Duke sat behind his desk in Paramount office after the Milt Kahl meeting, his eyes focused on a sheet of paper, still in disbelief.
Jaws had really crossed the 100 million dollar mark in domestic ticket sales. Despite his memories It still feel crazy.
The shark movie would even soon surpass The Godfather to become the highest-grossing film in cinema history, and well in Paramount history too.
Barry Diller paced around the spacious office, in excitement. He decided to let Duke cook, his cooking skills haven't failed the studio yet.
"It is not just the domestic gross, Duke," Diller rattled, as his hands gestured as he walked back and forth. "The early international numbers are just starting to come in, foreign markets are eating this picture up."
"The sequel rights alone are worth a fortune, merchandise, television broadcast rights. This monster picture is a huge money maker."
"This monster picture is going to double domestic figures worldwide. I been thinking we can do this again, you have that book Cujo, right? Let's use that for our next blockbuster, or a killer crocodile, or a killer whale, something up that alley"
Duke remained calm, thinking to himself that it was better if Diller stayed as far as possible from the creative areas of the studio.
Right now, Duke was the man who had directed the biggest movie in the history of the world, it was a very good feeling.
But there was always more work to be done. A studio head could never afford to rest on his laurels for too long.
As Kobe Bryant said. 'Job's done when you end it' or something like that.
After 5 minutes, Diller left the office, after noticing Duke was not paying attention to his crocodile attack movie pitch.
The phone on his desk began to ring. Suddenly, every single line on the multi-button phone was lit up, flashing in colors.
Duke reached out and picked up the receiver.
The phone simply did not stop ringing for the next few hours.
He casually loosened his tie.
Word of the huge box office haul had spread through the industry for a while, and today was the day he seemly finally came back from being abroad.
Simpson stepped into the spacious room, with tired eyes, carrying a tray holding a steaming cup of espresso and a stack of message slips.
Simpson set the tray down on the edge of the desk. "The switchboard operators are currently working overtime. It seems everyone with a dial tone is trying to reach you this morning."
Duke offered his assistant a knowing look. "Let them wait a few minutes, Simpson. Anticipation is good for the soul, it calms people."
He took a slow sip of the dark coffee, and picked up the stack of message slips, thumbing through them like a deck of playing cards.
There were messages from rival studio heads, senators, famous ladies, and directors, they were all calling to kiss the ring.
"Alright," Duke murmured, setting the empty cup back onto the tray. He settled into his chair once more and cracked his knuckles. "Let's start clearing. Who is holding on line one?"
"That would be Mary Louise Smith, Chairwoman of the Republican National Committee," Simpson replied, checking his own clipboard. "She has been on hold for nearly ten minutes."
Duke pressed the flashing button for line one and lifted the receiver to his ear.
"Mary, what a pleasant surprise," Duke said.
"Duke, we are just thrilled over here in Washington," Mary Louise Smith responded, not sounding bitter about being made to wait. "The ticket numbers coming out of the trades are simply staggering."
"The shark did most of the heavy lifting," Duke replied, offering a chuckle.
"Oh, you're so modest," Mary insisted, her tone filled with admiration that Duke felt was probably fake.
"I called to offer my congratulations on behalf of the RNC. We are very proud of your continued success in the private sector."
Duke listened to the subtext beneath her words, politicians never called just to talk about movie ticket sales.
They called because a 100 million dollars movies represented massive cultural influence and they wanted to harness his momentum for their own gain.
"The party values strong leaders who truly understand the heart of the American dream, Duke," Mary continued, gently steering the conversation toward her agenda. "You are building an empire out there in California, and some people are paying very close attention."
"I am just trying to keep the popcorn fresh and the theater seats filled, Mary," Duke countered smiling to himself.
"The RNC needs bold voices like yours in the room. We value powerful businessmen who can actually get things done, not just empty talk." She pressed
Duke kept his tone light. He had no desire to get dragged into the messy swamp of Washington fundraising, he could donate but he would avoid being dragged into political games.
He needed to keep his hands clean and his studio neutral as least on the surface.
"My only political party right now is Paramount, Mary," Duke said, "But I sincerely appreciate the kind words. Please give my best regards to the rest of the committee."
He hung up the receiver before she could formally ask for a campaign donation or a public endorsement.
Simpson pointed to the next flashing light on the console. "Line three is Nelson Rockefeller assistant, Megan, calling from his office in New York. She insist that he bypass the holding queue."
Duke picked the receiver right back up and punched the button. "Mr. Rockefeller, a pleasure to speak with you."
"Duke, my boy!" Nelson Rockefeller, the current Vice President's voice boomed through the earpiece.
Nelson Rockefeller was the grandson of John D. Rockefeller, the founder of Standard Oil.
But some people, knew him better as the father of the Rockefeller, Michael C. Rockefeller that got eaten by cannibals on an island in Indonesia.
Meanwhile others, like Duke knew him as the Rockefeller that would die while in the middle of having a intimate moment with his asistant.
"I hear you are the new king of the world out there on the West Coast. Breaking all the records as a young man."
"Just trying to keep the lights on at the studio," Duke replied.
"You are doing a hell of a lot more than keeping the lights on," Rockefeller laughed while saying. He seem a very affable man.
The Vice President wasted no time getting to the reason for his call. "When are you flying back to New York, Duke? I know a place we can share a proper meal together in the city."
"My schedule is tied to the studio lot for the next few weeks," Duke answered, keeping his voice relaxed. "We have 3 new pictures going into production, and I need to keep a close eye on the daily budgets."
"Understood, understood," Rockefeller conceded, though he sounded slightly disappointed. "But the very next time your plane lands on the East Coast, you owe me a private dinner. We have some things on the horizon that we need to discuss."
"I will certainly be in touch the moment I finalize my travel plans, Nelson," Duke promised, leaving the door open for future talks.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries regarding the shifting national economy before Duke gracefully guided the conversation to a close.
He barely had time to blink before Simpson signaled the next call. "Line four, Mr. Hauser. Its Alfred Hitchcock. He specifically asked if you were available for a quick chat."
A smile broke across Duke's face. This was a call he actually wanted to take. "Good morning, Hitch. Please tell me you aren't calling to scold me."
"Good morning, Mr. Hauser," the director replied, Hitchcock sounded playful on the telephone.
"I am not calling to scold you, my boy," Hitchcock continued, his tone dripping with a British accent. "I am calling to accuse you of theft, stolen the breath of the American public."
Duke laughed, "I learned all the best tricks by watching your pictures, Hitch."
Hitchcock spent the next 5 minutes making witty jokes about the mechanical sharks. Duke felt the man, probably had been holding onto some jokes for a while.
They wrapped up their conversation a few moments later.
Before Duke could even ask for a refill on his coffee, the operator patched the next call through the console.
"You are on with Elizabeth Taylor, Mr. Hauser," the operator whispered before dropping off the line.
"Elizabeth, to what do I owe the absolute pleasure of hearing your voice this morning?"
"Duke, darling!" the actress said. "I simply had to call to give you the praise you deserve."
She launched into a monologue, celebrating his box office achievement.
She described how she had spilled her martini on her dress during the boat sequence at a screening the night before.
"Send the dry cleaning bill to my office," Duke offered, matching her dramatic energy. "Its the least Paramount can do for ruining your evening."
After a while Taylor quickly pivoted the conversation toward a more personal invitation.
She wanted Duke to abandon his desk and join her on an excursion to Israel.
She described the ancient streets, warm nights, and the Western Wall, which she felt he simply had to witness with his own eyes to understand God's plan.
"You cannot truly grasp the miracle of faith while sitting behind a desk in California, Duke," she whispered.
Duke had no real interest in playing a supporting role in what sounded like a politically charged pilgrimage right now, even if her passion was genuine.
"Elizabeth, there is nothing I would rather do than walk those streets with you," Duke lied, his voice dripping with regret. "But this studio would fall apart if I left the country right now. I'm afraid Caesar's demands keep me here."
He cited his production schedule and the corporate responsibilities holding him hostage in Los Angeles.
Speaking of hostages, Patty Hearst was still an underground fugitive on the run with members of the Symbionese Liberation Army (SLA), after having been kidnapped 18 months prior.
Elizabeth sighed heavily, accepting the letdown. They exchanged a few more fond farewells before she finally hung up the phone.
Duke smiled, 'She's hot, but i'm good.'
Cant have them all, specially some Milfs are not to be messed with.
Over the course of the next hour, a steady stream of industry figures called the busy Paramount office.
Even Lew Wasserman, the legendary head of MCA and Universal, called to offer a guarded congratulation.
Famous directors called to pitch their passion projects, hoping some of the shark money would flow their way.
Leading actors called just to remind Duke that they were available for his next picture.
Eventually, the lights on the telephone finally stopped and Duke sat back deep into his comfortable chair, letting out a breath.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the window at the sprawling Paramount lot below.
Diller finally came back in the office, pouring himself a glass of water from a crystal jar and continued his business plans.
Diller pulled a folder and opened it on the desk.
They shifted gears to discuss the current performance of Columbia Pictures, which was having a strong financial year.
"Columbia is performing very well right now," Diller reported, scanning his typed notes. "Shampoo is a hit for them. Funny Lady is doing solid, same with Tommy."
Duke listened closely to the report. He noted out loud that his personal ten percent ownership stake in Columbia was now more valuable.
The rising tide of the box office boom was lifting all the major studios at once.
Diller pointed out the strange reality of the current market. "The grand irony is that Jaws is our success, but Columbia's stock is rising just because the public knows you own a piece of them."
"Paramount is a private company," Diller explained, shaking his head at the situation. "Wall Street investors cannot buy into us directly. So, they buy Columbia stock instead, hoping to catch some of your financial magic by proxy."
Duke found the situation amusing. It was a perfect example of how perception drove reality in finance.
"Remember, I want to sell my Columbia stake at some point," Duke stated clearly.
Diller nodded, flipping to the next page in his folder. "That might happen sooner rather than later. The Jaffes, are trying very hard to help you get rid of those shares as quickly as possible."
"They want a focused partner at Columbia," Diller elaborated. "Your growing power is becoming a concern for their board. Your success with the shark has made you simply too big for them to ignore."
The rest of the industry was getting nervous about a single person wielding that much influence across multiple studios.
"They want me out of the picture, Thats fine. Let them gather the capital and buy me out at the right price. I will happily walk away."
Duke couldnt help but think. 'Not even dogs would like the Columbia logo.'
Diller smiled at the response. He then mentioned another pressing matter on his list. "Chase Manhattan Bank is pursuing you as a primary client. They have been calling my office daily."
"Their senior analysts believe you are bound to be a future billionaire," Diller said, "They want all your business, personal accounts, corporate loans, private trust. They want it all."
Duke shrugged his shoulders, dismissing things with a wave of his hand. "I really do not care about this information, Barry."
Duke decided it was the perfect moment to reveal his fallback plan to his trusted studio head.
"I am going to transfer all of my IP rights," Duke began softly. "Film rights, merchandise rights, the entire Paramount movie library. Everything of lasting value that this studio creates."
"I am moving it all into a separate holding company owned solely by me. The holding company will then turn around and license the IP back to Paramount."
Diller stared back at him, visibly stunned by the maneuver. "A separate holding company? You will control all the IP separately from the studio?"
Duke nodded firmly. "Exactly. If anything ever happens to this business. A hostile takeover attempt, goverment attack, legal disaster, or an unforeseen market crash. I want to be protected from the fallout."
"I want to be able to walk away with the crown jewels," Duke explained.
___
Hello, its me