After the chaotic but exhilarating parade scene, filming for Ferris Bueller's Day Off settled back into a more predictable rhythm. While Alex was still the man of the moment in Hollywood, his days were now filled with the meticulous work of bringing Ferris to life. However, even a superstar needed to attend to the less glamorous, but equally important, aspects of his career: the finances.
Alex met with his banker, George Slater, and his accountant, David Lester, in a discreet office in Chicago. George, a sharp, older man with a calm demeanor, laid out the figures for The Breakfast Club. David, meticulous and with a keen eye for financial strategy, listened intently.
"Alex," George began, pushing a folder across the polished desk, "MGM has settled the accounts for The Breakfast Club. After exhibitor fees, distribution fees, and all the prints and advertising costs were deducted from the worldwide gross of $151 million, your production company, Alex Hayes Productions, received a net of $60 million."
Alex nodded, his eyes scanning the numbers. It was a staggering sum, even for him.
"As per your company's structure," George continued, "90% of that goes to you, and 10% to Nancy."
Alex quickly did the mental math. "So, $54 million for me, and $6 million for Nancy."
"Precisely," George confirmed. "Now, we need to talk about taxes. With this kind of income, especially at the top marginal rates in California and federally in 1985, you're looking at a significant portion going to the government. Indeed, with combined federal and state taxes, your effective rate could be around 55% before any deductions."
Alex leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I've been thinking about something, George. I want to create a charitable foundation in my mother's name. I'd like to put $5 million into it to start."
David Lester, the accountant, spoke up, his voice clear and professional. "A very commendable idea, Alex. And yes, that would be tax-deductible. It would reduce your taxable income significantly. If you're looking at $54 million in income, and you deduct $5 million for the foundation, your taxable income becomes $49 million. This is an excellent way to reduce your tax burden, as charitable contributions are one of the most effective deductions for high-income earners."
Alex interrupted him gently, a soft smile on his face. "David, I appreciate you pointing out the tax benefits, but I want to be clear: I'm doing this for my mother, to honor her. The tax deduction is a welcome side effect, not the primary motivation."
David's face flushed slightly. "My apologies, Alex. Of course. A truly noble gesture."
"Beyond the foundation," David continued, regaining his composure, "there are other strategies we can explore. Firstly, ensuring all legitimate business expenses of Alex Hayes Productions are meticulously documented and deducted is crucial. This includes everything from production costs not covered by the studio, to salaries, office expenses, and travel. Secondly, if the production company owns any significant assets, such as equipment or even property, depreciation can offer substantial deductions over time. Thirdly, contributions to qualified retirement accounts, even at your age, can reduce current taxable income."
Alex nodded. "And just to be clear, David, I want to use all legal means only to reduce taxes. Nothing outside the books."
"Understood, Alex. That's always our approach," David affirmed.
"So, with your $54 million income, deducting the $5 million for the foundation, your taxable income is $49 million," David Lester summarized, bringing the conversation back to the immediate financial reality. "At a 55% combined federal and state tax rate, your tax liability would be approximately $26.95 million. This would leave you with a net income of around $22.05 million after taxes from this particular film's payout, before considering any other deductions we might find."
Alex listened, then leaned forward, a new glint in his eye. "Speaking of investments, I've also been approached by a new company. I want to invest in Cisco Systems."
George Slater frowned, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "Cisco Systems? Alex, that's a very new venture. They were only founded in December of last year, 1984, by a couple of computer scientists from Stanford, Leonard Bosack and Sandy Lerner. They're developing something called 'routers' for networking computers. It's cutting-edge, yes, but entirely unproven."
"I know it's new, George," Alex said, his voice firm, a strange conviction in his tone. " I just have a hunch that it's going to be very successful."
George and David exchanged a quick, bewildered glance, but remained silent. Alex Hayes had a track record of uncanny instincts, even if his reasoning was, at times, unconventional.
"How much are you considering investing, Alex?" George asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
"Three million dollars," Alex stated, "for a 40% stake in the company."
George's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Three million dollars was a substantial sum to sink into a nascent tech startup, especially for such a large percentage. It was a bold, almost reckless, move by conventional standards. Yet, he held his tongue. Alex Hayes had defied conventional wisdom before.
The meeting concluded with plans for further consultations to meticulously plan Alex's financial future. Alex left the office, the weight of his growing fortune, and the responsibility that came with it, settling firmly on his shoulders.
*****
In the exclusive gym of their Chicago hotel, the air was thick with the scent of sweat and the sharp crack of impact. Alex Hayes, a blur of focused energy, moved with the precision of a seasoned martial artist. Across from him, his father, John, a formidable presence even in his late forties, met every move with equal intensity. This was no gentle practice; it was a no-holds-barred sparring session, a brutal dance of Kyokushin, Goju-Ryu, and Taekwondo, interwoven with the raw, effective techniques of military grappling they both knew.
Alex, a 4th Dan in Kyokushin and Goju-Ryu, and a 3rd Dan in Taekwondo, pressed forward, his youth and explosive speed his greatest assets. He launched a rapid combination of a low roundhouse kick followed by a lightning-fast jab. John, a 6th Dan in Kyokushin and Goju-Ryu, and a 4th Dan in traditional Karate, parried the kick with a block that vibrated through Alex's shin, then slipped the jab, countering with a heavy body shot that made Alex grunt. John's experience was evident in his defensive economy and powerful counters.
Alex absorbed the blow, pivoting into a spinning backfist that John narrowly ducked under, transitioning into a low takedown attempt. Alex sprawled, twisting to avoid the grab, and they tumbled to the mat, grappling for position. John, with his military background, sought to control, locking Alex's arm in a submission hold. Alex gritted his teeth, using his superior flexibility to escape, reversing the position and gaining top control. He rained down a series of controlled, rapid strikes, forcing John to cover up. John, seeing an opening, swept Alex's leg, sending him off balance, and they were back on their feet in a fluid motion. The exchange was relentless, a testament to years of dedicated training. Alex, seeing an opening, feigned a high kick, then dropped his weight into a powerful leg sweep, catching John off guard. John stumbled, and Alex capitalized, driving him back against the padded wall with a flurry of precise, controlled strikes that ended just inches from his father's face.
John, breathing heavily, raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! I yield!"
Martha, Alex's stepmother, and Sofia, his half-sister, who had been watching from the sidelines, erupted in cheers. Sofia, bouncing on the balls of her feet, clapped her hands furiously. "Brother is best! Brother is best!"
John, wiping sweat from his brow, grinned at his daughter. "Traitors, both of you!" he playfully accused. He looked at Alex, a proud glint in his eyes despite his exhaustion. "Well, I'm pushing fifty, son. If I was three years younger, you wouldn't have beaten me."
Martha, ever quick-witted, stepped forward, handing Alex a towel. "Oh, don't be a sore loser, John. If Alex was three years older, he would have beaten you in even fewer moves."
Alex chuckled, toweling off his face. "Well, it's just sparring. If it were life and death, Dad would still win."
John let out a hearty laugh, clapping Alex on the shoulder. "Yeah, don't comfort my bruised ego, kid. A win's a win."
As they cooled down, Alex decided it was the right moment to share his news. "Dad, Maria," he began, looking at them both seriously, "I'm creating a charitable foundation in Mom's name. Katherine's Charitable Foundation."
Martha's eyes softened. "Oh, Alex, that's a wonderful idea."
John nodded, a thoughtful expression. "A very good idea, son. What kind of help do you need from my side?"
Alex explained, his voice gaining a quiet passion. "I want to start some programs. One of them is specifically for helping discharged military veterans. To help them, both mentally if they have PTSD, and financially by finding them suitable jobs. If they don't have any skills, we'll teach them skills by bringing in professionals to provide comprehensive training."
John's expression grew distant, a shadow passing over his face. Alex knew why. He had listened to his father's stories of Vietnam veterans, friends who had returned home only to struggle with the invisible wounds of PTSD, unable to adapt to civilian life. One of John's close friends, a man Alex had met a few times as a child, had tragically taken his own life just a few years prior.
"I'd like your help, Dad," Alex continued, his voice softer now, "to reach out to those people through your connections. To help them."
John stopped, looking at Alex, and Alex saw the unshed tears glistening in his father's eyes. John swallowed hard, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm thinking," he said, his gaze unwavering, "that your mother and I raised one fine young man, Alex. And I am so incredibly proud of you."
He pulled Alex into a tight, powerful hug. Alex felt a lump form in his own throat, a wave of emotion washing over him. To hear those words from his father, to feel that pride, struck him deeply.
"Hug me too! Me too!" Sofia squealed, tugging on John's leg.
They all laughed, and John and Alex pulled Martha and Sofia into a warm, comforting group hug, a family united not just by blood, but by love.