Chapter 160: No Shortage of Women
David Geffen had made his fortune early. Although his career was rooted primarily in the music industry, he had always harbored ambitions in film as well. Likewise, as an openly gay man, Geffen's private life had long been a subject of fascination and speculation. From Tom Cruise and Keanu Reeves to the more recent Brad Pitt, his taste had always been famously discerning.
That said, Interview with the Vampire still needed to be adapted into a screenplay, with a director selected and the creative team assembled. The project was only just getting off the ground. Clearly, it wouldn't be ready for release the following year—its target would have to be the year after.
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Los Angeles, the set of Speed.
A thunderous explosion erupted, a column of smoke rising into the air. The high-risk, high-adrenaline stunt left even the seasoned action crew visibly tense.
"No wonder audiences love this kind of film," Aaron remarked as he watched the scene. "This sort of spectacle really gets the blood pumping."
Standing beside him, director Jan de Bont considered for a moment before replying, "We'll probably need until the end of next month to wrap. The action sequences are taking more time than expected."
Aaron nodded. "They're worth it. The payoff is obvious."
He also remembered that back in May, Keanu Reeves had gone to the UK for a guest role in Much Ado About Nothing, Kenneth Branagh's Shakespeare adaptation starring Branagh himself and his wife, Emma Thompson. The cast also included Denzel Washington—someone Dawnlight already had a cooperative relationship with.
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That evening, Bel Air.
"Darling, aren't you supposed to head back to school soon?" Aaron asked lazily, sprawled atop Jennifer Connelly, clearly reluctant to move.
"I've already taken a leave," she replied calmly. "Once my scenes in Speed are finished, I'll go straight back."
If not for Aaron's advice, Jennifer might have dropped out altogether—even from Stanford. She gently patted his shoulder. "Come on, Aaron. Let's get cleaned up first."
"Alright," he laughed. "Let's go."
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California, Palm Springs, in the Colorado Desert.
One of The Mask of Zorro's locations had been set up in this quiet desert town.
"You're stunning," Aaron said softly inside the trailer, his arm wrapped around Catherine Zeta-Jones, who was dressed in elegant period costume—beauty and sensuality perfectly combined.
She kissed his cheek with a smile. "Tonight, I'll take you to the hot springs."
Aaron nodded, slipping a hand beneath the low neckline of her dress. "Do you have any idea how many people envy this role of yours?"
"Of course I do," Catherine replied, looping her arms around his neck. "Without you, it wouldn't have been mine."
"Your costume photos caused quite a stir once they hit the papers," Aaron added, kissing her lightly. "Grace, sensuality, and classical beauty—all in one."
She laughed. "Didn't you say before that I had a kind of wild beauty?"
"That was in the bedroom," he teased, blinking.
She leaned closer. "Lucasfilm actually called me recently. They wanted me for The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles."
"Oh?"
"I turned it down," she said firmly. "This year, I'm fully committed to The Mask of Zorro."
Ever since landing the female lead, Catherine Zeta-Jones had poured her heart and soul into the role—without distraction, without hesitation.
She had also spent a great deal of time training for the action sequences, striving to deliver the best possible performance.
"The Indiana Jones franchise has always belonged to Lucasfilm," Aaron said calmly. "George Lucas himself is the producer, Steven Spielberg directs, and Paramount handles distribution."
The production rights to Indiana Jones rested with Lucasfilm, while Paramount held the distribution rights.
"There's no real point in it," Aaron concluded. "You did the right thing turning it down."
"I know," Catherine Zeta-Jones replied. "I'll head off for now. Once the crew wraps for the day, I'll come find you."
That evening, at a hot spring resort in Palm Springs, Aaron Anderson and Catherine Zeta-Jones were enjoying an outdoor bonfire party. Surrounded by a desert oasis, the atmosphere felt refreshingly different.
"Hm… is that Jon Peters?" Aaron asked.
Lounging on a sofa with Catherine in his arms, beer in hand, he spotted Jon Peters approaching.
"Aaron, Catherine—good evening," Peters greeted them with a smile.
Since being forced out by Sony the previous year, Peters had struggled to find steady work. His nearly two-year tenure as co-CEO of Sony Pictures Entertainment had likely been the peak of his career—an astonishing rise from a San Fernando Valley hairstylist to the head of one of the seven major studios.
"Jon, what's up?" Aaron asked casually, deliberately planting a kiss on Catherine's cheek as he spoke.
After all, Catherine Zeta-Jones had once briefly dated Jon Peters.
"I've got a script," Peters said. "I was wondering if you might be interested."
At the mention of a script, Aaron felt a flicker of skepticism. Beyond his involvement with Batman, what else had Peters truly left behind that people remembered?
"Jon, just send the script directly to Dawnlight Pictures," Aaron said with an easy smile. He gave Catherine—radiant and sensual in his arms—a playful pat. "With a beautiful woman keeping me company, I'm really not in the mood to talk business."
Not long after, Aaron carried Catherine into the hot spring pool.
"Hollywood is nothing but a marketplace of fame and fortune," he remarked.
Yesterday's studio chairman could become today's producer scrambling for funding.
"I know," Catherine replied softly, snuggling closer against his chest. "But you're different. You haven't been in this business that long, and yet your achievements are already dazzling."
Aaron closed his eyes, leaning back against the edge of the pool. With a quiet sigh, he smiled.
"People are selfish by nature. Desire has no end," he said.
"The more you have, the more you want."
Dawnlight's success was undeniable—but Aaron still wanted more.
"And yet," Catherine added suddenly, "you already have women from America, Britain, France… and Australia."
Aaron's eyelid twitched.
What about Monica Bellucci—Italy?
Five countries already. Just three more, and it would make eight.
"You really do know quite a lot," Aaron said with a laugh, giving her a teasing squeeze.
Catherine gasped softly, laughter dissolving into breathless murmurs as the warm water rippled around them…