[Chapter 205: Laugh All You Want]
Beverly Hills, at a private cocktail party where celebrities gathered.
Will Smith, holding a glass of champagne, was chatting and laughing with several producers. With the massive success of Hitch, his box office appeal was at its peak. He was an undisputed A-list superstar in Hollywood.
"Will, have you heard?" a chubby producer said, his tone dripping with gossip. "Hancock just signed Tom Cruise, and the producer is Anne Hathaway's boyfriend, you know that guy..."
Will Smith's eyebrows twitched slightly at the news. He had seen the Hancock script a few years back; his agent had handed it to him. But he'd thought the protagonist was too negative -- not just a drunk, but a total jerk. It didn't fit the "perfect Black hero" image he wanted to maintain, so he'd tossed it straight into the trash. He hadn't expected the project to actually get off the ground now.
"I've heard something about it," Will said, taking a sip of champagne. A polite but slightly detached smile lingered on his face. "Tom's a great actor. He always likes challenging the impossible." He didn't publicly bash Tom Cruise in such a formal setting.
"Haha, yeah. But that Daniel is really bold," another director chimed in. "Superhero movies are hot right now, but audiences prefer traditional heroes, like Spider-Man, X-Men, Superman. A homeless Superman? And they're pouring over a hundred million dollars into it? I think eighty percent of that money's about to go up in smoke."
Will swirled his wine glass gently, a flicker of subtle disdain in his eyes. His impression of Daniel was far from good. Not just because of the soft rebuff he'd received over the Anne Hathaway situation earlier, but also because of Daniel's attitude -- like he could see through and control everything. It made Will, a superstar used to being in the center spotlight, uncomfortable.
"Movie making is a precise art, not something you succeed at by relying on so-called magic or luck," Will commented coolly. Though calm in tone, there was a clear edge of condescending superiority beneath his words. "That script's got structural flaws; unless it gets drastic rewrites, it'll be tough for mainstream audiences to swallow. Letting Tom play the lead is just an expensive gamble. As for that Daniel, maybe he has some exorcism tricks up his sleeve, but when it comes to movie investments... I wish him luck."
The group around him chuckled knowingly.
What Will didn't know was that in the original course of fate, he was the one who signed on for Hancock and went on to rake in over six hundred million dollars worldwide. Now, standing high above it all, he was casually predicting that the very opportunity meant for him was about to fail.
...
In a quiet corner of the party, Daniel listened, glass in hand. He had come with Amanda. Thanks to his extraordinary hearing, he caught every word from Will Smith's side clearly.
Instead of anger, a playful smile curled the corners of Daniel's mouth.
"What are you laughing at?" Amanda asked, curious, taking his arm.
"Nothing," Daniel replied softly, clinking his glass lightly. "I just saw someone throw away a jackpot lottery ticket like it was scrap paper... and then mock the person who picked it up as a fool. I find that rather amusing."
"How mysterious," Amanda teased him with a playful look.
Daniel's gaze settled on the distant Will Smith, surrounded by stars, his smile growing even richer. Laugh all you want. He thought. I hope that after Hancock is released, you still have the luxury to laugh.
...
The Hancock filming set was dusty and gritty.
Tom Cruise sported semi-long hair, a dirty homeless outfit, and a scruffy beard. Holding a liquor bottle, he delivered a raw, frenzied performance with reckless abandon.
At first, Daniel had worried that Tom wouldn't fit the role, but he was proven wrong. Acting skill wasn't nearly as important as tapping into his inner frustration and public disdain. The image of a misunderstood and disliked superhero had come alive.
It seemed the choice of this version of Tom Cruise as the lead was spot on.
Daniel stood at the edge of the set, wearing sunglasses, watching for some time.
...
Peter Berg had been nervous initially. He feared this young big boss would micromanage the shoot. After all, Hollywood investors who acted like they knew everything were every director's worst nightmare. But Daniel only briefly reviewed some playback footage, nodded at a few stunt shots, and patted Peter on the shoulder.
"Peter, you're the king here. I'm just signing the checks and waiting to count the money. Shoot it your way. Don't let anyone's opinion, including mine, hold you back."
Those words nearly brought Peter Berg to tears. In a Hollywood dominated by capital and producer-driven systems, finding a boss who gave complete power and absolute trust to a director was harder than winning the lottery.
"Don't worry, Daniel!" Peter said, fired up like he'd been injected with adrenaline. "I'll make sure all the doubters eat their words!"
Daniel left the set satisfied.
---
Meanwhile, Iron Man hadn't started filming yet, but preparations were in full swing.
Marvel's team was polishing the script day and night. The most important prop -- the Iron Armor -- was the top priority. Stan Winston Studio had taken on the task, conducting meticulous conceptual designs and model-making.
Robert Downey Jr. wasn't idle either. To transform from his previous thin, junkie image into Iron Man, he'd begun a rigorous physical training routine and had even started studying Wing Chun again.
---
Going back, tax season was in full swing in the U.S.
Although the Succubus had employed various strategies to help Daniel avoid taxes, she'd taken over too late to make a big difference.
Fortunately, most of Daniel's expenses had gone into buying copyrights and taking out mortgage loans. These investments could offset a good portion of what he owed.
In the end, Daniel's total income from the previous year resulted in a tax bill approaching two hundred million dollars. It was hefty, but Daniel bore it.
This year, with the Succubus managing his finances entirely, such a situation would never happen again.
On this day, Daniel was listening as the Succubus updated him about his recent emotional interactions with several women, when suddenly his phone rang.
He picked it up. It was Francia.
Daniel had even arranged a role for her in Hancock. Though it was only a small part, once Hancock succeeded, this credit would give her acting career a helpful boost. Because the role was so minor, Francia hadn't yet joined the crew, avoiding complications with food, lodging, and scheduling. Daniel planned to film her scenes all at once later.
"Mr. Cross, some guests just arrived at the shop -- a husband and wife," Francia said.
Daniel replied, "Tell them to wait a moment. I'm on my way."
...
Driving to Cross Hall, Daniel saw the couple waiting.
They were a haggard-looking white couple. The man appeared to be about thirty-five or thirty-six, with a refined and scholarly air, but his brow was knitted tightly, and his stubble was unshaven.
The woman looked even more worn, heavy bags shadowing her eyes, a clear sign of sleepless nights.
"Hello, Mr. Cross. I'm Josh, and this is my wife, Renai. Please, save our child," the man said, his voice tight with desperation.
After Francia introduced Daniel's identity, the couple spoke as if they'd just grasped a lifeline.
*****
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