After seeing Dunn off, Natalie started grumbling. "What an idiot! What's the point of making all that money if it just goes to taxes?"
Shirley Hershlag laughed, then hesitated before testing the waters. "Nat, uh… how far have you and Dunn gone?"
"We're dating," Natalie tossed out casually, clearly not catching her mom's drift.
Shirley paused. "I mean… like, have you two… you know, hooked up?"
"What?" Natalie blinked, then her face turned bright red. "Mom, what are you even saying? I'm tired—I'm going to bed!"
"Wait a sec!" Shirley called, her face turning serious as she fixed her gaze on Natalie. "Nat, what's really going on here?"
"What's going on with what?" Natalie squirmed, clearly embarrassed by the topic.
Shirley pressed, "You're both young! You go on dates, have fun… don't tell me Dunn's not into you or something?"
"No, stop guessing!" Natalie stomped her foot, exasperated. "He's great to me, and… I can tell he really likes me."
"Then why haven't you…?"
"I said no," Natalie cut in.
"Why?" Shirley blinked, confused. "Nat, didn't you used to complain I was too strict? You're an adult now—no one's stopping you from enjoying yourself."
Natalie frowned. "But Dad's always been dead-set against anything before marriage—"
"Forget him!" Shirley waved her hand, annoyed. "Nat, you grew up in the U.S.—you don't have to stick to those dusty old rules. It's the 21st century! Things aren't like they were two thousand years ago."
"But…" Natalie almost spilled the real reason, but then thought better of it since it involved her and Dunn's private stuff. "If we did, Dad would flip out."
"Don't worry about that old fossil! Keep it under wraps, and I'll cover for you—he'll never know," Shirley said with a sly grin.
"Oh… well, I'll think about it," Natalie mumbled, still on the fence.
Shirley frowned and stepped closer, pulling her daughter into a gentle hug. She lowered her voice. "Sweetie, you know what I've heard at Dunn Films?"
Natalie pouted. "Yeah, I know—Dunn's been messing around with both his secretaries. We've talked about it, so you don't need to butt in."
Shirley shook her head, her eyes cautious and warning. "No, I heard Dunn's been playing the Nasdaq and made at least a billion bucks—maybe more."
"A billion dollars?!" Natalie's eyes went wide, disbelief all over her face. "Mom, you're kidding, right?"
"No joke!" Shirley said firmly. "Remember that little girl, Taylor Swift? We helped her mom find music teachers in New York."
"Yeah, Dunn and I saw her in a kids' play once," Natalie nodded.
"Exactly. Taylor's mom's been chatting with me a lot lately about raising her daughter, and we've gotten close. Turns out, Taylor's dad is a stockbroker in New York—and he's handling Dunn's trades."
Natalie bit her lip, going quiet for a long stretch.
"Nat, I checked the books. The box office cut Dunn got from *Titanic* never went into Dunn Films. Thinking back, he must've dumped it into the stock market. It's legit!" Shirley's face lit up with excitement, mixed with something heavier.
"I'm calling him to see if this is true," Natalie said, her emotions swirling. She remembered their pact from the party, but she hadn't pegged Dunn as a money-making machine outside of movies too.
Shirley stopped her fast. "No way, Nat, are you nuts? He's not gonna spill something like that!"
Natalie tilted her head back, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You don't get us. He… he wouldn't hide it from me."
Then, under her mom's skeptical stare, she grabbed her phone. Three minutes later, she let out a soft sigh and hung up.
"Well?" Shirley asked, practically vibrating with curiosity.
Natalie nodded calmly. "He admitted it. Not quite that much—$1 billion, pre-tax. He also said he's jumping into futures soon to make a big score."
Shirley was speechless, staring at her daughter, totally floored.
"Alright, I'm beat. Heading to bed," Natalie said, giving a little wave as she shuffled toward her room.
Suddenly, Shirley called after her. "Nat, it's time to decide. Dunn's got some flaws, sure, but he's responsible—he's not the type to ditch people. Don't let a few quirks make you miss out on a guy this good."
Natalie paused, knowing full well what Shirley meant by "flaws" and "good."
"Okay, Mom, I get it. I… I won't let you down," she said, her voice clear and steady like a stream.
…
Ever since Bill Mechanic got Dunn's invite, he'd been on edge.
Leaving Fox had left a bitter taste—he wasn't ready to let it go. He wanted another shot to take on Tom Rothman.
belamy20
If only he could've gone toe-to-toe instead of slinking away like this.
But… Dunn Films? This little movie studio didn't even have a distribution arm. Was it really a platform that could take on Fox?
Rely on Marvel? Bill had never been sold on superhero flicks.
Still, his real worry wasn't his own gig—it was his old crew.
When Bill Mechanic jumped from Disney to Fox, they'd handed him the keys to the kingdom. He'd brought along a tight-knit team—some were buddies from way back, decades-long friendships.
Then, just three days ago, his old pal Paul Howarth—honorary Yale Law prof and Fox's legal counsel—got the axe. Brutal. The production department took even bigger hits, including Grant Hill, who'd worked on *Titanic*. Since Bill left Fox, over 20 people had been canned one after another.
For five years, Bill had run Twentieth Century Fox like a well-oiled machine. Growth second only to Warner Bros, steady top-three revenue— all thanks to that elite squad. And now? They'd all been sacked together. What a mess!
Right then, his personal phone buzzed. It was Steven Soderbergh—a young, crazy-talented director he knew well.
"I've got a hunch this isn't just a 'how you holding up' call," Bill said, a bad feeling creeping in.
Steven let out a dry laugh. "You nailed it, Bill. My movie's in trouble."
He'd adapted the British show *Traffic* and scored funding from Fox. Bill had loved the project and Steven's chops, so he'd fast-tracked it through production.
"What's up?"
"They're saying an R-rated flick with a budget over $50 million is nuts. They don't wanna repeat a *Fight Club*-style flop."
Steven was straight-up honest, but there was a nudge in there—like he was hoping Bill would pull some strings and find new backers.
Tom Rothman's take wasn't wrong, though. *Fight Club*'s crash-and-burn had spooked Fox hard. *Traffic*'s edgy, thorny subject matter made it an even riskier bet—no way Fox was dumping big cash into it now.
"Tom Rothman's screwing around!" Bill snapped. He'd personally greenlit *Traffic* and signed off on a $52 million budget. The second he walked out Fox's door, they'd trashed his call. Unreal!
Steven sighed, helpless. "Bill, I've hit up a bunch of studios already. Nobody wants to sink that much into an R-rated movie."
Bill got the hint but hesitated. Tough spot.
*Traffic* had been locked in—casting underway, filming set to start in two months. His sudden exit had tanked it. No matter how you sliced it, Bill felt responsible. Then a certain young face popped into his head. "Have you… tried Dunn Films?"
"Dunn Films?" Steven paused, baffled. "$52 million? Walker's gutsy, but that gutsy?"
"Isn't he?"
Bill squinted, thinking it over.
Dunn had snapped up Marvel Entertainment with his entire fortune when superhero movies were dead in the water. Then he'd leveraged *all* his assets for a loan to make *Spider-Man*. That wasn't just guts—that was a full-on gamble!
"Steven, hang tight. I'll check with Dunn for you."
After wrapping up with Steven, Bill sat still for half a minute, glancing at the date—January 25th.
His brow twitched. He grabbed the phone again and dialed.
"Hey, Bill! Figured it out yet?" Dunn's cocky voice crackled through.
Bill hesitated, then chuckled. "Dunn, I've got some Super Bowl tickets—great seats. Wanna catch the game live?"
"Heck yeah!" Dunn jumped at it. "I even bought an ad slot—gonna drop the *Spider-Man* trailer."
Bill cracked up. "Dunn, sounds like you care way more about movies than the Super Bowl!"
"Duh, we're movie people! Making films we love—that's the dream."
"Dreams, huh…"
Bill's mind drifted for a sec.