After work, Simon returned to Malibu on time because a party was being hosted that evening.
The matter traced back to the purchase of Point Dume Park. After months of effort, George Norman had secured approval from the state government, but for Simon to fully convert Point Dume Park into private property, he still needed to address concerns from local Malibu residents.
Though residents rarely used the park on ordinary days—most visitors were tourists who enjoyed the cliffside views—Point Dume Park remained public land. Only with community approval could Simon claim it outright.
Tonight's gathering was primarily to entertain representatives from the community committee and key residents.
True to Simon's preferences, the party took place at Janet's villa on the park's eastern side.
The moment he stepped inside, Janet—who was directing the catering staff—approached and whispered, "It's settled. Our foundation will donate one million dollars to fund construction of elementary and middle schools in Point Dume. We'll also support the lobbying effort for Malibu to incorporate independently. In return, they'll vote to approve our purchase of the park. Tonight you just need to eat, drink, and chat with them."
The 1980s real estate bubble had fueled a construction boom in Malibu, but the area would not truly explode in popularity until the 1990s—especially after Larry Ellison began aggressively promoting Malibu properties.
For now, Malibu was not yet an independent city, merely an unincorporated district of Los Angeles County, and far from the celebrity enclave it would become.
In recent years residents had been pushing for incorporation. Under California law, city status would free Malibu from county oversight, allowing it to enact its own regulations and reject county municipal plans.
Los Angeles County had repeatedly tried to extend projects into Malibu—highways, sewer lines, even a nuclear plant proposal—only to face fierce local resistance.
Any one of those projects would have destroyed the area's livability.
Thus, a wealthy newcomer like Simon—capable of injecting substantial capital—offered obvious benefits to the region's development. By comparison, a largely scrub-covered state park seemed trivial. The residents' choice was clear.
The evening ended with the matter effectively resolved.
Later, in the mansion on the park's western side.
Emerging from the shower, Simon leaned over to kiss Janet, who was propped against the headboard flipping through a magazine. "You mentioned this evening that we're donating a million dollars to Malibu's elementary and middle schools?"
"Yes," Janet nodded, then clarified, "Not donating to existing schools—there aren't any yet. Residents have wanted to build them, but the county won't fund it."
Simon scooped her light frame and deposited her on the far side of the bed before sitting down himself. "That's a good cause. Why won't the county pay?"
Janet pretended annoyance and swatted him with the magazine. "Two years ago the county wanted to run a sewer line from Santa Monica; locals blocked it. Same with a lot of other projects. Residents here aren't exactly obedient—why would the county give them money?"
"Then let's donate more. Build the schools properly. Our kids will attend them someday."
"A million is already plenty. And our kids won't go to public schools here—they'll attend the best private ones."
"Fair enough," Simon conceded. "Mom gets to decide schooling."
Janet laughed softly. As he reached for the light she added, "One more thing. The shell company your aunt set up just closed on another building—thirty million total, including the land."
She leaned over, opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out a file, and flipped to a site plan to show him.
To recreate the Avengers Tower in Manhattan, Simon needed six buildings between 59th and 60th Streets east of Madison Avenue.
The post-crash real estate slump had eased acquisitions. The targeted block was not prime Fifth Avenue; the shell company had already purchased two buildings for twenty million and thirty-five million respectively. This third brought him halfway to his goal.
Simon studied the plan's remaining three properties, noting the sixteen-story apartment building—the tallest and toughest. "The next ones will be harder, won't they?"
Janet tapped the apartment. "Convincing every resident to sell is tricky. Two options: buy comparable apartments nearby for holdouts, or offer units in our future tower as swaps."
"Prefer the first," Simon said. "We're not ready to reveal the tower plans."
"That's what I thought too." Janet nodded, then grew serious. "But Simon, you should keep an eye on your personal finances."
The two prior buildings had cost fifty-five million; adding the upcoming thirty million brought the total to eighty-five million.
After months of spending, little remained of the three hundred million cashed out from Motorola. James Rebold continued investing in new-tech companies per Simon's instructions; the account now held less than the thirty million needed for the next purchase.
Final Destination and When Harry Met Sally had eased Daenerys's cash flow, but acquiring a studio lot would require another major outlay.
Money was needed everywhere.
Moreover, public commitments made during the Motorola sell-off barred further stock sales until next year.
"Rebold's flying in from New York tomorrow—I'll talk to him," Simon said after a moment. "Besides, my personal debt ratio is still very low relative to assets. Banks will be eager to lend, right?"
"Of course," Janet agreed. "But you hate borrowing, don't you?"
"Yes." He nodded. "Speaking of which—where did you hide all those IOUs I wrote? I should get them back now."
"Not a chance. I want you indebted to me forever."
"Ruthless."
"Mmm-hmm."
The next day James Rebold arrived from New York with more news requiring expenditure.
Fortunately, all of it was welcome.
"Cisco's latest valuation settled at one hundred twenty million. Our eighteen million gets us fifteen percent. Quantum-Link wants to split from Apple and go independent; we negotiated five million for twenty-five percent, plus priority in their next round. Next is…"
Rebold had closed five equity deals.
Simon cared most about two.
Cisco needed no introduction—the late-1990s tech giant that briefly exceeded six hundred billion in market cap was already on his radar.
Eighteen million for fifteen percent—even diluted to ten percent over time—would be worth sixty billion at Cisco's peak, a return exceeding three thousandfold.
Naturally Simon planned further increases.
Quantum-Link had required careful searching to uncover. "Quantum" appeared in many tech names, but this obscure firm would later become household: America Online.
Simon remembered the post-merger AOL-Time Warner collapse most vividly.
At its height the combined entity topped three hundred billion in value; within years the dot-com crash slashed AOL's worth over ninety percent, gravely wounding Time Warner.
Yet before the bubble burst, AOL was an outstanding investment. Five million for twenty-five percent—at AOL's one-hundred-sixty-billion peak—was an absurd bargain.
The other three investments could fail entirely and still be worthwhile.
"As for Qualcomm in San Diego, they have no current financing plans but said they'd contact us if that changes. Total for these five deals: sixty-five million. Westeros Corporation has only twenty-eight point five five million left. If you're comfortable proceeding, we'll need to borrow."
Of the three hundred million-plus from Motorola, taxes aside, over half had gone to increasing Microsoft and other holdings, Tolkien rights, and the first two Manhattan buildings.
Twenty-eight million remaining was actually substantial.
Mentally calculating, Simon recalled the Gulfstream IV he had ordered—bare airframe sixteen million, fully outfitted around eighteen.
He had paid only a deposit; delivery was next month, perfectly timed for Cannes. The balance would soon be due—another outlay.
Manhattan buildings, five tech investments, private jet: roughly one hundred million total.
Selling Westeros Company shares was impossible; its LLC structure made public bonds difficult. Borrowing was essentially his only option.
Though he disliked debt, Simon knew leverage was necessary for rapid growth.
Relative to his net worth—Daenerys's loans aside—his personal debt ratio remained under ten percent, unusually low among the wealthy. Banks would leap at the chance.
After thorough discussion with Rebold, Simon authorized another hundred-million-dollar loan.
Personal finances addressed, April drew to a close.
In the following two weeks When Harry Met Sally crossed seventy million domestically—the threshold for last year's top ten. Though weekly grosses dipped below eight million, a hundred-million domestic total was now assured.
Batman lead casting continued, inevitably fueling media debate. The five-picture, fifteen-year terms led many to call Simon Westeros insane; one paper dubbed the contract "Hollywood's slave agreement."
Daenerys made no concessions, proceeding methodically.
While overseeing casting, Simon arranged relocation of the two effects-software companies to Los Angeles.
San Francisco-based Wavefront-Technologies proved straightforward—Americans relocated easily; Hollywood stories often hinged on moves.
Simon secured Santa Monica offices; most staff transferred quickly. Toronto's Alias-Research was trickier due to cross-border labor issues, but resolution was expected within months.
Regarding a studio lot.
Simon sensed Amy's eagerness for him to buy MGM's Culver City facility—she usually cautioned against big spending but remained silent this time.
After careful consideration, he decided to postpone.
He felt little attachment to the MGM lot. Compared to Fox's Century City, Paramount's Hollywood, or Universal and Warner in Burbank, Culver City's MGM was merely real estate with limited appreciation potential.
Moreover, Simon preferred building a brand-new production base.
Amid this busyness, May arrived. The Gulfstream IV was delivered, and with it the Cannes Film Festival.