Chapter 75 – Take Off Your Clothes
By mid-September, filming on Boyz n the Hood was finally complete, moving into post-production.
"Fuck, I'm down to only three million dollars?"
In Burbank, inside Dawnlight Films' office, Aaron Anderson slumped back in his chair, muttering to himself. The extra half-million he'd thrown at Boyz n the Hood had drained him further. Now the company's account balance sat at just three million. Terrifying.
Beside him, Jack Wells blinked, then chuckled. "Not quite. You're technically nine million in debt."
Aaron's lips twitched. Jack had no sense of humor. Money owed to the bank didn't count as real debt in his mind.
"How's the theater renovation coming?" Aaron asked.
"Not that fast. Still in design. Construction should start next month, and we'll be open by next year."
Jack had been watching every step. "We've got the new name too—The Angel Theater."
"Fine," Aaron said indifferently. Call it Jesus Theater, God Theater, Satan Theater, or Hell Theater for all I care.
Jack continued, "Once renovations are done, seating drops a lot. Each of the two auditoriums will only hold about 110 to 120 people."
"That's fine. We'll make it back. Couples' seats sell at a premium—cheaper than a motel room. Add more popcorn, hot dogs, and soda sales, and it balances out."
Jack nodded. "Alright, I'll handle it."
---
Meanwhile, at Disney Studios, inside the audition room for Billy Bathgate.
Nicole Kidman stepped in, tall and striking, with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a body built for the camera. She was every inch the kind of woman who could play the mistress of Dustin Hoffman's gangster character.
Seated in the room were director Robert Benton, producer Robert Cort, and Hoffman himself, along with a few staffers and casting assistants.
Nicole smiled, her voice poised and professional.
"Since arriving in Hollywood, I've had a small role in the thriller Phone Booth, starred in David Lynch's Wild at Heart—currently in theaters and winner of this year's Cannes Palme d'Or. Most recently, I finished working opposite Kevin Costner in the fantasy romance Ghost…"
She let the words hang, carefully stacking her résumé.
Nicole Kidman's self-introduction made her background clear enough. The three men in the audition room exchanged quick glances, impressed.
"Alright," said director Robert Benton. "Start with the scene from the script we just handed you."
"Of course…"
Nicole launched into her performance. Producer Robert Cort gave an approving nod, flicking his eyes toward Benton and Dustin Hoffman. Benton returned the signal—her look and her acting both hit the mark.
Then Hoffman smiled thinly.
"In Billy Bathgate, your character will need to show her body. We'd like to see you without your clothes now."
Benton and Cort didn't bat an eye. They simply turned their attention on Nicole. Around the room, even the assistants leaned back in their chairs, watching with expectant smirks.
Nicole froze. Nude scenes? That wasn't in the breakdown.
Hoffman's voice was calm, almost casual. "In the full script, your role includes nudity. Better to know now if you're comfortable."
Standing in front of so many men, being asked to strip—it didn't take a genius to realize she was being cornered. Nicole remembered Aaron's warning and drew a breath.
"I… I'm not prepared. I need time to consider."
Hoffman's smile hardened. "There's only one chance. Outside that door, plenty of young actresses are waiting. You have one minute."
Under their pressure, Nicole felt like a fool on display. Shame boiled under her skin. She turned on her heel and walked out, knowing full well what it meant—she'd lost the role.
"Ahh…" Outside Disney's gates, she sighed heavily.
At least Ghost was in the can for next year. That would give her exposure far beyond what this gangster's mistress role could. Sexy women in Hollywood were a dime a dozen.
---
That evening, at a Japanese restaurant in Beverly Hills, Nicole met Aaron for dinner.
"How's Wild at Heart doing at the box office?" Aaron asked as he picked up a sushi roll with chopsticks.
Nicole shook her head. "Three weeks in, just over ten million. Commercially, not great."
She wasn't surprised. A dark, offbeat romance-crime film was never going to have broad appeal. Even Nicolas Cage's earlier Phone Booth had cleared thirty million.
Aaron chuckled. "Doesn't matter. David Lynch's films have never been about commercial value. They're art-house through and through."
Nicole nodded, then met his eyes. "I auditioned for Disney's Billy Bathgate today. The role of a gangster's mistress."
"Yeah? How'd it go?"
Her lips tightened. "Not well. The part was all about sex appeal, and during the audition, Hoffman and the others demanded I take my clothes off in front of everyone."
Aaron set down his chopsticks. "And? Did you?"
"No. I walked out."
Relief softened his features. "Good. Hollywood runs on trade-offs. You're not famous yet, so to them the only thing you have to offer is your body. But don't worry. It won't be long before I'm the one sitting at the table—eating—not the dish served on it."
"I know. Next year Ghost comes out. I'm not in a rush." Nicole lifted her glass, smiling faintly. She understood perfectly well—without someone to shield her, she'd already have been chewed up and spat out. Aaron was young, sharp, and rising fast. Far better than latching onto some paunchy, balding studio relic.
Aaron's smile darkened. "Dustin Hoffman… I'll remember this. First he backed Beatty, now this. Bastard."
Nicole tried to steer him back. "Don't worry about me. Focus on your films. Dawnlight has two in post already."
"Relax," Aaron said with a dismissive wave. "He's just a greedy little troll. Nothing I can't handle."
After dinner, they drove back toward West Hollywood.
"Nicole, this is a public road…" Aaron muttered, half-exasperated, as she teased him in the passenger seat.
"Pull into that alley, darling," she whispered, lips grazing his ear.
Aaron grinned, cut the lights, and steered into a shadowed side street.
Half an hour later, the car rolled back onto Santa Monica Boulevard.
"Nicole," Aaron said breathlessly, "you just keep getting better."
She casually smoothed her tousled blonde hair. "Mm. Let's go home."