Joey showing up at the march and giving that speech finally forced every major news outlet to cover the story. They couldn't stay silent anymore.
This was the biggest Asian-American demonstration in history: protests popping off in more than thirty cities across the country at the same time. The mainstream media had no choice but to report it.
In every segment, Joey Grant's name kept coming up. Most Americans actually had her back. Her speech was fair, measured, and hit exactly the note people wanted to hear: basic justice.
Sure, a handful of loud extremists trashed her online and called her every name in the book, but it didn't stick. The goodwill she'd built was bulletproof.
Even Hollywood heavyweights stepped up. Will Smith, as a Black icon and minority himself, posted on every platform: "I stand with them."
Halle Berry called Joey "a woman of wisdom and real courage."
Latino stars, Native celebrities, everyday Black and Asian folks: everyone was riding for her.
"She's doing what any decent Asian-American should do. Respect."
"She's literally my idol. Nobody else is built like her."
"Every Chinese person knows the old saying: 'Heaven burdens those it plans to raise up.' Joey is that person."
"She's incredible. The charisma is off the charts."
White fans were just as loud:
"That girl's got guts. I admire her."
"She actually gives a damn about her community, unlike most of the trash out here."
"She's crazy talented; go watch her movies!"
The protests got so huge that the Justice Department finally had to do something. The FBI announced they were reopening the Ferguson shooting case. The white officer who killed the innocent Chinese-American woman was headed back to court.
Everyone knew it was mostly theater to quiet the outrage, and the guy would probably walk again. But at least the government couldn't pretend the problem didn't exist anymore. Asian voices finally got heard.
The Ferguson police chief couldn't take the heat and resigned. It wasn't total victory, but it was something.
Joey was front-page news for weeks, but almost all of it was love and respect. She quietly changed her blog banner to: "Love made America great, not hate."
Then she finally sat down to plan her next movie. She was dead-set on making the first big-budget film centered on Asian leads, but first things first: she needed United Artists stock. That meant delivering a monster cash-cow franchise before the end of the year.
And then, out of nowhere, Tom called.
He'd seen the coverage and dialed her the second the news broke.
On the phone he sounded almost stunned. "I had no idea you actually marched, and that speech… Joey, that was incredible."
Truth is, he was floored.
He'd spent decades watching Hollywood sharks stab each other in the back for a better table at the Ivy. Most people only cared about themselves. Seeing someone shoulder the weight of an entire community like it was nothing? That was rare air.
Joey kept surprising him.
He thought she was just stubborn when she refused to leave town after the early hate; she proved she belonged by out-directing everyone.
He figured Broadway would humble her; she dropped a perfect show and a standing ovation that wouldn't quit.
He thought she was chasing personal glory; turns out she was fighting for people who looked like her.
Talent plus heart? In this town that combination makes legends.
On the call Joey just shrugged it off. "It's not a big deal. If it were your people, you'd be out there too. I'm Chinese-American. I felt it in my bones."
Tom's voice softened. "I also heard you're planning an Asian-led film next?"
She had the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder, breaking off a piece of chocolate. "Yup. America needs stories that humanize us. People fear what they don't understand. Movies fix that."
Tom smiled at the sound of her chewing. "But that's after you launch the big franchise this year, right?"
"Exactly. Franchise first, dream project second."
They spent the next twenty minutes strategizing how to convince MGM to sell her the UA shares.
Tom was calling from his office, so he had no idea his agent, Pat Kingsley, was eavesdropping outside the door.
Kingsley was all-in on Tom becoming CEO of United Artists, but she had her own agenda: she wanted a piece of those shares for herself. Joey getting involved threatened her cut.
The second the call ended, Kingsley bolted straight to MGM headquarters and spilled everything she'd heard: Tom was supposedly bringing Joey into the deal, maybe even letting her pay with film rights instead of cash.
MGM's executives freaked. Was Tom trying to screw them?
They called him in immediately.
Tom walked in clueless about the leak, but two minutes into the meeting he figured it out. His eyes landed on Kingsley, who'd tagged along. Sixteen years working together, and he knew exactly who'd sold him out.
The CEO was practically sneering. "Tom, I can't believe you're seriously thinking of letting that director anywhere near this deal."
Tom leaned back, one leg crossed, totally calm. "I told her you'd never go for it. She doesn't have the cash or the résumé yet."
The CEO scoffed. "She thinks she can trade a couple of movie rights for equity? Is she insane or does she think we're idiots? Her little films aren't worth that much."
Tom smiled easily. "Which is exactly what I told her. So she's building a new franchise instead."
The CEO laughed out loud. "A new franchise? Before December? Come on. If she wants in with IP, it better be Star Wars or Harry Potter money. She's got nothing. She thinks she can just magic up a billion-dollar brand in six months? Get real."
Tom didn't flinch. "And what makes you so sure she can't?"
"Forty years in this business, that's what. Yeah, the girl's got some talent, but now she's just naive and stupid. She should stick to playing civil-rights hero."
The phrase "civil-rights hero" landed like a dog whistle. Tom's eyes went ice-cold.
He stared the man down. "Since when did fighting for your rights become something to mock?"
The CEO waved it off. "She's just chasing headlines and a shiny activist badge. She's good behind a camera, I'll give her that, but capital games? She's not ready. Too simple-minded."
Tom's smile turned sharp. "Funny. That didn't sound like something a supposedly educated studio head would say."
"I didn't say anything wrong. You're the one getting touchy, Tom."
Tom stood up slowly, buttoning his jacket. "You know exactly what you meant. But until the results are in, neither of us gets to play fortune-teller."
The CEO smirked. "So you're really betting on this naive little girl? You actually believe in her?"
Tom poured himself a glass of seltzer, watching the bubbles rise. "I don't mind giving her a shot. Actually… I'm looking forward to it."
The CEO shook his head. "Backing someone this delusional is gonna make you look nuts too."
Tom set the glass down with a soft clink. "We'll see."
He walked to the door. Kingsley started to follow.
He stopped and looked at her, voice like steel. "Don't. We're done, Kingsley."
Just like that, fired.
He hated sneaky, self-serving games. Say it to my face or get out of my life.
Kingsley went white. "You're seriously firing me? Over Joey freaking Grant? I helped build your entire career! This is how you repay me?"
Tom adjusted his collar. "I need an agent who's loyal, not someone whose ambition makes my skin crawl. We're finished."
Then he walked out of MGM and didn't look back.