"Mr. Guo, after two weeks of negotiations, we secured 345 screens from major chains like AMC and Carmike. Add in the smaller regional circuits, and we're at 514 total."
Kevin Yang handed over the report.
Bruce read through it quickly and could see right away that they had already pushed as far as they reasonably could.
If Paranormal Activity had not looked genuinely strong to the booking managers who screened it, Matrix Pictures, a newly formed company with almost no industry weight, would have struggled to get even a hundred screens, let alone more than five hundred.
Still, 514 screens, while respectable for a startup studio, fell well short of what Bruce wanted.
He thought for a moment.
"AMC Entertainment's CEO is Peter Brown, right?"
"Yes."
"Then send a formal meeting request in my name. Chairman of Matrix Pictures. I want to speak with him in person."
Kevin studied Bruce for a second, caught the look in his eyes, and nodded.
...
"Sir, this just came in."
A young blonde secretary placed the request on Peter Brown's desk.
"Bruce Guo, chairman of Matrix Pictures?"
Peter frowned slightly.
"I don't know much about Matrix Pictures, but that name sounds familiar."
The secretary answered immediately.
"Matrix Pictures is a new production company. Bruce Guo is the author of eight bestselling novels, including Fifty Shades of Grey, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them."
She said it with the unmistakable energy of someone who had very definitely read Fifty Shades of Grey.
Peter's expression cleared.
"Right. That's why I know the name."
Then he leaned back.
"I liked National Treasure. Ben Gates was a strong lead, smart, capable, easy to follow. And the writing behind it showed range. So how does a novelist like that decide he wants to run a movie studio?"
The secretary shook her head. "No idea."
Peter thought it over, then pulled a report from a nearby file folder.
"Matrix Pictures. Paranormal Activity."
He scanned the page.
"A horror movie."
A few seconds later, he looked up.
"Send them a reply. I'll see him. Set it for ten in the morning, the day after tomorrow. And send Alex in."
The secretary nodded and headed out, heels clicking across the floor.
Not long after, a Black executive in his thirties wearing a brown suit walked in.
"You wanted to see me, Peter?"
"Sit down."
Alex Sandra, who oversaw AMC's exhibition programming, took the seat across from him.
Peter tapped the report.
"You watched Matrix Pictures' Paranormal Activity, right?"
Alex thought for a beat, then nodded.
"I did. It's a very solid horror film."
Peter steepled his fingers.
"What do you think it can do at the box office?"
Alex gave it real thought before answering.
"Fifteen to twenty million."
Peter lifted an eyebrow.
"So you're bullish on it."
For a low-budget horror film, crossing even fifteen million domestic was already a meaningful win.
Alex nodded.
"I am."
"Why?"
"Two reasons. First, the movie is based on Bruce Guo's novel of the same name. According to our market research, the book has sold 1.29 million copies in the eight weeks since it launched in mid-June. That's not as explosive as some of his other titles, but it's still a bestseller with a legitimate reader base.
"Second, I saw the cut. It's good. No recognizable stars, but the director knows how to build dread and manage tension. The story beats are handled cleanly. In the horror space, it's high-quality work."
Peter nodded slowly.
"How many screens did we give it?"
"One hundred thirty-seven."
Peter glanced up.
"So one screen in each AMC location."
"That's right."
In 2000, AMC was not yet the giant it would later become after wave after wave of consolidation. It was still powerful, but not yet the monster with thousands of screens people would know later.
Peter's eyes shifted slightly as he thought.
Then he changed subjects without warning.
"How's Gladiator playing?"
Alex smiled.
"Ridley made another strong one. Three days in, average occupancy is 55.8 percent. By the weekend, it should clear 90 percent unless something unexpected happens. At this pace, it should do around two hundred million domestic."
Peter exhaled through his nose.
"DreamWorks is going to make a fortune again."
Alex nodded.
"Assuming the usual pattern holds, Gladiator should cross four hundred million worldwide. Just from box office participation, that gives DreamWorks around a hundred and fifty million in revenue. And that's before the really juicy stuff starts, home entertainment and merchandise. Makes exhibition look like the wrong side of the business."
...
When Bruce received AMC's reply, he prepared carefully, then flew in with Wendy Solo and arrived at Peter Brown's office right on time.
The moment they shook hands, Peter smiled.
"I already knew you were young, Mr. Guo. But meeting you in person really drives it home. A nineteen-year-old billionaire is still a strange thing to see."
Bruce smiled back.
"You're too kind, Mr. Brown."
"Please, sit."
They moved to the seating area and took their places on opposite sofas.
Peter opened with warmth.
"I'm a fan of National Treasure. Ben Gates is a terrific character, smart, brave, memorable. And the man who created him clearly has a sharp mind and a deep well of knowledge. Which makes me curious. When do we get the second book?"
Bruce gave him a brief, searching look.
He could not tell whether Peter genuinely liked his work or was simply being polished and professional.
"I'm still working out the main story. I haven't started writing yet. If all goes well, probably next year."
"Next year?" Peter shook his head with theatrical regret. "That's disappointing."
The reaction felt genuine enough that Bruce filed it away as useful. If Peter really was a reader, that might help once the conversation turned harder.
Peter clapped his hands lightly and shifted gears.
"All right. I've borrowed enough of your time. Let's get to the real reason you flew all the way from Los Angeles to Kansas City. I assume this is about Paranormal Activity and its release."
"It is," Bruce said. "We want AMC to give us one more screen per location."
Peter answered almost immediately.
"I'm sorry, but no. Your novel is strong, and the adaptation is good. But we're still three months away from Halloween. Horror films do not reliably deliver the kind of attendance we need this far out. I can't approve that request."
Bruce had expected the rejection.
He had not come without a plan.
Instead of pushing back directly, he asked, "What do you think Paranormal Activity can do in North America?"
Peter seemed mildly surprised by the question, but answered anyway.
"Fifteen to twenty million."
Bruce shook his head.
"I think it can do more than fifty."
Peter smiled, but there was a little edge to it now.
"Mr. Guo, I respect your feelings about your own film. But not every horror picture is The Blair Witch Project."
The line carried a faint trace of condescension. Not enough to be rude, but enough to say what he thought: talented young man, successful novelist, still too new to understand how this business really works.
The Blair Witch Project had earned that comparison. Released in 1999, it had become one of the most famous low-budget success stories in Hollywood history. Produced for almost nothing, it had gone on to do extraordinary numbers and had effectively rewritten how the industry thought about micro-budget horror.
Bruce knew the movie well.
He also knew he wasn't interested in envying it. The Paranormal Activity franchise would ultimately generate far more value.
Peter, meanwhile, noticed something else.
Bruce's expression had not changed at all.
No irritation. No wounded pride. No visible reaction to the jab.
That surprised him.
A young man who had become famous and wealthy this fast should, in Peter's view, have been at least a little arrogant. Instead, Bruce looked completely composed.
Bruce caught the shift in Peter's face and almost smiled.
Years of fighting through office politics in another life had at least left him with one valuable skill. He knew how to keep his face still.
So he continued in the same calm tone.
"Mr. Brown, you believe Paranormal Activity tops out at twenty million. I believe it can cross fifty. That leaves a thirty-million-dollar gap between our positions. And that gap is the real point of disagreement between us. Fair?"
Peter nodded.
"Fair."
Then he leaned back, interested now in spite of himself.
He wanted to see what this young novelist-turned-studio-head thought counted as a solution. Writing books was one thing. Negotiating in the movie business was something else entirely.
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