The U.S. is crawling with gossip rags—wild, over-the-top stories that don't carry much weight.
But Dunn's a different story. He's Hollywood's hottest director right now, helming *Spider-Man*, a blockbuster everyone's got their eyes on. When he talks, it's instant headline fuel.
The Gold Club blew up overnight.
Media outlets and TV stations jumped on it, digging into this Atlanta nightclub owned by Steve Kaplan—a favorite haunt for NBA players.
With athletes tied in, Dunn's words didn't just shake up Hollywood—they grabbed the sports world's attention too.
Nobody's dumb here. Bruce Willis took a swipe at *Wedding Crashers* not long ago, and now Dunn's dropping that Willis frequents the Gold Club.
This is payback, plain and simple.
Given Dunn's track record of never letting a grudge slide, people knew he wasn't bluffing.
The Gold Club? Probably more than just a strip joint.
Cue the frenzy—TV networks, major papers, you name it, all sent reporters to Atlanta to scope out the Gold Club undercover.
By late 1999, it's the most talked-about nightclub in America.
And Bruce Willis, the guy who lit this fuse? He's still riding high off *The Sixth Sense*'s success when the scandal sucks him under.
The *Los Angeles Times* entertainment section didn't pull punches: "Bruce Willis, Did You Break the Law?"
The *National Enquirer* went nuclear, tearing into him like he's a criminal. "A top-tier Hollywood star, Bruce Willis has fame, status, and apparently a growing list of bad choices. Sources say he hits the Gold Club at least twice a month, booking 3-5 dancers each time. Big spender—those girls love him."
*The Hollywood Reporter* fanned the flames, claiming "Bruce Willis' stupidity and crimes don't match his fame" and urging fans to boycott *The Sixth Sense*. "Let Bruce Willis and his movie go to hell!"
Willis is reeling—panicked, stunned, terrified.
He's never had beef with Dunn. Trashing *Wedding Crashers* was just him following orders from the studio to boost *The Sixth Sense*'s box office.
The film's budget was tight, so they offered him $14 million plus 17% of net profits. With its current trajectory, he could've cleared over $60 million.
A couple of jabs for that kind of cash? No big deal.
Except those "casual" remarks poked a bear named Dunn Walker.
His agency scrambled, holding three press conferences—Willis showed up for two. They swore to the world he'd been to the Gold Club, sure, but only watched the dancers—no laws broken.
Too late. The scandal's a tsunami now—unstoppable.
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As the Willis mess explodes, *The Sixth Sense*'s box office craters. Theaters catch on quick, slashing screenings from 2,682 to 1,358.
Meanwhile, *Wedding Crashers* is thriving—back over 2,000 theaters. That week's haul spikes to $8.47 million in North America, pushing its total to $187 million, with $200 million in sight.
A $200 million North American haul in 1999? That's huge.
By November, only three films had crossed that mark: *Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace*, *The Sixth Sense*, and *Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me*.
Universal's *Notting Hill*, with Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant, was a critical darling but stalled at $110 million domestically—maybe half of *Wedding Crashers* by the end of its run.
True, *Wedding Crashers* leans on newbies and bold vibes, so its overseas take won't top $100 million—nothing like *Notting Hill*'s $240 million abroad.
Still, Hollywood's stunned.
After last year's low-budget hit *My Big Fat Greek Wedding*, *Wedding Crashers* is another jaw-dropping win.
Even its British director, Danny Boyle, is suddenly a hot commodity—word is MGM wants him for a *007* gig.
In this Dunn-Willis showdown, *Wedding Crashers* comes out on top.
Then, out of nowhere, Mel Gibson—Hollywood's reigning king—opens his mouth in an interview.
"The Gold Club? Yeah, I know it—big name. Tons of Hollywood stars have been there, from what I hear. Me? Nah, I've never gone. Word is they've got some shady stuff going on, and I'm a law-abiding guy."
"I trust Director Walker. Never met him, but he's a crazy-talented kid. I admire what he's got, and I don't think he'd just shoot his mouth off. Bruce Willis… honestly, I can't see him doing something like that."
"As public figures, we've got to follow the rules. How can we let a crook perform for audiences on the big screen? I don't know if that's art or a mistake."
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When Dunn hears this, he's thrown for a loop.
Mel Gibson and Bruce Willis are both with A Agency, right?
Infighting? Doesn't add up. Willis is big, but he's not shaking Gibson's throne.
The Aussie star's one of the few in Hollywood's "20-20" club—$20 million per film, 20% of profits.
So why's Mel Gibson randomly backing him up?
A setup?
Dunn shakes his head. Doesn't make sense.
"Dunn, you done shooting yet?" Natalie's voice crackles through the phone.
He's in New York for *Spider-Man*; she's in California for *Girl, Interrupted*. They're coast-to-coast but talk every day.
"Almost—three days, tops," Dunn says with a smile. "Once it's wrapped, I'll come see you."
"We're close too. Mendes says another month, and we're done. How about we hit Australia after?" Natalie's voice lights up with excitement.
Dunn chuckles. "Australia? Nicole's invite? Or Naomi's?"
"I can't stand Naomi!" Natalie mutters, then lowers her voice. "Dunn, you're in New York… living with Jessica, right?"
"Ahem." Dunn's caught off guard. "Nat, why bring that up now? I've decided—once *Spider-Man*'s done, I'll have Jessica move out."
"Oh…" Natalie drags it out. "And Naomi! I *hate* her!"
Dunn pauses. "What about Nicole?"
"Nicole at least knows I'm your girlfriend—she's not trying to steal you. But Naomi's a total snake. She's obviously after you! I hate her!" Natalie's fuming.
Dunn laughs. "Alright, I'll do whatever you say. Once *Girl, Interrupted* wraps, I'll kick her out!"
"Good!" Natalie perks up. "Oh, you didn't answer—Australia, yes or no?"
Dunn hesitates. "Nat, *Spider-Man*'s post-production's partly in the UK for tax breaks. I might not have the time."
"But I already promised someone!" She pouts, a little whiny.
"Who?"
Dunn grins, figuring it's Nicole Kidman. If Natalie's getting along with her, that's a win.
"Mr. Gibson."
"Who?"
"Mel Gibson!"
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