Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Las Vegas, Chicago, Miami, Philadelphia, New York, Boston.
From west to east, north to south.
Premiering the film, interacting with fans, appearing on television programs, giving interviews to local newspapers…
In just half a month, crisscrossing nine cities, by the time the team finished recording a segment at a Boston television station marking the end of this exhaustive promotional tour. Courteney Cox felt as though her entire body might fall apart.
Collapsing limply onto the bed in her hotel room, she could not help thinking of a certain someone, a surge of resentment rising within her.
For starring in Scream, she had accepted a newcomer's rate of only $200,000, yet she was worked like an A-list actress commanding $2 million. Worse still, he had explicitly told her the film would not make her a star and might even harm her future career.
But.
Damn it, did you give me any other choice?
Exhaustion mingled with resentment, and before she knew it, she drifted off. When a knock at the door woke her, the sky outside had gone completely dark.
It was October 28, the first day of Scream's release.
Having already done everything she could and should, she had initially resigned herself to indifference. What did the box office matter to her? Yet upon waking, she suddenly realized she very much wanted to know whether audiences would embrace the film.
Rumors had swirled that the script was his original concept, unsigned only to avoid the kind of controversy that had surrounded Basic Instinct. The gossip had been heavily amplified lately, occasionally she noticed Daenerys Entertainment quietly fueling it yet the media never reached a firm conclusion.
She, however, knew the truth.
It was indeed his creation. During a marketing meeting before the tour began, she had jokingly asked him about it, and he had admitted it himself.
A small sense of superiority followed.
Rousing herself, she freshened up, joined the others for dinner, and when the now-close-knit group suggested catching a screening of their own film, she readily agreed.
They arrived at an AMC theater on the Charles River. As minor celebrities, staff had already purchased tickets, allowing them direct entry.
Yet no one hurried into the auditorium. The six lingered in the lobby, curiously observing their surroundings.
Prime time meant lines at the box office and Scream posters everywhere. Snippets of conversation about the film drifted through the air.
Not bothering to disguise themselves, they were soon recognized. Fans crowded around, asking for autographs, greetings, or simply staring in curiosity. Courteney flashed the warm, practiced smile she had perfected over the tour and interacted graciously. Nearly ten minutes passed before they finally entered the auditorium.
It seated perhaps a hundred. They chose the back row. When the lights dimmed, the room looked packed, few empty seats visible.
Relief washed over her.
Having read the script countless times and watched the film repeatedly, they paid little attention to the plot. Instead, they noted the audience's constant gasps, screams, and exclamations. During one tense climax, a loud voice shouted, "Run, you idiot!" drawing amused glances.
Leaving the auditorium, they were inevitably stopped again.
The savvy theater manager had prepared stacks of posters for autographs and giveaways. Half an hour later, a van arrived to collect them. Squeezed into the spacious interior, Courteney vaguely wondered whether this too had been orchestrated.
The tour leader, Mark Belford, reportedly hand-picked by him for the Scream marketing team was sharp and relentless, seizing every promotional opportunity. Robert Rehme clearly valued him highly.
But it no longer mattered.
Back at the hotel, the group gathered in the downstairs bar for a while. As midnight neared, they retired to their rooms, anticipation building for the box-office numbers.
It had to do well, right?
Due to the time difference, it was already past midnight on the East Coast barely nine on the West.
After a month of market slump, Los Angeles buzzed with interest in Scream.
Many dismissed Daenerys's blockbuster-level campaign as reckless, but reports of post-summer queues shifted sentiments.
In a Beverly Hills mansion halfway up the hill.
Dawn broke the next day, and Warner Bros. CEO Terry Semel had barely slept.
With few releases, the other majors had conceded Halloween. Only Warner's Scrooged a spin-off from the Police Academy franchise starring Hollywood beauty Rebecca De Mornay competed directly with Scream.
The original 1984 Police Academy had grossed over $81 million domestically on a $4.5 million budget, ranking sixth that year. Warner had milked annual sequels ever since.
The strike, however, had gutted Scrooged's quality. Executives had emerged from test screenings with zero expectations, limiting it to 850 screens half of Police Academy 5's earlier-year opening.
Modernized ticketing systems now allowed relatively accurate daily estimates.
Waking without an immediate fax, Semel abandoned his last shred of hope. Good news would have arrived instantly perhaps with a personal call from someone.
The fax finally came near eight. Retrieving the morning papers, Semel glanced at the single page and gave a wry smile.
Scream exceeded expectations; Scrooged fell far short.
On opening day, Scream on 1,755 screens dominated with an estimated $4.5 million.
Second-place Halloween 4, on a comparable 1,692 screens in its second week, managed only $1.5 million one-third of Scream.
Third place was not Scrooged.
Nor fourth, fifth, or sixth.
Older holdovers Paramount's The Accused, Fox's Alien Nation, Universal's The Last Temptation of Christ, Columbia's Punchline filled those spots.
Scrooged, also a $10 million production, debuted seventh with a dismal $350,000—less than a tenth of Scream.
Setting down the report, Semel sighed and settled onto the living-room sofa to read the papers.
The Los Angeles Times, Variety, The Hollywood Reporter not all reviews glowing, but each featured prominent coverage of Scream. Scrooged merited only brief mentions in the trade papers.
After years in Hollywood, Semel knew the worst fate was not universal pans it was silence.
Scrooged faced the worst.
A $350,000 opening day signaled abysmal attendance. Theaters would likely pull it after two weeks; total gross might not reach $3 million less than Scream's single day.
By contrast, Scream's $4.5 million debut promised a strong hold.
Semel recalled commentary during Basic Instinct's run.
From When Harry Met Sally through Pulp Fiction and Basic Instinct, Daenerys films had passed the $100 million baton. The first three had succeeded.
Now Scream seemed poised to continue the relay.
A fourth $100 million hit.
Some years the entire industry produced fewer than four. A company less than two years old achieving it was almost unbelievable.
Setting aside the papers, Semel hesitated, then dialed Simon's home.
Warner had two projects with Daenerys. A congratulatory call at least on the surface was only proper. Such gestures cost nothing.
Malibu.
Though Saturday, Simon rose early and immediately received the box-office fax.
$4.5 million opening day above expectations. Relief settled in.
Janet had returned from Europe weeks ago and was still asleep. Simon prepared breakfast for them both the one domestic task he regularly performed, despite occasional playful complaints.
By a little past seven, breakfast ready, he returned to the bedroom.
She slept on. After a glance, he decided to let her rest longer, picked up a folder from the nightstand, and left.
October brought third-quarter earnings reports. The folder held statements from Westeros Company holdings and its own quarterly results.
Simon paid little attention to day-to-day operations of portfolio companies, focusing instead on financials.
Most U.S. public companies paid quarterly dividends.
Preliminary tally: Westeros had received roughly $26.3 million in cash and stock dividends last quarter.
Annualized, that suggested about $100 million modest against total holdings, roughly 5 percent yield, less than some bonds.
Better-than-expected reports had driven tech shares up; the portfolio now valued at $1.93 billion—$130 million gain since Forbes's August list.
Stock appreciation was what investors prized most.
Back half a month, Janet had meticulously reviewed the reports casual demeanor notwithstanding, Simon knew no one else matched her diligence. He had not forgotten her Columbia Business School pedigree.
With her oversight, Simon could remain hands-off.
Last night she had walked him through Westeros's quarterlies until midnight.
Past eight, congratulatory calls came from Amy Pascal, Terry Semel, and others. After pleasantries, he woke Janet.
Work continued on the weekend.
With opening-day numbers in, related data poured in.
Overall reviews for Scream hovered just above 7/10 not stellar. Public buzz, however, dwarfed contemporaries.
Daenerys's targeted campaign had locked onto teens, who cared little for critics and responded strongly to peer word-of-mouth.
As buzz spread, Scream ignited a viewing craze among the demographic.
October 31, Monday.
The weekend passed quickly; final numbers arrived.
Matching its strong Friday, Scream dominated with $13.79 million.
Second-place Halloween 4 managed only $4.51 million less than Scream's opening day.
The weekend alone surpassed most October releases' total domestic hauls. With a solid hold likely, another $100 million film seemed assured.
Across Hollywood and the North American press, a faint numbness settled in.
Could it continue?
Would it continue?