The news that Alex Hayes had agreed to star in Martin Scorsese's upcoming mob film Goodfellassent Warner Bros. into high alert. Even though no contracts were signed, the studio behind the project moved immediately to capitalize on Alex's fame. This was their second film with Alex since the huge success of Risky Business in 1983.
With Alex attached, the production didn't just move; it sprinted. Martin Scorsese, usually accustomed to fighting for every cent and every shooting day, suddenly found himself with a surplus of resources and the schedule was accelerated. For the first time in years, Marty had a studio's total, unwavering support.
At Paramount Pictures, things were moving just as quickly. The studio had previously thought the script for Ghost was "too soft," but that changed the moment they heard Alex was ready to star in it. They skipped months of debate and went straight to the next steps. Executives began a fast search for a director who could handle both the emotional story and the special effects. At the same time, casting directors started looking for the right actress to play Molly Jensen. With Alex Hayes attached, every top actress in Hollywood wanted the role. The studio also increased the budget to make sure the ghostly effects would be the best in the industry.
However, not everyone was celebrating. In the glass-walled offices of CAA, Michael Ovitz sat in his office, furious. When he first heard that Alex had bypassed the big-budget action scripts he had curated to pick a supernatural romance like Ghost, Ovitz felt a surge of genuine anger. It was clear defiance on Alex's part to select the film that he had clearly rejected.
But as he stared out at the Los Angeles skyline, he forced himself to cool down. A predatory smile touched his lips. Maybe this is for the best, he thought. Let the kid follow his "artistic instincts" into this sentimental mess of a film. Once he fails, once the box office numbers come back weak, his arrogance will break. He'll come back to me realizing he needs an expert to guide his career.
While the industry gossiped, The Princess Bride continued its stellar run at box office.
The film had become a genuine blockbuster. It had grossed $143.2 million domestically and had crossed the century mark in foreign territories with $109.4 million, bringing its worldwide total to a staggering $252.6 million. Against a $25 million budget, the film had already grossed over ten times its cost. Industry analysts were now predicting it would easily sail past the $300 million mark globally before its run ended.
In 1988, the "300 Million Club" was an incredibly exclusive territory, with only ten films in history ever reaching that height. The list was dominated by massive franchises. Three of those films belonged to the Star Wars saga, while two were part of the Indiana Jones series. Because of these hits, Harrison Ford was the actor with the most $300 million films to his name.
However, critics and insiders often noted that those films were part of franchises where the success was shared. Star Wars was seen as a true ensemble piece and, above all, a George Lucas creation. As for the Indiana Jones franchise, many felt that Steven Spielberg deserved as much credit, if not more, for the series' global impact. The success of those films belonged to the visionary directors and the brands they built.
The current members of this elite group included E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, Star Wars, Top Gun, Return of the Jedi, Jaws, The Empire Strikes Back, Back to the Future, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and Beverly Hills Cop.
If The Princess Bride crosses the $300 million mark, it will be Alex Hayes's second film to do so after the historic success of Top Gun. Unlike many others on the list, this wasn't a sequel or a pre-sold franchise; it was a standalone project carried by his name. Reaching this milestone would provide a massive boost to his already stellar career, proving that his personal brand was just as powerful as Hollywood's biggest franchises.
On a Tuesday evening, Alex received a call from Paula with the news he had been waiting for.
"It's done," she said, her voice buzzing with excitement. "I closed the deal with De Laurentiis. We officially own the rights to Total Recall. I got them to let it go for a $1 million. Given their liquidation status, they were happy to see the cash."
"And Lawton?" Alex asked.
"Even better," Paula replied. "He was tired of being told his script was too dark. I offered him $300,000 for 3,000, and he signed the papers this afternoon. He has no idea you're the one behind the purchase. As far as he knows, it's just an independent investment group."
Alex leaned back, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. For a total investment of $1.3 million, he now owned two properties that he knew—with the right adjustments—were worth many times more than that.
"Good work, Paula," Alex said. "Keep them under wraps for now. We're going to wait for the right moment to reveal we have them. "
Alex leaned back into the soft upholstery of his sofa, a faint smirk lingering as he clicked the phone into its cradle.
"That looked like good news, based on the expression on your face," a husky, unmistakable voice said from the dining area.
"Oh, very good news," Alex replied, turning to see Cher sitting at the small, candlelit table. She was finishing the last of her wine, her dark hair cascading over a deep plum silk robe.
Their relationship had begun quietly shortly after the release of Moonstruck. It was purely physical based on their attraction. For Alex, it was exactly what he needed. After the emotional exhaustion of his breakup with Mia Sara and a year of self-imposed celibacy, he wanted a "no fuss, no muss" arrangement.
Cher, seventeen years his senior, was in a similar headspace. She had lived her life in the tabloids; she didn't want the publicity of dating the world's biggest star, and she certainly didn't want the weight of a commitment. They were two stars who found comfort in each other's company—a relationship that was primarily physical, honest, and refreshingly uncomplicated.
They had spent eight months in this secret orbit, meeting mostly in the shadows of their homes, away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. But tonight, there was a silent understanding in the air. The cycle had run its course.
But tonight, there was a silent understanding that this would be their final dinner as a couple. The secrecy was becoming tedious, and neither felt involved enough to go public. For a relationship that was mostly physical and uncomplicated, the effort of hiding was no longer worth the reward.
"So this is it?" Cher asked, her dark eyes reflecting the candlelight.
"I think it is," Alex said softly. He walked over, leaning against the back of his chair. "I was just thinking about how rare this was. No headlines, no drama. Exactly what I needed. I wanted to thank you for the companionship, Cher. I'll really miss our meetings."
Cher set her glass down and stood up, the silk of her robe whispering against the floor. She stepped toward him, looking him over with a look of genuine fondness.
"Don't get all sentimental on me, Hayes," she teased, though her voice was warm. "We both knew the rules. We were a good fit for the season we had."
She reached out, her hand sliding up his neck to cup his jaw. " And believe me the pleasure was all mine, believe me. You're a very good lover, Alex. I truly enjoyed our meetings very much."
She leaned in, and they shared one final, deep kiss—a slow, lingering goodbye that tasted of wine and mutual respect. It wasn't a kiss of longing, but a seal on a successful chapter. When she pulled away, she patted his cheek lightly.
"Take care of yourself, Alex. I'll see you around."
"Count on it," Alex said with a smile.
She picked up her bag, draped a coat over her shoulders, and walked toward the door. The click of the lock signaled the return of the house to its usual silence. Alex didn't feel a pang of loss. There were no messy explanations for the press or lingering heartaches to navigate. It had been functional, enjoyable, and now, it was finished.