C 28

"Have you got the latest weekend box office statistics?" Agent Nancy's voice cut through the air. Naomi Watts felt indignant hearing her words; she was Nancy's client, not her assistant.

"These are the statistics I just received from the crew," Naomi replied, her tone carefully controlled. Although irritated, she knew her position and obediently placed the report on the table in front of Nancy. Nancy, who had just finished her oatmeal, picked up the report. Her tired eyes widened in surprise as she skimmed the numbers.

"Unbelievable! It actually beat Alien 3!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "20.27 million dollars for Speed versus 19.44 million for Alien 3! Speed took the box office crown for the second week!"

She looked up at Naomi. "The North American box office for Speed has passed a hundred million dollars, right?"

"Yes, it has," Naomi confirmed, barely concealing her exasperation. "If I'm not mistaken, it's well over a hundred million now."

Nancy stood abruptly, pacing a few steps around the suite's dining area. "A director in the hundred-million-dollar club at just 22 years old!" she marveled. "This is a serious talent. If his next two or three films do as well, he could become one of the top commercial directors in Hollywood."

She paused, deep in thought, then slapped her forehead. "I remember reading a report about Luke in The New York Times yesterday. It mentioned that he's already working on his next project?"

Nancy stopped pacing. Her instincts screamed at her: she needed to sign Luke before he moved on to bigger opportunities. But those conditions he had laid out…

"Naomi, help me set up a meeting with Luke."

Naomi, irritated but efficient, rose and dialed a number. After a brief conversation, she hung up. "Nancy, the promotional events for the crew have wrapped up. If you want to meet Luke, you'd better move fast."

In another suite on the same floor, Luke Rosenberg flipped through the newspaper. As the summer box office competition heated up, Twentieth Century Fox had begun shifting resources elsewhere. Promotions for Speed were scaling back, and screenings would soon taper off—a natural market progression for any film.

These days, reaching the hundred-million-dollar mark at the North American box office was a significant achievement.

"Luke Rosenberg, Hollywood's rising star…"

"Young Luke leveled half of Santa Monica in his debut feature and vaulted into the hundred-million-dollar club…"

"Luke Rosenberg seems to have an insatiable appetite for destruction. In Speed, he not only blew up an elevator, a house, two buses, and a plane, but also shattered conventional action-film expectations. Could he be at the forefront of a new Hollywood trend?"

Today, his name was plastered across the Los Angeles Times, the Washington Post, and the New York Times. It felt like every major media outlet was waiting for this milestone—ready to unleash an avalanche of publicity.

Luke enjoyed the recognition, but he knew better than to get carried away. If his next project flopped, the media would turn on him in an instant, burying him beneath waves of criticism.

After checking the time, Luke put down the newspaper and headed to the café on the second floor to meet Nancy Josephson.

Nancy greeted him with genuine enthusiasm, and while Luke didn't make things difficult, he remained firm on key conditions: no packaging of his films by the agency and no interference in his personal life. Other matters, he was willing to discuss.

Their conversation lasted all morning. By the end, they reached a tentative understanding on several points. Though no formal agreement was signed, it was a significant step forward compared to their previous meeting.

Luke found himself leaning towards Nancy as his future agent, despite her mishandling of a situation involving Naomi Watts last time. He needed a professional agent, not a friend.

After the meeting, Luke flew straight to Manhattan, where his mother's advertising company was producing the annual campaign for Estée Lauder's Youth Dew perfume. Leah, his mother, had been stuck on the East Coast for weeks overseeing the production.

Upon entering the studio on Eighth Avenue, Luke made his way to his mother's temporary office.

"Mom…" he said as he knocked and walked in.

Leah, seated behind her desk, looked up and gave him a rare nod of approval. "Good job, Luke."

Sitting across from her, Luke noticed her serious expression as she removed her glasses. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," he replied quietly, grateful for everything she had done for him.

After a brief chat, Leah called in her assistant and took Luke on a tour of the studio. He was intrigued by the late-stage production of the youth fashion campaign, and they ended up visiting the set where the advertising team was working.

In the editing room, Luke's eyes widened when he saw the commercial director at work—a tall, thin man with a long, distinctive face beneath messy brown hair. It didn't take long for Luke to recognize him: this was none other than Michael Bay.

Though Bay was younger than Luke had imagined, there was no mistaking him. At this moment, Bay was a top director in the advertising world, and Santa Feia had brought him in to direct the Estée Lauder commercial. Luke chuckled quietly at the irony—he had crossed paths with two future directing giants from the ad industry today.

Just as the stories had said, Michael Bay had a temper. He yelled at the crew regularly, especially a particular assistant director named Zack Snyder, who was visibly stressed by the constant berating.

"Interesting…" Luke thought, not lingering long. The top talent in the North American ad world was much smaller and more interconnected than Hollywood, so it wasn't surprising that leaders like Bay and Snyder were working on such high-profile projects.

Later, Luke pulled Zack aside for a private conversation. "Zack, right? I hear you studied at the Pasadena College of Art and Design?"

"Yes, Mr. Rosenberg," Zack replied, keeping his composure.

"Just call me Luke," he smiled. Zack was older than him, but Speed's box office success changed the dynamics. Luke cut to the chase: "I'm preparing for my second film, and I'm looking for an assistant director. Someone who shares my philosophy."

Zack's eyes lit up with excitement. For any aspiring director, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Advertising was a stepping stone for Zack, but like many others in the field, his ultimate dream was to break into film.

"What are your thoughts on film visuals and color?" Luke asked, knowing what Zack excelled at.

Zack responded thoughtfully, "I believe there are strong parallels between film and painting, especially in composition. If you approach film through the lens of an artist, the result will have a distinct visual style. I think rich, oil-paint-like colors could bring a fresh impact to cinema—vivid, heavy hues could create an unprecedented visual experience for audiences."

As Zack spoke, his enthusiasm became more evident, particularly when he mentioned 'visual impact.'

Luke nodded thoughtfully. Though he agreed with Zack's ideas, he knew it was important to evaluate his actual skills. Directing wasn't just about vision; it required experience and temperament. Still, Zack had potential, and Luke was willing to give him a chance.