Chapter 108: Out of the Game Again
Manhattan, Upper East Side — The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
The annual Met Gala was underway, the grand charity night where the entire fashion and entertainment world collided in dazzling opulence.
Aaron Anderson attended the gala arm-in-arm with Nicole Kidman, crossing paths with Kevin Costner, the newly crowned Oscar-winning director, and Kathy Bates, fresh off her own Best Actress win.
Outside on Fifth Avenue, the red carpet stretched elegantly down the museum's iconic steps beside Central Park. Flashbulbs burst like fireworks. Reporters shouted names, and fans screamed from behind the barricades.
Inside the great marble hall, Aaron swirled a glass of wine, watching the spectacle with a faint smile.
"The Met Gala's still… tolerable," he murmured. "At least it hasn't turned into that circus it'll become in a few years."
Nicole glanced at him, amusement in her eyes. "Aaron, is it true you're buying Heritage Entertainment?"
Aaron smiled slightly. "It's true. Once I have Heritage, I'll finally control my own distribution."
He turned toward her, his tone shifting. "By the way, you'll need to fly to Cannes. Ghosts is part of the promotional slate there."
He nodded toward Kevin Costner, chatting animatedly across the room. "Too bad Kevin can't make it—he's buried in another project. But director Edward Zwick and Kathy Bates will be there."
Aaron took another sip, smiling wryly.
Truth be told, all the publicity in the world couldn't compare to Kevin Costner's star power alone.
Nicole tilted her head. "And you're not going?"
He shook his head. "No. I've got other fires to put out."
---
Meanwhile, across town, Guy Martin, the head of Heritage Entertainment, was meeting with Samuel Goldwyn Jr. in a quiet private lounge.
"Dawnlight Films… Aaron Anderson?" Goldwyn repeated, eyebrows raised.
He hadn't expected that name to come up as his competition—and it clearly unsettled him.
---
Mid-May, 1991 — Cannes Film Festival.
The Ghosts team arrived in France for the promotional circuit, while back in the States, The Silence of the Lambs officially crossed the $100 million mark at the North American box office.
---
Los Angeles — Dawnlight Films Headquarters.
Jessica Parker stood in front of Aaron's desk, her tone crisp and efficient.
"The box office settlements for Boyz n the Hood and The Silence of the Lambs have been wired in," she reported.
"Boyz n the Hood grossed fifty million. Lambs just passed a hundred million."
She handed him a breakdown sheet.
"For Boyz n the Hood, Columbia took a fifteen percent distribution fee, with theaters claiming fifty-one percent. After deducting seven million in marketing costs, Dawnlight's net is about ten million."
Aaron nodded.
Jessica continued, "For The Silence of the Lambs, TriStar's distribution fee was thirteen percent, with theaters taking forty-eight. After twelve million in marketing expenses, Dawnlight nets twenty-seven million."
Aaron tapped his pen thoughtfully. "And what about home video and television rights? Those should be valuable for both titles."
He needed cash. Fast. Brad Grey knew that and had already been instructed to sell the home video and broadcast rights.
Jessica glanced at her notes.
"Columbia offered thirteen million for Boyz n the Hood, and TriStar's paying twenty-nine million for The Silence of the Lambs. Both say that's their final offer."
Aaron leaned back, calculating silently. "Fine. Approve the deals."
By the end of the week, Dawnlight's accounts swelled by seventy-nine million dollars.
Even after paying off the earlier loan secured against Boyz n the Hood's rights—interest and all—Aaron still had a cash reserve exceeding eighty million dollars.
And that wasn't counting the tail-end revenue still trickling in from the films' box office runs. Both were still playing strong in theaters.
---
Jessica flipped another page in her report.
"Guy Martin's agreed to sell Heritage Entertainment for forty-five million," she said. "But—he insists on keeping fifty percent of the Landmark Theatre chain."
Aaron's expression hardened slightly as he set down his pen.
The game wasn't over. But someone—perhaps Samuel Goldwyn Jr.—was trying to push him out again.
And in Hollywood, being forced off the board wasn't just business. It was war.
Jessica continued her briefing, her tone composed yet confident.
"Then go ahead," Aaron said after a pause, running a hand through his hair. "And Jessica—head up to Northern California yourself. I want the Pixar deal finalized."
Jessica smiled knowingly. "Pixar? Alright."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice slightly. "I've heard Jeffrey Katzenberg from Disney already met with Steve Jobs. The deal he offered was… brutal.
If I show up with real cash in hand, Pixar won't be able to say no."
Aaron smirked, amused. "Of course. They're all greedy, Jessica. Silicon Valley might think it can play in Hollywood's sandbox—but they're amateurs here."
Jessica chuckled softly. "Understood."
---
Everything unfolded exactly as Aaron had predicted.
Disney had never truly valued Pixar. To them, it was nothing more than a disposable animation vendor—a small cog in the studio's machine.
Jeffrey Katzenberg, who oversaw Disney's film division, was notorious for his aggression in negotiations. The deal he presented to Jobs was ruthless:
Disney would fund three animated feature films, but retain full ownership of the intellectual property.
Pixar would only hold the rights to its animation software, and in return, receive a mere 12.5% of box office profits—with no claim to home video, merchandising, or character rights.
It was Steve Jobs' first attempt to break into Hollywood—and it was a harsh lesson in who really held the power.
If Pixar refused, they would simply have to keep bleeding money on their own.
---
Then Jessica arrived in the Bay Area—like an angel descending at the eleventh hour.
Within days, she had secured a quiet meeting with Pixar's founding members, Ed Catmull and John Lasseter.
With $10 million from Dawnlight's war chest, she purchased 25% of Pixar's shares directly from the founders.
And then, with perfect timing, she promised them something Jobs never could:
"Dawnlight will fully fund Pixar's first original animated feature.
We've just acquired our own distribution company.
From now on—you won't have to beg Disney for permission."
The room had gone still. For Catmull and Lasseter, it was the offer of a lifetime.
Jessica's proposal lit a spark among the Pixar team. Quietly, they began aligning to stage what was essentially a boardroom coup—forcing Steve Jobs' hand.
---
Richmond, California — Pixar Headquarters
Steve Jobs stared across his desk at Ed Catmull, whose expression was apologetic but resolute.
"You've really decided?" Jobs asked, his voice low, incredulous.
Catmull nodded. "Dawnlight can fund our own animated features, Steve. They've already secured a distribution pipeline through their new acquisition in Hollywood.
If Pixar wants to survive, we need a partner who treats us as equals. Disney never has—and never will."
Jobs exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. The decision was already out of his hands.
---
Back in Los Angeles, Aaron burst into laughter when he heard the update.
"Jessica's brilliant," he said, flashing a rare, genuine grin. "She handled it perfectly."
He turned to Brad Grey. "Brad, go back to Guy Martin. Tell him I'll wire forty million now, and the remaining five million in two months."
Brad nodded. "He won't object. You want to lock down Pixar first, right?"
"Exactly," Aaron replied, his tone sharp. "Pixar's about to start layoffs. If we don't move now, they'll cave to Disney's deal.
All that's left is to deal with Jobs himself."
---
Sure enough, Steve Jobs eventually found himself cornered.
With no viable alternative, he was forced to accept Disney's terms—a humiliating position for a man once hailed as a visionary.
But this time, the tables had turned. Dawnlight had cash, confidence, and Hollywood muscle on its side.
For Pixar's staff, the choice was obvious:
work for a studio that would own everything you created,
or partner with one that promised creative freedom and profit participation.
Even a fool could do the math.
Aaron sighed quietly when he heard how the confrontation had played out.
Steve Jobs had once founded Apple, only to be forced out by his own board.
And now, history was repeating itself.
The company he'd built with his own hands—Pixar—was slipping from his grasp, piece by piece.
But there was nothing he could do.
At that moment, Steve Jobs simply didn't have the strength—or the money—to fight back.