Chapter 9
Not really a lot to say here, other than I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Fyi, I do have a question at the end of the chapter. Please give me your thoughts.
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"You can't be everyone's friend, and if you try, you'll just get fuck over in the end. Sooner or later in this business, you're going to make enemies. Or, at the very least, meet people who don't like you for one reason or another. It could be anything from a simple disagreement to a clash of egos. Whatever the case, here is some advice: learn to fucking work with them anyway. In this business, or any business really, you can hate someone as much as you like behind closed doors. But until you are big enough that you can tell them to go fuck off. You have to learn to deal with them." Ceaser Espnar
-1996-
There is something therapeutic about hitting another person and being hit back. I am not sure what it is, but as I throw out a left jab at Danny Trejo's head, connecting with the headgear he had on, I could feel the tension I had built up exiting my body. But of course, I don't get away with the jab and take a body blow to my side, followed by the former prison champ's uppercutting me to my chin. The man may have been 52 years old, but the power from his blows staggers me, and I feel my legs weaken. I nearly go down but stay standing and smile, loving this as much as Danny did, who was letting me get my feet back under me instead of finishing me off, and not only because this was just a sparring match. No, he didn't finish me off because he didn't want this to end anytime soon, either.
We traded blows for the next three rounds, with me getting the worst of it. I may have had youth on my side, but Danny had technique and experience. When the bell rang for the last round, we both stopped, and he smiled, knowing that he got the best of me again.
"Keep smiling, old man. One day, I will drop you on your ass." I say to him as I take off my headgear.
"Oh, ya, when will that be, Chico? I am already over 50; are you saying you're going to beat me when I am 60?" Danny asks in a mocking tone.
"Fuck you, Danny," I say as I take a few deep breaths, and he just laughs as he comes over to join me on the ropes.
"So, what got you in such a good mood today?" Danny asks.
Looking at the man next to me, I ask, "What the fuck are you talking about, man?"
Laughing again, Danny says, "Come on, Ceaser, I have known you for a while now, and behind that sour face of yours, I can see how happy you are right now. So what is going on? It can't be about last night, seeing as you didn't win anything."
I don't say anything for a moment, but then say, "I won in another way."
It takes a moment for Danny to understand what I mean, and he starts to laugh again, "No, you and Salma."
"Salma and I all night long, old man," I say to him with a smile.
"Shit, now the fuck did that happen?" Danny asks.
Shaking my head, I say, "I don't know. One moment, we are at a party. Next, we are back at her place fucking like there was no tomorrow."
Reaching down and picking up a paper, Danny slaps it against my chest and says, "You mean this party?"
Opening the paper, I see a picture I had already seen this morning when Salma and I were having breakfast at her place. A picture that had her laughing her ass off. I should have smacked her ass harder last night for how hard she was teasing me this morning, I think to myself. As I look at the picture of Mel, Brad, Sylvester, Schwarzenegger, and me with our shirts off, posing for photos.
"Ya, I already got a call from Brad about the photos. It seems he, along with the others, has gotten calls from GQ. They want to see if they could get us to agree to do a photo shoot." I say to him while he laughs his ass off, much to my annoyance.
"Hey, say what you like. It's good press for you and your upcoming movie," Danny says.
"That is true," I say to him.
And it really was good for the movie. The more I was in the spotlight, the more people would consider seeing my next move. In fact, I had gotten a call from the boss, Robert Shaye, telling me that he loved what he saw in the morning paper and not so gently urged me to take any offer GQ gave me. Things worked fast in Hollywood, and news spread even faster. So, I wasn't surprised that Robert had already heard about the offer from GQ.
After he calms down, Danny speaks seriously, "Listen, Ceaser, I am not going to tell you what you can and can't do. But you know you have to do right by Salma, right?"
I wave him off and say, "I have done everything I can for her. If she wants the part in Scream, she has to earn it now."
"You know that isn't what I mean, man," Danny says to me.
Looking over at him and seeing that look in his eyes, I say, "I know."
"So what are you going to do?" Danny asks me.
With my gloves off, I rub my head and say, "It will be up to her if it turns into something more. I can't and won't force things, Danny."
"But you are interested in something more?" Danny asks.
I shrugged my shoulders and said, "I don't know. You know I didn't come to Hollywood to think about shit like this."
Danny nods and says, "Sí, I hear you on that, brother. Well, it will be what it is."
"Isn't that the truth?" I say to him as he pats me on the back.
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You know, I had to give it up to Courteney Cox; she was good. Perhaps not the best actress out there, but she was skilled in her craft. This was shown by how she walked into this audition and straight-up owned it. People had doubts she could play the role of a bitch, but her reading proved that not only could she play the role, but she could do it fucking well. A fact I had already known all too well. Now, Salma's reading was good, I assure you. It was terrific, in fact. The way she could even toss in some Spanish to spice it up was brilliant, but Cox was... Well, I will just come out and say it. She was perfect, just perfect for the role. We could all see it, and if I were being fair and honest, my support for the role would be behind Cox all the way.
However, this was Hollywood, and I had made my choice clear from the get-go. While Cox was a better fit for the role, I was behind Salma all the way, which put me at odds with the director, Wes Craven, for whom we had put auditions on hold so that he could offer his input. Now, Wes had doubts about Cox and was leaning strongly towards Salma beforehand. Having found her mix of Latina aggressiveness and bitchiness good, but then Cox did her thing, and he did a 180. Something I couldn't blame him for, as I thought Cox was also better for the role. So, there were no problems on my end. What put us at odds was that he knew I agreed with him but was still siding with Salma over Cox, which didn't make him happy.
We were not exactly fighting, but he somewhat accused me of using the casting couch to my advantage. I responded to that by telling him to very plainly go fuck himself. And now, here we were in an office with the casting director and Arnold, making our case for why our pick should be cast over the other. A case I wasn't afraid to admit I was losing. Seeing as none of the points Wes was making, I could outright deny or disagree with them. That said, Arnold was still on the fence despite Billy, the casting director, siding with Wes. And all for one reason and one reason only. How much would it cost to hire Cox?
When Arnold told us Cox's asking price, even Wes had to step back and rethink things. After all, three million dollars was a substantial amount to ask for in a movie with a budget of just $ 12 million, which was $3 million less than the original. On the other hand, Salma's asking price was only 750,000 dollars. It was a massive drop for what we all thought was a strong number 2 pick.
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Wes asks, "Is there any way to increase the budget?"
Arnold lays it out flat to him, "None, while Ceaser's last script earned him a nomination for an Academy Award and now a BAFTA Award. Congratulations on that, by the way, Ceaser." I nod at him while smoking a cigarette, "The fact remains that he is only 19 years old. Our normal investors are not so sure this movie will succeed, and are unwilling to invest more than they have."
Wes bows his head at this. It was, in fact, one of the main reasons he didn't immediately agree to work on this movie as well. Wes had read the script well before the Academy Award nominations were announced and had liked it. It really was a good script. The way Caesar was able to blend humor with sheer horror was top-notch, but, as Arnold said, Caesar was only 19 years old. So he could see why the investors were not entirely on board.
"Is there any way to negotiate a low price?" Wes asks.
"I will see what I can do, but right now, as things stand, Miss Hayek is most likely going to be our pick for the role," Arnold says.
Looking at me grimly, Wes says, "That should make you happy, Ceaser."
The way he says that may seem calm, but I can tell when I am being insulted. I, however, smile and say, "Can't say I'm not Mr. Craven."
This makes Wes even angrier, but before he can say anything, Billy says, "Let's talk about the other roles now. Now, for the role of Sidney, I like Reese Witherspoon."
"Looks too young and bubbly for the heroine," Wes says in a more even tone.
"Agreed," I say in turn, then add, "Neve Campbell was good."
"So was Brittany Murphy," Wes says, having no problem with Ceaser's pick but just pointing it out.
"That is the girl from that movie Clueless, right? Has anyone seen that movie, and would she be a good pick for a horror movie?" Arnold asks.
"I have seen it," I say.
That comes as a bit of a surprise to everyone in the room, and Billy asks, "You have seen Clueless Ceaser?"
Looking at the man, I say, "Don't look so surprised; I watch everything."
"Okay, then what do you think?" Arnold asks.
"There is not much to say. She was good, but I am afraid people will only see that dumb southern hick from Clueless. Miss Campbell, however, was in The Craft. So the audience may have less trouble accepting her in the role of a strong and resilient high school girl." I answer him.
Everyone is quiet for a moment before Wes speaks up and says, "Agreed."
Then Arnold writes down that Neve Campbell is our first pick, with Brittany Murphy as the second.
"All right, now I think we have all already agreed that David Arquette for the role of Dewey Riley. That leaves the role of Casey, also known as the first victim. Any thoughts?" Arnold asks.
Sitting back, I say, "These are just my personal thoughts, but I think we should get someone well-known for the role. It will have that shock value, know what I mean."
Wes seems to be thinking momentarily and says, "I see. Give the audience the feeling that no one is safe. I like it, but who?"
"I don't know, but anyone would do. Beverly Mitchell, Tiffani Thiessen, Drew Barrymore, I mean, really, anyone who is a half-decent actress willing to die a horrible death on the big screen will do." I say to them.
"Hmmm, I have Drew Barrymore's agent's number. I will call him and see if she is up to it. If not, we can find someone else." Wes says, loving the idea of killing off someone who many would think would be the movie's star early on.
"Good, then I will see you all on Friday, and Ceaser, don't forget the GQ shoot later this week," Arnold says in a warning tone.
"Ya ya, don't worry about it," I say as I step outside. Only to come face to face with Salma waiting outside.
Seeing her stand up, she walks over to me and asks, "Well?"
"Well, let's go get some lunch. I am hungry," I tell her, and we start walking out of the building, before getting into her car and driving off.
It had now been a few weeks since Salma and I had fucked, and we had for the most part kept in touch with each other. Primarily to put on a little dog and pony show for the news outlets that were still somewhat interested in our story. While attending the Academy Awards together wasn't front-page news, it did spark conversation. So, it was agreed that for a time, we would go out in public together for the world to see. Let them think we were a couple, while in reality, we were not even fuck buddies.
Once we arrived at a tiny restaurant in downtown LA, we sat down and placed our orders. Then, we began discussing business.
"So, are you going to tell me how I did today?" Salma asks.
"You did well, really well, in fact," I tell her.
But something in my tone gave me away as she immediately responded, "But?"
I take a breath and say, "But Cox did better."
Looking annoyed, Salma says, "Is that your personal opinion?"
"It's pretty much everyone's opinion," I tell her in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Mierda," Is all Salma says to that.
"Ya, I still pushed you as my pick for the role, but right now, both the director and casting director are team Cox," I tell her, adding to the bad news.
Looking more than a bit dejected, Salma asks, "And the producer?"
"Arnold's opinion is, well, his opinion. If the man has one, he isn't saying it. What I do know, however, is that you're not out of the running just yet." I tell her.
Seeming to perk up, Salma says, "Really?"
"Yes, really. Cox's agent is asking for a lot of money." I tell her.
"How much?" Salma asks.
"Three million," I tell her in a dead voice.
"Wow, that is a lot, but I guess it's not unexpected for one of TV's biggest current stars," Salma says.
I nod my head at her and say, "That it is, but that is where she may have just been shot in the foot. The budget for Scream is only $12 million, and her agent is asking for a quarter of our budget. You will get the role by default unless she is willing to take a pay cut."
"That's good, very good," Salma says.
At the same time, she was wondering if she should call her agent and come down on her own asking price. She knew her agent was only asking for $750,000, but she had received many offers after the Academy Awards and her appearance on the red carpet. Several magazines had already called to see if she would be willing to be on their cover. As well as offers from Armani to model for them and Revlon to act as their spokeswoman. And that was only here in the States. In Mexico, she was receiving even more offers for TV appearances and other opportunities. So she could afford to take a pay cut to be in this movie.
However, that was only part of the reason she was willing to take a pay cut. The real reason was the same reason she had slept with Ceaser. He was passionate about his craft. Oh sure, he hid it well behind a mask of indifference, but one look at his notebook would tell anyone the truth. He loved his craft and was driven to succeed, unlike anyone she had ever met before. Don't get her wrong; everyone in Hollywood wanted to succeed in Hollywood, but few had the raw determination that Ceaser did. At only 19, he already knew what he wanted and had a plan in place to achieve it. Such a drive was attractive to any woman, and it gave her the feeling that not only would Scream be a success, but it could end up being the next big horror franchise. Oh yes, she wanted this role so much, and a pay cut sounded like a small sacrifice to make for an even bigger payday later on.
"Oh, that reminds me, I need a date for the BAFTA. You in?" I ask her.
"Sure, I would love to join you. Just don't expect the date to end like the last one." Salma says with a smile. She may not have regretted having sex with a man who was 10 years younger than her, but she wasn't planning to do it again. No matter how good the first time was.
"I wouldn't dream of it," I say to her.
Just a little spoiler: it did, in fact, end precisely like the first date, only this time in a hotel in London.
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After months of preparation and weeks of a near-torturous work schedule, it was time for filming to begin. And since it was the first day of filming, everyone was present. Cast and crew alike for a meet and greet. Sadly, however, it was without the first victim I had hoped for. After contacting Barrymore's agent, everything seemed to be a go for her to play victim one, but at the last moment, she pulled out. And unlike the story in my head, she didn't change her mind at the last moment and return. Which pissed off Arnold badly, made me very unhappy, and Wes, well, Wes, was not in a good mood to say the least.
I don't know what the girl was thinking by pulling this shit, but she had just fucked herself over badly. Perhaps it was the butterfly effect; possibly my involvement in the project had somehow altered things to the point where Barrymore decided not to take part in the movie. Whatever the case, I strongly suspected she wouldn't be getting any more offers from New Line or Warner Bros. anytime soon. I mean, you only had to be in the room when Robert found out about this sudden delay. Now I am afraid of no man, but fuck was he pissed off on a level I have rarely seen anyone get to, and who could blame him? Every day, there was a delay, New Line lost money.
Now, I am not the type to hold a grudge myself. I may not have forgiven or forgotten those who wronged me, but I had moved on. For example, those guys who shot me and that bitch whose home I ran away from. To me, it was done; it was over. I had moved on, but at this very moment, I did the most logical thing I could think of. We all did. We blamed Barrymore for the delays. I didn't care what her reasons were for pulling out; it didn't matter to me. So we tossed her under the bus hard, and Robert wanted his pound of flesh by the time we were done blaming her. I hope she has an excellent agent, because by the time we left, Robert was already on the phone, calling up anyone and everyone, looking to make her life in Hollywood a living hell.
That is how it goes, however. Maybe I will help her out later on, but if her career was over because of this shit, it's no skin off my back. As for the rest of us, we issued an emergency casting call the next day to anyone and everyone whose fame matched Barrymore's. Sadly, things hadn't looked so good for a time, as anyone with equal fame to Barrymore wanted either too much money or more than just 5 minutes of screen time. For a moment, and lucky enough just a moment, we all thought we would have to give up the idea of killing off someone famous at the start of the movie. But then we got lucky. I had an unexpected fan who was happy to let us kill her on screen.
Walking up to said woman, I smiled and said, "Good morning, Miss Thiessen; ready to die today?"
Turning around and smiling at me, Tiffani says, "Oh, you know it, Ceaser."
Now, this sudden windfall was unexpected but definitely not unwelcome. I had initially named her as someone we could kill off during the casting process, but I didn't honestly think we could get someone like Tiffani. She was, after all, one of the biggest teen idols of the day. Her fame wasn't only equal to Barrymore's, but it exceeded it. And while she wasn't known as a movie actress, her appearances on shows like Saved by the Bell and Beverly Hills, 90210 made her a household name. In other words, she was the perfect first victim. She also came cheap because who knew she was a fan of Se7en?
In fact, upon our first meeting, she asked me to sign a copy of the movie for her. Which I happily did. There was some worry about her ability to translate from TV to the big screen, but when it was time for her reading, she screamed so loudly. I think my ears may have bled just a bit. Wes and I may not have been getting along at that point, but we both agreed wholeheartedly that she was in.
"Wonderful, your part may be small, but I am telling you right now, Miss Thiessen, your death will be talked about for years to come," I tell her.
"Oh, I am excited. I don't think anyone will see this coming. I still can't believe Drew dropped out at the last minute." Tiffani said in excitement.
"Fuck her, this is your time, Miss Thiessen. It's your time to shine, and trust me, after this, you are going to be big in movies." I say to her, filling her with confidence.
And I meant what I was saying. She may have been having trouble breaking into the movie business, but I didn't care what I had to do; I was going to make sure she made it on the silver screen. People might think she was only a good TV actress, but I was a man who repaid the favors people did for me. And this was a significant favor that needed to be repaid somehow.
Now, other than losing Drew Barrymore, there was also one more significant change that had me somewhat worried. I am not going to lie; while I may have pushed for Salma to get the role of the reporter, who was now named Carla Ordóñez, I didn't honestly think she would get the role. After Courteney Cox's reading, I was sure she would be given the role no matter what. However, after several rounds of negotiations, Salma's agent reduced her asking price by half. Needless to say, Cox's was out. I had to wonder if Cox's agent was trying to fuck her over because 1.5 million dollars was a hell of an offer. However, the agent felt that Cox was worth at least $2.1 million. Arnold disagreed, and here we were.
Well, it didn't matter now. I would just have to count on Wes doing a hell of a good job and Salma killing it. Fuck, this was going to be a long couple of months.
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Okay, so I made a few changes in this chapter, such as Cox no longer being in Scream and Salma taking her place. Also, while I have nothing against Drew Barrymore, after reading more about the history of Scream, I considered keeping her in the movie, but then changed my mind. Instead, I replaced her with Tiffani Thiessen. My question is, can anyone think of a film I can put her in? It may even be my next movie, but 1997 wasn't a particularly strong year for movies, with few notable horror or crime films released. At least there is nothing I really want to use anyway.