Zane had finally, finally, managed to clear his schedule. After more than a month of the high-stakes, soul-grinding pressure of the financial markets, he was genuinely, bone-deep exhausted.
He needed a night off.
So, this evening, he'd actually invited a few friends over to his ho. The staff had set up a beautiful dining table next to the villa's swimming pool, with colorful lights strung up, making the whole place feel almost magical.
His guests were a curated list: Pixar's creative genius, John Lasseter; Lasseter's right-hand man and another Pixar titan, Andrew Stanton; and Hollywood's most talked-about newcor, Charlize Theron.
John Lasseter hadn't even fully sat down before he stopped, his eyes bugging out.
"Oh my God," he bood, his voice echoing across the patio. "Zane! Are you... are you feeling okay? Is this a prank? Are you really the Zane Blackwood I know?"
Zane just blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Yeah, John, what's all the fuss?" Andrew Stanton chid in, looking just as curious.
Now, Andrew Stanton wasn't just so random plus-one. He was Pixar royalty, second only to Lasseter in the studio's creative hierarchy. This was the man who was the creative force behind A Bug's Life, Finding Nemo, and, in the future, Inside Out. Oscars? The whole Pixar "Five Tigers" group collected them like baseball cards. In fact, they'd all eventually be given a Lifeti Achievent Award at the Venice Film Festival.
Of course, Zane's mory also supplied the other tidbit: Andrew was the man who would one day struggle in animation and decide to direct a live-action movie. The movie? John Carter. A $250 million disaster that would nearly bankrupt Disney.
But that was all in the future. Right now, in 1997, he was just another heavyweight in the animation field, looking confused.
"Are you kidding , Andrew? Look!" Lasseter was practically vibrating, gesturing wildly at the table. "Boston lobster! Texas sirloin steak! Imported pasta! Newfoundland snails! And... is that... a 1977 Romanée-Conti?" He squinted at the label on the decanter. "Zane! My goodness, man! Since when have you been so... so... generous?"
Zane's face went hot. "How can you be so disparaging!"
"Oh, he's right," Charlize jumped in, a wicked, knowing smile on her face. She pointed her fork at Zane, who was starting to look cornered. "He's absolutely right. Zane, we've known each other for over two years now. The number of tis you've actually invited to dinner, I can count on one hand. And I'm not even talking about the 'movie celebration banquets' where the studio paid."
She leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "The few tis you paid, the bill never exceeded two hundred dollars. This," she said, waving her hand over the feast, "is lavish. It's strange." She narrowed her eyes. "There's a problem. You must have a problem."
Lasseter pointed at her, "See! She knows! You're up to sothing!"
"I wondered why he never invited to dinner," Andrew muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Turns out he's just stingy."
"Damn it!" Zane almost shouted, his face now a lovely shade of crimson. This was so embarrassing! "I'm not stingy, I'm frugal, okay? Are you all trying to ruin my reputation? I'm quite generous to my friends!"
His reputation! His carefully crafted image! He had a face to maintain!
Lasseter's joking expression suddenly sharpened. He leaned forward, all the humor gone from his eyes. "Zane... you're not about to ask for a favor, are you?"
The table went quiet. The teasing laughter died.
Zane let out a long, slow sigh. The fight just evaporated out of him. He picked up his wine glass, defeated. "Congratulations, John. You guessed it."
He laid it all out. His animation studio, Water World. The fact that, besides the second season of SpongeBob SquarePants, their main project was a little film called Finding Nemo.
"But we've hit a wall," Zane explained, his voice serious now. "The tech. We're trying to render 3D hair, scales, water patterns, light effects... and our technology just isn't there. It looks... bad. If the effects aren't perfect, the movie bombs. It's that simple. And that," he said, "is an outco I find unacceptable."
He looked directly at Lasseter. "Steven Solenberg, my studio head, applied to Pixar for a technology transfer. A buyout. We were flatly rejected."
"Man, so that's what this is about," Lasseter said, shaking his head. "I heard about that. Andrew, you heard about that, right? It wasn't the tech guys. It was Steve. Jobs himself personally rejected the application."
Damn it! I knew it! Zane thought, feeling a spike of pure annoyance. He was still bitter about Zane not giving him ICQ shares. The man could be unbelievably petty.
"John, forget the useless talk," Zane said, staring him down. "Just tell . Can you help with this or not?"
The question hung in the air for a second, and then, all at once, Charlize, John, and Andrew burst out laughing.
"Don't worry! Relax!" Lasseter laughed, swatting the air. "You want to talk to Steve for you? Is that it? Of course!"
Andrew nodded, raising his glass. "It's the first ti Zane has ever invited to dinner, and such a lavish one at that. I'll help, too."
Zane felt a wave of relief so strong he almost slumped in his chair. He was in. He knew Jobs wasn't entirely against the deal; he was just being temperantal. This was the leverage he needed.
"Co on," Zane said, his good mood flooding back. He grabbed the decanter of wine. "Let's have a drink. This is the good stuff. 1977 Romanée-Conti. It's $40,000 a bottle, so don't you dare let it go to waste."
As he said the words "forty thousand," he felt a genuine, sharp pang of heartache. If I'd just kept this for another ten years, its value would have at least doubled...
Still, he thought, as he poured the deep red liquid for his friends, all of them laughing under the colored lights, his financial resources could handle it. This was what the money was for.
The next day, Zane slept until noon.
When he finally checked his ssages, he found a joint invitation had been ssengered over from 20th Century Fox and Paramount.
They were inviting him to attend a special screening of the movie they'd co-produced, set for August 22nd.
Zane looked at the embossed card and smirked. "Titanic."
"Did the big ship hit an iceberg?" he murmured to himself. "Might as well go take a look."
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