Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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Nicole lowered the champagne glass before she could take another sip. She could still feel Marvin watching her from across the room.

It was ridiculous how quickly her mood had changed simply because he was there. Ten minutes earlier she’d been concentrating on smiling for photographers and pretending the distance between herself and Tom didn’t exist.

Now she was thinking about Marvin. She glanced toward Tom.

He was speaking with one of the Miramax executives, smiling and nodding at exactly the right moments. Nicole watched him for a second, then reached over and lightly caught his sleeve.

”Tommy.”

He turned. ”What?”

She kept her voice casual. ”Marvin’s over there.”

Tom followed her gaze.

The smile on his face didn’t disappear, but it tightened. ”Do you want to say hello?”

Nicole gave him an innocent look. ”Why not?”

Tom hesitated. There were plenty of reasons.

*The Others* had already become a major financial success, and the attention surrounding Nicole had grown with it. More importantly, Sherry Lansing and Paramount had been making increasingly serious attempts to get Marvin into their orbit.

Tom had made his feelings known to Lansing.

Quietly. Carefully. It hadn’t mattered.

She wanted Marvin. Paramount wanted Marvin. And Tom knew exactly what that meant.

Marvin wasn’t some unknown kid who had happened to write a successful script. He was accumulating relationships, money, projects, and influence at a speed never before seen.

And, more importantly, studios were beginning to treat him like someone worth competing for.

That made people nervous. Including Tom. Still, there was no point showing it.

Tom straightened his jacket and gave Nicole the familiar smile that had sold millions of movie tickets. ”Sure.”

He offered her his hand. ”Let’s go.”

Nicole took it. They crossed the room together.

By the time they reached Marvin, Tom’s expression was completely relaxed. ”Marvin.”

Marvin turned. ”Tommy. Good to see you.”

They shook hands. Tom’s grip was firm. Marvin’s was equally steady.

For a brief second neither man looked away. Then Tom smiled. ”How’s everything going?”

”Pretty well.” Marvin glanced toward Nicole. ”Hello, Nicole.”

Her smile came more easily this time. ”Hello, darling.”

There was nothing unusual about the exchange. Nothing anyone else in the room could have noticed.

But Nicole felt the difference.

Marvin’s eyes rested on her for a moment longer than necessary before returning to Tom.

Tom noticed. He said nothing. His expression barely changed, but his eyes lingered on Marvin for a beat before he looked away.

Marvin stepped forward and gave Tom a polite embrace first, then turned to her.

The hug lasted no longer than it should have. But Nicole knew him too well for that to matter.

His hand settled briefly at her waist.

Nothing that anyone watching would have considered unusual. Nothing that couldn’t be dismissed as an ordinary greeting between friends.

His hand didn’t stop there. It slid smoothly down the length of her back, past the dip of her waist, and settled just low enough to cup the soft, full curve of her ass. Under the cover of the crowded party he gave it a firm squeeze—fingers digging in for a heartbeat longer than anyone else could see—before releasing her as if nothing had happened.

No one in the glittering Hollywood throng noticed.

Except Nicole.

A sharp little gasp escaped her before she could stop it. Instant heat flooded low in her belly and spilled upward, flushing her chest and the delicate skin of her throat. Her breath stuttered. She covered it with a quick, bright laugh, but the thrill was electric—being handled like that right in front of her husband, surrounded by the industry’s most watchful eyes.

Marvin’s amber eyes flickered with quiet satisfaction. He stepped back, casually clapped Tom on the shoulder, and steered the conversation seamlessly back into business, the secret touch already claimed and finished.

Marvin looked perfectly innocent. She gave him a look. His eyes flickered with amusement.

Then, just as quickly, he turned back to Tom.

”So,” Tom said, gesturing toward the crowd, ”you’re getting quite a reception tonight.”

”I’m beginning to notice.”

”You deserve it.”

”That’s kind of you.”

Tom laughed. ”You’ve got everyone chasing you now.”

Marvin raised an eyebrow. ”Everyone?”

”Pretty much.” Tom’s smile remained fixed.

”Paramount included.”

That got Marvin’s attention. Only slightly. ”I’d heard.”

”I imagine you’ve had a lot of calls.”

”A few.”

”Sherry doesn’t usually give up easily.”

”No.” Marvin smiled. ”I’ve noticed that too.”

Nicole glanced between them.

There was something beneath the conversation she couldn’t quite put her finger on. They were talking about business, but neither sounded particularly interested in the subject.

Tom took a sip from his glass. ”She thinks you’d fit well with us.”

”I’m sure she does.”

”And you?”

Marvin looked at him. ”I’m still deciding.”

Tom nodded slowly. ”Fair enough.”

Nicole kept eyes on Marvin. He didn’t seem threatened. If anything, he seemed amused.

That was one of the things she’d begun to love about him. Marvin never seemed impressed by someone else’s power. He considered it, measured it, and then decided whether it mattered.

Tom had spent years becoming one of the most powerful men in Hollywood. Marvin simply stood there and treated him like another executive at a party.

Nicole almost smiled.

For a moment, neither man said anything. Then Marvin seemed to decide he’d had enough of that particular subject. His expression loosened, the seriousness leaving it as quickly as it had appeared.

”Enough about the dull stuff. I’ve just escaped from a mountain of it. How’ve you been, Tommy? Tell me we’re finally getting Mission: Impossible 2.”

Tom’s smile widened. ”Soon. Next year.”

”That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

Tom laughed. ”John’s still finishing the edit.”

”John Woo?”

”Who else?”

”Fair enough.”

Marvin nodded toward him. ”Everyone’s talking about it.”

Tom appreciated the compliment, even if he didn’t entirely trust the person giving it. ”Hopefully they’ll still be talking when it opens.”

”They will.”

The answer came so quickly that Tom paused.

Marvin said it as though it were obvious.

Tom looked at him properly.

The boy had changed.

Marvin was nearly as tall as he was now, and there was nothing uncertain in the way he stood. Even surrounded by some of the most powerful people in Hollywood, Marvin didn’t seem impressed by any of them.

Tom kept smiling.

Marvin caught the strain and emotions beneath it almost immediately.

’Interesting.’

Something had changed.

His eyes stayed on Tom for another second, his mind already running through the possibilities.

’What happened?’

Then one possibility surfaced, and his expression barely shifted.

’Impossible. He shouldn’t know.’

At least, Marvin didn’t think he did.

He glanced at Nicole, who stood smiling sincerely, her eyes hazy with lingering desire from his touch.

’So what was bothering him?’

Then the answer came easily enough.

Paramount.

Lansing had been after him hard lately.

Phone calls. Meetings. Offers. People quietly sounding out his representatives.

They wanted Marvin’s scripts. More importantly, they wanted Marvin himself.

And Tom Cruise had spent years becoming one of the most powerful men attached to Paramount’s biggest pictures.

It seemed Tom, the undisputed golden boy of Paramount, didn’t want to share the studio’s resources and Sherry Lansing’s undivided attention with a rising prodigy!

Marvin almost laughed.

He could already imagine how that would go if he signed an overall deal with the studio.

Lansing would want both of them. Considering Sherry Lansing and Tom Cruise’s deeply entrenched relationship.

Tom wouldn’t particularly enjoy sharing the room.

And Hollywood had never been famous for keeping powerful egos from colliding.

Marvin wasn’t afraid of fighting—he was supremely confident in his ability to crush Cruise in a boardroom—but if a smoother, more profitable option was available, why bother with the headache?

His time and energy were better spent elsewhere than being dragged into petty internal battles with an aging action star whose beautiful wife he had already taken for himself.

There were better opportunities waiting for him, and unlike Paramount, they didn’t require him to spend his days navigating someone else’s ego just to get a picture distributed.

Warner Bros. had been considerably more straightforward. Alan Horn had personally sat down with him several times, and the studio understood exactly what Marvin was bringing to the table.

Disney had followed soon after. Both were making serious offers.

Michael Eisner had not forgotten what had happened with *The Parent Trap*. Marvin was no longer an unknown teenager with an unusually good screenplay whom Disney could afford to take or leave. He had already demonstrated that he understood commercial filmmaking, knew what he wanted from a studio and, more importantly, was beginning to build enough leverage of his own that Hollywood’s usual rules were becoming less reliable around him.

Disney’s first objective was simple.

Get Marvin movies into theaters.

They weren’t asking to finance the picture. They weren’t asking for ownership.

They wanted the distribution rights.

After several intense dinners with Bob Iger, President of Walt Disney International, and David Vogel, President of Touchstone Pictures, they successfully secured a massive distribution deal for *Legally Blonde*.

The offer eventually settled into numbers that made the arrangement attractive to both sides.

Disney would guarantee a minimum 2,000-screen domestic theatrical release in August 2000, subject to the ordinary delivery and classification requirements. The studio would commit approximately $15 million in domestic prints and advertising, covering the theatrical prints, television advertising, newspaper and magazine campaigns, trailers, outdoor advertising, publicity and the other costs required to launch the picture as a genuine wide release rather than an independent film slowly expanding from a few cities.

Meyers Pictures would pay for the production itself.

And Disney would not receive ownership of the movie.

Its compensation would come through distribution.

Disney would recoup the $15 million P&A expenditure from the distributor’s theatrical receipts, then take a 7 percent distribution fee on domestic theatrical rentals and 5 percent international, handled by the studio. After the agreed distribution expenses and Disney’s fee had been accounted for, the remaining theatrical proceeds would flow back toward Meyers Pictures.

That was unusually favorable to Marvin.

The studio was taking the risk of putting its machinery behind the picture, but it wasn’t taking the entire upside.

If *Legally Blonde* became a hit, Disney could make a healthy return from the distribution fee and recover its marketing expenditure while Meyers Pictures retained the much larger economic interest in the film.

If the movie became a phenomenon, the difference became enormous.

At the same time, Disney’s commitment meant Marvin didn’t have to spend years building a domestic distribution operation before his first major commercial picture could reach the public.

He had the film. Disney had the pipeline.

They both knew what each side was bringing to the table. And Marvin had insisted on one condition from the beginning.

Creative control remained with Meyers Pictures.

Disney could market the picture. It could determine the theatrical rollout within the agreed framework. It could handle exhibitors and distribution logistics.

It could not rewrite Marvin’s screenplay, replace his approved cast, alter the final cut or turn the movie into something he hadn’t agreed to make.

That was the price of getting him. Disney could distribute Marvin’s movie. It wasn’t going to own Marvin.

For Eisner, the arrangement was still worth taking.

A $15 million marketing commitment was substantial, but Disney wasn’t writing a blank check against an unknown film. The studio had already seen the material, understood the commercial premise and knew Marvin’s track record was becoming difficult to dismiss.

And there was another reason Disney was willing to make the distribution terms unusually attractive.

They wanted a relationship.

The *Legally Blonde* deal was the doorway.

The real negotiation came afterward.

Marvin had no intention of giving Disney everything simply because they had given him a favorable distribution arrangement. He understood exactly what that distribution deal was worth, and he also understood what it wasn’t.

Disney could put his movie into theaters. It couldn’t make Meyers Pictures into a major studio overnight.

That required something else. A partnership.

The conversation eventually moved toward another picture.

This time, Disney wanted more than distribution.

Marvin wanted sixty percent. Disney wouldn’t give it to him.

After several rounds of negotiation, they settled on 55 percent for Meyers Pictures and 45 percent for Disney.

It was for another project. And Marvin accepted the compromise because he understood the political value of having Disney tied to Meyers Pictures beyond a single distribution contract.

He couldn’t eat the whole cake.

Not yet.

Meyers Pictures was still young. It could finance movies, hire crews and develop projects, but it didn’t possess decades of relationships with theater chains, exhibitors, television networks, advertisers, foreign distributors and the enormous machinery required to move a picture through Hollywood and into every major market.

Disney did. Warner Bros. did too.

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