i'm on my way to another million

If looks could kill, Ben would have a hole in his head. “I have more to offer than looks, Mr. Clarke. I’m classically trained, for your information.” He had an impressive resume, if nothing else, but breaking free from molds wasn’t exactly easy in this town. “I can’t work these gigs forever, if I don’t start getting taken seriously then my career’s over by 35. And I will not end up like Screech from Saved by the Bell.” He takes a furious sip of his cocktail, clearly frazzled. “I just need to prove to them I have what it takes.”

“And?” He asks, challenging him to continue. Ben didn’t give a single shit about classical training. That only mattered to people who  already were on the industry. Young newcomers like Mercutio would better be cool with nude on screen or take that classical training to the Old Globe. “How is that paying off so far?” He asks, cynic and cold. He sighs, leaning forward, as if he is now taking the conversation seriously. “Take a break kid. Go to Mexico or some place and have a couple of days off.” He shrugs. “There is nothing wrong with Scream from Saved by the Bell or whathever.” He wondered how many people used Ben Clarke as a negative example of a career.

“You know I do so much more than that,” he said, narrowing his eyes. If the man truly wanted the increased funds, then he’d better start warming up to the idea of compromise. For all he cared, Billy could trim his budget now, he knew the director would make it work somehow. Fuck, if he truly wanted to, he’d fly them out to the middle of the Mojave and make the scenes happen there. Or if they were truly willing to try, they’d go for those sets used on that new headlining show that launched with their new streaming service. The way that rendered the effects and moved with the camera was truly amazing, it could work on a bigger scale if he wanted it to.

“You know you made that list right, so just remember you’re talking about your own films too,” though he knew the man didn’t hold that high of an opinion about his own films. But if this was the game the man was going to be playing, maybe Billy didn’t want to cough up the funds in the end. Truly, he could go and strike the deal with the studio behind Ben’s back, and his own compensation would never really come to light, he just didn’t like being dishonest with the people he worked with. But if it got him the payday he wanted, that he knew he deserved, then perhaps. He truthfully could front the cost himself, run it by the studio then negotiate his own deal of the profits. 

Now that Ben seems so sure of himself, Billy isn’t quite so sure he wants to go forward with any underhanded ideas. Sitting in silence, he mulls it over. Of course he’s considering merchandising rights and profits in his total, but he’s wondering if perhaps he made an error. “How much more did you want to begin with? If it’s going to be my money, then I have to work a little less for it, but I’m assuming all the risk. If it’s Alliance’s money, then I have to put in extra work to convince them. Either way, I think it’s fair that it costs you. It’s not like you’re getting paid more than 50 for the movie, so me asking for 35 is not much of a stretch here.”

Another pause, and Billy mulls it over. “The fan favorite you killed off in the last movie, bring him back, I don’t give a shit how, but at least 15 minutes of screen time, enough to use as a hook in the trailers.” He narrows his eyes. “I want hard numbers, or I walk, and you can find another producer for financing your increased budget request. I’m already making 20 on this movie for what I’ve put in so far, I’m fine walking away right now and starting something new.” 

“So?” He was genuinely baffled. Was he supposed to defend his movies? Well, hadn’t he mourned about the death of art in a private beach in the Caribe enough? “I wasn’t the one putting money on it, you were. I just made money.” He grinned.

“Alliance.” He lets it pretty clear. For a while, Ben almost forgot how Billy was exhausting to work with. The constant arm wrestling, trying to get the upperhand on every conversation. Couldn’t he just make a movie with things blowing up? That wasn’t much to ask.

His request is not unheard of. He has done that before, but he complains anyway. “Really?” He shakes his head, drinking. “Well, Billy, you should stop fucking my leading men and promising them roles in my movies.” He doubts that this is the case, yes, but he doesn’t actually care. If Billy has any interest in giving some white twink a career, he isn’t going to stop him.

Well, he wasn’t—

Ah shit. Cliff had a sympathetic smile to offer—though while decently sincere, it might have come off as less than, especially with how he let his eyes linger on the juicy heft of Ben’s tits. But besides that, he could almost feel the dread that Ben was feeling. Sure, he’s on the other side, being an executive and all but it takes two to damn fucking tango. That before the actors can even join in with their own shitty footwork, the first dance always comes with the director and the producer. Especially with Ben—he’s not some small-town indie film maker that’s willing to nod along just to get his foot on the door. Ben was already in the door, fully knowing his worth… just like how he knows how nice his rack is. And that’s a bad recipe for power play ——— or good, if one is into it.

“—you should learn how to bargain better than literally strong arm your way, Benny…” Cliff chuckled, as he wondered what kind of hold-up they’re having—not that Cliff really cared. At least not that much. He’s just keener on the rumor if some certain small-town film company is trying to get their foot in the door and he’ll go through every single person on Alliance if he needs to. But til then, he teased on along. “You should learn how to butter up to execs… tell you what, I can let you play with my dick and teach you how to get them to warm up to you so good…” he hummed and smirked, knowing fully that Ben wouldn’t buck that much that way. Still, it’s amusing to see him deflect ——— being all the macho guy that he is, he’s adorable when he’s huffy.

He knows that he doesn’t want to hear it. Fuck, Ben doesn’t even want to say it. Cliff doesn’t actually care about what goes on in Alliance, and how can he blame him for it? “Oh Cliffy.” He shakes his head, amused. “Do you think I would be here if I didn’t know how to butter up an exec?” Did he think he was a naive newcomer? No. Ben had been in Hollywood for over a decade now. He had learned a few trick along the way.

And, as easily as it happened, their talked devolved into sexual propositions. Ben was sure that nothing would ever happen between them, but it never stopped the teasing. Plus, he had jerked off a good amount of times thinking about his chest, so... “You just keep offering excuses and excuses.” He moves his hands while he talks. “So much dick talk but so little dick to be seen...” He shrugs, leans back and crosses his legs; he looks to the sides, as if he is about to share a major secreet and doesn’t want anyone listening. “Really, Cliff, people are talking about it. Saying you’re all talk and no action.”

“Yes, yes, but how many have helped make movies that crack that top ten list of highest grossing movies?” Billy states flatly. “I have my name on four of them, and another 3 if you go to top fifteen.” It’s a bold statement, but an accurate one. He knew what he was doing when it came down to it. From the budget to the actor, Billy knew how to maximize profit. “I’d love to see you find someone else with my credentials.” That’s all he says, where he leaves it for now. 

“A director isn’t as important as the budget, the material, and the cast. A good director can make anything look good given the right tools. Yes, you’re a great director, but I can find about a half-dozen like you within a stones throw of the gates.” Billy squares up, tightening his hold on the other’s hand, if they were going to arm wrestle for it, then he’d try, but he doesn’t plan on going through with it.

“I do want to gamble,” he responds, having let the other say his piece. “I want 15 up front, no touching that. And then I want 10 at 1.5 worldwide, but I want another 10 at a billion domestic. Final offer. Oh, and so we’re clear, gross, not net. I’m not playing games here.” Smirking, he leans in. “You can’t take that sequel anywhere for 3 years, and your cast are in exclusive contracts with us. I can let this film drag in development hell if I wanted to pull the team onto other projects I deem fit. Again, I won’t, just like I’m negotiating with you instead of the studio. I think the real question here is, how much do you want to make on this? Because as animated as you seem to be getting right now, I’m not even sweating it.”

“I mean, you’re just giving the money, aren’t you?” He said, miniminizing his role as producer. The fact was that in all of his career Ben never listened to a producer; and since people started listening to him, their grosses increased. Him and Billy worked well together, but he wasn’t liking the idea of being stuck to him. “Aren’t there youtube memes that have more cultural impact than all of those top 15 movies combined, by a fraction of the budget?” He muses for a second and adds a bitter laugh. “I wouldn’t brag about that, but that’s just me.” He stays quiet for a moment and then crosses his legs. “I don’t need your credentials, Billy, just your money.” Who even knew what a producer did?

“Who needs cast?” Ben asked, almost serious. He knew what sold, and he knew how to get it. Sure, ads in Sunset Boulevard, trailers being dropped at the Superbowl too. But money could get that, whichever hand it came from. “Are you seriously telling me the audience can tell the difference between which white muscular bald man I put in the shot?” How many times he had reshot entire sequences with body doubles? In fact, he was even considering adding that to save on actor’s payments anyway. 

Billy means well, he is sure. He just chose the wrong person to lecture. “You don’t get it, do you?” He asks, sounding really concerned. “I’m not here for the art, Billy. I don’t give a shit.” He had no attatchment to Origins of Power or any other movie he made in the past. “I don’t want to film in the Middle East to better represent the landscape of war torn wasteland. I’d film in a dump down in Chile if I could.” He shakes his head, frustrated that the other seem to understand that there is a greater meaning under all of this. If he had to work in another franchise, fuck, he’d do it. He couldn’t take the four-movie deal from his hands even if he wanted.

He leans forward, as if he is telling a secret. “I’m just in for the money. If you give me, I’ll stay. If you play hard to get, I’ll leave. I wrote Origins Of Power half-drunk and jerking off.” He gives him a wink and runs his fingers softly through Billy’s palm. “I can drink and jerk off anytime I want.”

“They don’t give a shit about plot either.” When he thought about it, Ben had the perfect audience trap tool: plotless explosions, badly written dialogue with a patriotism undertone to it. Who cares about artistic integrity when you can fight a gripping car chase? “I can’t lose here.”

Billy thinks the offer over for all of about five seconds, then laughs and reaches for his drink. He’ll let that sit for a moment, then he sets it down, sits back in his seat and stares at the man. Every negotiation tactic he’d ever seen says to let the moment sit, to let the other man speak first. But he didn’t believe in that. Billy knew how to make money, he knew how to get it, and to see a project through to the point that the studio coughed up funds. He knew what he was doing here. After all, the man had come to him for this. “Here’s the thing,” he starts, now leaning forward so he can speak lower. “You came to me for more funds. You need them, and the studio has them. At the end of the day, I’m the one that got your first film off the ground, and I’ll be the one to get the second. When it comes to contracts, the studio pays that out. And they’ll get my proposal, I negotiate with you as a sign of respect, but I don’t have to.”

Flagging down the waitress, he orders another round before starting up again. “But I’ll play your game. 15 up front, no box office. I want 10 at a billion, and another 10 at 1.5 billion. That’s my price. I’ll get this sequel greenlit, I’ll get you the budget that you want.” He offers his hand across the table. “Come on, Concession King, concede. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“You do know you’re not the only producer, right?” Ben squinted, just a little too much arrogance. “There are a dozen of other Alliance people I could have a dinner with?” He went to Billy first because of their previous successful partnership, but he wasn’t a man of loyalties. Fuck, he’d even go to Rebel if they would offer him the money. 

But he smiles: “How many 1 billion dollar directors do you have, though?” Alliance was huge and powerful, yes, but Ben knew his worth. And maybe other handful of directors in Hollywood could say the same. And he knew all of them from their text chain. “Not enough for you to try to arm wrestle me.” He smiles again, now shamelessly cynic.

As Billy makes his offer, Ben’s face is stone cold. He thinks for a long moment, takes a swig of his drink and then leans forward, cups Billy’s hand with his and whisper through gritted teeth, in a half smile: “No fucking way.”

And there he goes—Ben Clarke with his shameless boldness. Though Cliff could at least find it adorable; Ben wears cocky well… especially with the tit show that Cliff would obviously to keep to memory. But while Cliff only offered some gently scoff as a reply to it all, for surface value’s sake, there was a fleeting thought that was worth considering. “—oh no, that can’t be filmed…” Cliff finally replied, his words chosen well as he took another sip from his drink and played it on like it was a comment that was meant to just pass along. 

“—how’s the new movie anyway, I heard you haven’t come up with a short list for your lead yet. They all sucked at audition instead of sucking you?” he hummed on, as he set his cup down and let his gaze still weigh against the other in teasing.

“A pity.” He shakes his head, disappointed. “Could make us both win some Oscars.” He used the word masterpiece to describe Cliff’s physique before and he wasn’t exaggerating. “I like to put on a show, you know...” He explained, leaning forward again, shirt open falling a little too low again, as if to show Cliff what he was missing.

getting a contract at alliance was a pretty big deal, wren knew that much… he couldn’t really believe he was sitting in one of the nicest restaurants in town with one of hollywood’s biggest directors. the whole thing was still so surreal to him; he felt like a kid in a candy shop. an awkward smile came over the young male’s lips, nodding along as ben spoke. “yes, sir…” wren answered. “what can i do for you?” he questioned, eager eyes widening. “i’m all ears.”

“They told me to find you a role.“ He said simply. This was not untraditional for Alliance when they wanted to make someone big and quick. Ben didn’t like it much, but since they were upgrading his budget... “Now, I don’t know if you know my sort of movies, but...“ He looked at the skinny kid in front of him. He never had a male lead under 40 and who didn’t weight at least 200 pounds of pure muscle. “You’re not the kind of people they expect to see on it.”

“So that’s what this is about,” he chuckles, laughing as he brings the brim of his glass up to his lips. Of course Billy could get him more money, and there’s no denying that the man made movies that made money, he just had to do it the right away. “I want three percent of the returns,” Billy countered, knowing that an extra hundred million or so could make the difference when it came to spectacle. Three percent of a billion was still quite a bit when it all came down to it. 30 million could easily buy him that new beach house he and Matty have been wanting. “What do you need the funds for? Is it a specific scene you have to cut? Or just a bigger budget to work with? And I need some promises from you, none of those on-set antics. We need to keep names out of the press if I’m going to get the right bankroll on this. I can do this, easily, but it comes with some concessions. And I’m not talking popcorn.”

He knew Billy would ask for a lot, and he was ready to make concessions — wasn’t he always? But, unsurprisingly, he asked for more. “Three percent.”  He considered. “Sounds like a lot.” He didn’t doubt Billy’s ability to bring in the new money, of course not, but he knew his own value. He made the quick math in his mind: “You want what, 30 million?” It was more than he was ready to offer — and more than he thought he deserved. Ben stops in silence, thinking about it. “I can offer 15 upfront, no box office share.” A hard cut, but profitable. “And extra 10 if we cross the billion barrier again.”

“Mr. Clarke, you can’t tell anyone about this. They’d just never take me seriously otherwise.” This business could be cut-throat, and Mercutio was taking a big risk. Either they’d see his worth and start taking him seriously, or they’d try to replace him. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel if it was the latter. “I know what they say about me, I read the comments. That I’m just a pretty face, that they only cast me because I look good. I’m more than that.” He sighs, carding a hand through deep red locks. “I’m taking a big risk here.”

“Then don’t.” He said simply, shrugging, as if it was painfully obvious to him. “Stop reading the comments.” While Ben would like to be reassuring and say that this was just mindless haters comments, he struggled to see talent in the pretty boy. Not that he cared about talent anyway. “Yeah you are.” He nods, agreeing, and takes a sip from his drink. “A big and dumb risk, if you ask me.” He was here for his opinion right? Ben says it anyway: “Don’t even consider that. Drop everything and work on those abs. It’s better than being blacklisted.”

People cared about him. He was popular at horror convention and his scream alone had garnered him the love and adoration of at least…a hundred people. “Y’know you’ve got a point. What do people know you for?” He glanced over the other, eying that incredible chest. “I guess they know you for two things, at least?” Dudley was teasing as his eyes shot back up to meet Ben’s handsome face. 

“Don’t go there, kid.” He appreciated some light flirting, just not at his line for a coffee and by some kid he never met before. Sure, he liked the attention — why else would he wear the tight shirts. “We don’t like teases in Hollywood.” Maybe that was just him, but he doubted. “So unless you’re ready to go all the way down, don’t start.” He whispered and added a wink.

Now, with Ben’s style of movie and his physique, the way the man just openly flexed before him could’ve gone down in the trash pile of the worst impressions via blatant display of toxic machismo ever. Could’ve. Cliff wasn’t complaining; not when he could see them jiggle with his chuckle and swell on more with the little show that he got going. And with that reveal, Cliff batted back with a smirk as his eyes remained on the other—more so as the little squirm that Ben did in his chair offered Cliff a little peek at his cleavage with how the slabs of his beefy chest smushed together.

“Well don’t push those tits out too much or I’d think you’re auditioning for a casting couch…” he finally teased back as he let his finger trace along the side of his cup. “—because I sure as hell won’t want you as a director of our sex tape. You just might take explosive orgasm in its most literal sense…” Cliff quipped on playfully.

He could see Cliff’s gaze fixed in his pecs and he smiled, proud of himself. “Oh, Mr. Director.” He said in a phony high voice, pushing his pecs together and leaning forward as if he was in a cleavage. He laughed off and leaned back again, taking his drink.

 “Our sex tape.” He repeated out loud, testing the words, as if he wasn’t sure what they meant. It wasn’t the first time Cliff hit on him, not even the most shameless on. Ben tilted his head to the side and smiled: “Is that the time you’ll let me fuck you?” He knew that Cliff wasn’t into that — a pity, he thought. He could do wonders to his ass.

Billy dismisses the server with a wave when his drink was refilled. Needing to have this discussion in privacy, he’s thankful that they’ve got a booth in a secluded area of the restaurant. “Oh, it’s business,” he confirms, reaching for his drink to grab a small sip. “Your next project, what do you have in mind? You’re just off the last one, right? About to go on the press tour? Or are you already onto something else?”

“Both.” Press tour was starting next month, but he already wanted to start pre-production of the next installment. Funding needed campaign. “Franchises, baby.” He winks at him. He knows Billy like his deals in private, yes, but Ben is not that careful. “Well, it’s the usual: I need more money and I think you’re the one who can get me that.”

It wasn’t really a sin, was it? They were talking after all, aren’t they? That while Cliff’s attention was regarded onto the other in the name of manners and courtesy, it was an easy excuse to take in the image that the other was unwittingly offering—or wittingly. Not that vanity is a sin on Ben’s end anyway. So, at that, Cliff’s gaze lingered along the bulge and heft of the other’s beefy body as it shifted within the tight strain of his shirt—now, now that’s sin. The man really had no business to look like he was about to burst out of his damn clothes, but Cliff was sure enough that he’s just as willing to make it his business, humming on with his sip as he watched how Ben’s breasts jiggled with his chuckle. How he didn’t just use himself as a star of his own movie, Cliff will never know.

“You’re asking me to talk about business with you when you’re not the one in business attire?” Cliff chuckled, knowing fully the other’s reputation while at work. “—isn’t Ben Clarke’s professional look hinged on being shirtless on set?”

He was about to ask him what that was about. A nice clean white shirt wasn’t business attire? But then he completed and Ben had to laugh. The pictures of him directing shirtless on a hot summer day were certainly popular online. What he could say? He didn’t suffer so much at the gym to keep that hidden. “Well, I can’t go on my whole life without a shirt.” He laughed, looking down, suddenly self-conscious for being in a shirt.

“Don’t get me wrong I’ll always love being recognized for There’s A Werewolf in My Closet, don’t get me wrong. But would it be too much to ask for people to recognize my other work? It’s honestly frustrating.” Dudley complained to anybody that listened. Unfortunately it was whoever was behind him while he was waiting patiently to order his iced coffee. 

Ben rolled his eyes. He was tired of new guys coming to Hollywood and expecting it all to fall on their feet after their first role. “Come on, kid.” He tapped him on the shoulder. “It takes years until they actually care about you.” Mean, but sadly honest. It took twice as long for the people behind the cameras like him, but he didn’t care. “For now you better just be glad they remember your pretty face.”

“straight to the point, mr. clarke.” mercutio teases with a wide grin, showing no malice or impatience. he’d rubbed shoulders with plenty of directors, the higher ups liked to parade their “it boys” around the circuit all the time, but ben clarke was one he didn’t know too much about, outside of his imdb page. “i actually-… needed your help with something, it’s more of a personal favor.” he chews his bottom lip, nerves a bit heightened now. “i need you to pull some strings for me, i’ve been trying to get a serious acting gig, you know? i’m talking straight to the oscars.” the board wouldn’t go for it, he was certain, and he knew ben was likely to stay in line like the rest. “they keep type-casting me so-… i might have been going on some auditions without my alliance agent.” 

While his movies were hardly considered for Oscars and major awards, he knew people. That was the main reason Mercutio was coming to talk to him, right? He could help the boy out, put his name out there, offer some auditions. “What’s wrong with what you do now?” Ben didn’t had the decency to google the boy before the meeting; as usual, he was winging it. But something he said was just... concerning. “You what?” He shook his head, let out a deep and short laugh. “That’s not good, kid, you know that.” Alliance wasn’t... very light on betrayals like that.