Chapter 106: You're Out of Your Depth
The Silence of the Lambs continued to dominate the box office, its acclaim spreading like wildfire. Both Dawnlight Films and TriStar (Samsung Entertainment) were riding high on the film's success.
The only ones tasting bitterness were the film's original producers—Orion Pictures—who had already sold The Addams Family, still mid-production, to Paramount for $22 million.
Now, as Silence surged past every projection, Orion's executives could only watch helplessly as millions slipped through their fingers.
---
At Dawnlight's office, the mood was upbeat.
"All the major distributors have reached out," said Brad Grey, flipping through a pile of proposals. "They're all offering about the same—ten to twelve percent distribution commission, plus first-look investment rights."
Aaron leaned back in his chair, waving it off.
"There's no rush. We can handle domestic distribution ourselves."
Then, with a faint smirk:
"I'm guessing Orion's in agony right now, huh?"
Brad chuckled. "Oh, absolutely. But what can they do? Their creditors are breathing down their necks. They've had to cut their release slate nearly in half just to stay solvent."
Aaron only smiled. Serves them right, he thought.
---
"Ghost opens next month," he said finally. "Columbia says they've increased the marketing budget. Make sure the cast is ready to cooperate with their PR schedule."
After wrapping up the meeting, Aaron booked a flight to San Francisco—he had a very specific person he wanted to meet.
---
San Francisco – That Evening
At the Hyatt Regency, Jennifer Connelly knocked softly before stepping into Aaron's suite.
He stood by the window, watching the lights of the Bay Bridge flicker across the dark water.
"Spending the summer up here?" he asked.
Jennifer nodded. "Yeah. I'm performing in a few stage productions around the Bay Area. Our school's sponsoring them."
Aaron turned to her with a teasing grin.
"Should I come back up and keep you company?"
She laughed and slipped into his arms.
"No need. You've got Ghost coming out next month, remember? And I'll have to go back for The Rocketeer press tour anyway."
"Right," he murmured, pulling her closer. "The Rocketeer hits theaters just a week after Ghost."
Jennifer smiled. "Dawnlight's been on fire lately—Boyz n the Hood, The Silence of the Lambs—I'm sure Ghost will do great too."
Aaron kissed her, amused. With a film like this, he thought, success is inevitable.
---
Later, as they shared a quiet drink, Jennifer said thoughtfully,
"I looked into Pixar, by the way. You were right—it's been bleeding money for years. They've dropped the hardware division and are focusing only on computer animation. Their ad and VFX work isn't enough to sustain them."
She looked up at him. "If you buy Pixar, you'd better be ready to lose money for a while."
Aaron chuckled, brushing a strand of her hair aside.
"Don't worry. I've got a plan."
He smiled mischievously. "Tomorrow, you're coming with me to Oakland. We're meeting Steve Jobs."
"Mm… okay," she murmured.
---
Oakland – The Next Day
At a lakeside café near Lake Merritt, Aaron Anderson met Steve Jobs—thirty-six, intense, and still full of restless energy. His hairline, for now, remained intact.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jobs," Aaron said, extending a hand. "This is my friend, Jennifer Connelly."
"Pleasure to meet you both," Jobs replied politely as they sat.
He studied Aaron for a moment. "You flew up from Los Angeles just to see me? What's this about?"
"Call me Aaron," he said easily. "I run Dawnlight Films in Hollywood—The Silence of the Lambs is one of ours."
He leaned forward. "I'm here because I want to move into animation. I want to buy Pixar."
Jobs's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Steve," Aaron continued, "your focus is clearly on NeXT right now. Pixar's just dead weight."
Jobs shook his head firmly. "I bought Pixar because I believe in the future of computer animation. It's a field that's only going to grow."
Aaron smiled knowingly. "So what—you're planning to make your own animated feature?"
Jobs's lips curved faintly. "Pixar can partner with Hollywood studios to make that happen."
Aaron nodded slowly. "I've heard Disney's been sniffing around, wanting to hire you to develop an animated feature. But come on—Disney's already the king of animation.
"Tell me, Steve… how much do you really think Disney values Pixar? You think they'll ever let your studio stand beside theirs?"
Jobs paused, silent for a long moment, before giving a thin, knowing smile.
"Mr. Anderson," he said evenly, "you sound like a man who understands power—
but not patience."
Aaron chuckled softly. "Maybe. But in Hollywood, patience is just another word for waiting while someone else cashes the check."
Aaron took a sip of coffee, then pointed to himself with a grin.
"I'm different. I'm a Hollywood producer—one of the best. Dawnlight Films has the capital to help Pixar make its own animated films.
You can't. You're not built for this game. Even if Pixar gets Disney's support, every step will be uphill."
He leaned back, relaxed but confident.
"I'm interested in Pixar, sure—but only because your shorts have shown real talent. Still, I don't need Pixar.
If I want, I can build my own animation studio from scratch. It'd just take a little more time."
Jobs studied him for a moment. "Then what exactly are you proposing?"
Aaron smiled. "Thirty million dollars. I'll buy Pixar. Even if the company fails, at least I'll give your people the chance to create a real feature-length animated film."
He paused, his tone firm but visionary.
"The future belongs to computers, Steve. Stop-motion, hand-drawn, traditional—those won't be the mainstream much longer."
Jobs raised an eyebrow. "Thirty-five million."
Aaron's eyes narrowed.
"Disney has reached out," Jobs added. "They want to commission us to produce a feature for them."
Aaron smiled thinly. "Forty million. Final offer.
And if you say no, I'll buy another animation studio—then hire away your entire management and technical team for twice what you pay them."
His voice dropped, calm but cutting.
"Don't doubt my resolve. I can give them more than you ever could.
Would they rather be Disney's puppet… or build something of their own? You know as well as I do—a real animated feature costs tens of millions. And it still needs global distribution.
So tell me, Steve—what Hollywood studio has the guts to take that risk? Because I do."
Jobs gave a quiet laugh. "So what you're telling me… is that you want to compete with Disney?"
Aaron smirked. "Why not? One hit film earns me tens of millions. The next few will bring in hundreds.
Losing a few tens of millions? That's just the cost of innovation."
He leaned back, perfectly at ease.
"The Silence of the Lambs will easily cross a hundred million. Add home video and TV rights—I'll walk away with at least fifty million in profit.
Your NeXT Computer hasn't made that much in years. And you really think I only make one movie a year?"
Jobs' expression cooled slightly. "Aaron, I don't pretend to understand Hollywood… but no one wins forever."
Aaron's grin widened, quiet but full of confidence.
"Steve, since the day I started as an agent, every film I've touched has made money."
He raised his cup slightly in a mock toast.
"Maybe that's the difference between Silicon Valley and Hollywood. You invent the future… I produce it."