November 2006, Los Angeles, CA, USA
"Great to have you here, Anna," I greeted my co-star warmly. "Have you met Jennifer Lawrence?"
The two exchanged polite greetings.
"Anna," I called out, motioning her to the side. "Can you come here for a bit? I need to discuss something before rehearsals."
"Sure," she said, a little too enthusiastically, before following me. I shot Jennifer an apologetic smile, but she didn't seem to notice anything amiss, only ducking her head as if trying not to eavesdrop.
When we were out of earshot, Anna asked curiously, "Everything okay?"
"Oh, yes." I nodded. "It's not about you."
That only seemed to intrigue her more.
"I want you to take Jennifer under your wing," I said, covertly gesturing toward the girl with my chin. "This is her first major role. She hasn't done anything significant yet."
"How old is she?" Anna asked in a low voice.
"Sixteen. But she's very talented," I assured her. "You don't have to teach her acting, but whenever you're on set together, don't let her feel alone or abandoned."
Anna studied me for a moment before saying, "Why are you playing matchmaker? Why can't you befriend her yourself?"
"Because she's starstruck with me," I pointed out. "She'll open up, but it'll take time. Until then, will you do it?"
Anna shrugged, then seemed to think of something else. "Has she also signed a six-picture deal with you like me?"
I smiled. "It's not my place to say. But I'd suggest not worrying about her contract."
Anna raised her hands in mock surrender. "My bad. Just curious. Don't worry, I'll look out for her."
"Thank you," I said gratefully before heading off to meet Greg Mottola, the director of [Superbad].
As I walked, I couldn't help but think about Anna's question. Every actor I cast in a significant role signed a three-picture deal with me, not six. Under California law, no actor could be contractually bound for more than seven years, so I had seven years to make two additional movies with anyone I signed.
The deal worked like this: the first film's salary ranged from $100,000 to $250,000, the second doubled that amount, and the third tripled it.
Those figures were the upper limits, not the floor. If an actor underperformed or didn't reach the level of stardom they hoped for, they could be offered even less for their second or third film.
During [Brick], I hadn't signed any exclusivity contracts. The budget was shoestring, and we paid everyone scale—SAG's fixed minimum rates. No one would sign an exclusivity contract for a role that barely covered rent.
When Emily did her second film with me, [Echoes of You], she signed a new contract—this time with a three-picture deal. That deal has since been amended after she agreed to do [Twilight].
When Anna came to me for a role, I offered her one as well, but her deal was a little different from the others because I also offered her the role of Alice in [Twilight]. I know she originally played Jessica, but I wanted her in a more significant role than a forgettable side character.
Under her contract, she would be bound to complete five [Twilight] films after [Superbad]. At first, she was hesitant about such a long-term commitment, but eventually, she agreed—for lack of a better alternative. There was a caveat in her contract that she can't be forced to do anything else beside [Superbad] or [Twilight]. So if the [Twilight] films flop for some reason, and I stop production midway, her contract won't carry over to another film.
"Hey, Greg," I greeted our director with a fist bump, which he returned enthusiastically.
Greg had been on the project since last year when Judd Apatow was producing the film. I already knew he had done an amazing job in the original timeline, so I made sure to bring him on board this time as well.
"You all set for today's rehearsals?" he asked jovially.
"As ready as I'll be," I replied.
"Great," Greg nodded. "I have one request that would be awesome for the film."
I gave him a curious look, motioning for him to continue. Directors had different approaches when it came to preparing actors for a role. As long as Greg didn't ask me to lower my performance standards, I had no problem with whatever he had in mind.
"As you know, we start shooting in a week," he said. "So while we're rehearsing, it'd be great if you could spend as much time as possible with Jonah. You two need to feel like real best friends on screen, so having that bond off-screen would help with the chemistry."
That wasn't something I'd normally be opposed to—if it weren't for the fact that the person in question was Jonah Hill. Truth be told, I low-key disliked him. The worst part? I had no real reason for it. I'd never even met the guy, yet something about him just gave me the ick.
"Okay," I said to Greg. "Is he here yet?"
"He should be…" Greg glanced around before his face lit up. "Ah, there he is with Seth and Evan."
Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg had written the film together when they were still teenagers. Originally, Seth wanted to play one of the leads, but by now, he looked too old for the role. Instead, he had taken on the part of a police officer.
I spotted the three of them laughing about something, and I figured now was as good a time as any to introduce myself to Jonah.
"Troy!" Seth greeted me enthusiastically the moment he saw me approaching. He stepped forward and gave me a manly hug. "Good to see you, man. I still can't believe we're actually doing this."
"How's your other film coming along? [Knocked Up], was it?" I asked conversationally.
"It's great," Seth beamed. "Jonah's in it too. We just finished filming last month."
[Knocked Up] was a major reason Judd Apatow wanted to sell [Superbad] in the first place. He was too busy directing the former to properly oversee the production of the latter. In another timeline, he had continued producing it himself because he hadn't found a buyer willing to meet his price. But since I stepped in, I was able to buy [Superbad] off his hands.
It had cost me a steep $5 million—on top of covering the entire production budget.
"Yeah," Jonah jumped in. "It's a great fucking movie. Though my role in it sucks."
"Of course it does," Seth countered with a grin. "I'm the hero in that one. Just like you and Troy are in this."
"Uh-huh," Jonah nodded uncertainly before turning to me. "No one wants to give a fat fuck like me a leading role. It's always the funny side role I'm delegated to."
I felt a little bad for him. One area where I had hit the jackpot was my looks. Everything else, I had worked hard to achieve, but good looks were something I had inherited from my biological parents. My body also had a naturally high metabolism, making it easy for me to gain and lose weight.
If you'd been overweight since childhood, breaking into showbiz as a leading man was tough. Studios were happy to cast you in supporting roles—especially in comedies—but leads were mostly out of reach.
"Don't be like that, man," I assured Jonah. "You're just starting out. Mark my words, you'll be getting a ton of offers once we're done with [Superbad]."
"That's what I keep telling him," Evan Goldberg chimed in. "You need to have more confidence, Jonah. For now, let's forget about all that and focus on rehearsals. We've got to bring Chris and Jennifer up to speed with everyone else."
At the mention of Chris's name, Jonah's expression darkened. "Why the hell did you have to hire that fucking guy? He's terrible—"
"No, he's not," Seth cut in before Jonah could continue. "Listen, man, I know you don't like him, but everyone else does. So either accept that he's part of the film, or…"
Seth sounded irritated. He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.
"That's not what I was saying," Jonah mumbled.
"It's not funny to hate on a 17-year-old," Seth shot back. "You're six years older than him. Act like it."
I glanced at Evan Goldberg, silently asking what the hell was going on.
Leaning in, he whispered, "Jonah doesn't like Chris. I think he's insecure that Chris is too good and might take over his spot as number two after you."
I nodded in understanding. This was a common theme in showbiz—every actor wanted their character to have the best lines, the most screen time, and, of course, the hottest girlfriend. What happens on-screen shapes how people perceive you off-screen. If audiences see you as a side character, that's the kind of role you'll keep getting offered in the future.
"I'm sorry," Jonah muttered when he realized Seth was still upset.
"It's okay," Seth replied. "Just don't do it again."
As if waiting for the argument to be over, Christopher Mintz-Plasse—who played McLovin/Fogell—walked into the rehearsal studio.
"Hey, guys!" he greeted enthusiastically. "What are we waiting for?"
Jonah turned to him and said in a deadpan voice, "You."
"Oh." Chris looked sheepish and rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, I was finishing up an assignment."
Jonah shot Seth a pointed look, as if this somehow proved his earlier complaint right. Seth, being Seth, just ignored him and said, "Don't worry, man, you're not that late. Right, Troy?"
"Oh yeah," I nodded. "Let's get started."
The rehearsals began with a table read, and the version of the script we had was even filthier and more explicit than the final cut of the movie I remembered. The only issue? Since Chris and Jennifer were minors, their parents had to be present whenever anything related to sex was discussed.
And judging by how Jennifer kept sneaking glances at her mother from the corner of her eye, today was going to be hella uncomfortable for her.
Let's just hope Jonah and Chris don't get into an argument.
(Break)
"That was so great, man!" I grinned and high-fived Jonah. "You and me, we're gonna steal the show."
"For sure, man," he grinned back.
It was undeniable that Jonah was a great actor. The last few hours went by in a blink, and all this while we were dying with laughter because of the absurd dialogues and situations our characters found ourselves in. I hadn't become best friends with him, but it was a great first step to become more comfortable with him.
"What are you doing now?" I asked Jonah.
"Nothing much."
"Greg wants us to spend time together to build chemistry. Wanna come over to my place and play some video games?"
His eyes lit up at the offer.
"What games do you have?"
"I've got GTA, Call of Duty, Elder Scrolls, Need for Speed, Hitman—you name it, I probably have it," I boasted. I had learned that video games were one of the easiest ways to bond with others. Especially guys.
"I love Call of Duty," he said excitedly.
"Perfect," I smiled. "I'll ask Chris to come too."
Jonah looked like he wanted to say something but held back at the last second. Small progress, I guess.
I didn't have to invite Chris—our characters weren't supposed to be best friends on-screen—but it didn't feel right to exclude him. This was his first film, after all. Also, I didn't like how passive-aggressive Jonah was towards him. Maybe this will help them out as well a little.
Chris didn't need any convincing—he was more than eager to come along. Two minutes later, the three of us were ready to head to my place when I spotted the girl who, if everything played out as it had in the original timeline, would become the biggest female superstar of her generation.
Jennifer Lawrence stood with her mother, about to leave. She wore an oversized gray T-shirt that hung down to her knees, paired with black trousers. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a look that somehow made her natural beauty stand out even more while still giving her that tomboyish charm a lot of girls leaned into in their early teens.
Watching her in that moment, I just knew—she'd be perfect for another film I was producing next year.
Before she could leave, I turned to Jonah and Chris. "Can you guys wait a sec? I need to talk to Jen."
"Don't tell me you're inviting her over for video games too?" Jonah asked dryly.
"No, it's something else."
I didn't bother explaining further. Instead, I jogged up to Jennifer and her mom, calling out, "Hey, Jen!"
She stopped and turned around. The moment she saw me, her face lit up, a hint of pink coloring her cheeks. I noticed how her hand twitched slightly at her side before she curled her fingers into a fist, as if trying to hide her nervousness. I caught it but didn't mention it.
"You were magnificent today," I praised her.
"Thank you," she said, ducking her head, clearly embarrassed.
"Of course she was," her mother, Karen, chimed in. "I've raised a tough girl. She's very good at cursing. In fact, I'd say she didn't have enough cuss words. Do you think we can rewrite some of her lines with more f-bombs?"
"Mom!" Jennifer groaned, mortified.
I wasn't sure if Karen was using sarcasm or was dead serious, so I decided to steer the conversation in another direction.
"I wanted to ask—do you have any projects lined up after [Superbad]?"
"Not at the moment," Jennifer replied. "But I'm auditioning constantly."
"Perfect," I said, grinning. "I'm producing another film called [Juno]—it's about a 16-year-old girl who gets pregnant. The script is really good, and if done right, it's gonna be a major awards contender. If you're interested, I'd love for you to audition for the lead role. Production starts as soon as Superbad wraps."
Jennifer opened and closed her mouth a few times, seemingly at a loss for words. Before she could continue struggling, her mother stepped beside her and gently took her hand.
"Of course, she'd love to audition," Karen said confidently.
That seemed to give Jennifer the push she needed. She nodded and said, "Thank you for considering me, Troy."
"Thank me when you get the role," I said, waving it off. "Someone from my team will call you with the audition details."
As I walked back to the guys waiting in the parking lot, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Things were finally falling perfectly into place. I had initially planned to start [Juno's] production earlier, but one major obstacle had been holding me back—I didn't have the cash for it.
Producing Twilight and Superbad had already drained my finances, with a combined budget of $60 million. I had borrowed the entire amount from Dad, promising to pay him back once I received my paycheck from [Order of the Phoenix]. Even then, he had given me a long lecture about financial responsibility, warning me that I was becoming illiquid too quickly.
So, I wasn't exactly eager to ask him for another $7–8 million to produce Juno. I had fully intended to postpone the film for a few months—until I had a conversation with Mum.
(Flashback)
"Why don't you just take some money from your royalty account?" Mum asked casually, flipping through a magazine. "That should be perfect for what you need."
I blinked in confusion. "What royalty account?"
Mum looked up from her magazine, surprised. "You forgot about it already?"
I racked my brain, trying to remember, until it finally clicked.
Dad and Mum had been worried about how aggressively I was investing my earnings in stock market. They were concerned that if I kept pouring everything into different companies, I could end up with massive losses by the time I turned eighteen. So, to protect me from my own ambition, they had set up a trust account where all my royalties had been deposited over the years.
The account included royalties from [Harry Potter], [Billy Elliot], [A.I.], and my more recent hits like [Echoes of You], [Brick], and [Perks]. Even all my music royalties were part of that account. Given the blockbuster success of these films and album, I knew there had to be a substantial sum in there.
"How much money do I have in it?" I asked.
Mum flipped a page, still calm as ever. "When I last checked, it was around…"
My grin widened frantically. This was perfect. Now I just had to delay production of [Juno] until January when I turn 18.
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