Iron Man and Black Widow

"Where's Jimmy?"

Evan gathered his belongings and put the finished storyboards and camera plans into the safe.

Nina checked the time.

"He called fifteen minutes ago. He should be here any moment. We can wait outside."

She took his notebook, slipped it into the briefcase, and followed him out. They locked the office and headed toward the stage exit.

Once he became absorbed in a film, Evan lost much of his ability to manage the rest of his life. Food, clothes, even the cigarettes he carried everywhere became Nina's responsibility.

She was used to it. Keeping those things off his mind was part of what made her valuable, and the arrangement showed how completely he trusted her.

This was the easy part. During the shoot, his attention would narrow even further. He would spend the day directing and the evening revising the next day's plan. Overtime was a meaningless distinction when almost every waking hour belonged to the film.

"Excuse me. Mr. Rosenberg?"

A middle-aged man approached as they came out of the stage. He appeared to have been waiting for some time.

"Spencer Franklin. Could I borrow a few minutes?"

"Of course. Nice to meet you, Mr. Franklin. Bruce mentioned you."

Evan shook his hand, taking a moment to assess him. Then he signaled to Nina and Sergey that there was no hurry and walked with Franklin to the seating area by the entrance.

"Miles Rourke has resigned."

The producer began with the reason he had come.

"I hadn't expected anything like that to happen. Please give Ms. Berry my apologies."

He made it sound simple. Getting someone under contract to step aside voluntarily was anything but. Franklin knew about Rourke's behavior toward Halle. Without Evan's involvement, he might have treated it as another unpleasant dispute to be contained inside the production.

Once the situation changed, however, he had acted without hesitation. It didn't matter that he had hired Rourke. Protecting that relationship was no longer worth the cost.

Evan gave him very little to work with, so Franklin continued.

"If Ms. Berry is still interested, she's welcome to come back and read. We'd be pleased to have her considered for the thriller."

Evan shook his head. The man was using the incident to establish a connection of his own.

"She's pursuing another project now. Let's leave it there. I've got a meeting, but we're neighbors on the lot. We'll have a drink sometime."

That was enough. Franklin understood that the gesture had been accepted. They stood, shook hands again, and parted on friendly terms.

He watched Evan board the studio cart and waited until it was out of sight before returning to his own stage. Given Evan's influence at Warner, a little personal diplomacy was well worth the trouble. Their paths might cross again. Hollywood was smaller than it looked.

Jimmy was waiting in the car outside the gate. He got straight to business.

"Halle signed a three-year representation agreement with the agency. Fox has agreed to bring her into Independence Day. I'm discussing the terms tomorrow."

Evan nodded. It was a supporting role, not a major casting concession, but Martin Heller had made the arrangement easy. Whatever his reasons, Evan would remember the favor.

Jimmy moved on. That update was not the reason he had come.

"Marvel's position is starting to soften. We've had several conversations. They're being more realistic about the idea of getting you to adapt their characters."

He leaned forward.

"The first two times I spoke to their rights people, they wouldn't even discuss a sale. This time they were more willing to listen. I've narrowed the proposal too. Iron Man and Black Widow. Those are the two we're asking about. Any existing options and licenses would have to be cleared before a deal could close."

Evan had never been especially interested in the kind of collaboration Marvel originally proposed. He had kept Jimmy talking to them because he wanted rights of his own.

This troubled period might be his best chance to acquire them. He would rather buy the rights and leave them unused than miss an opportunity that might never return.

"How did you get them to reconsider?" Nina asked.

She had been collecting information for him. Since superhero films had begun making serious money, the companies holding those characters had become much more protective of them.

Jimmy grinned.

"I called our contacts at Wells Fargo and asked them to press for early repayment of the loans. That's all."

Nina understood. Marvel was already struggling to keep enough cash moving through the business. If a lender began questioning repayment prospects and pressing for money, the timing could be devastating.

Without new investment, the company had little room to maneuver. Even allowing word of that pressure to spread could be dangerous. Other lenders might begin asking the same questions.

One demand could set off a chain of others.

Evan handled much of his banking, including the financing associated with his Warner investment, through Wells Fargo. Jimmy knew which people would take his calls. The pressure was another tool in a negotiation Evan had no intention of making comfortable for the other side.

"Iron Man and Black Widow. That's what we want."

Evan's smile was cold. He was thinking well beyond Marvel's immediate predicament. Those characters could become part of Disney's future strength. As a major Warner shareholder, he had every reason to weaken a potential rival before it developed.

"Keep the purchase price down, but pay particular attention to the participation terms. If we have to give a little on the upfront price to reduce their share of future films, do it. Keep the bank pressure coordinated with the negotiations."

"Understood."

Marvel would want a continuing interest in adaptations. Evan remembered how its film deals had worked with studios such as Fox, Columbia, and Universal. However desperate its position became, it would resist surrendering every claim on future revenue. Those payments were part of how it hoped to survive.

He preferred paying more now to giving away more later. He didn't even know whether he would produce films about these two characters. That possibility was precisely why the terms mattered.

Warner could certainly make the movies. Whether he wanted it to was another question.

Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark had something obvious in common: a great deal of their superpower was money. A separate franchise, kept outside his main DC continuity, might even allow him to explore a crossover someday, provided all the necessary rights could be assembled.

Fox held valuable superhero material of its own. Future cooperation was not out of the question. Iron Man and Black Widow could become useful bargaining assets when that conversation arrived.

While Evan calculated what he might take from Marvel's troubles, another man was calculating what he might take from Evan.

Miles Rourke had spent years working around Hollywood. He had never become especially powerful, but he knew assistants, freelancers, and other people who heard things long before they reached an executive's desk.

Through that loose network, he learned that a photographer had obtained some unusual pictures. He contacted the man before a buyer had been chosen.

The photographs and negatives cost him $250,000.

It was a substantial sum, and he couldn't afford to sit on what he had bought. There was no guarantee the photographer had surrendered every copy. Selling the same material twice, or to several different buyers, was hardly beyond imagination in that trade.

Rourke drove downtown to a small photo-processing shop. He used its darkroom himself and made dozens of additional prints.

Once he was satisfied with the results, he called a friend and arranged to meet in a downtown park. They spent the evening discussing how to use them without exposing themselves.

Both knew the risk. If Evan traced the campaign back to them, the professional consequences could be severe.

The easiest way to damage a famous person's appeal was to attack the image the audience believed in. Break that trust, and affection could become hostility. Losing fans was useful; turning them against him would be better.

"Respects women. Sure. Hollywood's dream man."

Rourke muttered to himself as he drove away.

Perhaps the scheme would only cause a few uncomfortable days. Perhaps a handful of women would stop admiring Evan and nothing more would come of it. He was willing to try anyway.

In his own version of events, he had done nothing wrong. He was attracted to Black women and had offered Halle a part in exchange for sex. He told himself it was a straightforward transaction, no different from what plenty of other men in Hollywood did.

Swearing at an interfering stranger had seemed natural at the time. He hadn't known the stranger was Evan Rosenberg. Why should one mistake allow the man to erase an opportunity he had worked years to obtain?

He couldn't predict what would follow. He only knew that making Evan uncomfortable might make him feel a little better.

For now, a little was enough.