Chapter 191: Not as Good as Your Figure
"So you want to buy a basketball team?"
In the bedroom of the Bel Air villa, Catherine Zeta-Jones lay sprawled across Aaron, her body pressed lightly against his.
"Yes—but unfortunately, they're not selling," Aaron said with a shake of his head, his hand tracing along Catherine's soft curves.
Jerry Buss's meaning had been perfectly clear. If Aaron could persuade the City of Los Angeles to build a new, professional-grade arena, Buss would be willing to part with 25% of the Lakers' shares.
But operational control of the team would still remain firmly in Buss's hands.
"Then what are you going to do?" Catherine asked lazily. "Give up on it?"
Aaron smiled, rolling over and pinning her beneath him.
"If I can't buy a team in Los Angeles, I'll buy one in another city. It won't really make much difference."
"Mmm." Catherine wrapped her arms around him and kissed him softly.
"Are you going to attend the BAFTA Awards this year?"
The British Academy Film Awards were held in February and were often seen as a major indicator ahead of the Oscars. Both Schindler's List and The Crying Game were expected to attend.
"We'll see," Aaron replied. "If I have the time, a trip to London wouldn't hurt."
"If you do go," Catherine murmured, "make sure you look me up…"
---
As January came to an end, the 1992 NFL Super Bowl was held at the Rose Bowl Stadium in Pasadena, Los Angeles.
As America's most commercially powerful sport, football always drew massive viewership—and Super Bowl Sunday sat firmly at the very top.
Aaron deliberately brought Jennifer Connelly with him to a private suite at the stadium. The Super Bowl was practically a national holiday for Americans—but to people from other countries, it wasn't nearly as compelling.
"This atmosphere…" Aaron looked out at the roaring crowd below.
"No wonder they call the Super Bowl the American Spring Festival Gala."
Compared to Aaron's calm demeanor, Jennifer was visibly more excited.
"Aaron," she asked suddenly, "which team are you rooting for?"
The matchup was the Buffalo Bills versus the Dallas Cowboys.
Aaron smiled.
"I placed a bet before the game—$30,000 on the Cowboys."
After all, Aaron remembered that the Dallas Cowboys would eventually become the most valuable sports franchise in the world.
"You're that confident in the Cowboys?" Jennifer asked.
Aaron didn't answer. He simply pulled her close and kissed her lightly.
Then halftime arrived—and the performance Aaron had been waiting for finally began.
Amid swirling smoke and thunderous cheers, Michael Jackson burst onto the stage, rising dramatically from its center…
He struck a cool, statuesque pose and stood motionless at the center of the stage.
The deafening roar inside the stadium—shouts, chants, and piercing screams—was the clearest proof of Michael Jackson's overwhelming popularity.
Aaron glanced at his watch.
Michael Jackson stood there without moving for a full ninety seconds.
"This year's Super Bowl halftime ads cost about $750,000 for 30 seconds," Aaron said with a grin.
"I wonder if Michael's ninety seconds count as ad time."
Earlier, Dawnlight Pictures had spent $1.5 million to purchase a full minute of Super Bowl halftime advertising, promoting the summer blockbusters Speed and The Mask of Zorro.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars for thirty seconds?"
Jennifer Connelly stared at him in disbelief.
Aaron gestured toward the stage.
"Watch closely. This is absolutely worth it. Michael Jackson's appearance is going to change the history of the halftime show."
The ratings were guaranteed to be massive—especially during halftime. Records were almost certain to be broken.
In the past, halftime had mostly been a break for food and drinks.
But Michael Jackson's performance would make the organizers see the true commercial potential. From now on, inviting top-tier superstars would become the norm.
---
In the end, the Dallas Cowboys crushed the Buffalo Bills 52–17, winning their third Super Bowl championship since the 1970s.
After leaving the Rose Bowl, the two drove their Mazda RX-7 onto Hollywood Boulevard.
"Let's celebrate tonight," Aaron said with a laugh as he drove.
"I just won a decent chunk of money."
He'd placed the bet casually—and the Cowboys had actually delivered.
Jennifer nodded, then suddenly pointed at a bar by the roadside.
"Hey—let's go to The Viper Room. I heard Johnny Depp owns it now."
"Sure," Aaron replied.
The Viper Room was a rock bar—raw, loud, charged with heavy metal energy.
Dim lighting.
Alcohol.
Hormones.
And the faint, unmistakable smell of marijuana.
---
Inside a private room upstairs, Aaron wrapped an arm around Jennifer Connelly, kissing her deeply while slipping his hand beneath her lingerie.
"Mmm…"
When the kiss ended, Jennifer nestled against his chest, breathing a little fast.
"I heard Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp broke up last year," she said casually.
"When I was filming Reality Bites with her, reporters kept asking—she even confirmed it herself."
"You really keep track of that kind of thing?" Aaron teased, holding her close, his thoughts drifting.
Of course he knew.
He'd been involved with Winona Ryder himself—more than once—ever since filming Bram Stoker's Dracula in England.
Jennifer smiled and kissed his cheek.
"Didn't you think Winona looked absolutely stunning in Dracula?"
"Stunning, sure," Aaron murmured near her ear,
"but her figure doesn't come close to yours."
One was a B-cup.
The other was a D.
Aaron spoke from experience.
Jennifer traced his face lightly.
"Dracula didn't hit a hundred million in North America, did it?"
"No," Aaron replied, nodding.
"About $80 million domestically—but overseas it did much better, around $130 million."
"That puts the global total at $210 million. With a production budget of only $40 million, even after marketing costs, it definitely turned a profit."
Dawnlight had invested $10 million, while Columbia handled distribution.
As an investor, Dawnlight would receive returns proportional to its stake.
Dawnlight Pictures and Coppola's Zoetrope Studios were co-producers, so for Aaron, Dracula was simply icing on the cake.
For Francis Ford Coppola, however, it was a different story entirely.
Zoetrope had been hemorrhaging money.
The Godfather Part III had underperformed, and Dracula was made largely to cover those losses.