Chapter 122: The Campus Belle and the Bit-Part Role
"Aaron, you're here!"
Keanu Reeves was the first to notice him.
His film My Own Private Idaho was still running in select theaters, and now he was starring alongside Aaron's production team in Bram Stoker's Dracula.
They'd known each other long enough to skip formalities.
Aaron nodded with an easy grin.
"Keanu, this is a Coppola film. Keep yourself steady, all right? He doesn't take kindly to actors showing up… mentally somewhere else."
Keanu laughed softly but caught the meaning.
Aaron wasn't wrong — his off-screen habits were no secret in town.
"Don't worry," Keanu said. "I know the stakes this time."
Aaron smiled. Good — at least he understands this isn't some indie art-house flick.
---
"I heard River auditioned for your role too?" Aaron asked as they walked.
"Yeah. Poor guy — close call, but not close enough."
Aaron chuckled. "That sounds about right."
River Phoenix was talented — deeply talented — but he didn't have the same commercial firepower.
Next to Keanu or Johnny Depp, even his rugged charm faded a little in Hollywood's glossy lights.
And luck hadn't been kind to him lately.
He'd just lost the lead in A River Runs Through It to Brad Pitt, who'd turned heads as the charming drifter in Thelma & Louise.
Competition in this town was brutal, Aaron thought. And River kept running into wolves wearing angel faces.
---
"By the way, Keanu," Aaron said, clapping him on the shoulder, "your action scenes in Point Break were great. You've got presence — strength. I've got a script in development at Dawnlight that might fit you perfectly."
Keanu raised an eyebrow. "An action role?"
"Exactly. Stay sharp, keep the discipline. No more wandering off like you did last year. If you can't handle it, I'll give it to someone hungrier — maybe one of the new guys."
He wasn't joking.
Young talent was flooding in — and Thelma & Louise's breakout, Brad Pitt, was proof that even a minor role could ignite a career.
If Speed ever got greenlit, Aaron already knew who he'd call first.
---
Later that afternoon, Aaron ran into Anthony Hopkins on set.
"Ah, Aaron." Hopkins smiled warmly, shaking his hand.
Aaron's tone was playful. "Tell me, Tony — do you think a horror film can actually impress the Academy?"
Hopkins blinked, genuinely curious. "You mean The Silence of the Lambs? You think they'd nominate that?"
Even after sweeping critics' awards in New York and Boston — Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress — Hopkins still doubted its Oscar chances.
Aaron chuckled. "At this point, only God knows the outcome."
He clapped Hopkins on the shoulder. "But if I were a betting man, I'd say the Academy won't be able to ignore us this year. Dawnlight's been unstoppable — Ghost, Lambs — they both hit every nerve: box office and acclaim."
Hopkins nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right."
Aaron just smiled. He was always right about momentum.
---
In the dressing room, Winona Ryder sat cross-legged on the sofa, flipping through a worn script.
"How's rehearsal been treating you?" Aaron asked.
Winona looked up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
"Honestly? Great. Working with Gary and Anthony is incredible — they're monsters of craft. And Keanu and I… well, we know each other pretty well. The chemistry's there."
"Good," Aaron said, hands in his pockets.
She smirked. "Oh, and I've been taking tango lessons — for that cameo in Scent of a Woman. I won't embarrass you, don't worry."
Aaron laughed. "It's one dance scene, Winona. Just make sure you look stunning while doing it."
He was half-joking — but she knew him well enough to hear the marketing instinct behind the line.
Like Brad Pitt in Thelma & Louise, a well-placed cameo could electrify an audience.
---
That afternoon, the set brightened as three actresses walked into the makeup room — the "brides of Dracula."
Aaron glanced up from his notes and froze for half a second.
One of them — tall, olive-skinned, with sculpted features and luminous brown eyes — stood out immediately.
Her portfolio read:
Monica Bellucci, 26. Italian. Model. Debut film: La Riffa (1991).
She was breathtaking — the kind of beauty that made entire rooms lose their rhythm.
Sophisticated, sensual, and quietly magnetic.
A future star, Aaron thought. If the world has any sense, it'll notice.
"She's Roman's find," one of the crew whispered. "He spotted her during a L'Oréal commercial shoot in France."
That explained it.
With her European allure and effortless grace, she was perfect for the gothic tone — and for a small role, her presence was almost unfair.
Even Billy Campbell, who'd starred in Disney's The Rocketeer, was taking on a minor part here.
That film, despite its $35 million budget and a $20 million marketing push, had barely made $46 million — a flop that left Campbell forgotten.
But Bellucci… she had that spark. Even in a supporting role, she drew the eye.
---
Later, back at Dawnlight Films, Aaron sat in his office, flipping through audition sheets for Scent of a Woman.
Names jumped out at him —
Matt Damon. Brendan Fraser. Ben Affleck. Chris O'Donnell.
Aaron flipped through the audition sheets again, stopping at one name that stood out.
"Matt Damon," he murmured, a faint smile forming. "Still a student at Harvard… impressive."
He glanced at Evelyn.
"I actually think Damon's got something. But fine — let's let Martin Brest decide at the auditions. He knows what kind of chemistry he wants."
After all, these were all unknowns. At this stage, one fresh face was as good as another.
Evelyn nodded, but quietly made a note of the name Matt Damon. Something about it stuck with her.
---
"By the way," Aaron asked casually, "how's My Own Private Idaho doing at the box office?"
"Not bad for its scale," she said. "Just over three million so far. It's still only in about two hundred theaters. Maybe it'll reach six or seven million total."
Aaron exhaled, half-smiling. "Right. I probably shouldn't have asked."
That was the art-house reality — passion projects rarely made money.
And if Idaho's numbers were modest, Raise the Red Lantern would be even smaller.
He waved the topic off. "All right. Scent of a Woman is fully prepped, let's roll cameras as soon as possible."
There wasn't much time — Bram Stoker's Dracula was heading into full production soon, and Aaron needed to be in London to supervise the early stages.
---
By the time Halloween came around, Aaron was on the East Coast again.
New York greeted him with its crisp autumn chill — a far cry from the sun-soaked sprawl of Los Angeles.
But this trip wasn't business.
Sophie Marceau had finally flown in from France.
To welcome her, Aaron had quietly purchased a seaside villa in East Hampton, Long Island — a private retreat overlooking the Atlantic.
When she first stepped inside, her eyes widened.
"This house… it can't have been cheap."
The villa was vast — over 5,000 square feet inside, with another 10,000 of open terraces and gardens facing the sea.
Aaron just smiled, slipping an arm around her waist.
"Four and a half million. Not bad, right?"
He kissed her gently. "It was short notice, so I haven't had time to renovate. Pick whatever style you like — I'll make it happen."
The firelight flickered across Sophie's flawless face. She turned toward him with a soft, teasing smile.
"So, Aaron… are you planning to hide me away here?"
He grinned. "That's exactly what I was thinking."
"Greedy man," she whispered, amused.
---
Aaron led her to the sofa, settling down beside her.
"I thought you'd be living in Los Angeles by now. Why stay in New York?"
Sophie brushed her hair back, thoughtful.
"My agent thinks New York's better for art films — smaller projects, more festivals. And it's closer to Quebec."
Aaron chuckled. "Ah, Quebec — the French soul of North America. The language, the culture… practically Paris with snow."
He kissed her temple.
"Eighty percent French-speaking, right? Montreal's basically the second Paris."
She nodded, leaning into him.
But Aaron couldn't help adding, "Still, sweetheart, Los Angeles has more film opportunities."
Sophie laughed softly, tracing his collar.
"Oh? And if I moved to L.A., would you just leave me wandering the streets?"
Aaron smirked. "Fine. We'll split the difference — you can have New York and Los Angeles."
She smiled, pulling him closer as the firelight danced in her eyes —
and for a moment, Aaron forgot about film budgets, box office returns, and Wall Street charts.
Because even a man who owned pieces of Hollywood and Microsoft could still crave one simple luxury:
A woman worth hiding from the world.