After eating a little, Simon rose and began circulating among the guests.
Janet was not at his side, so Sandra unceremoniously stepped in as his companion. Courteney, aware her relationship with Simon did not permit such familiarity, tactfully excused herself.
As Simon finished a brief exchange with Orion Pictures president Mike Medavoy, Sandra walked with him toward the villa and asked, "When do you leave for Australia?"
Simon raised his glass to an acquaintance without pausing. "The day after tomorrow."
"The day after tomorrow?" Sandra sounded surprised. "That soon?"
"Not really. It's been planned for a while," Simon said, noting her expression. "I'll be in Melbourne about three months. If you have time, come visit the set."
Sandra glanced around as though worried. "Australia is Jenny's home turf. Her family's in mining. If I go, won't they throw me down a shaft?"
Simon nodded solemnly. "Very possible."
Sandra scowled at his deadpan look. "And you wouldn't stop them?"
Simon's mouth curved, but his tone was helpless. "Hard to intervene. They have a lot of mines. Some are in Africa."
Sandra rolled her eyes. "Jerk."
Laughing as they bantered, Simon stopped in front of Scream director Wes Craven.
Though there had been friction over Craven's fee for the sequels, after consideration he had accepted Daenerys's $15 million package for both films.
Clearly the success of Scream had not gone to his head; he was not repeating his mistake of walking away from the Nightmare on Elm Street franchise. For horror pictures, $15 million across two sequels was already near the ceiling.
After a short conversation, Simon and Sandra moved on. Nancy Brill, recently hired to head Daenerys's consumer products division, approached with a slightly heavyset man in his fifties.
"Nancy, you look stunning tonight," Simon said, shaking her hand, then turned curiously to the stranger, waiting for introduction.
Nancy smiled, greeted Sandra, and said, "Simon, this is Mr. Wayne Huizenga, chairman of Blockbuster."
Simon had initially assumed the man was Nancy's husband and inwardly lamented a maiden wasted on some random bastard. Hearing the introduction, he realized his mistake.
After the meeting where entering the video rental chain business was discussed, Nancy had been gathering data while managing consumer products. Clearly she was not content to remain in that role alone.
Simon liked ambitious women especially beautiful, capable ones. Though he did not yet know her deeply, he judged Nancy to be exceptional.
With that in mind, he extended his hand without hesitation. "Mr. Huizenga, pleased to meet you. That's quite an unusual surname."
"And you, Simon. Westeros is truly one of a kind," Wayne Huizenga replied warmly, then added deliberately, "Our family came from northern Europe. Huizenga is Dutch."
Simon nodded. "Northern European names. I know a few. They can be tongue-twisters."
As they chatted idly, details about Blockbuster surfaced in Simon's mind.
Founded in 1985 by Texas software engineer David Cook, the company had been sold after little more than a year.
Wayne Huizenga, who had made his fortune in waste management, spotted the opportunity, bought it with partners, and began heavy expansion early that year. In twelve months Blockbuster had grown from a few dozen stores to the 386 Simon had most recently seen nearly one new store per day.
Opening a video rental outlet in this era cost roughly $500,000 per location, plus other expenses. The partners had poured in close to $200 million in the past year alone.
Revenue for 1988 was projected at only about $130 million; with aggressive investment, the annual report would show a loss.
Huizenga had built his empire from nothing over two decades, yet his personal net worth was still under $300 million. He could not sustain Blockbuster's growth indefinitely. Even split among partners, the company had accumulated $80 million in debt in the past year.
The North American stock market had not fully recovered; IPO financing was impractical. To maintain the pace, Huizenga needed outside investors.
In Simon's memory, Viacom would acquire Blockbuster five years later for over $8 billion. Current valuation, even generously, would not exceed $300 million, and its share of the North American video rental market was under 5 percent.
Thus, despite lingering concerns about the rental business, entering now was ideal and certain to yield substantial returns.
Since it was a celebratory New Year's Eve party, Simon kept the discussion light. They arranged to meet the next morning, and Huizenga soon moved on.
Simon watched him go, then turned to Nancy. "How did talks go?"
He was leaving for Australia the day after tomorrow and had no time for protracted negotiations. Tomorrow's meeting would likely decide the deal. He had already authorized Nancy to negotiate preliminarily.
"He originally wanted $100 million for 30 percent," Nancy said. "I pushed to 35 percent for $120 million. Simon, we aren't the only interested party. Sumner Redstone's Viacom has been in regular contact with Huizenga."
Simon considered. "$120 million won't cover next year's expansion, will it?"
Blockbuster had already invested $200 million this year. Continuing at one store per day, they could reach 800 by year-end 1989. Even with revenue offsetting some costs, next year's outlay would likely exceed $200 million.
Nancy shook her head. "No. But 35 percent is the most Huizenga and his partners will cede; they don't want to lose control. Viacom wants more equity, which is why those talks stalled. For the rest, Blockbuster will probably borrow, or if necessary bring in other investors or IPO early."
Simon nodded slightly.
If Daenerys were desperate for cash, even holding 100 percent, Simon would part with no more than 35 percent.
Huizenga and partners together owned Blockbuster, none above 30 percent individually. At $120 million for 35 percent, Daenerys would become the largest shareholder.
Predictably, tomorrow Huizenga would insist Daenerys not interfere excessively in operations.
Yet without influence over management, Simon had little confidence in Blockbuster's longer-term prospects.
David Cook's original model had borrowed Walmart's warehousing, logistics, and information systems, highly effective in early expansion. But the video rental industry evolved far faster than supermarkets. By the nineties, Blockbuster's current strategy would quickly become outdated.
The critical inflection in Simon's memory was the Viacom acquisition five years hence.
Under Sumner Redstone who by then lacked energy to manage his sprawling empire. Blockbuster continued growing in scale but steadily declined, mirroring Viacom itself.
Though Blockbuster survived until Simon's rebirth, compared to later disruptor Netflix, the difference was night and day.
To avoid that fate, Blockbuster would need agile strategic adjustments in coming years. Simon had no faith Huizenga possessed that flexibility. If Simon wanted lasting involvement in video rental chains, seizing control was clearly best.
Still, there was no rush.
Securing 35 percent now was priority. As long as Daenerys prevented dilution over the next few years, Simon would have leverage to take control when needed.
As he spoke quietly with Nancy, a hearty greeting sounded nearby.
Turning, Simon smiled at Robert Redford. "Rob, I'm glad you could make it. How've you been?"
"Great, Simon," Redford said, shaking hands. "I saw Metropolitan. Very interesting movie."
Simon smiled. Though Sundance had accepted only one Daenerys film this year, he held no grudge against Redford. Everyone navigated the industry; Redford remained one of CAA's biggest stars and could not be entirely immune to pressure.
Moreover, the veteran had helped Simon considerably early on. Beyond Run Lola Run unexpectedly accelerating Sundance's growth, Simon had given little in return. If anything, he still owed Redford favors.
After casual catch-up, Redford grew serious and lowered his voice. "Simon, one more thing. Michael would like to speak with you in person. Are you free tomorrow?"
The Michael was, of course, CAA president Michael Ovitz.
With Rain Man's unexpected success, CAA's position in the controversy had become awkward. The agency must also have noticed Daenerys's quiet blacklist of its clients.
Tonight's party alone aside from a few prior collaborators like Redford, featured no CAA talent. Most stars present were from WMA or ICM.
Daenerys and CAA had never publicly ruptured; Simon's few encounters with Ovitz had even been cordial. But after Rain Man's saga, the rift was widely known.
Ovitz using Redford as intermediary likely anticipated direct refusal.
In fairness, had Ovitz restrained Levinson and others from open conflict, refrained from private maneuvers before release, or not gouged on Meg Ryan, reconciliation might have been possible.
Now Simon would indeed refuse. He saw nothing to discuss with Ovitz.
As for burning bridges with CAA, Simon was unconcerned. The nature of talent agencies dictated dependence on studios, not dominance. Frankly, CAA's aggressive cost inflation in recent years meant conflict with Daenerys was inevitable even without this incident.
Despite his friendship with Redford, Simon could not agree without principle. He shook his head regretfully. "Sorry, Bob. My schedule's full tomorrow."
Redford persisted. "Simon, it's only one film. And Daenerys won anyway. No need for this."
Deep detachment from this world rarely stirred strong emotion in Simon, but neither was he forgiving. One party landing dirty blows nearly to the point of vomiting blood, then expecting reconciliation with "no need for this"—impossible.
He shook his head again, smiled, and forcibly changed topic. "Bob, what's your next film? I'm looking forward to it."
Seeing no room for mediation, Redford inwardly sighed. Though friendly with Simon, given the young man's current wealth and status, Redford knew he held little sway. Having delivered the message and met firm refusal, he let it drop.