The media had always been quick to smell a story.
By the time Jaws began exploding across social media the previous night, several entertainment outlets had already contacted Silverline Pictures asking for interviews with Mark Anderson and the production team.
The first one Evelyn Parker accepted was Pacific Screen, a California-based film and entertainment outlet with several million followers across its website, YouTube channel, and social accounts.
The reporter who arrived that morning was a young woman with a round face and unusually large, expressive eyes.
Evelyn cleared one of Silverline’s conference rooms for the interview, while the outlet’s small crew set up cameras, microphones, and lights.
Mark also called Paul Stevens and Megan Carter over because both had been central members of the Jaws production and deserved to be included.
Mark would have preferred to bring some of the actors as well, but most had already moved on to other productions after filming wrapped.
Once everyone exchanged introductions and the equipment was ready, the reporter sat across from Mark and began.
“Director Anderson, Jaws has become one of the most discussed movies online overnight, and its box-office performance is climbing rapidly. How do you feel about that?”
“It isn’t only my achievement,” Mark answered smoothly.
“A movie is built by an entire crew, and every department contributed to what audiences are seeing now.” He had dealt with enough interviews in his previous life that these polite industry answers came almost automatically.
The reporter nodded before moving to the more interesting question.
“This is only your second feature. Your first movie cost roughly twenty-five million dollars but earned less than a million theatrically, making it one of the most severe box-office failures associated with a new director in recent memory. What gave you the confidence to come back so quickly and make Jaws?”
Mark thought for a moment.
“I could say unwavering faith in cinema, but that sounds unbearably dramatic.” He glanced toward Evelyn, who was standing behind the camera watching the interview, and smiled.
“The truth is that owing someone around twenty-four million dollars is excellent motivation.”
Several people in the room laughed.
Mark continued, “More seriously, I also had someone willing to give me another chance after I failed. Evelyn could easily have decided I wasn’t worth another dollar, but she still backed Jaws. Without Silverline’s support, none of this would have happened.”
Behind the camera, Evelyn stared at him with a complicated expression.
Apparently, the man was capable of saying something decent when a camera was pointed at him.
The interview continued for a while longer, with Paul discussing the difficult production on Martha’s Vineyard and Megan explaining how the tiny crew had handled logistics, paperwork, and the advance screenings.
Once filming finished, the reporter promised that the edited feature would be published that afternoon and left with her crew.
Mark followed Evelyn back to her office.
“Your word-of-mouth strategy worked better than I expected,” Evelyn admitted after sitting behind her desk.
Compliments from her were rare enough that Mark immediately smiled.
“It also required your money. Without the preview screenings, targeted promotion, and theater campaign, nobody would have known the movie existed.”
He stretched lazily in the chair and sighed with exaggerated satisfaction.
“Still, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of escaping twenty-four million dollars in debt.”
By then, the combination of reported grosses and confirmed presales had crossed the $14 million box-office benchmark written into his agreement with Evelyn.
Once Silverline’s accounting department formally reconciled the numbers, the old debt from Mark’s failed science-fiction movie would be erased under the terms they had agreed upon.
Something suddenly occurred to Mark.
“Evelyn, can I ask you something?”
She looked up from her paperwork.
“If I really couldn’t repay you, were you actually planning to sell one of my kidneys?”
Evelyn’s face became completely serious.
She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair.
“That would be a terrible waste.”
Mark raised an eyebrow.
“With your face and physique, you’d make more money becoming some wealthy Beverly Hills widow’s kept man. If you worked hard enough, you might eventually pay me back.”
Mark stared at her for a second before smiling.
“Would one of those wealthy women happen to be you?”
Evelyn’s eyes instantly turned cold.
“Haha. Joke.”
Mark wisely raised both hands.
He quickly changed the subject.
“Paul, Megan, and I are going out for dinner tonight. We’ll probably grab a couple of drinks afterward and celebrate properly. Want to come?”
“No.” Evelyn lowered her eyes toward the documents again.
“I have something else to do.”
“Your loss.”
Mark stood, then casually added, “Maybe we’ll hit a bar afterward. It’s been months since I’ve had a night where I wasn’t thinking about sharks, editing, or how much money I owed you.” Visit novelping.com for the full chapter.
Evelyn’s brow immediately tightened.
“Do whatever you want, but don’t bring random women back to my house.”
Mark froze.
He slowly placed one hand against his chest and stared at her with wounded disbelief.
“Is that really what you think of me? Do I look like some shameless womanizer?”
Evelyn opened her mouth.
Mark’s solemn expression suddenly disappeared.
“You really are an excellent judge of character.”
Evelyn’s face darkened.
“I’m serious.”
“All right, all right.” Mark waved dismissively.
“No strange women in your house. Honestly, you have too many rules.”
He walked toward the door before stopping again.
“Actually, why am I still staying there? Jaws has already crossed the number we agreed on, so the debt problem is basically finished. If you were hiding because of financial pressure or whoever that red-haired guy was, you can probably move back soon.”
Evelyn thought about it for several seconds.
“Fine. Move your things out tomorrow.”
Mark stared at her.
“You really don’t hesitate, do you?”
“You were the one who suggested it.”
“True.”
Mark laughed and opened the office door.
“I’m not used to living in a giant place like that anyway. Too much empty space, too quiet, no warmth. It doesn’t feel like a home.”
Then he left.
The door closed behind him.
Evelyn remained silent for a moment.
“Doesn’t feel like a home…”
Her eyes lowered slightly, and for an instant, a trace of loneliness crossed her face.
That evening, Mark had dinner with Paul and Megan at a seafood restaurant in Los Angeles before the three spent some time celebrating the successful opening.
By the time Mark finally drove back to Evelyn’s gated hillside neighborhood, it was already late.
He parked one of the cars she had left for him, unlocked the front door, and immediately heard a familiar sound.
“Meow.”
Mark looked down.
Marshmallow had somehow escaped the cat room and was rubbing his completely black body against Mark’s legs.
Mark laughed, bent down, and picked him up.
“When did you learn how to break out?”
“Meow.”
The cat calmly licked the back of his hand.
Mark chuckled at the rough little tongue before setting Marshmallow down.
“Come on. Dinner.”
He followed the cat into its room, filled the food bowl, refreshed the water, and watched Marshmallow begin eating with complete concentration.
Mark crouched beside him and rubbed his head.
“You really are easy to take care of.”
Watching the black cat eat, Mark silently decided that once his finances stabilized, he might get a cat of his own.
Maybe a white one.
He left Marshmallow to his meal and returned to the guest bedroom to pack.
With Jaws already performing strongly enough to satisfy his agreement with Evelyn, there was no longer much reason for him to continue occupying her house.
He folded his clothes, packed his equipment, and organized everything so he could leave quickly the next morning.
Afterward, Mark cleaned the guest room and the parts of the living room he had used during his stay.
He might enjoy arguing with Evelyn, but he still understood basic manners, and leaving someone else’s house messy after living there for free would have been embarrassing.
Mark gathered the trash into a large black garbage bag and placed it beside the front door so he could take it out in the morning.
He was about to head for the shower when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
Mark frowned.
“Who comes here this late?”
For a moment, he wondered whether it might be the same red-haired man from before.
If somebody was still chasing Evelyn over money, Mark could at least tell them that Silverline’s situation would look considerably healthier once Jaws revenue started flowing.
He opened the door.
A woman stood outside.
She appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, elegant and well dressed, with the composed appearance of someone from a wealthy background.
She had been frowning impatiently while waiting, but the instant she saw Mark standing there sweaty and disheveled, her expression changed.
Her eyes moved slowly over him.
Then toward the inside of the house.
Then toward the large black garbage bag sitting beside the door.
The woman’s face became noticeably strange.
“Sorry.” She forced an awkward smile.
“I think I have the wrong house.”
“Oh.”
Mark didn’t think much of it.
“All right.”
He casually closed the door.
The woman remained outside.
Mark, meanwhile, returned to the guest room, grabbed clean clothes, and headed into the bathroom.
Hot water washed away the sweat and fatigue from the day, and after several minutes under the shower, he began filling the large bathtub as well.
A proper soak sounded perfect.
Then a violent crash echoed through the house.
BANG!
Mark instantly froze.
“What the hell?”
It sounded as though the front door had been forced open.
His first thought was the red-haired man.
His second was that someone had sent debt collectors.
His third was that any debt collector breaking into a house in the middle of the night had completely lost their mind.
Mark didn’t waste time dressing.
He grabbed a towel, wrapped it securely around his waist, and hurried out of the bathroom.
The moment he reached the living room, he stopped dead.
More than a dozen uniformed police officers had entered the house.
Several were moving through the room while others remained near the damaged entryway, and behind them stood the same woman who had knocked on the door only minutes earlier.
The moment she saw Mark appear wearing nothing but a towel, she pointed directly at him.
“That’s him!”
The officers immediately focused on Mark.
Several hands moved toward their weapons.
“Police! Don’t move!”
Mark’s eyes widened.
“Hands where we can see them!”
Standing half naked in Evelyn Parker’s living room, Mark slowly raised both hands.
(End of Chapter 21)