Chapter 853: Friendship Driven by Interests

The sleek black sedan eased its way onto Wilshire Street, its polished exterior reflecting the glimmering lights of the city. Inside, Noah's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he caught sight of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in the distance. The grand, imposing structure stirred a mix of emotions within him. He glanced over at Greta, his girlfriend, seated beside him, her eyes seemingly lost in thought as she gazed out of the window.

A knot of uncertainty tightened in his chest, and he finally broke the silence. "Greta," he began, his voice tentative, "how exactly did you get to know Martin Davis? Did he really take an interest in your script?"

Greta turned to face him, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. There was a glint in her eyes, one Noah had seen many times before, sharp, confident, and ever so slightly mischievous. "Why, Noah," she teased, "are you worried about little old me?"

Noah hesitated, his eyes flicking to the traffic light ahead that had just turned red. He eased the car to a stop, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "No, that's not what I meant," he replied, his tone almost apologetic. "It's just... how do I put this? It's all so sudden. This morning, you mentioned Martin Davis was interested in your script, and now here we are. I wasn't prepared for any of this."

Greta chuckled softly, the sound lightening the mood inside the car. "Noah, you worry too much," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I'm an actress, a screenwriter, sure, but the only thing I've directed was an experimental film back in 2008, and that never even made it to theaters. What could Martin Davis possibly want from me?"

Noah gave a sheepish smile, recognizing the truth in her words but still feeling uneasy. "It's just... you know, you sprung this on me out of nowhere. I'm just trying to wrap my head around it."

Greta's expression softened as she reached out to place a hand on Noah's arm. "Listen, Noah, there's nothing shady going on here. I've always been open with you, and since we got together, I've stepped back from acting to focus more on screenwriting. You know why."

Noah nodded quickly, eager to reassure her. "Of course, Greta, that's not what I meant at all."

Greta cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Let me finish," she said, her tone calm but insistent. "You remember Mandy Moore, right? We've been friends for years. About a year ago, Mandy got involved in the 'La La Land' project that Martin was working on; she was the dance choreographer. I went to visit her at Disney Studios one day, and that's when I met Saoirse Ronan."

Noah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Saoirse Ronan... she's a lot like you, isn't she? You two hit it off pretty quickly."

Greta shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Not exactly like-minded, Noah. I worked hard to build that friendship. Saoirse is fascinating in her own right, and I think she saw some value in me too. She welcomed the friendship I offered."

Noah, more of a straightforward writer than a networker, found the intricacies of Hollywood relationships baffling. "This all sounds so... complicated," he admitted, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Greta leaned back in her seat, letting out a small sigh. "It's really not, Noah. Saoirse isn't just a student of Martin Davis; she's likely something more. Think about it. Hollywood is full of talented and beautiful actresses, many more experienced than Saoirse. Yet, Martin chose her. There's a reason for that."

She turned to Noah, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "You know I've been developing this script for years, and I've always wanted to direct. But without backing from a big studio or someone like Martin Davis, who's going to let a woman with just one experimental film under her belt direct a major project?"

Noah remained silent, sensing that Greta was working through something important. He focused on the road as she continued.

"I didn't know Martin personally," Greta explained, "but through Mandy, I met Saoirse. I saw an opportunity there. Saoirse found out through Martin that I might become one of the main screenwriters for 'Beauty and the Beast,' and suddenly, we were closer than ever. Martin's studio is a key investor in that film, after all. It's only natural that Saoirse and I would become friends."

Noah sighed, still trying to piece it all together. "I thought you two were just friends."

Greta gave him a knowing look, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Noah, in this town, there's no such thing as pure friendship, especially in this industry. It's all about connections and what you can do for each other."

She paused, then added with a wry smile, "But don't get me wrong, Saoirse is genuinely a good person. As long as her interests aren't threatened, she's loyal. But don't forget, it's Martin who's pulling the strings behind the scenes."

The light turned green, and Noah drove through the intersection, the grand entrance of the Ritz-Carlton now just ahead. He pulled the car up to the curb and put it in park. "This is as far as I can take you, Greta. Good luck in there."

Greta leaned over, kissed him softly on the cheek, and grabbed her briefcase. "Thanks, Noah," she whispered before stepping out of the car and heading toward the hotel entrance, her heels clicking confidently against the pavement.

As she entered the luxurious lobby, Greta spotted Saoirse Ronan waiting by a grand piano, her elegant figure perfectly at ease in the opulent surroundings. Greta quickened her pace, her smile brightening. "Saoirse!" she called out, her voice warm. "You didn't have to wait for me out here. Let's head up to the room."

Saoirse walked over with a warm smile and embraced Greta. "Martin's tied up with work right now," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of boredom. "There's nothing for me to do up there."

She gestured down the hallway. "Come on, this way."

As they walked, Greta couldn't help but notice how much more poised Saoirse seemed compared to when they first met. She gave her a sideways glance and remarked, "You look like you're in even better shape than before."

Saoirse's smile widened. "Maybe it's all the dancing I've been doing these past two years," she replied casually.

Greta leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "For Martin?"

Saoirse didn't flinch, her eyes still focused ahead as she nodded slightly. "I have to stay good at something unique," she admitted. "Something that keeps me... interesting."

Greta nodded in understanding. "Dancing does wonders for flexibility," she mused. "It's amazing how crazy men can get over a good split."

Saoirse laughed softly at that, but then turned the tables, her tone becoming curious. "You and Noah have been together since 2010, right?" she asked, almost shyly. "How do you keep him so... engaged?"

Greta chuckled, a knowing smile on her lips. "You have to keep things fresh," she advised. "Try something new every now and then, something that catches him off guard."

Saoirse couldn't help but smile at how quickly Greta seemed to have all the answers. She was still mulling over the conversation as they reached the elevator, which opened with a soft chime. The doors slid shut behind them, and the world outside seemed to fall away.

"Has Martin read the script yet?" Greta asked, steering the conversation back to business.

"I've skimmed through it," Saoirse admitted, her tone more serious now. "That's why I asked you to come over. Knowing Martin, he'll probably suggest you shoot a short film first. If you agree, and if it turns out well, you might just get the director's chair."

Greta smiled and patted the bag she was carrying. "I'm ahead of you there," she said confidently. "I've already shot the short film."

Saoirse's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "You work fast," she remarked, clearly impressed.

Greta's smile faded slightly, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. "When a woman wants to direct," she said, her voice tinged with resignation, "she has to go above and beyond just to be taken seriously." She paused, then added sincerely, "I owe you for this, Saoirse. Without your recommendation, I doubt I'd even be in this room today."

Saoirse shrugged, offering a small, supportive smile. "You know what? Even after writing Beauty and the Beast, when I pitched a female-centric film to Disney, they didn't even want to have the conversation."

"Keep pushing," Saoirse encouraged softly, her voice full of empathy. "You've got this."

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a plush corridor that led directly to the only suite on the top floor. Without hesitation, they walked down the hallway and entered the luxurious suite.

Martin Davis was seated on the terrace, the city skyline glittering behind him. Through the large French windows, he caught sight of them and waved them over.

Saoirse led Greta out onto the terrace, where the evening breeze mingled with the scent of jasmine from the garden below. Martin didn't waste time with pleasantries; he gestured to the thick script on the table before him.

"This script surprised me," he said, his tone both intrigued and critical. "There's a lot packed in here, too much, really. The plot's dense, almost overwhelming. I haven't even finished reading it."

Greta's heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and pride. "It's just a first draft," she explained, trying to keep her tone light. "I know it needs trimming."

Martin tapped the script with a finger. "If we stick to this draft, the film would run for at least six and a half hours."

Greta blushed slightly, feeling a bit sheepish. "I'll refine it," she promised. "It's based on my life, so I might've gotten carried away."

Martin looked at her thoughtfully. "Saoirse mentioned this is a semi-autobiography?"

Greta nodded, her voice growing more confident as she spoke about something close to her heart. "Yes, it's set in Sacramento—my hometown. Many of the events are based on my personal experiences. No one understands the story better than I do."

Martin's gaze softened slightly, recognizing her passion. It was clear she was hinting at something more, her desire to direct her own story.

"I started writing this script back in 2011," Greta continued, "and I finished it earlier this year. I even gathered some young actors and shot a short film based on it."

Martin raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

Greta smiled, feeling a renewed sense of determination. "I've been preparing for this moment for a long time. All I need now is the chance to prove myself."

Greta opened her briefcase with a steady hand, though inside she felt a surge of excitement and nerves. She carefully pulled out a sleek mobile hard drive and handed it to Martin. "This is the short film," she said, her voice calm but laced with anticipation.

Martin gave a brief nod, his expression unreadable, and gestured toward the interior of the suite. "Let's take a look."

Saoirse, sensing the importance of the moment, took the hard drive from Greta with a reassuring smile. The three of them moved together into the study, where a state-of-the-art projector stood ready. Saoirse connected the hard drive to the computer, and within moments, the short film was cast onto the large alloy screen that dominated the room.

The video began to play, its runtime under ten minutes. Martin watched with a sharp, discerning eye, his focus unwavering. The film unfolded with a clarity and precision that spoke volumes about Greta's vision. The camera movements were deliberate and effective, the editing crisp, and the narrative flowed seamlessly from one scene to the next. However, Martin couldn't help but notice the actors, young and inexperienced whose performances lacked the depth the story demanded. Yet, given the circumstances, it was understandable; finding seasoned talent on short notice for an independent project was always a challenge.

As the film ended, the screen fading to black, Saoirse glanced at Martin before quietly turning off the projector. The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation. Greta felt her heart pounding in her chest, the sound almost deafening in her ears.

Martin broke the silence with a measured tone, his words deliberate. "There are a few things we need to address before moving forward."

Greta's pulse quickened, but she met his gaze steadily. "What aspects?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rush of anxiety.

Martin leaned forward slightly, his demeanor all business. "First and foremost, while I have no issue with you writing and directing, there are certain conditions. The script, as it stands, is far too long. A screenplay of more than 350 pages is not feasible. I need you to trim it down to under 100 pages, and the final film should not exceed an hour and a half in length."

Greta nodded eagerly, her mind already racing with ideas on how to streamline the story. "I'm already working on refining the script," she assured him.

Martin's gaze shifted to Saoirse, who had been listening intently. "Saoirse will be playing the lead role of Lady Bird, and the project's budget will be capped at $10 million."

Greta responded immediately, a sense of relief washing over her. "Saoirse and I have already discussed her taking the lead. And a $10 million budget is more than sufficient."

With the script and casting effectively settled, Martin continued, "Saoirse will give you Jessica's contact information. I need your agent to reach out to my studio today to finalize the transfer of copyright."

Greta felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The path forward was clear, and the opportunity she had longed for was finally within reach. As Saoirse handed her a small note with Jessica's details, Greta's smile was one of genuine gratitude. "I'll call my agent right away and have him head to Burbank immediately."

Martin gave a slight nod of approval. "Good."

A few minutes later, Greta and Saoirse descended to the hotel's lobby, the grandeur of the Ritz-Carlton still imposing but no longer intimidating. The deal was as good as done.

Saoirse turned to Greta with a look of quiet satisfaction. "Are you feeling more at ease now?"

Greta reached out and squeezed her hand, emotion flooding her voice. "I can't thank you enough, Saoirse. It's incredibly difficult for a woman with so little experience to be given a chance to direct in Hollywood. Without your recommendation to Martin, I would never have gotten this opportunity."

Saoirse smiled, recalling Martin's words about the importance of a strong director for an actor on the rise. "It's the least I could do. Helping you also helps me."

Greta's eyes sparkled with newfound determination. "I hope this film succeeds so we can continue working together. I have so many stories I want to tell, stories where women are the central focus, where their voices and experiences drive the narrative."

Saoirse's smile widened. "I'd love that. Maybe after the contract is signed, we can take a trip to Sacramento? I'd like to see where you grew up, walk the streets that shaped you."

Greta's response was quick, her mind already thinking ahead. "As soon as the contract is finalized, we'll head there. It'll be the perfect way to start this journey."

Saoirse nodded, understanding the urgency. "Focus on the contract first. There's no rush. Sacramento isn't going anywhere."

In the days that followed, the negotiations between Greta's agent and Jessica moved swiftly. With Martin's general approval already in place, the details fell into place quickly. Before the week was out, the copyright agreement was signed, marking the official start of Greta's journey as both the writer and director of her own story.

Davis Studio made headlines when it acquired the rights to Lady Bird, not just for the purchase but for the bold decision to entrust the project to Greta Gerwig, who would not only write but also direct. With Saoirse Ronan set to star as the lead character, Kristen, the film had all the makings of an indie darling. The production was given a modest budget of $10 million, a figure that, while modest by Hollywood standards, was carefully calculated by Martin Davis to ensure a profitable return on what he knew would be a niche, art-house film.

Martin was no stranger to the business of filmmaking and understood the delicate balance required to turn a profit on artistic projects. He was acutely aware that, despite critical acclaim, art films often struggled to attract large audiences. The key, he knew, was in keeping costs low and leveraging the film's artistic integrity during awards season.

With the budget and cast in place, the official groundwork for Lady Bird began in mid-March, setting the stage for a production that would be as meticulously crafted as it was economically efficient. Martin had his eye on the 2015 awards season, planning a strategic release that would allow the film to build momentum through festivals, starting with Cannes.

Meanwhile, over at Disney Studios, in the recently established The Shallows division, Martin was wrapping up a call with Jennifer Aniston. Aniston, who had become a formidable player in Hollywood after her public split with Brad Pitt, had just secured Barry Jenkins' black gay narrative project, a coup that seemed destined for Oscar buzz. She had faced competition from the indie powerhouse A24, but her influence, bolstered by her role as a prominent figure in the MeToo movement, had easily tipped the scales in her favor. Martin could already see the impact a film like Moonlight would have on the Oscars, especially with Aniston's backing. The project's low-budget, high-prestige formula was a perfect fit for awards season, and Plan B, her production company, was poised to dominate.

As he set down the phone, Martin's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Bruce, who entered the office looking worse for wear. Martin raised an eyebrow, his sharp eyes taking in Bruce's disheveled appearance. "You need to get a grip, Bruce," Martin said, half amused, half disapproving. "You're unsteady on your feet, and those bags under your eyes are a dead giveaway. What have you been up to?"

Bruce gave a sheepish nod, clearly worn out. "It's been a rough few days, Martin. You know how it is... Juggling too much at once."

Martin's curiosity piqued. "Juggling? Sounds like more than just work. What exactly have you been up to?"

Bruce hesitated before admitting, "It's been a bit of a circus. Kim and Khloe at night, and Judy during the day. It's... exhausting."

Martin shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "One against three? You're something else, Bruce. But seriously, you need to take better care of yourself."

Bruce tried to explain further, but it only seemed to dig the hole deeper. "It's not what it looks like, Martin. I swear, it's just that balancing work with those two at night and then having to deal with Judy all day is wearing me out."

Martin wasn't convinced. "So, what are you telling me? You've traded your usual type for Kendall's model-thin figure?"

Bruce, realizing this line of conversation was getting him nowhere, quickly shifted gears. "Actually, there's some news from Kiev. They're interested in promoting the Saint Girl Band's North American tour."

Martin's interest was piqued. "How are they doing in the CIS and Eastern Europe?"

Bruce nodded, grateful for the change of subject. "Their first album was a massive hit over there. They're selling out shows everywhere. This generation of the Saint Girls is already the most successful yet."

Martin leaned back in his chair, considering the potential. "So they're looking to expand their profile with a tour in the U.S.?"

"Exactly," Bruce confirmed. "They believe a concert in New York or Los Angeles could significantly boost their visibility."

Martin understood the value of the American market, especially for acts looking to break through on a global scale. Even in the modern age, the United States was still seen as the ultimate stage for international success. "Alright," Martin said after a moment's thought. "Get in touch with Thomas and Jessica. Have them coordinate with the team in Kiev to explore this opportunity."

As Bruce left the room to carry out the orders, Martin returned to his thoughts. With Lady Bird and the Saint Girl Band project in motion, the studio was poised to make waves both in the indie film world and the international music scene. The year was shaping up to be a busy one, but Martin knew that with the right moves, it could also be highly profitable.