Mr. Katz looked down at his ledger, then back up at Leo, his face a professional mask that betrayed nothing. "After all expenses, including final payouts, the remaining balance on the account is twenty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty dollars."
A hush fell over the crew as they waited to see what would happen to the leftover funds. Leo broke the silence with a wide, triumphant grin.
"In that case, I have an announcement!" he boomed, his voice echoing in the warehouse. "That money is our victory prize! Tonight, we're having a wrap party at the Hollywood Hotel! Top-shelf everything, on the company's dime. Everyone, be there!"
The set erupted in a deafening cheer. For a low-budget, non-union shoot like this, a lavish wrap party was an unheard-of luxury.
"Oh my god, we love you, Director Leo!" someone shouted.
"You're the best, boss!" yelled another.
Amid the celebration, Leo motioned to Mr. Katz. "You and I have one last stop. Everyone else, go home, get ready, and I'll see you tonight!"
Leo and the producer carefully packed the film canisters. Delivering them to New Line's headquarters felt like handing over a piece of his soul for inspection. In a quiet, sterile office, they met with a post-production executive.
"As per our agreement," Leo stated calmly, "I get the first pass at the edit."
The executive nodded. "You'll have ten days in one of our editing suites. After your cut is complete, we'll have an internal screening. If the executive team signs off, your cut is the movie. If they have... notes," he said, choosing the corporate euphemism carefully, "then one of our senior editors will take over to create the final version."
Leo knew this was the best deal a rookie could hope for. Even titans like Zack Snyder fought and lost battles over final cut against the studios. For now, this was enough. He was a director, but his long-term ambition was far grander. One day, he wouldn't just be visiting this building to deliver a film; he'd be visiting to buy the company. But that was a battle for another time. Tonight, was for celebrating.
The party was a glorious explosion of relief. It was a pressure valve, releasing twenty-five days of pent-up stress and anxiety in a catharsis of loud music, sizzling barbecue, and overflowing champagne . The normally focused crew let loose, splashing in the pool under the glow of tiki torches, their laughter echoing against the glittering backdrop of the Los Angeles skyline.
Leo circulated, sharing a drink and a story with everyone, from the grips to the makeup artists. Hours later, he found himself on a quiet balcony overlooking the city, the chaotic noise of the party a distant hum. Salma Hayek was already there, staring out at the sea of lights.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said softly, not looking at him.
"The city? Or the fact that we're not in a grimy, fake bathroom?" Leo joked, standing beside her.
She laughed, a rich, genuine sound. "Both. Thank you, Leo. For the role. For trusting me."
"You earned it, Salma. You gave the film its heart," he said sincerely.
They stood in a comfortable silence, the bond between a director and his lead actress, forged in the intense crucible of filmmaking, settling around them. The attraction that had simmered under the surface during the shoot—a shared focus, a mutual respect for each other's talent—was now free in the warm night air. She looked at him, her eyes dark and intelligent, and he looked back. It wasn't about a director and an actress, or a young man and a mature woman. It was about two people who had just been through a war together and had come out the other side, victorious.
The next morning, Leo woke to the gentle California light filtering through the blinds of his hotel room. He wasn't hungover or filled with regret. He felt a quiet sense of peace. Salma was already awake, sitting in a plush armchair by the window, wrapped in a hotel robe, sipping a cup of coffee.
She smiled at him, a simple, easy smile. "Good morning, director."
There was no awkwardness, no unspoken demand. The night had been a celebration, an epilogue to the intense story they had created together. They were two adults who had shared a powerful connection, and now, the world was moving on.
"Good morning, star," he replied, his voice still rough with sleep.
She raised her coffee cup in a silent toast. "So," she said, her tone shifting to one of friendly professionalism. "When do we get to see this masterpiece we made?"
Leo smiled back. The party was over. The work was about to begin again.