[Chapter 237: A Call From New York]
The next day.
Will Smith received the news that he had been flatly rejected.
"What did he say?" Will slammed his coffee cup down, shattering it. "The lead has already been chosen? Is he messing with me?"
James, his agent, nodded helplessly. "Not just that. According to the buzz I've gathered, he's reached out to Denzel."
"Denzel?"
Will sneered, his eyes burning with rage. "That kid doesn't even understand the story! Does he think making a movie is the same as performing an exorcism? What does some outsider who got lucky even know about Gardner's struggle from the bottom?"
...
A short while later, a Hollywood gossip weekly dropped some explosive news: At a certain party, Will Smith openly questioned the production prospects of The Pursuit of Happyness.
"That's going to be a total disaster," Will reportedly said bluntly. "A producer with zero cultural insight, forcing his way into a story about the Black struggle. I'm willing to bet this movie won't even make back its production costs."
These remarks stirred quite a commotion in the industry.
Many waited to see what would happen, while some privately mocked Daniel, feeling he'd gotten a bit too full of himself.
...
Beverly Hills villa.
Amanda held a stack of freshly delivered scripts, looking at Daniel with concern.
"Daniel, Will's making a big scene in the media. Even some film critics are jumping on the bandwagon, saying you shouldn't have tried to tackle this genre."
Daniel sat in his study, the soft beeping of Chris processing information coming from his phone.
He absentmindedly stroked Amanda's soft blonde hair and said flatly, "He's afraid."
"Afraid?" Amanda asked, puzzled.
"Afraid I'll prove him wrong."
A slight, knowing curve appeared at the corner of Daniel's mouth.
"When all you've got left is shouting to get attention, it means you're already feeling threatened."
Just then, his phone rang.
It was Denzel Washington.
"Mr. Cross, I've read the original work." The Oscar winner's voice was steady and authoritative. "This is the most moving story I've come across in the last ten years. The scene where he's holding his child, crying in the restroom, it's brilliantly written. I'm in."
"Looking forward to working with you, Denzel." Daniel ended the call and looked out the window.
Will Smith's clamor was nothing but background noise to him.
What he wanted was not just to take the box office success that was originally Will's -- it was to claim the glory that belonged to him.
...
Late at night.
Amanda wound herself gently around him, her touch softer than usual.
"Daniel, you've been different lately," she murmured.
"Different how?" he asked.
"I feel like you're becoming more... authoritative."
Daniel paused, then smiled.
He was transitioning into his role as a Hollywood mogul.
As an industry insider, Amanda was naturally sensing that authority about him.
But it was like a poison, irresistibly alluring poison.
---
"Ring ring ring..."
A few nights later, the sharp ringing of the phone jolted Daniel awake.
Groggy, he glanced at the bedside phone.
"Who's calling this late?"
He picked up. The number was unfamiliar, from New York area.
Before he could speak, a slightly tired but still confident female voice spoke.
"Is this Mr. Cross?"
Daniel answered quietly, "Yes. Who is this?"
"My name is Ivanka Trump."
Her tone carried urgency. "I ran into some trouble."
"Lately, I keep dreaming of a door."
Hearing the name, Daniel was startled.
Ivanka Trump -- could this be the same woman he knew? Judging by her youthful voice, she was about 24 years old.
Still half-asleep, Daniel was annoyed. "Do you know what time it is?"
"I know it's late. I just woke up in a panic from the same nightmare, involving a door."
"So you woke me up?"
"I'm sorry. I really need your help."
Daniel sighed. "Fine. What kind of door?"
"A bright red door that looks like it could bleed at any moment," Ivanka said, her voice trembling. "Since I've been dreaming of this door, I get less than two hours of sleep every night. I can't concentrate during the day; I've made three major mistakes in a row handling the Family Foundation's accounts. That's never happened before."
"Have you seen a doctor?" Daniel asked.
"Yes. The top neurologists and psychologists in New York told me I'm just under too much stress." Ivanka gave a bitter laugh. "I even hired two Exorcists; they were useless. A friend recommended me to call you."
Daniel said, "You didn't believe in me at first, either. You're only calling because you were startled awake again?"
Ivanka faltered and fell silent, clearly caught off guard.
Daniel let it drop, his mind racing through the image of the red door she described.
The gray, deadly silent wasteland from the movie Insidious instantly flashed in his mind.
The Further, with that ominous red door.
Behind it, evil spirits lurked, eyes fixed on living bodies.
Daniel sat up, leaned against the headboard, and asked, "Is there a mark on your body? Something like an abstract drawing of a little child peeing."
Ivanka answered, breath quickening with shock, "You... how did you know? I found the same pattern yesterday. No matter how much I scrub, it won't come off. Mr. Cross, we haven't even met; how did you know?"
"That's not important," Daniel interrupted. "What matters is that mark is a tracker. You've been targeted. Something's got their eyes on your soul."
Ivanka gasped from the other end. "Please help me, Mr. Cross! I'll pay anything."
"Where are you now?"
"New York."
"I'm not going to New York."
Ivanka was stunned. "Why? If it's a money thing..."
"It's not about money," Daniel said coldly. "If you want to live, book a flight to Los Angeles."
Without hesitation, Ivanka said, "Okay, I'll be there tomorrow. Send me the address."
Daniel hung up and called, "Chris, send her the address of Cross Hall."
Chris popped out of the phone, landing softly on the floor.
She tilted her head, looking at Daniel. "Master, why refuse to go to New York?"
Daniel sneered and set his phone down.
"This red door is tied to the Red-Faced Demon I killed last time. With it showing up again, who can say it's not a trap for me?"
Chris's eyes lit up with understanding. "You're worried it's a hunt?"
"Of course," Daniel said. "Better safe than sorry. Even if it isn't, I've lost nothing."
Chris smiled slyly, "Master, you really are a clever old fox."
Daniel glared at her. "If you don't know how to talk properly, shut up."
"Sorry," Chris said quickly, grinning, "I meant you're a smart hunter."
Daniel settled back down. "Alright, I'm going back to sleep. You should, too."
Chris stared at him with burning eyes. "Master, none of those ladies came over tonight. Let me stay with you."
*****
https://www.patreon.com/Sayonara816.
https://discord.gg/HjHHhUXPn7.