Chapter 190: Still Not Willing to Sell
After attending Clinton's inauguration, Aaron returned directly to Los Angeles with Christiana Reali.
As for Ari Emanuel and Rahm Emanuel, the gap between them and Aaron was now simply too vast.
Besides, the former rival Ari Emanuel had already been reduced to a cripple—hardly someone worth Aaron's attention anymore.
Following the Golden Globe Awards, the Directors Guild, Producers Guild, and Writers Guild ceremonies were held one after another.
Oscar campaigning soon entered its most intense phase.
---
At the Beverly Hills Hotel, Aaron was having dinner with Catherine Zeta-Jones, who had just wrapped filming The Mask of Zorro.
"The male lead from the British series Mayflower didn't renew his contract," Catherine said.
"So Mayflower Season Four has been canceled."
"Aaron, from now on, I'm focusing entirely on developing my career in Hollywood."
Aaron nodded calmly.
The Mask of Zorro will be released in July. That's more than enough to establish your reputation."
As the two were leaving after dinner, they happened to run into a party being held at the hotel by the crew of Much Ado About Nothing.
It was a Shakespeare adaptation written, directed, and starring the British theater prodigy Kenneth Branagh.
The film's North American distributor was Samuel Goldwyn Films, yet it had failed to secure even a single Golden Globe nomination.
"Aaron, good evening," Samuel Goldwyn Jr. greeted him, visibly surprised.
"Care to come upstairs for a drink?"
After all, both The Crying Game and Much Ado About Nothing were European productions—yet the gap in reception and awards recognition was striking.
Aaron smiled faintly.
"Another time. I already have plans tonight."
Samuel Goldwyn glanced at Catherine Zeta-Jones, whom Aaron had wrapped an arm around, then smiled and nodded.
"Then I won't disturb your private time together."
After Aaron and Catherine left, Samuel Goldwyn Jr. returned to the party and began talking with Tom Rothman, the president of Samuel Goldwyn Films.
"Dawnlight Pictures' Schindler's List, Scent of a Woman, and The Crying Game are all riding an incredible wave of acclaim," Goldwyn said.
"And now they've significantly ramped up their marketing."
Tom Rothman shook his head.
The Crying Game alone had already grossed over $15 million, and with Dawnlight increasing its push and expanding theatrical screens, the final box office would only climb higher—despite a total production cost of less than £3 million.
Samuel Goldwyn Jr. sighed.
"When I competed with him for Heritage Entertainment and ultimately backed out… maybe that really was God's will."
After all, Aaron Anderson's rise had been fueled by Heritage Entertainment's Landmark theater chain, allowing Dawnlight Pictures to roll out one hit after another.
Goldwyn and Rothman had poured their efforts into Much Ado About Nothing, preparing to spend nearly $10 million on marketing and awards campaigning.
They had come up empty-handed at the Golden Globes, but their true target was March's Academy Awards—and tonight's party included more than a few Academy voters.
"This year's competition is brutal," Rothman said seriously.
"Dawnlight's Schindler's List and The Crying Game are almost guaranteed nominees."
"Warner Bros.' Unforgiven, directed by and starring Clint Eastwood, is another powerhouse."
"Add Castle Rock's A Few Good Men, Sony Classics' Howards End, and Dawnlight's Scent of a Woman—and we're all fighting for just two slots."
He had clearly analyzed every serious contender. The pressure on Much Ado About Nothing was immense.
Samuel Goldwyn Jr. shrugged.
"The competition is fierce, but I'm confident."
"At least we're better off than the Weinstein brothers' Miramax. They completely missed The Crying Game, and their aggressive push on too many indie films has buried them in debt."
Rothman took a sip of his drink.
"In today's Hollywood indie scene, Dawnlight Pictures sits at the very top."
"New Line and Orion used to pose some pressure, but New Line has lost momentum—and Orion is already in bankruptcy."
If Dawnlight released more films each year, it could easily rival the Big Six in market share.
But in the early '90s, the major studios weren't cutting output—they were simply focusing harder on blockbusters.
---
Meanwhile, after leaving the Beverly Hills Hotel, Aaron Anderson took Catherine Zeta-Jones to a bar in West Hollywood, where he had arranged a meeting with Jerry Buss, owner of the Los Angeles Lakers.
"Aaron," Jerry Buss said flatly, "the Lakers are my life's work—and the Buss family's legacy. They are not for sale."
Buss knew full well that Aaron was interested in acquiring a Los Angeles NBA team—but neither the Lakers nor the Clippers were on the market.
Aaron casually lifted his glass and took a sip, Catherine still tucked comfortably against him.
"The Great Western Forum is getting old, isn't it?"
Jerry Buss had long hoped the city would build a new, modern basketball arena—but Los Angeles simply didn't have the funds.
"The Clippers are moving from the Sports Arena to Anaheim's Honda Center," Aaron continued,
"largely because the Sports Arena just isn't a professional basketball venue."
He smiled, lowered his head, and kissed Catherine lightly on the cheek.
"And let's be honest—do you really need me to explain Donald Sterling to you?"
"The Sports Arena doesn't share its indoor space with any other teams, and the Raiders use an outdoor football stadium."
"The Clippers perform poorly, attendance is terrible, and they don't have anyone to help split the rent."
By contrast, the Forum housed both the Lakers and the NHL's Los Angeles Kings, sharing operating costs.
Move to Anaheim, and the Clippers could share with the Anaheim Ducks—simple economics.
Jerry Buss paused, then asked carefully,
"Aaron… do you think you could persuade the city to build a new professional arena?"
He had always wanted a modern, purpose-built venue. If Aaron was bringing this up now, maybe there was hope.
"If the government doesn't have the money," Aaron said calmly,
"then we build it ourselves."
His confidence was absolute—he could contribute capital, secure loans, and bring in investors.
"Build it ourselves?" Buss froze.
"You mean private financing?"
"Why not?" Aaron replied lightly.
Jerry Buss thought for a long moment.
"That would be a massive project."
Finally, he said,
"If you can make the new arena happen, I'm willing to sell you up to 25% of the Lakers."
Aaron frowned slightly.
"You really won't sell?"
Twenty-five percent was meaningless to him.
Jerry Buss shook his head—firm and final.
…
(Special thanks to Daoist5970zy WarMachine78 and DreamADream)