The Golden Globes afterparty wrapped up close to midnight, and Dunn was driving Natalie home.
Of course, "home" didn't mean his place—he dropped her off at Shirley Hershlag's house.
Shirley had quit her gig at WMA and officially joined Dunn Films, where Dunn put her in charge of handling tax stuff.
Dunn had bumped into her a few times at the company, and she was always rushing around like she had a million things on her plate. According to his secretary, Isla Fisher, Shirley had expensed a ton of finance and law reference books—over $10,000 worth!
Dunn couldn't help but groan about how pricey intellectual property was in the States, while quietly giving Shirley props. At 45, she still had that fire for work.
Was Natalie's drive a reflection of her mom's influence?
"Mom, why aren't you asleep yet?" Natalie asked, surprised, as Shirley stepped out of her study.
"Still got some work to finish," Shirley said, brushing Natalie's hair gently. "No award tonight? No biggie—plenty of chances down the road."
Natalie scrunched her nose. "I know that!"
Dunn grinned. "Sorry, Shirley, didn't mean to bug you this late."
Shirley waved it off with a smile. "Oh, you're too polite. I figured you two might not even come back."
Natalie's eyebrows shot up. "Not come back? Where else would I go? Mom, are you trying to kick me out? No way!"
"This girl!" Shirley shook her head, half-exasperated, and Dunn jumped in with a laugh to change the subject. "So, Shirley, how's work going? I've been swamped with movies, so I haven't been super involved with the company."
Shirley's face turned serious real quick. "Dunn, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Back when Dunn Films was just a little movie studio, a loose setup was fine. But now that you've bought Marvel, we *need* a proper company structure—and a real manager."
Dunn went quiet, thinking it over.
Shirley pressed on. "Dunn, I get it—you're a director, you love making movies, like Spielberg. But Dunn Films isn't just about the films themselves. There's operations, distribution, marketing, PR, taxes—a ton of stuff to handle."
"Mom's right, Dunn. You need a manager!" Natalie chimed in, pouring herself a glass of juice and curling up on the couch. She sipped through a straw, nodding like she was some wise expert.
Dunn chuckled. "Actually, I'm already working on that."
"Oh? Who?" Shirley asked.
"Bill."
Natalie snorted, then shot Dunn a mock-annoyed glare.
At the party, she and Dunn had been joking about two "Bills"—the president and the richest guy alive. The convo had gotten pretty wild.
Dunn didn't drag it out, though. "Bill Mechanic."
Shirley's eyes went wide, totally thrown. "Bill Mechanic? The ex-Fox CEO who just left?"
Dunn grinned. "Yup, that's him!"
"No way, how's that possible?" Shirley said, still skeptical.
"Won't know till we try, right?" Dunn shrugged, keeping his cool. "I think Bill's still got that spark—he's not ready to retire. And honestly, he's the only one I trust to run Dunn Films right now."
Shirley mulled it over for a sec but didn't push the topic. This was a huge call for Dunn Films, and even as Natalie's mom, she didn't have a say in it.
"Oh, one more thing—taxes," she added.
Dunn groaned inwardly, already dreading it.
Shirley's face got super stern, like she meant business. "Dunn, you've been way too lax about taxes. That's a massive oversight!"
"No, no, I've got a tax firm handling it," Dunn said, eyes widening.
Shirley flashed a hint of disdain. "A tax firm? Dunn, you're oversimplifying this."
"What do you mean?" Dunn's expression shifted, suddenly wary. "Are you saying the tax firm's ripping me off?"
"Quite the opposite—they're following the law to a T, all transparent and legit," Shirley said, shaking her head.
Dunn raised an eyebrow. "Okay, explain that one."
Shirley's tone turned a little snarky. "It's that 'legal and legit' part that's the problem—their biggest screw-up!"
It clicked for Dunn: gray areas, legal loopholes, *tax avoidance*. The firm wasn't helping him dodge taxes smartly.
Shirley went on. "Dunn, let's break it down with *Titanic*. You got $5 million upfront plus 10% of the global box office, right?"
"Yeah."
"How much tax did you pay? What's the total hit?"
Dunn thought for a sec. "For *Titanic*… I pulled in about $193 million total. Federal tax is 39%, California's 9.3%—so I paid around $93 million in taxes."
Natalie's eyes practically popped out of her head. This was news to her, and she gasped, totally floored.
She'd starred in *Girl, Interrupted* for a measly $500,000—and that was only because of Dunn's pull. Meanwhile, he'd raked in nearly $200 million from one movie!
The gap was just *insane*!
Natalie was kinda mad—and honestly, a little bummed out.
Shirley Hershler caught wind of Dunn's $93 million tax bill and winced like it physically hurt her. She gave him a long, sympathetic look. "Don't you think that tax rate's a bit steep?"
"Yeah, it's nuts…" Dunn trailed off, then perked up. "Wait—there's a fix for this, isn't there?" He finally caught Shirley's drift.
Shirley nodded. "Dunn, I've been digging into this lately. Guess what the average income tax rate was for the top 400 richest Americans last year?"
Dunn just stared, blank-faced.
"27%!"
"No way!" Dunn blurted out. He—a billionaire—was stuck paying 48.3%, while these mega-rich folks with tens or hundreds of million got off with less?
Shirley shook her head and broke it down slow. "Take *Titanic* as an example. If that 10% box office cut wasn't director's pay but an investment return instead, know what that means?"
Dunn, clueless about taxes, just blinked at her.
"It'd mean that 10% is investment income," Shirley explained. "And for that, you don't pay personal income tax—you pay capital gains tax!"
Dunn's eyes popped wide, like he'd just stumbled into a goldmine. His breathing sped up. "Capital gains? *Titanic* took over a year from shooting to release, so I'd only owe 15%?"
"Exactly!" Shirley finally cracked a smile. "Picture this: $5 million in director fees, 39% federal tax, but we can dodge California's state tax easy—Nevada's got none. Then the $188 million box office cut? Just 15% capital gains tax. Total comes to…"
Natalie's eyes lit up, jumping in quick. "I got it! $1.95 million plus $28 million—$29.95 million total! Average rate… 15.5%!"
Dunn was straight-up dumbfounded. *This* was allowed?!
Turns out, America's tax system had some serious tricks up its sleeve.
Shirley went on, "Dunn, you need a wealth management team—tax experts, lawyers, planners, the works. It'll cost you millions a year in salaries, but it'll save you a fortune in taxes."
Dunn sucked in a breath. "I'm on it! Man, those tax companies screwed me over big time!"
Shirley shrugged, a little helpless. "They followed the law to the letter—no shady stuff—so you can't really blame them. Too bad about your *Star Wars* earnings, though. You'll probably still get hit with 48.3% since it's too late to tweak now."
Dunn waved it off with a laugh. "No biggie—just a pricey lesson. I'll fix it going forward… Oh, what about corporate taxes?"
"Of course—35% federal plus 8.84% state? No company can stomach that," Shirley said with a nod. "Especially us, a film company. Federal and state laws have tons of tax breaks for us."
"Like what?"
Shirley hesitated, looking a bit unsure. "I'm new to this myself, still figuring it out. We need a proper tax department. Rough idea? Set up a foundation in Nevada, funnel Dunn Films' profits there, and skip California's 8.84% state tax. Plus, with our HQ here, we'd still snag Cali's tax perks."
Dunn's head was spinning. "Just tell me—what's the company's tax rate gonna be?"
"Around… 25%, give or take."
"That low?!" Dunn's jaw dropped, half-thrilled, half-freaked out.
Shirley grinned. "Yup! We're a movie company—every country and state bends over backwards with low rates to lure us in. A 10% federal tax cut's already sweet. Add an offshore setup, keep overseas cash out of the U.S., and the average drops even more."
Dunn was hit with a revelation: running a company was *way* more complicated than he'd thought! Taxes alone had him stressing—and cost him million.
But hey, at least he'd caught it now.
Bill Mechanic's offer suddenly felt even more urgent.
"Shirley," Dunn said, dead serious, radiating a vibe way beyond his years, "you're in charge of the tax stuff from now on. Top priority? Build that tax department!"
Shirley's heart leapt. *Head of taxes?* That was top-tier management!
She had her own little schemes brewing. She'd heard about Dunn's recent stock market wins—big moves, big money. A boss this sharp, this capable—Dunn Films wasn't staying small forever.
Shirley could already picture herself strutting through Hollywood, entouraged up and calling shots.