October 19, 1997.
Almost like a celebration, October heralded one of the milestones that would bring to a close another of the most iconic films of the '''' '90s—a testament to a truth no one could deny. It was a fact: Winona, now counted among the many so-called Bond girls, looked stunning, her natural allure sparking whispers everywhere; her rosy nipples alone could captivate half the world in five seconds. With such beauty, she was now ready to test the waters of romantic comedies, taking on the challenge of playing a woman who radiated sunshine—an irresistible charm at first sight.
A delightful romantic comedy that made the role seem almost destined for her. Even now, Billy could be called a thief—having "stolen" the part from Tom Hanks for the second time. First, it had been Jerry Maguire, and now it was You've Got Mail. Yes, originally Cameron had considered Tom Hanks before Tom Cruise—that was a fact from the very start.
-I love it; the role is everything I've dreamed of,- replied Winona, unwilling to turn it down. Working with Nora was nearly a dream come true for her. Every film the director crafted was simply enchanting, and the progression of her characters often left one sighing in admiration. They began buying small storefronts for the movie, leaving the rest to chance, as it usually is in film. The shooting location would be at 106 West 69th Street. The website was developed from the start by Billy and his team with help from the Hotmail group—then under Bill Gates—who offered Billy $3 million in sponsorship, provided he met three conditions: first, that he appear in the film; second, that the website be regularly featured; and third, that he star in a commercial alongside the lead actress. It was a memory now etched permanently in his mind, helping lower sponsorship costs, while Billy was eager to feature the Lamborghini in the film—not for his character, but for his character's father, hoping it would add visual appeal to the scaled-down project, set to begin principal photography in January if the winter weather proved less harsh than expected.
The budget hovered around $50 million—easier to manage without Tom Hanks, who commanded at least $10 million per film. For Billy, that was a modest investment in the actor, a two-time Oscar winner and a box-office sensation. He expected to reduce his margin to a percentage share, earning alongside his own company.
-Then I'll start working at a children's bookstore from now on,- Winona said, embracing all of the director's demands. Nora required her to immerse herself in the world of children's books: to read 80 stories in two months, work at a bookstore for another two, and lighten her performance—bringing to life a playful young woman in the body of an adult.
-Well, Billy will have his own challenges, too. The capitalist businessman seems almost too perfect for him—more ruthless than he lets on,- Nora remarked with a knowing smile. She had read reports about Billy's various business dealings; each year at the helm of his company, he grew sharper and faster at spotting even the smallest mistakes in competitors and far more relentless in making money—a role that had fit him all too well in Jerry Maguire.
-I don't think he'll disappoint; he's meticulous when it comes to his roles. I've worked with him on three films, and I can say no one seems more stressed about giving 100% in every performance than he does,- Winona replied, her eyes shining with the fervent admiration she held for Billy.
Nora paused, sensing that perhaps the chemistry would prove even better than she'd hoped. That was her only condition with Billy—that there be real chemistry. Everything else remained tentative, fragile as wet paper and drifting clouds, until it became profitable for her as a director, who sought visual economy in every frame she composed.
-I hope to see it as much as you defend it, - Nora said, her face softening into a smile. The world of acting was a cauldron of elements that, when fermented, could sour the spirit of anyone with even the faintest need for a breath of fresh air.
A step, no less than two steps.
***
For Mónica, the runways had become a daring force. In six months, she had picked up something of the high-fashion women's habits—the commanding stride in sharp heels, the serious gaze, and that innate strength that allowed them to be seen without shrinking into shyness or being lost in the crowd of the catwalk. Nothing could be more beautifully challenging than performing the same routine over and over and still finding the flaws in one's craft. Yet for Mónica, it was different for many reasons; she had once tried to fit into those pageants and had lacked the skill to do so—but now, things had changed.
-You're stunning, darling—the most beautiful of women,- said Marcelo, a man in the fashion world who wouldn't even blink at the sight of the most fantastical supermodels.
"My feet hurt; these stiletto heels are pure torture. But I love the leather they use so much I feel I could live a lifetime in them," Mónica replied, noticing how enchanting she looked in them.
Behind her, the German Barbie accompanied her alongside Christy Turlington. They were part of a Calvin Klein lingerie campaign—three strikingly beautiful women forming a harmonious contrast: the captivating blonde, the dark-haired Italian, and the Latin-American beauty with her exquisite blend of genes.
-I like these collections,- said Claudia, stepping close to Mónica and invading her personal space. Together with Christy, she was just as playfully clingy—like Naomi, who often grabbed at her colleagues' breasts or simply turned a deaf ear to protests. Posing in intimate embraces, teasing suggestively, they brought a certain spice to the set, creating a behind-the-scenes camaraderie.
-Though high heels already make me seem more unattainable than I actually am, - Claudia added.
-They certainly do, my dear, - Mónica sighed, taking in her indifferent poise.
-A magnate sent us a collection of champagne, - Christy shouted gleefully, quite certain the gesture was meant for Claudia, who had captivated a well-known king of dealerships with monthly sales of 4,900 cars, or so it was said in her native Germany. It was enough to call him madly smitten.
-So, it's a competition then, - Claudia remarked with a glance at the gif, —worth 20,000 euros, but nothing particularly exciting.
How irreverent, Mónica thought, shaking her head just as a call came through—firm and cool. There it was: the offer of a new role. Her eyes lit up; she was deeply valued for her connections with the film industry.
...