18: Chapter 18: Saw’s box office total had climbed to a staggering $45.86 million.
At that pace, the picture had a legitimate chance of cracking the year’s top ten—a tier almost exclusively reserved for studio tentpoles with production budgets north of ten million dollars.
Against that kind of elite company, the return on Saw’s initial $1.3 million investment was mathematically absurd.
Word spread through the industry like a shockwave.
Every major studio in town suddenly knew Adam Cole’s name, and several were quietly attempting to track him down before a rival locked him into a new deal.
For the moment, Derek was running interference on all incoming inquiries.
Adam’s strategy for his sophomore feature was exactly the same as his first: develop a complete, ironclad proposal, let the industry rumors circulate, and force multiple studios into a bidding war.
He genuinely preferred to stay with New Line Cinema given how smoothly the first collaboration had gone, but loyalty in Hollywood was conditional.
This business ran on leverage and capital, plainly and without apology.
He intended to go wherever the terms were best.
A knock sounded at his hotel room door.
Adam opened it to find Michael Ovitz, the president of CAA, waiting in the hallway.
Adam had dressed for the evening.
He had spent roughly ten thousand dollars putting together a sharp, tailored outfit over the last couple of days.
It was a steep price tag anywhere else in the world, but compared to the executives and established stars he would be standing next to tonight, it barely registered as formal wear.
He preferred a grounded, pragmatic approach over flashy excess.
“Shay is already in the car,” Ovitz said, offering a tight, approving smile.
“Tonight, you get to see the real version of a Hollywood party.
This is where you actually become a fixture in this town, not just a tourist passing through.”
The phrasing was a little theatrical, but Ovitz wasn’t wrong.
Events like this functioned essentially as informal trading floors.
They were high-stakes social arenas where millions of dollars changed hands and careers permanently altered course over a few minutes of casual small talk.
Ovitz led him down to the waiting town car, where Shay greeted them warmly.
The three men rode together to a sprawling private estate tucked into the secluded hills on the outskirts of the city.
Security at the perimeter was absolute.
A heavy detail was stationed at the iron gates to filter out uninvited guests and the ever-present paparazzi.
The guards running the checkpoint didn’t recognize Adam by sight, but they instantly recognized Shay and Ovitz.
That was all the clearance required; the gate swung open without a second look.
Stepping into the grand foyer, Ovitz clapped Adam firmly on the shoulder.
“Enjoy yourself tonight.
Talk to people.
If you see someone who catches your eye, be bold.
Just lead with the fact that you directed Saw—you’ll find it opens considerably more doors than you’d expect.”
Without waiting for a response, the agency president drifted off toward a cluster of powerful players across the room.
Shay lingered behind a moment longer, keeping his voice low.
“Any news on the next project?”
“Just the early shape of an idea so far,” Adam replied evenly.
“I’d rather discuss the specifics once Saw finishes its theatrical run.
I’m actually planning to invest some of my own capital into the next one.”
Shay studied him carefully for a second, catching the implication, before a knowing smile spread across his face.
“I’ll instruct finance to push your backend share through the moment the box office settles.” He paused, locking eyes with Adam.
“All things being equal, you’d bring the project to us first, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course,” Adam said.
Shay nodded, murmuring something under his breath that sounded remarkably fond for a studio executive, and wandered off toward the open bar.
Adam understood exactly what had just been negotiated.
Once the royalties cleared, the conversation about their next collaboration would immediately follow.
Shay clearly had no intention of letting a few million dollars in backend payouts create friction with a director this bankable.
It was a highly pragmatic approach.
At the very least, New Line understood the value of cultivating a long-term relationship rather than squeezing a single contract dry and walking away.
The party itself sprawled across the estate’s immaculate grounds.
The crowd was a dense mix of familiar, famous faces and unfamiliar, powerful ones.
They were easy enough to categorize at a glance: the striking, younger attendees were actors; the older men in understated, impeccably tailored suits were studio heads, hedge fund managers, and veteran directors.
Together, this ecosystem comprised the people who actually dictated how the industry functioned.
Some of them would be at another party exactly like this next month.
Others, Adam guessed, were here for their first and only time, desperately trying to hold onto the ledge.
Adam navigated his way to the catering tables, loaded a plate with a few cuts of perfectly seared steak, grabbed a glass of juice, and let himself actually enjoy the quiet moment.
“Look at this one.
Eats like he’s never seen real food before.”
Two young women standing nearby—models, judging by their striking height and practiced posture—weren’t bothering to lower their voices.
Adam didn’t take the slight personally.
He had already mapped out the unspoken hierarchy of the room.
A-list actors and executives sat firmly at the top.
The models were brought in strictly to populate the space, adding aesthetic value and keeping the atmosphere lively.
For many of them, a party like this was a networking gamble, a chance to secure the right introduction that might lead to a legitimate acting career.
It was a transactional dynamic Adam had no interest in participating in, but he understood perfectly well why the board was set up the way it was.
Ignoring them entirely, he finished his plate, set it aside on a passing tray, and stepped back into the crowd.