Chapter 38: (Gross)eries

WB Headquarters, Hollywood. June 2008.

"Don't do this to me, Bas!" Ben Wyatt, my financial manager from Duneshire Equities, sounded about done with me.

"Do you have the prospectus ready?" Forever the worrywart. Still so nervous despite all the Hogwarts money I'd brought in.

"Hoh my gawd, you're not even listening to me. If I can't even get through to you, what makes you think either of these Hollywood hotshots are going to hear a word out of my mouth?" Should've also told him to bring diapers for himself, along with the dossiers.

"Because money talks, and these days I'm pretty much made of it." The other parties involved in this meeting would be here any minute. Grabbing a glass from the refreshment trolley, I poured Ben a cool drink of citrus fruit infused water. He needed a good dose of Vitamin-C for calm the fuck down. "Take this, a seat, and a breath."

Down the hatch the water went, and as Ben burped, so did his manners. Clearly, he was deficient in Vitamin-D for decorum. "Why do you have to be so calm? This is big, big business, Bas."

Good thing B-12 was my deficiency, because I wanted to bomb this jiggling pile of jelly. "You need to get yourself under control. Do your relaxation exercises - go over my bank account and how it got so fat." Nothing soothed finance bros like counting cash; except, of course, high-end escorts. 

"Yeah… yeah… good idea." I didn't know if it was the lime bobbing in his cup of water or the money flavoured conversation we were about to have, but as Ben blew out a sigh, his breath smelled green. "Okay, so I guess the first wad of cash I can stick inside the bill counter is your savings and salaries. Since last year after your respective cheques for Tropic Thunder and Half-Blood Prince cleared - oh yeah, and the most recent batch of home media residuals came pouring in, you a little under 30 million."

That was only the beginning. "Hardly the full amount. C'mon, tell me how this little orphan Annie transformed into daddy Warbucks." Only hard knocks left in my life were the salesmen, taxmen, and gold diggers collectively trying to break down my door.

"Speaking of bucks, they credited the big ones into your account once the box office run of Order of the Phoenix completed. One point two billion at the theaters means 36 million in your wallet after fees and taxes slice your 4% up."

Online dating hasn't really evolved past OK Cupid as of yet, but should the time ever come that I was desperate enough to dip my toes into the toxic mire of the internet dating pool, I could safely say that I was hitting all the prerequisites of an ideal match. 6 feet? That extra inch or two I had on that figure meant I was free to look down on everyone. 6 inches? I hadn't exactly broken the ruler out recently, but none of my partners had every left dissatisfied, so I was likely hitting the right spots there, too. 6 figures? "66 million. Total." Try six zeroes. 

"Minus 20 - so 46, actually. You made me buy another 20 for a total of 70 million dollars shorting the housing market. All of which, earlier this year, grew exponentially when we sold off our swaps back to the banks. You know, Bas, if I didn't know you as well as I've done over the last few years, whenever I hear you make the flippant remarks you do, I'd make the mistake of saying you talk an inordinate amount of shit-"

Haah, haah. Immediately, I brought a cupped palm up to my mouth and huffed into it so that my breath could rebound back up my nostrils. Maybe I should also take a sip of that air freshener flavored water. 

"-But you're far more calculated than you like to appear. That Daddy Warbucks line couldn't be more apt. Even after spending money on Mrs Stephens' orphans back in Wales. Even after bleeding from the premiums, the brokerage, and the capital gains… six times, Bas. You've made six times your initial investment."

Whatever excitement I'd successfully bled out of Ben seemed to be transfused into my own veins. Had I filled my pockets with any of the money he'd been tallying, I'd be jingling like Santa's sleigh with my leg bouncing the way it was. 

"Not like that's even your only investment. Ignoring my chosen funds, you and Uniqlo are ubiquitous by now. Between what you've personally put in, in addition to their more than generous stock offerings for your endorsement; all told you have over 30 million vested in them. And Netflix," which is the reason we were here today, "isn't all that far behind either."

Ain't no doubt, if I was Gwen Stefani, I'd be signing Rich Girl right about now. "C'mon, Ben. Stop teasing, put away the abacus and give me the tally." I needed to know the full load before I blew mine in my pants.

"500 million dollars, Bas. Half a billion." Ben was entitled to change his last name to Kenobi with how serene he looked after letting that out. 

"So long as today's meeting goes well, we'll turn that half into a whole in the coming years." My focus shifted from Ben to the thump of heavy shoes stepping down the corridor. "You're forgetting the sweetest money of all. Next month I turn eighteen. That means the Coogan security is no longer valid, and I can withdraw it from its prison." 

"This may sound fiscally irresponsible of me, but is an additional eight million really all that impressive?"

"Money won is a lot sweeter than money earned, and money found under sofa cushions is the sweetest of all. Especially considering not a penny of it can be taxed or touched by anyone but me." The door handle angled down, announcing the entry of my next venture. 

Reed Hastings, co-founder of Netflix, pulled the door ajar. But before he could cross the threshold, my best frenemy, Jeff Robinov, marched in with his blazer flapping like a pair of dark wings behind him. "Park yourselves, gentlemen. Let's make this quick." Swanned in wasn't quite the right description - his attire, hairline, and hooked nose drew connotations of vultures rather vividly. "I wanna make this clear from the outset," his beady eyes locked on to me, "I'm attending this meeting as a courtesy call to you, Bas. Good job being the bad boy these last few weeks. The news refuses to ignore you, so I won't either. Your star and the Potter stock are both rising. But that doesn't mean I'll kowtow to a bullshit deal." 

Likely having spent plenty of time dealing with holier-than-thou Hollywood execs, Reed remained rooted and easily took a seat beside Ben. 

Our truce clearly didn't extend beyond ourselves. "No need to be polite on my account, Jeff. We can always reschedule when the deal on the table gets more expensive for you. I can wait." Robinov? More like rubbing off the wrong way.

First rule of negotiation - always be willing to walk out. 

I made to slip my hand out from our shake, but his talon kept me well trapped. The smiles we shot at each other were all fangs and the furthest thing from kind, but I could tell we were both enjoying it. "Slow your roll, kid. I've already opened a slot on my schedule. I'm here, so let's hear your posse out." 

Startling as the revelation was, I get why Anita loved behaving the way she did. Cause I had to admit, I was reveling in it, too. 

With a wave of my (now free) hand, I signaled my partners. Ben distributed the dossiers, and Reed regurgitated his spiel. "Netflix is primarily a DVD rental-by-mail service. We work on a subscription base model where customers select DVDs on the Netflix website, which we mail out to them and they return to sender using prepaid envelopes at their convenience. As of today, we have a loyal client base of nearly 10 million subscribers and we're projected to generate 1.4 billion in revenue this fiscal year."

"That's it? WB spends more on triple ply Charmin toilet paper annually." Sounds pricey, but I wouldn't know. I was more of a bidet man myself. "And besides, if it's DVD rentals, this whole pitch is a no-go. We already have a standing contract with Blockbuster."

Ben was quick to interject. "We're not here to change that. Netflix isn't interested in physical DVDs with WB. We want to host your library as part of the new streaming and subscription service, which isn't a deal you have with anyone else." Digital media distribution was still a novel concept in this day and age.

Reed hastily tacked on to extoll the weedy potential of his company's rapid growth. "We've set ourselves up with a good foundation. Going forward, our streaming service is going to be where we put all our effort. We're already in late stage talks with Xbox and Microsoft to leverage their consoles and hardware to install our proprietary platform. They have an in-built consumer base numbering in the millions - as well as bolstering our content catalogue with Starz for their library, and hopefully, by talking to you today, Warner too."

Jeff could try to look bored all he wanted, but the fact that he was affecting apathy while skimming through our projections told me there was more than a kernel of interest there. "Skirting around the physical distribution is a clever loophole, but I'm not sure if it's worth it. Frankly speaking, who says DVD sales are going anywhere? The drop in that industry is the only way this online video on demand model becomes viable. Especially since it's not even pay-per-view."

Time to hard sell this software. "You have friends in the music industry, don't you, Jeff?"

"That's what my Friday night plans tell me. Yes, I sure do." 

"Ask them how CD and album sales have been since everyone and their mother started using iTunes." The only people buying CDs these days are back alley hobos. "Netflix can achieve the same results in the movie biz."

"Hmm." He buried his beak in his fist as he deliberated. "That's something to think about, now, isn't it?" The jury was still out - at least that's what Jeff's expression was trying to show. "Leave this with me. I've gotta get my people to run the numbers on this." But him nervously knocking his knuckles on the desk banged louder to my ears than a gavel announcing a final verdict. 

I had him dead to (streaming) rights. 

He swept around, nodded at the other two, before once again clutching my hand. "Once more, I find myself needing to re-evaluate my opinion of you, Bas."

"My pleasure."

"I'll bet. Gentlemen, I'll get back to you."

–

"That was… surprisingly promising." Meeting over, butt cheeks unclenched with Robinov's departure, which meant the three of us could debrief. 

Reed was quick to un-tighty his whities.

I couldn't resist giving him a wedgie. "Don't get too comfortable. This is a limited time offer. Give it ten years or so and they'll kick us to the curb once they figure out how to make their own thing."

"Every time I scale a mountain, there always has to be another peak to summit, doesn't there? So, what do we do then? Make our own stuff?" 

"Yeah." Clever bollocks.

"You make it sound so easy. Just the capital required to buy the bare bones equipment for a production studio alone is difficult to source."

"Actually…" Ben was hesitant to elaborate, only because what he said next involved me spending money. "it's far easier to subsume pre-existing companies on the verge of bankruptcy; equipment, employment contracts, everything. This is Hollywood. Fifteen minutes is all you get sometimes."

"My seat on Netflix's board of directors is there for a reason. Work with me and I promise you, we'll stand head and shoulders with the big boys."

I'm gonna use you till you love me.