Chapter 8: The Morning After

# Chapter 8: The Morning After

*November 18, 1992 - Beverly Hills Hotel, Bungalow 5*

*6:15 AM*

Jake Morris sat in the pre-dawn darkness of his hotel suite, watching Entertainment Tonight's third replay of his Tonight Show appearance. The mini-bar lay ransacked – not from drinking, but from his nervous habit of organizing and reorganizing items when his mind raced. In his past life, this compulsion had driven his modeling agents crazy. Now it was just another tell he had to control.

"...the overnight sensation taking Hollywood by storm," Mary Hart's voice chirped from the TV. "But industry insiders are asking: Can one voice acting role really transform a failed actor into Disney's new golden boy?"

Jake snorted, arranging the tiny vodka bottles by height. Even with his system's World-Class Acting ability, the skepticism was fair. In his original timeline, he'd been nothing but a pretty face who'd bombed so spectacularly at a "Three's Company" revival audition that the casting director had literally wept – from laughter.

His Nokia buzzed: Robin Williams.

"Kid! Tell me you're watching CNN! The Wolf Man's doing a whole segment on 'The Crown Studios Phenomenon.' Also, did you know Harvey's spreading rumors that you made a deal with the devil? I mean, technically he's not wrong – you did sign with Disney..."

Jake smiled despite himself. In his past life, he'd only known Robin from afar – another Hollywood legend he'd disappointed with his wooden acting. Now? Now Robin had become something between a mentor and a crazy uncle, dropping wisdom bombs between manic impressions.

"...and speaking of deals," Robin continued, his voice shifting to a spot-on Michael Eisner, "our mouse-eared overlord wants to know if you're ready for Good Morning America. Apparently, the whole 'handsome model becomes voice acting savant' angle is trending hotter than Madonna's latest scandal."

"Ready as I'll—" Jake started, but Robin was already rolling.

"Because let me tell you something about morning shows, kid. They're like piranhas in pastel blazers. Joan Lunden? She'll smell fear faster than Jeffrey Katzenberg can say 'sequel rights.' And Charlie Gibson? The man's like a golden retriever who went to Harvard – friendly until he goes for the jugular..."

As Robin launched into a pitch-perfect Charlie Gibson impression interviewing Godzilla, Jake's other line beeped. Variety's editor – probably calling about their "CROWN'S PRINCE: Hollywood's Most Unlikely Comeback" cover story.

The truth was, even with his system's powers and future knowledge, Jake knew the skeptics had a point. One voice acting role – even a revolutionary one – wasn't enough. In his original timeline, he'd watched countless overnight sensations flame out faster than Vanilla Ice's career.

His eyes drifted to the Variety spread on his coffee table: "Can Crown Studios' Golden Boy Deliver the Goods?" Next to it lay the morning's banking statements – Crown Studios' debt to Harvey's empire, slowly shrinking thanks to Aladdin's advance payments. But it wasn't enough. Not yet.

"...and then Barbara Walters says to the monk, 'But what about the OTHER enlightenment?'" Robin's voice cut through Jake's thoughts. "Kid? You still there? You've got that brooding model face on, don't you? The one that made Cindy Crawford feel inadequate?"

"Sorry, just thinking about—"

A knock at the door silenced both of them. Through the peephole, Jake saw a young production assistant clutching a stack of newspapers. But his system's enhanced vision caught something else: the slight bulge of a camera under her jacket. Harvey's people were already trying to catch him off guard.

"Speaking of piranha," Jake muttered.

"Paparazzi?" Robin's voice turned serious. "Welcome to the big leagues, kid. Remember what I told you about fame?"

Jake did remember – both from this timeline and from watching Robin's career in his past life: "Fame is like having a crazy ex who's also a stalker with a megaphone."

"And?"

"And never let them see you sweat."

"Bingo! Now channel that inner street rat and show them what you've got. But Jake?" Robin's voice softened. "Just remember, it's easy to get caught up in all this – the fame, the game. But you've got something real, something they can't replicate. Don't let it fade away."

Jake froze. "What did you say?"

But Robin was already switching to his Mrs. Doubtfire voice, something about showing those "morning show vultures what a real performance looks like, dearie."

Jake's heart raced. Had Robin somehow seen through the madness of it all? Or was it just another one of those Robin Williams moments, like the three AM call where he explained how Mickey Mouse was secretly a Jungian archetype in shorts?

Jake smiled despite the knot in his stomach. Robin's manic energy was infectious, even at dawn. "Good Morning America's car will be here in twenty. You ready to dazzle the morning crowd?"

"Ready? I was BORN ready! Well, technically I was born naked and confused, like my agent at tax time, but—" Robin launched into a pitch-perfect Barbara Walters impression: "Today on 20/20: Can two men, separated by age and sanity, create Disney magic? The answer... after this message from our sponsors!" 

The Nokia's chirp faded as Jake absorbed Robin's boundless enthusiasm. Through his penthouse window, the Hollywood Hills glowed pink with promise – or warning. On his coffee table, today's trades painted a picture of an industry in upheaval:

Variety: "CROWN'S REVOLUTION: How One Performance Changed the Game" Hollywood Reporter: "Disney's New Prince: Inside Jake Morris's Overnight Rise" Wall Street Journal: "Crown Studios Stock Soars as Morris Mania Grips Hollywood"

A knock at the door. "Mr. Morris? Good Morning America's car is here."

Jake straightened his Armani tie, studying his reflection. The same face that had launched a thousand magazine covers stared back, but something had changed. Behind those cover-boy looks lurked something that made Hollywood's power players shift uncomfortably in their Aeron chairs.

"One second!" he called, eyes fixed on CNN's business ticker. Crown Studios' market cap had tripled since Aladdin's first screening. Harvey Weinstein's Miramax was suddenly looking vulnerable, their fourth-quarter projections shaky. The spider's web was starting to unravel.

His father's latest box office projections lay spread across the desk like tarot cards. Aladdin wasn't just hitting targets – it was obliterating them. The morning's numbers from the East Coast showed lines around the block, repeat viewings off the charts. Jeffrey Katzenberg had called at midnight, babbling about "revolutionary demographics" and "cross-generational appeal."

The door knocked again. Jake grabbed his briefcase, mind already mapping out the next moves. Good Morning America was just the beginning. By noon, he and Robin would hit Live with Regis and Kathie Lee. Then The Today Show. Then a "spontaneous" appearance at Times Square Disney Store that would make Entertainment Tonight's evening broadcast.

"Ready to rule morning TV?" Robin Williams bounded down the hotel corridor, energy crackling like a live wire. "Charlie Gibson's already warming up his 'serious journalist' face. And Joan Lunden? Her hair defies both gravity and federal regulation!"

Jake grinned despite his mental chess game. Robin's presence had a way of cutting through Hollywood's smoke and mirrors. In just months, they'd become an unlikely duo – the manic comedy legend and the former model who'd somehow found his voice.

"You know they're going to ask about Harvey," Robin said as they entered the elevator. His voice dropped its usual manic edge. "The whole town's talking about Crown Studios' resurrection. And wherever there's a resurrection..."

"There's someone who wanted the body to stay buried," Jake finished. The elevator numbers ticked down like a countdown. "Let them ask. Harvey doesn't own Hollywood anymore."

Robin studied him with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Kid, I've seen a lot of overnight sensations come and go. But you? There's something different. Like you know exactly what cards to play, exactly when to play them."

Jake kept his expression neutral as the elevator hit the lobby. If Robin only knew. But that was the thing about Hollywood – everyone had secrets. His were just bigger than most.

The hotel's front entrance was a paparazzi war zone. Flashbulbs exploded like artillery fire. Entertainment Tonight's cameras tracked their progress toward the waiting car. Somewhere in Miramax's offices, Harvey would be watching this footage, wondering how his perfect plan had unraveled.

"Mr. Morris! Over here!" "Jake! Is it true Crown Studios is buying Marvel Comics?" "Robin! What's it like working with Hollywood's newest phenomenon?"

They pushed through the chaos toward their car. But one voice cut through the din: "Jake! Sources say Harvey Weinstein's calling your success 'suspicious.' Any comment?"

Jake turned, letting just enough steel show through his magazine-cover smile. The crowd hushed.

"Tell Harvey I'm just getting started."

The morning sun hit his face as they slid into the limo. Perfect lighting for tomorrow's entertainment pages. Robin launched into his impression of Peter Jennings covering a moon landing by circus clowns, but Jake's mind was already three moves ahead.

Good Morning America would ask about his "sudden" acting talent. He had a humble origin story ready. Regis would probe Crown Studios' financial turnaround. He had charts showing Aladdin's projected earnings. Kathie Lee would fish for Hollywood gossip. He had carefully crafted soundbites that would send subtle messages to every power player in town.

By sunset, the industry would have to admit: Jake Morris wasn't just a pretty face anymore. He was a force of nature. And nature was about to reshape Hollywood's landscape.

The limo turned onto Sunset Boulevard, that neon-lit river of broken dreams and sudden stardom. Jake watched the familiar landmarks scroll past: the Whisky a Go Go, the Viper Room, the billboards promising eternal fame. How many careers had blazed and burned along this stretch of asphalt?

"You know what the best part is?" Robin's voice cut through his thoughts. "Nobody saw you coming. The pretty boy model who couldn't act, suddenly turning into this... this force of nature. It's like a Hollywood fairy tale, except with better lighting and more lawyers."

Jake smiled, thinking of the months ahead. The Mask. Titanic. The Matrix. Each stepping stone carefully chosen, each performance destined to reshape the industry.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "the best stories are the ones nobody sees coming."

The ABC studios loomed ahead, their satellite dishes reaching for the California sky like mechanical flowers. Behind those walls, Charlie Gibson and Joan Lunden waited with their perfectly crafted questions and subtle traps.

Show time.

Jake straightened his tie one last time, channeling the same energy that had somehow transformed him from punchline to powerhouse. The same presence that had Disney throwing money at Crown Studios, had Steven Spielberg leaving midnight messages, had Harvey Weinstein calling emergency board meetings.

"Ready to make some morning show magic?" Robin grinned, already shifting into his repertoire of morning show host impressions.

"Always," Jake replied, stepping out into the crisp Los Angeles morning. "But Robin?"

"Yeah?"

"This is just the first act."

The studio doors opened, spilling morning show light onto the Hollywood pavement. Somewhere in the distance, a new day was dawning over Tinseltown. And Jake Morris was about to show them what real magic looked like.