June 11, 1997.
The air in Hollywood was electric.
There were less than forty-eight hours until the nationwide release of The Purge Project. Tonight, Wald Pictures was hosting the world premiere at the iconic Theater.
This wasn't like the premiere for Juno, which had been a modest affair. This was a blockbuster event. Zane had opened his wallet wide, paying for a spectacle that screamed "big leagues."
Hundreds of fans lined the barricades. Dozens of reporters jostled for position on the red carpet, cameras flashing like lightning storms.
"Wow," a veteran reporter muttered, adjusting his microphone. "Wald Pictures is really stepping up. This is a massive production."
"They aren't the same small studio anymore," his colleague agreed, nodding. "Look at their track record. Static, Wrong Turn, Hard Candy. They haven't made a single bad movie yet."
"It's not just movies," another reporter chimed in. "They have the UPN TV network now. Music, animation, merchandise... the Golden Dawn Group is turning into a genuine media empire."
The press was impressed. They saw the business growth. They saw the money.
But the fans? The fans were a different story.
"Eminem! Eminem!"
A group of teenagers screamed as a limo pulled up. They weren't holding signs for The Purge. They were holding signs for the rapper.
"So you're all here for Eminem?" a reporter asked a young girl.
"Duh!" she shouted. "I haven't even heard of Wald Pictures. I'm just here because Slim Shady is singing the theme song!"
"Me too!" "Same here!"
If Zane had been standing there, his heart might have cracked a little.
It was the harsh truth of the industry. Wald Pictures was making money, but it wasn't a brand yet.
When regular people watch a movie, they rarely notice the studio logo at the start. Unless it's Disney or Marvel, nobody says, "I'm going to watch a [Studio Name] movie." They go for the stars. They go for the hype.
Zane watched from a distance, his expression thoughtful.
'Brand reputation is everything,' he thought. 'Right now, they buy tickets for the actors. I need to reach the point where they buy tickets because they trust the name Wald Pictures.'
It was a long road. The Big Six studios had decades of history. Zane had been in town for barely a year. But he was ready for the climb.
The Stars Arrive.
The limos began to unload the A-listers.
Will Smith, flashing his million-watt smile, waved to the crowd. Charlize Theron, looking stunning in a silver gown, glided down the carpet.
They were Zane's friends, but they were also his colleagues.
"Hi, Will!"
"Hi, Zane!"
They hugged briefly. Will Smith was practically family now, especially after his involvement with America's Got Talent.
Then Charlize Theron marched up to Zane. She looked beautiful, but her eyes were sharp.
"Zane," she said, putting a hand on her hip. "You call us friends, but you haven't hired me since Static. What gives?"
She was teasing, but there was a hint of seriousness in her voice. In Hollywood, out of sight meant out of mind.
Zane laughed, raising his hands in surrender. "I get it, I get it. Don't worry, Charlize. I have a project in mind for us. Do you trust me?"
"I'll trust you when I see a contract," she smirked, tapping his chest before heading into the theater.
Zane shook his head, smiling. 'Hollywood women. Never simple.'
The Titans.
It wasn't just actors on the carpet. The real power players were there too.
Steve Jobs. Bill Gates. Yossi Vardi (the founder of ICQ).
Zane had invited the kings of Silicon Valley.
Steve Jobs, wearing his signature turtleneck, walked up to Zane. He didn't waste time with small talk.
"Zane," Jobs said sharply. "I heard a rumor. Bezos wants to buy your shares in ICQ. Is Amazon taking it?"
Zane nodded, sipping his champagne. "Yes. But it's not a cash sale. It's a stock swap. I'm trading my ICQ equity for Amazon equity."
Jobs narrowed his eyes. He realized instantly what Zane was doing. Zane wasn't just cashing out; he was betting on the future of e-commerce.
And the subtext was clear: If you want my shares, Steve, you have to trade me something valuable too. Like Pixar stock.
Zane smiled politely. "Interested in a trade, Steve?"
"Hmph."
Jobs snorted, realizing he had been outmaneuvered, and walked straight into the theater without another word.
John Lasseter, the creative head of Pixar, sighed and gave Zane an apologetic wave.
"You know how he is," Lasseter whispered.
"I do," Zane grinned. "Enjoy the movie, John."
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