Be My Family (Part 3)
Generally, launching a new franchise took about three years. Roughly a year to a year and a half went into development and packaging, followed by a similar timeframe for actual production.
Whether that timeline shrunk or stretched depended entirely on how quickly the creative team could generate brilliant ideas, communicate without friction, and align on a single concept. What kind of story? What kind of characters? How would the film be made, how far would the series be planned, and how much capital would be invested and recouped? This massive capitalistic machine, drawing on experts from countless fields, was a battleground of clashing professional egos. Naturally, it required a generous buffer of three years—well over a thousand days—to navigate.
"But this case is different."
It was a high-level meeting of Warner Bros.' top producers. Sitting at the head of the long conference table, right where every eye in the room naturally gravitated, Terry Semel spoke with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"We already have a blueprint. A blueprint named Sion Lee."
A flurry of glances was exchanged among the producers. Sion Lee. The name spoke for itself. He was a rising star poised to become an absolute powerhouse, currently one of the hottest topics in Hollywood. Everyone in the room instantly realized that he and Terry Semel had already hashed this out in private. Now, the task was to select the showrunner to oversee the entire operation.
Naturally, many of them viewed the prospect favorably.
Sion Lee? That's killer.
This is huge. I want in if I can get it.
This looks fun. We could make a massive splash.
On the other hand, there were those who harbored doubts.
It's either heaven or hell.
One wrong step and it blows up in our faces. He seems hard to handle.
They looked like a pack of giant Alaskan grizzly bears eyeing a massive salmon, sizing each other up. Of course, bears didn't hunt in packs, but Terry read that exact hunger in their predatory eyes as they coveted the lucrative project. He let out a dry chuckle and continued.
"Because of that, I want to compress the timeline as much as possible. One year to a year and a half. I need a master truffle chef who can whip up a killer franchise film in that timeframe and serve it straight to the American public."
The room collectively gasped. Compared to other mega-budget projects, that was practically half the usual schedule. It wasn't entirely illogical; the whole point of casting Sion Lee right now was to capitalize on his current buzz and freshness... and if the actor himself was already on board, it wasn't strictly impossible, but...
Like hell it isn't! He just wants to work us to death!
That son of a bitch! He's always doing this!
While the producers silently cursed their tyrannical boss, Terry calmly puffed on his cigarette. He was a classic old-school executive who had survived from the previous era into the current one, meaning he loved nothing more than preaching about "grit" while dumping impossible workloads on his subordinates. Yet, as anyone familiar with his style knew, there was an even more crucial trait to him...
"Terry, I have a question."
...which was that if someone boldly bit the irresistible bait he threw out, he would back them to the very end, no matter who they were.
Joel Silver. A producer specializing in "fast-talking, troubled male protagonists." A man with a storied career who had produced hits like Die Hard and Lethal Weapon. He was a reliable veteran, possessed a spine of steel that didn't bend even before Terry, and, as his filmography suggested, was a quintessential American macho.
"What exactly is this blueprint?" Joel asked.
"What does it sound like?"
"A schematic. Or a metaphor for a promising future plan."
"Then what does it mean when I compare Sion Lee to a blueprint?"
"I get it, I get it. You want us to design a franchise film tailored specifically to Sion Lee's unique character."
"Can you do it?"
"So, we need to create an obnoxious, arrogant bastard who is somehow impossible to hate?"
"I won't go quite that far," Terry replied.
Hearing this, the other producers realized Terry Semel was testing them from the very start. With the general direction already coordinated with the actor, could the producers grasp his intent and deliver a fitting pitch?
"By tomorrow. I want a concept that can yield at least three films."
"What if we have a villain, and in the second movie, he's revealed to be Sion Lee's father?" Joel asked.
"Do you want us to get sued by George Lucas?"
Terry glared at Joel, who had dryly referenced Star Wars, and added, "That joke was terrible. For that, your deadline is tonight."
Every producer in the room shot a murderous glare at Joel. But Joel merely smiled with easy confidence, as if he already had something in mind.
While Warner Bros. was busy brainstorming a movie centered around him, the subject himself was enjoying a peaceful afternoon.
"Damn, this is peaceful."
Sion Lee was relaxing in a park, eating pistachio ice cream. Children ran around the playground while their parents sat on nearby benches, chatting idly. Dressed in a leather jacket with his hair neatly slicked back with pomade, Sion looked entirely out of place in such a wholesome setting, yet no one seemed to pay him any mind.
"Maybe they think I'm just another dad who brought his kid to the park?"
"...What kind of father brings his son to the park wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses?"
"The millennium is just around the corner. It's an era that demands a new breed of parent. The old-fashioned, beer-bellied dads who die young aren't attractive anymore, Leo."
Letting Sion's words slide right past him, Leo Walker happily munched on his three-scoop ice cream—mint chocolate, chocolate, and mint. The warm California sun was already melting it, but he managed to keep the mess at bay with a napkin Sion had handed him.
Leo Walker. The child actor who had co-starred with Sion in Not My Type. Though he wasn't even ten years old yet, he was a precocious boy who already gave serious thought to his career. Sion had taken time out of his schedule to meet him at the park specifically to recruit him to his agency.
His nanny, waiting a short distance away, watched with a worried expression as Leo sat on the bench, his short legs swinging back and forth, unable to reach the ground. Leo kept his indifferent gaze fixed on the other children as he spoke.
"I heard you're expanding your agency in a big way lately."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"I read it in the papers."
"...You can read already? Damn. When I was your age, I couldn't read, so the director had to feed me my lines scene by scene."
"A child star as hot as you were could get away with that. I looked up all your old work, and people practically swooned just seeing your face on screen. Because you were so cute."
Sion found Leo's matter-of-fact tone even cuter, but he merely shrugged.
"Want another ice cream?"
"A child's stomach has its limits."
"Did you regress too?"
"...What?"
"Never mind. No way."
There was no way a kid with ice cream smeared all over his face was a regressor. He had simply grown up too fast, molded by the harsh realities of Hollywood and his parents' divorce.
Come to think of it, Sion recalled his trajectory from his past life. With his adorable face and acting skills far beyond his years, Leo Walker had been a beloved child star, hailed as one of the next Macaulay Culkins.
But in the end, like so many child actors, he suffered a mental breakdown on the cusp of adulthood and retired.
Even so, the brilliant talent he displayed during his peak was undeniable. Sitting close to the boy, Sion casually asked, "Want to join us?"
"I don't know. What are the terms?"
"I'll buy you every Lego Pirate set released so far."
"..."
"And I'll take you to Disneyland once every quarter."
"...That's interesting. It would make for great mutual PR."
Leo's eyes sparkled as his dangling feet swung with renewed vigor. It seemed he had never been to Disneyland before. Feeling a pang of sympathy, Sion offered a gentle smile.
"I'll make sure you get paid a lot more, too."
Sion lowered his sunglasses slightly, locking his serious gaze onto Leo.
"I think you're an incredibly talented actor. And I have the perfect place to 'use' that talent."
Hearing Sion address him not as a mere child but as a fellow professional actor, Leo felt a wave of fluster and instinctively looked away.
"...I should probably ask my mom first."
"Your mom got custody, right?"
"Yeah. My dad used to drink and hit me."
Sion flinched for a fraction of a second. He glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in to whisper, "A lot of fathers get jealous when their kids do better than them. They're total dumbasses."
Leo stared at him, momentarily stunned, before letting out a bright giggle.
"Hey, watch your mouth, kid. Don't use bad words."
"Then you should've hugged me and offered sweet words of comfort like other adults do when they hear a sad story."
"Sorry, but I forgot how to say pretty words like that after my mother passed away. Turns out, that kind of stuff isn't very important in this industry anyway."
Pushing his sunglasses back up, Sion stood up from the bench.
"What I want now is simple. Good movies. Good actors. Lots of money."
With that, he crunched down on the rest of his ice cream cone, shoved it into his mouth, and walked away without so much as a goodbye.
Watching his retreating figure while quietly finishing his mint ice cream, Leo had already made up his mind.
Should I switch agencies?
His current contract was nearing its end anyway.
A few days later, at a mansion in Bel-Air, Hollywood. It was afternoon, and her parents were out.
Having invited a young man into her empty home without a shred of wariness, Elena Asimov served hot black tea, leisurely enjoying their afternoon tea time. Sion, who had been sipping his tea in silence, finally spoke.
"Want to join?"
"Yes."
"...That was fast."
"I was looking for a new challenge. I've been thinking about finding an agency that knows how to properly utilize an actress like Elena Asimov. And if the offer is from CK Agency, I don't see any reason to refuse."
"Shouldn't you consult your mother first?"
"My mother has nothing to do with this. I'm an adult, and this is my career from now on."
Having graduated early from Stanford, Elena was fully preparing to resume her acting career. Her eyes shone with a cold, piercing brilliance, like the brightest star in the night sky.
Excellent. That's the attitude of the next Meryl Streep.
Sion, who had only been testing the waters, offered a warm smile to the confident Elena.
"Was your previous agency the one your mother recommended?"
"Yes. She said they were financially stable and decent enough to work with. Since then, I've discussed almost every role with her. But I don't plan on doing that anymore. Even if I fail or hit a wall, I want to take my own risks. ...Sion, I knew you of all people would understand."
"Of course. Who else would understand you like I do?"
Sion patted his chest with a satisfied grin. He had expected things to go smoothly, but even when you knew what was inside a gift box, the actual moment of unwrapping it was always thrilling.
Elena turned the question back on him.
"Why are you suddenly hoarding actors?"
"I'll tell you because it's you. Let's just say I'm trying my best to avoid becoming a slave to the system."
"The system?"
"That's just how Hollywood is. In the end, the ones with the most money or the widest networks win. If you don't want to end up as just another disposable actor, it's best to secure and nurture as many talented, trustworthy allies as possible."
"That makes sense. Agencies like CAA package directors, writers, and actors together to sell them to studios. It gives them immense leverage over the films. ...That's a very intriguing perspective, Boss."
"Boss? Come on, you should call me 'Honey'."
"..."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"...Ah, you used to take these jokes so well."
Elena primly averted her gaze from the slightly pouting Sion.
"I'm not playing along with those jokes anymore."
"Oh, come on. Why not? This is what the public wants from us."
"There's no one here but the two of us right now."
"A true professional always acts as if there's an audience watching."
"...Sigh."
Exasperated by Sion's playful banter, Elena let out a long sigh, stood up, and headed upstairs to her room on the second floor. Sion, watching her go, felt a brief wave of panic. Even after all this time, she was acting just like she did when they filmed Fragments.
Is... is she mad?
But a moment later, she returned carrying something that used to be a bouquet—so massive she could barely hold it with both hands—and thrust it toward the stunned Sion.
"First of all, let me say thank you."
It had been about two months since she received it, and every single petal was dry and crisp. Yet, it had been preserved so beautifully that it could have been sold as an antique ornament.
"The bouquet you sent. Were they named Tiffany and Alexa again this time?"
"...This time, they were Elena and Olga."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"You kept them. I'm touched."
"I-it's just that it felt wrong to throw them away."
Elena, about to snap back, looked away as she recalled that day.
On her graduation day, Frederic Patterson had suddenly shown up, claiming he was there on Sion's behalf. Elena had been sharing tearful goodbyes with her close friends, including her roommate Anne, when Frederic suddenly pulled a colossal bouquet out of his car trunk. Her eyes had widened so much that her melancholy evaporated instantly.
"If you weren't going to show up, why did you send something so ridiculously huge?"
"It just shows how much I wanted to congratulate you. My schedule was packed that day, so I couldn't make it, but I wanted to send my feelings instead."
"...You're a terrible person. How does it make sense to send a bouquet instead of showing up yourself?"
Hmphing in annoyance, Elena muttered under her breath, You kept acting like you were going to come, but she had stubbornly carried the bouquet back up to her room anyway. Her complex emotions were clear, yet she seemed proud to show off how carefully she had preserved the flowers he gave her.
Is she still a kid, or has she finally grown up?
Either way, she was still in her early twenties, and she was still the Elena he knew. Watching her familiar back as she walked away, Sion couldn't help but hum a tune.
Now everyone's here.
The exact cast he had envisioned for this project.