, sliding behind the wheel of his brand-new Lexus LS400. Japanese cars were selling like crazy in America—Toyota's new luxury line, Lexus, had moved 160,000 units in its first year alone.
But with the Bruce Brothers Theater purchase, the $300,000 he'd handed Jack Wells for renovations, and now this car, Aaron's personal account—once at $1.3 million—was looking a lot thinner.
"Hey, Jack, don't forget about the party tonight at the Culver," Aaron reminded over the phone.
"I remember. By the way, got a new name in mind for the theater? I think we should change it."
"Call it whatever you like," Aaron replied casually. Details like that weren't his concern.
That night, the Ghost crew gathered at the Culver Hotel for a wrap party. Drinks flowed, the atmosphere was relaxed, and Aaron took a quiet moment with Edward Zwick and David Fincher to discuss post-production.
"Editing, effects, score—everything needs to be as polished as possible. Sony-Columbia wants a summer release, so we've got time, but not much room for mistakes."
Just then, Aaron's assistant approached—a blonde woman in glasses, Aisling Beckett. Formerly a production aide at Orion, she now worked directly for him at Dawnlight. From her expression, she had something on her mind.
"Enjoy the night," Aaron told Zwick and Fincher with a friendly pat on the shoulder, before turning to her. "What's up, Aisling?"
She lowered her voice. "That old film I mentioned? I tracked it down. A 1970s Italian comedy called Profumo di Donna—Scent of a Woman. It was nominated for an Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Foreign Language Film. It's about a retired blind army officer and his young aide on a road trip."
Aaron's eyes lit with recognition, then he chuckled. "Even better. We'll buy the remake rights. Giuseppe Tornatore is a friend—I can ask him to help secure them in Italy."
The idea had first sparked after his recent meeting with Al Pacino. Aaron remembered that Scent of a Woman had been a remake, though the details were hazy. But the storyline—he remembered that clearly. And now that Aisling had tracked it down, the opportunity was right in front of him.
Aisling gave a small nod. "And one more thing—news from Orion. Their finances are getting worse, and it looks like The Silence of the Lambs won't even be released this year."
Aaron already knew Orion wasn't planning to put it out in 1990. Typical—just when he didn't have the cash to get a piece of it.
"Alright. For now, let's just focus on securing the remake rights for Scent of a Woman."
Without Ghost hitting theaters, Aaron really didn't have the liquidity to move on anything bigger.
While Aaron and the Ghost crew were celebrating the end of filming, elsewhere in Hollywood, Warren Beatty was sulking through an Entertainment Weekly interview.
The magazine—freshly launched by Time Inc. as a Hollywood-focused spinoff of People—was looking for some spice, and Beatty never failed to provide it.
When the reporter brought up the contrast between Pretty Woman and Dick Tracy, Beatty gave a dismissive snort.
"Some green kid who stumbled into Hollywood happened to catch God's favor. That's all. He lucked into a couple of hits. Clever little tricks won't carry you far in this town."
The reporter pressed, smiling faintly. "Mr. Beatty, but this 'green kid' has been praised by Disney's Jeffrey Katzenberg and Al Pacino himself. And his company, Dawnlight Films, is already developing its second and third features."
Beatty's face remained flat. "So what? You think God keeps blessing someone forever?"
Truthfully, the journalist wasn't all that interested in Aaron Anderson—producers didn't sell magazines the way stars did. He pivoted quickly.
"On another note—are you still seeing Madonna Ciccone? Her ex-husband Sean Penn recently called you an 'old Hollywood john.' Any comment?"
"And the rumors about your… vigorous sex life with Madonna, are those true? Are you still in touch with Isabelle Adjani?"
With each question sharper than the last, Beatty's expression darkened visibly.
---
West Hollywood. Late morning.
Aaron Anderson and Nicole Kidman finally stirred after a wild night, the sheets tangled, their bodies marked with fading traces of passion. Nicole kissed him lazily, still draped across his chest.
"Not getting up yet, darling?"
Aaron's hand ran down her smooth back, squeezing her lightly. "After all this work, don't I get to enjoy myself a little?"
She only laughed softly, trailing her fingers over his abs.
By noon, Nicole passed him a folded newspaper with a smirk. "Looks like Warren Beatty just called you a lucky little opportunist."
Aaron skimmed it, his face unreadable. "What a childish fool. With his scandals? Unless someone has a very big reason to cast him, he's done as a leading man."
Tossing the paper aside, he leaned back on the sofa, pulling her into his lap. "Boyz n the Hood needs another two, maybe three weeks to wrap. A lot of newbies in the cast, so it's been running a little slow. In the meantime, you should take it easy. Wild at Heart is just an art film—promotion won't be too heavy."
"I know," she smiled, kissing him again. "But it opens in a few days. I'll still need to show up for some press."
Then she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "My agent says Disney is prepping a gangster biopic. There's a role for a sexy, glamorous woman. They want me to audition."
Aaron arched a brow. "Another gangster film? Didn't Dick Tracy teach them anything?"
Nicole leaned close, whispering, "It's based on E.L. Doctorow's novel Billy Bathgate. Dustin Hoffman is starring."
The novel had just won the National Book Critics Circle Award and the Faulkner Prize, and Time had even listed it among the best books of the 1980s.
Aaron frowned. Gangster movies weren't his taste. Still—Dustin Hoffman's name gave him pause.
"Hoffman's also in Spielberg's Hook, with Sony. And don't forget, he's tight with Warren Beatty."
Looking her in the eyes, Aaron added firmly: "Don't be fooled by that meek exterior. Hoffman has a reputation—harassing actresses on set isn't rare for him. If you go to that audition, be careful. If anything happens, call me immediately."
Nicole's smile softened. She understood exactly what he meant. "Relax, I know how to handle it. Ghost just wrapped, remember? I have faith in you. By the time it premieres next year, everything will change."
Aaron squeezed her playfully. "And if Ghost flops?"
She kissed him again, laughing. "Then I still have you. You won't let me go without another chance."