Jim Gianopoulos watched all of this with narrowed eyes. It was getting out of hand; somehow the money kept flowing out, endlessly, by every possible route. He had four series underway, regarded by Billy as franchises. First came The Lord of the Rings, with plans dating back to 1994, an acquisition that passed through the hands of Steve Parks, Raimon, Anne, and Billy, all of whom negotiated with the Tolkien family—curiously enough, plans were already in place to strengthen the Minotauro pages, Torr Ediciones, where nothing ever came as a surprise. The circle kept expanding for anyone who had even a sliver of an option.
The whole family was pleasantly surprised, and it became part of Billy's challenge to carry out work in which mountains of tasks were laid bare. Very simple and nothing surprising: they had a team in hand developing scripts for trilogies—two of them live-action, and of course three animated series meant to give life to the earliest steps of the Middle Ages—where the only thing left hanging in the air was the new slate of animated action, which demanded the very best for every series, driving budgets beyond anything previously seen, at least on paper. Peter Jackson asked for a hook of half a million dollars and a starting point of 150 million, which they disbursed into a trust, split in halves. From there on, nothing could have been more surprising, because Billy delivered that money using the profits from Lux Animation in 1997, by the month of June—everything, with an extra investment in land and a few other ventures.
A small forest, cabins, and a few light constructions in New Zealand, where the only thing that mattered was achieving the best possible production—something that caused a slight confusion in Jim Gianopoulos. The first producer to put up more money than he actually had, yet the way Billy carried dreams forward was part of his charm.
But it was not until 1995, and the beginning of 1996, that they decided to enter the world of Star Wars. A world that fed upon itself and upon what came before, with investments of 900 million dollars in technology, equipment, the first film's production, and a stake within the Lucasfilm ecosystem.
Those investments were recovered for a simple reason: Lucas saw beyond the money and used the capital for the films, pushing the companies to their limits. Two simple reasons: first, he used his own money for the movies; second, he improved the audiovisual center and helped manage the mega production studio.
Then came Billy's purchase of one of the most astonishing series of all: Harry Potter, which hit with yet another investment that once again seemed to surpass the 500-million-dollar threshold—and kept rising—because it was a form of revenue that simply could not be matched.
Everything appeared to rest on year-by-year profits, generated by Pixar, now with its refusal to go public. What remained in Billy's hands was a disregard for money itself, so long as they reinvested whatever cash was left. Then Matrix cut in, with an extra 150 million leveraged purely through debt, which—fortunately—was paid off by a single individual, and, to everyone's surprise, earned through the stock market.
And so, upon finishing the mega-project of Harry Potter, Billy bought land in different cities as part of his plan to create parks across every available space.
-—I just want to say this is completely bold— Jim replied, realizing that Matrix was less than four months away from release, while he already had several solid negotiations underway to acquire a production team based in England, stretching his contacts through Regency Agents.
--It's about buying cinema in the United Kingdom; we need to do what we can, in whatever ways we can. And I want to buy these three studios, narrowing what remains to a single step—letting these production houses keep doing what they do, while they help me make my wizard movie— Billy commented calmly, certain nuances lingering between his words.
-—So we'll buy them?— Jim asked.
-—Ealing Studios and Pinewood Studios— Billy replied, fully aware of their purchase value. It all seemed to hang on a single breath.
-—Then we'll buy them— Jim sighed.
-—We'll do the same in Italy, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, and Korea— Billy replied, fully preparing those who were left suspended in the air.
--So…-
It was a question that stuck in the throat, the kind that confronts those who face risk by taking on even more risk, reformulating nothing but an uneasy attention.
--Look, Jim. Your bonuses are solid at the end of the year; you earn money for doing good work. But the stock option, once you reach five years, will be of considerable help— Billy replied.
Jim calculated it out; Billy would deliver the stock grants by 2001. That was when Billy seemed to be doing his own math: they would issue 400,000 dollars in stock bonuses to all executives per year, convertible into cash or shares, for the sole reason that by 2001 the company would be valued in the billions—mere ripples in the water for directors drowning in their work, whose only daring act was to go with the flow. Success, visible and undeniable; success in everything that arrived.
-—I'll handle the negotiations, and for Harry Potter, I'll ask for a loan— Jim commented, still entertained by the mechanics of the stock sales. Because Billy was an entrepreneur through and through: many companies, many ideas on how to cover his back, and almost a prediction of the future.
-—We'll do it that way— Jim added, yielding now that all he wanted was to be part of the series. Of the company that paid less than the giants but demanded twice as much. A man who now understood that work became tangible: every purchase was part of him, a campaign, a new film felt like a shared enterprise.
-—It's good to see you; I hope you speak with Anna about the children's properties. We're somewhat stalled— Billy commented, bringing the work hanging in the air to a close.
Mónica took a long walk; everything passed through New York now, alone at the center of auditions. Everything fell under her shadow. Long runways, lunches, and weekly trips that bled into the next week, and a long list of obligations that were not allowed to fail under any circumstances.
-—Thank you for coming, dear— Mónica said, looking at Billy's chubby friend, a financial genius.
-—Well, you're Billy's woman. Always available. Hehehe. You know, only a fool would go against Billy— Raimon replied awkwardly.
-—The thing is, I can say this with certainty: I'm having trouble with my accounting. My previous accountant may not understand how finances work here on the American continent, and I'm afraid I need someone to take charge. And, well, you know many of them— Mónica said, pouring him a bottle of wine that was nearly empty.
She would draw out every piece of information without a doubt; she would leave him completely exposed, knowing exactly what Billy was doing at every turn.
...