"Mind if I sit here?" Jenna asked.
"Sure, go ahead," Owen replied, making a gentle gesture for her to take a seat.
Jenna set down the cup of coffee she'd grabbed from the buffet and settled in across from him.
Only then did she look at him directly, as if reminding herself of basic formality. "Oh, right… good morning."
Owen was already used to that part of her: polite, composed, slightly distant, but always respectful. It was part of the professionalism that defined her.
"Good morning, Jenna. Sleep well?" Owen asked as he locked his phone screen.
"Yes," she nodded. "You?"
"Good, thankfully," Owen nodded back.
A silence followed, one that didn't feel awkward. Not for Owen, not for Jenna.
During the two weeks of rehearsals, Owen had observed enough to form a clear impression of her, though he wasn't the type to analyze people invasively. He only took note of patterns when they were relevant to the work.
In Jenna's case, there were many details that stood out for soone who had just turned twenty.
She was disciplined, punctual, and straightforward. She always arrived with her lines learned, her own analysis of the character, and notes in her notebook that she reviewed carefully.
She made very few mistakes with her lines, if she improvised, it was never because she forgot sothing, it was because she realized, mid-scene, that a change made sense and improved the mont. Her work ethic was impeccable.
And when they acted together, they elevated each other. The chemistry between their characters had been obvious from the first audition, but now, after two weeks building scenes, adjusting rhythms, refining silences and energies, it was even stronger.
They worked well together, but that connection was strictly professional.
On a personal level, neither had tried to cross that line. They weren't friends, and neither seed to be looking for that. They respected each other, worked well together, and kept a natural distance that both seed to prefer.
They had exchanged a dry joke here and there during rehearsals, small sparks of humor that slipped through unintentionally, but nothing more. Owen would describe it as professional compatibility. Jenna would too.
To Owen, that compatibility was valuable. He'd had co-stars with whom maintaining a steady rhythm or dealing with problematic attitudes was a challenge.
With Jenna, it was different: no drama, no issues. Everything flowed smoothly and efficiently.
The sa waiter returned and placed Owen's breakfast trays in front of him, then took Jenna's order before leaving again.
"You're the first one down," Jenna remarked once the waiter walked away.
Owen aligned his tray with almost symtrical precision before answering.
He nodded, without needing to look at her directly. "I like being ready early and having a quiet breakfast."
Jenna nodded too, as if she understood that reasoning perfectly.
Then she hesitated for a mont. "Am I bothering you?"
If Owen wanted to eat alone, she didn't want to invade his space. But at the sa ti, arriving and seeing him there, it would've felt strange to greet him and sit elsewhere when the place was empty. Besides, they were co-stars, they worked well together, and both were there for the job.
"No. I don't an that. I'm talking about the ambient noise."
The filming crew exceeded fifty people. Eating with everyone around, overlapping conversations, chairs scraping, production orders, voices mixing, wasn't ideal for soone like him.
It wasn't that he couldn't handle it, he simply preferred avoiding it when he had the choice.
That's why he preferred coming here thirty or forty minutes early.
"You're quiet," Owen added. "And we can talk about the first scenes. It's nice to have company for breakfast."
Jenna arched a brow, processed the comnt, and then nodded. It was a complint, subtle, perfectly aligned with the way they both communicated. It didn't feel awkward.
"Are you used to getting up early?" Owen asked.
"Yes. When I fild Wednesday, the Netflix series I did, I had to wake up at four-thirty in the morning… I didn't like it, but I got used to it."
"That's insanely early," Owen said.
He knew it was common in film shoots, but he also knew that most productions tried to keep friendlier schedules: call tis between seven and eight in the morning, days ending around four or five in the afternoon.
"Yes," Jenna agreed. "It was intense."
And it had been.
Waking up early wasn't difficult for Jenna if the production required it, she was disciplined. But if given the choice, she would never set an alarm for four or five a.m.
She liked staying up at night reading, reviewing scripts or watching a show. Her ideal schedule would be waking up around eight.
Jenna's breakfast arrived shortly after.
It was placed in front of her with the sa quiet discretion as Owen's, and she thanked the server with a small nod.
They both began eating while talking calmly about the first scene of the day, continuity adjustnts, and certain emotional-tone details Elijah wanted to reinforce.
Around six-thirty, the buffet began to fill up.
First ca a few mbers of the technical crew, then several supporting actors who had scenes scheduled for the day. The atmosphere, which minutes earlier had been silent, started to grow livelier and noisier.
Owen and Jenna had already finished their breakfast and were discussing a particular scene. Barely a few minutes passed before several people approached to greet them or ask if they could sit with them.
It was the first day, and it was normal for everyone to seek so interaction with the leads, especially with Owen, who had beco the hottest na in the industry over the last few days.
Among those who approached was Madison Iseman, the actress playing Cassidy, an important supporting character, though not with enough scenes to stay for the entire shoot.
Madison was twenty-five and had a solid résumé for her age. Her most recognized roles included:
-Goosebumps 2 (2018) - lead
-Annabelle Cos Ho (2019) - lead
-Jumanji: Welco to the Jungle (2017)
-Jumanji: The Next Level (2019)
In the Jumanji films her role was more secondary, as the main leads were Dwayne Johnson, Kevin Hart, Jack Black, and Karen Gillan, who occupied most of the screen ti.
In this reality, both Jumanji and Annabelle still existed.
Owen hadn't watched them fully in his first life, so the franchises existed here too. He didn't mind.
In fact, the real Jumanji for him was the 1995 one with Robin Williams, the one he'd watched as a kid. The 2017 reinvention with The Rock had seed entertaining: a group of teenagers transported into a virtual-ga world with completely different avatars. He'd seen it and didn't rember it as a bad movie.
He never got around to watching the 2019 one. He didn't find the ti, and it didn't interest him much anyway, people said it was repetitive and that Dwayne Johnson acted exactly the sa as always.
Still, both films had been box-office monsters:
2017 → 962 million
2019 → 800 million
An absurd amount of money.
For Owen, that period had been practically the absolute peak of Dwayne Johnson's popularity. Everything he did was a hit; he even beca the highest-paid actor in Hollywood during those years.
His most recent downfall had been Jungle Cruise (2021), which cost around 200 million and barely grossed about 220 million. A massive stumble for soone of his caliber. Many critics agreed: "it's the sa as always, The Rock acting like The Rock."
Even so, he still carried enormous weight in the industry. And all his fans were eagerly waiting for his next film: DC's Black Adam, set to premiere that very Friday, October 21st.
As for Jumanji, even if Owen had watched the 2019 film, it would still exist in this reality anyway: it was based on a children's book he had never read.
Regarding Annabelle, he had never liked its sequels. He only saw the first one, and the second seed so bad to him that he lost interest in the entire saga. And considering that Annabelle was part of The Conjuring universe, with multiple spin-offs and sequels, he would've needed to watch all of those films for them not to exist here.
Returning to Madison, the situation was curious.
She had landed major lead roles and supporting parts where she shared the screen with huge actors. And yet, here she was now, playing a supporting role in a 3 million-dollar independent film.
What had happened?
The answer was simple: ti. Her professional montum had taken place between 2016 and 2019. But after Annabelle Cos Ho, her trajectory thinned out.
She had a project in 2021, but it went unnoticed, no dia impact, no comrcial success and no critical praise.
And although that collection of work was solid, it didn't place her in the category of "young rising star." She wasn't a Zendaya, Tom Holland, or Florence Pugh type, cases where one or two projects are enough to turn them into global faces whose value remains high even if they go two or three years without a major role.
Madison never got that leap, and that's why her asking price dropped after nearly four years without anything noteworthy.
Joshua Eady and a few other supporting cast mbers joined as well.
With the table filling up, the noise level in the room rose sharply.
Madison was the first to speak, approaching with overflowing energy.
"Good morning, Owen, Jenna!" she greeted enthusiastically.
Her voice was a bit louder than what Owen and Jenna would've preferred at that hour.
Joshua joined in. "Hey, guys! Ready for the big day?"
The rest of the supporting actors greeted them too, all wide smiles, the typical energy of a first day on set, when everyone wants to make a good impression on the leads, the director, or any producer present.
"Hey, guys. Morning. Yeah, a little nervous," Owen said. His tone was warm and approachable, not exaggerated, but not distant either.
"Whoa, the golden boy is nervous! That's new," Joshua joked with a big smile, earning laughter from the others.
Owen laughed as well, lightly. Jenna, on the other hand, made a barely perceptible grimace and lifted her head in a minimal greeting. It wasn't rude, she simply wasn't soone who enjoyed having a big group invade her space so early.
In Hollywood, connections matter.
And many wanted to get on Owen's good side for that very reason. It was almost inevitable: he was the guy whose indie film had already surpassed 75 million and kept climbing.
The one who made it for 20 thousand dollars and kept a percentage of the box office. And the sa one who had written the original script for the movie they were about to shoot.
Everyone looked at him with a mix of respect, curiosity, and a desire to impress him.
Owen sensed it instantly.
If he hadn't been a producer, if he were only an actor, like in his first life, he would probably have been just like Jenna: a brief greeting, basic courtesy, and keeping his distance from overly forward strangers.
But having managed projects, hired people, even on a small scale, since it had only been one feature film and then several short films, all of that had made him more sociable in professional contexts.
The conversation flowed for a few minutes.
Owen finished the last of his coffee without contributing much. Jenna didn't say a single word.
At one point, Owen looked more closely at Joshua Eady: tall, probably over 6'2", twenty-six years old, muscular, with the perfect look for the kind of young heartthrob Netflix loved to cast.
He searched his mory for Joshua's filmography. He rembered only one thing: The Kissing Booth 1, 2, and 3. Supporting roles in all of them.
Owen had tried watching the first film. It was a phenonon when it ca out, practically a flagship title for Netflix at the ti.
He genuinely tried to get through it, but he couldn't. The acting, the pacing, the script, the tone… every critical fiber of his being, the part obsessed with improving his own craft, recoiled while watching it. He quit before even reaching the halfway point.
He rembered the exact feeling he had while watching it: How can a project with such diocre performances exist and still be a hit?
The answer was simple: movies like that worked because they captured a very specific audience.
Mostly teenagers, especially young girls, looking for light romances, simple plots, contemporary fantasies, and aspirational tones.
In fact, the story ca from Wattpad, which already said a lot.
The sa phenonon that made sagas like Twilight enormous: works that didn't stand out for acting quality, direction, or writing, but for the imdiate emotional effect they produced on their target audience.
Owen could absolutely enjoy mainstream cinema, in fact, he did, but mainstream with ambition.
Films like Civil War, Avengers: Infinity War, Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, Avatar, The Lord of the Rings, or Joker felt like cultural events to him, well-crafted spectacles with solid narratives and morable performances.
That was the kind of comrcial cinema he admired: entertaining, epic, emotionally powerful, and well-made.
But productions like Twilight or The Kissing Booth had always clashed with him.
Not because they targeted an audience he wasn't part of, but because behind their success he found nothing to respect: no strong acting, no carefully built stories, no competent direction.
He couldn't defend them just because they perford well at the box office or on streaming.
"Oh, right, Owen, congrats!" Madison said suddenly.
Owen, still imrsed in thoughts far more interesting than the group conversation, looked at her calmly. "For what?"
Madison let out a short laugh, as if the answer were obvious, and gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder. The gesture made Owen raise a brow.
"Your movie passed seventy-five million at the box office. That's why!"
"Oh, right," Joshua added as it hit him, "Congrats, man. You must be making a fortune, huh?"
"The movie is great. I've already watched it twice. It really deserves it," another guy said.
Within seconds, everyone began congratulating him at once.
Owen kept a neutral expression, listening without engaging too much, until the wave of complints slowed and they all looked at him, waiting for a reaction.
"Thanks. It's great that the movie is doing so well," Owen said in a neutral tone.
His tone was so reserved that several people looked at him strangely, as if they had been expecting excitent, surprise, or sothing more expressive.
Jenna, who had been silent for several minutes, lifted her empty cup to her lips to hide a restrained smile. Watching Owen remain so unmoved in the face of such obvious flattery was… slightly amusing to her.
A mont later, Jenna stood up with natural fluidity, like soone who had decided to leave long before actually doing so.
"I'm going to my room to get ready. See you in a bit," Jenna said, her polite tone directed mostly at Owen.
Jenna was already ready, of course. But she had no intention of spending fifteen more minutes listening to artificial complints aid at Owen.
"See you," Owen replied, tilting his head in a brief gesture.
Jenna left, and Owen remained trapped there. The next ten minutes felt like a small, silent torture. The conversation, which had initially been general, eventually circled back to him.
Now it wasn't congratulations anymore, it was improvised analysis of his projects:
"Your short Lights Out passed twenty-eight million views, right?"
"Incredible that all your shorts get accepted at Short of The Week."
"That ending was brutal, man."
"How did you even co up with One Minute Ti Machine? It's amazing."
Owen responded with professional politeness, but internally the experience was exhausting. Talking about his work didn't bother him. What drained him was the insistence, the exaggerated tone, and the obvious need everyone had to impress him.
He began to wonder if it was really worth being so approachable. Fortunately, he spotted an escape.
A few ters away, Elijah called from another table, "Owen, do you have a mont? I want to go over a detail from the second scene."
Owen stood up imdiately, ntally thanking the interruption. "Sure," he replied, raising his voice.
The conversation with Elijah was concise and professional. Exactly the kind of interaction he preferred.
That's how the first week of filming went: six intense, efficient days without major setbacks. On Saturday the 22nd, at three in the afternoon, Elijah wrapped the day, a half-day, just as planned.
Tomorrow, Sunday, would be a full day off for everyone.
On the way back to the hotel, the van was full, with an atmosphere far more relaxed than at the start of the week. So actors chatted about the shoot, others listened to music, several scrolled through their phones.
Owen, seated by the window, watched the scenery pass by. When the van arrived at the hotel, he had barely stood up to head to his room when Madison intercepted him.
"Owen, hey… do you have a minute?" she asked, smiling.
"Yes, what's up?" Owen asked.
"We're planning to go out tonight. Watch Black Adam and then get dinner."
Her tone was lively, as if expecting the idea to sound irresistible. Owen blinked once, analyzing the offer.
'Not even if soone pointed a gun at ,' he thought. But he didn't say it.
In fact, the idea of watching Black Adam interested him. He wanted to see the movie, just not with this overly flattering group that constantly put him at the center of everything.
"Who's going?" Owen asked, purely out of courtesy, though in his mind he already had a firm no.
"Joshua, two girls from makeup, three from lighting, and…" she listed several more nas.
She did not ntion Jenna's na.
Owen wasn't surprised. It was obvious she had either already turned down the invitation or they hadn't even bothered asking her.
"Sounds fun. But I won't be able to go. I have work to do, and I want to use the night off to get ahead on so things," Owen said without hesitation.
There was no coldness in his tone, but there was a quiet firmness that made it clear he wouldn't change his mind.
Madison's eyes widened slightly, surprised. Not because of the no, but because she had expected at least a hint of doubt, or a sowhat apologetic tone.
"Oh… well. Alright. Your loss, it's going to be fun," Madison said at last, trying to keep her enthusiasm intact.
"Probably. Have a good ti."
"Thanks. See you tomorrow."
Owen went up to his room. He took a hot shower, changed into comfortable clothes, and started a video call with Sophie that lasted over an hour. They talked about their week, the shoot, and everyday things. Then he called his mother, who updated him on the eting with A3 and bombarded him with affectionate questions. He also spoke briefly with Sarah, who told him so details about her day.
When he finished the calls, he lay down for a mont and watched a couple of episodes of a series. At seven, he ordered room service and ate in peace.
After dinner, he turned on his laptop, opened the project folder, and began working on what truly interested him: Good Will Hunting.
The script was already finished. And even though the money hadn't arrived yet, there was still plenty he could advance without needing the full budget.
Pre-production could start imdiately.
He could break down the script scene by scene, list all the required locations, the number of actors per sequence, wardrobe and prop elents, special props.
He could also create a preliminary shooting schedule, estimate how many days he would need for each block, and organize the timing for exteriors and interiors.
Another thing he could do was prepare a professional initial budget, detailing estimated salaries, equipnt costs, permits, logistics, post-production, and marketing. That way, once everything was ready, he could asure the film's cost with solid precision.
In reality, he could advance a trendous amount without a single dollar deposited.
While he sank into that focused work mode, hours passed. Until soone knocked on the door. The sharp sound pulled him abruptly out of his concentration. He blinked and looked at the ti on the screen: eleven-thirty at night.
Owen exhaled tiredly, irritated by the sudden break in rhythm. He got up, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and walked toward the door with slow steps.
When he opened it, he froze. Standing there was Madison, dressed in comfortable sleepwear, a light set with a robe, casual, nightti attire, and clearly out of place for a visit at that hour.
'This is not good,' Owen thought with a slight grimace.
Madison was smiling, as if there were nothing strange about showing up at soone's hotel room door so late on a Saturday night.
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