Emily still found it hard to believe how dramatically her life had changed since meeting Troy. What had begun as a casual friendship with a global superstar had snowballed into something far greater, so much so that even she sometimes struggled to recognize her own life.
In just the past year, she and Rob had filmed two back-to-back [Twilight] movies, each earning five million dollars. It was a staggering figure for actors their age, almost surreal. Yet, the films hadn't even premiered, and there was no guarantee they would succeed. What made it more astonishing was that Troy had invested nearly a hundred million dollars of his own money into the franchise. On the surface, that sounded reckless.
But not when you considered his actual net worth. Emily could only dream of that kind of financial freedom. Even with her own career on the rise, there was no assurance that such earnings would continue. The movie business was fickle, and everyone knew it. It is always advised to save up when your payday is big.
"What're you thinking?" Rob asked, lounging beside her in the plush leather seat of the limo. The car hummed beneath them as it neared the premiere venue.
"Nothing, just stuff," she replied, brushing him off with a casual wave.
Rob gave her a crooked grin. "Wanna know what I'm thinking? We signed up for a piece of crap, which was entirely my fault, by the way. And now we can't even talk trash about it."
Emily chuckled. "Don't say that. They'll sue you for millions if they caught that."
"I don't get how you do it," he said, shaking his head. "You never have a problem saying good things about the movie. I feel like a sellout every time I open my mouth."
She smirked. "I was in [John Tucker Must Die]. That movie made [Twilight] look like Shakespeare. You get used to it. I like to think of myself as a professional liar by now."
Before the conversation could go further, the limo came to a smooth stop at the entrance of the red carpet. In an instant, the door was opened by a valet, and Rob stepped out, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. The moment he emerged, camera shutters clicked in a frenzy, capturing every angle.
He turned and reached a hand back to help Emily out. She followed, her silver gown catching the light in shimmering waves. If Rob alone was eye-catching, the two of them together were magnetic. The photographers responded accordingly, their flashes nearly blinding.
The [Twilight] marketing team had made the most of their on-screen chemistry, crafting a narrative that extended into their public appearances. What began as a few tabloid stories had spiraled into full-scale magazine spreads, orchestrated interviews, and breathless speculation. For months now, Emily and Rob had been billed as Hollywood's hottest young couple.
The studio's PR company had even concocted a semi-fictional origin story for their relationship, claiming that Troy had introduced them in a carefully orchestrated meet-cute. While not entirely untrue, the tale had certainly been embellished for maximum media appeal.
A barrage of questions came flying from all directions as they stepped onto the carpet. Microphones jutted forward, voices shouting their names, demanding comments about the movie, their "relationship," their clothes. Emily tuned it all out.
Her focus was elsewhere.
Across the sea of reporters and flashes, at the far end of the red carpet, stood the man who had changed everything. Troy Armitage. He was giving a solo interview to a reporter, standing effortlessly composed in a navy suit, his hair slicked back, his expression poised.
Emily found her gaze drawn to him, the chaos around her fading into background noise.
Emily quickly nudged Rob with her elbow, subtly urging him to follow her. They slipped away from the crush of reporters and photographers, weaving their way toward Troy, who was still speaking to the reporter at the edge of the carpet.
"What is your favorite movie released in the last five years that you wish you could have been a part of?" the female reporter asked him, holding her mic with practiced ease.
"Oh, that's simple: Alfonso Cuarón's [Children of Men]," Troy replied without hesitation. "That's my favorite movie of the last two years, hands down."
"No way!" Emily interjected before she could stop herself, her voice animated. "Mine as well. I cry every time they get that baby out of the warzone."
Troy turned, recognizing the voice. His face softened into a quiet smile as he stepped forward and pulled Emily into a warm, friendly hug. He then gave Rob a quick embrace, too.
Looking back at the reporter, Troy said, "I think you should interview the stars of the night now. Not me."
With a nod to both Emily and Rob, he added, "See you two inside," before walking off into the venue, disappearing through the glass doors framed by gold lights.
The reporter stared after him, dreamy-eyed. "Wow. I still can't believe I just interviewed Troy Armitage. Can you pinch me?"
Emily didn't miss a beat. She reached out and pinched the woman hard on the forearm.
"Ouch!" The reporter flinched, rubbing her arm with mock offense as Rob snorted in the background. Then she composed herself and turned back to the camera. "We are here tonight with Emma Stone and Robert Pattinson, the stars of the teenage phenomenon [Twilight]. Teenagers and kids across the country are lining up to buy advance tickets, and it's already tracking to open as a blockbuster. How do you two feel about that?"
"It is certainly unexpected," Rob answered, slipping easily into interview mode. "When we signed up for it, I thought it was just going to be a small indie film. That's what it looked like at the time. But then the book sales exploded overnight, and before I knew it, I was working on one of the most anticipated movies of the year."
The reporter smiled, satisfied with the soundbite, and shifted her tone slightly.
"Both of you got your careers launched by the biggest superstar in the world. What is he like in person?"
"He's unreal," Emily answered without hesitation. "My first film with Troy was [Brick], and we shot it on a barebones budget. My scenes were wrapped in less than a week. Honestly, I wasn't even sure anyone would notice me in the final cut—but Troy did. He saw something in me. And in a place like Hollywood, where people are usually just thinking about themselves, he's one of the most generous people I've met. He helped me when I was unemployed and looking for work. He offered me [Echoes of You] without me even asking. The rest, as they say, is history."
Her eyes briefly flicked toward Rob, and he picked up the thread from there.
"What surprised me the most about Troy is his maturity," Rob said with a thoughtful expression. "He might be younger than most people in the room, but as a producer, he's sharper than anyone I've worked with. You'll regret underestimating him. As a friend, he's fun and relaxed. But when he's the producer, he knows how to draw the line. He becomes your employer, nothing more. And I really admire how he's able to separate business from personal life like that."
Emily then noticed her other castmates from [Twilight] approaching behind them—Ashley Greene and Nikki Reed, both dressed elegantly, flanked by handlers and photographers. Not wanting to hog the spotlight during their red carpet moment, Emily gave Rob a small nod, subtly signaling that they should move along. He understood and followed her lead, just like he always does.
(Break)
"This film is awful," Scarlett whispered in my ear once the credits began rolling. Her tone was low and incredulous. "Not the film per se, but definitely the story. Which self-respecting girl would want to see it?"
I grinned, amused by her bluntness. "According to surveys done by most trade experts, this film is expected to make at least a hundred million dollars domestically. Probably more."
Much more, if my future knowledge were even slightly reliable.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes slightly. "Seriously? Who wants to see a century-old vampire romance a teenager? It's so problematic."
"I know," I said, nodding in agreement. "That's why I didn't star in it. That's also why I asked for my name to be removed from the main credits as a producer. I'm only listed as the executive producer."
The title of executive producer was often a vague one, usually referring to someone who funded the project but wasn't involved in the day-to-day creative process. That was true in my case. I had put up the money, but beyond that, I'd mostly stayed out of it. My dad and Tobias were the credited producers on the film—both of them had actually done the work. Dad may have joined the production late, yet he had done more work than I.
Scarlett shook her head with visible disappointment. "Well, I'm just glad it's over."
I raised an eyebrow. "This is only the first part, Scar. We've already shot the second one, and if these two perform well, we're locked in for at least two more."
Her face twisted into an expression of horror. "I'm not coming to any of their premieres," she declared flatly.
That made me laugh. "What about New Zealand? Coming with me? Our two months are over, and honestly, I don't want them to be."
She paused, weighing her words carefully. The silence stretched, and I found myself growing more anxious with each second that passed.
"One of my films has its premiere in less than a month," she finally said.
"Of course. I meant after that," I assured her quickly.
She nodded slowly. "I've wrapped filming on all my other projects. And I have wanted to visit New Zealand for a long time. This could be a vacation of sorts for me."
I smiled. "Just a vacation?"
She gave me a teasing look. "What else do you want me to call it?"
I hesitated, then offered, "I can get you a role in [Avatar]. There's a part for a badass female human pilot. You'd be perfect for it."
I was confident I could talk Fox and Cameron into making that adjustment. It would be great for publicity too, Scarlett and I promoting the film together would generate a lot of buzz. But I had a feeling how this conversation would end.
Scarlett didn't even blink before shaking her head. "No. If it were a lead role, or even a significant supporting one, I'd think about it. But I've read the script. That pilot isn't even in the top four characters when it comes to screen time."
I couldn't argue with that. After my character, the most screen time in [Avatar] belonged to Zoë Kravitz, Sigourney Weaver, and Stephen Lang, who played Neytiri, Grace, and Quaritch, respectively.
"So you'd rather do nothing than take a smaller role in what could be the biggest movie ever made?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Only you think it will be the biggest movie ever. No one else does."
"Then they're stupid," I said flatly.
Scarlett rolled her eyes, but thankfully didn't push the conversation further. Around us, the lights brightened and the audience began standing, offering a full-on standing ovation to [Twilight], of all films.
I tried not to visibly cringe.
That's the thing about premiere audiences. You can never really trust them.
After another hour of cast and crew interviews, the post-screening buzz migrated to the premiere afterparty, a swanky affair with mood lighting, champagne towers, and the usual overflow of Hollywood egos.
That's where I ran into a man I'd been meaning to talk to for a while.
"Brad," I greeted him with a casual hug. "How're you doing?"
"Not as good as I was two months ago," he replied dryly. "All thanks to you."
I lifted an eyebrow. "What exactly are you insinuating?"
Brad Grey, the CEO of Paramount, gave a tired sigh and then muttered, "Nothing. You couldn't have possibly known that half our board was in bed with Jeffrey Epstein. Literally."
I let out a sharp laugh but sobered quickly. "Even if I had known, I wouldn't have done anything differently."
He looked resigned. "Yeah, I figured. Doesn't change the fact that our stock's down thirty-five percent since that story broke. Sumner Redstone is breathing down my neck. If I don't reverse this spiral soon, he'll either replace me or sell the company to one of our competitors. Honestly, I'm not sure which option is worse."
Sumner Redstone was the de facto owner of Viacom, Paramount's parent company. He also owned CBS, and while the two had been separate around this time in the original timeline, the butterfly effect had kept them under one roof here. In any case, it made sense that he'd be livid about the scandal implicating Paramount's board.
"He's really serious about selling?" I asked, a bit more curious than I meant to sound.
"Why? Planning to buy us out?" Brad asked with a wry smile.
I didn't answer right away.
His expression changed instantly. "Wait. Didn't you just buy Marvel Comics and Netflix? Now Paramount?"
My acquisition of both Marvel and Netflix had been front-page news just weeks ago. The deals had turned both companies private, pulling them off the NYSE. I might take one of them public again someday, but for now, I was perfectly content to keep full control over them.
I shook my head. "Of course not. I'm just curious. All my funds are tied up at the moment. I couldn't afford a company the size of Viacom even if I wanted to without selling everything I own."
Brad studied me for a second too long, eyes narrowing just slightly.
Then he nodded.
The truth was, I'd been looking to buy a major studio for quite some time. Of the Big Six, Paramount was the cheapest in terms of valuation. If I wanted to scale Netflix into something even larger than what it became in the original timeline, I needed a rich library of movies and TV shows—something that would keep subscribers hooked long-term.
Netflix had succeeded originally because of its massive early investment in content. But if I owned a studio with a well-established catalog, that kind of spending could be cut down significantly.
And with how turbulent the markets had been over the last few months, I knew that 2008–09 would be the sweet spot for such a move. Wait too long, and the window would close.
Still, I couldn't share any of this with Brad. If word got out before I had the necessary capital lined up, Paramount's price would spike. That's what I would do if someone came sniffing around a company I owned.
So instead, I kept the conversation casual. "I hope my role in the Epstein case won't affect how you market [Twilight]?" I asked cautiously.
"Of course not," Brad said, waving off the concern. "Have you not seen the marketing campaign we've been running for the last few months? Emma Stone and Robert Pattinson are teen royalty right now. We've had them appear on MTV, VH1, and all the other major youth channels. Print media's also hyping them up as the next big couple—Brad and Angelina for the younger crowd."
He wasn't exaggerating. The kind of publicity Paramount had pushed out for [Twilight] was relentless, but effective. Personally, I hated it. If Warner had tried anything remotely similar for [Harry Potter], I would have walked away without hesitation.
But Emily and Rob hadn't complained, not even when I asked Emily directly. So I let Paramount run their playbook. As long as the movie made money, I wasn't going to interfere.
________________________
AN: Visit my personal website to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)fablefic(dot)com