199-201

Chapter 199: My Investments Are Tied to Movies  

No doubt about it—Steve Jobs is a legend of this era!  

Compared to contemporaries like Oracle, Microsoft, or Dell, it’s Jobs’ Apple that truly revolutionized how people live—a game-changer on a global scale.  

But in the summer of 2000, Jobs is still a long way from that legendary status.  

Even standing face-to-face with this guy twenty-something years his junior, he can’t muster any sense of superiority.  

Wealth? Dunn’s net worth is pushing $7 billion, landing him in the top 60 of Forbes’ global rich list. Jobs? His entire fortune’s barely scraping $1 billion—not even enough to crack the top 60 in North America, let alone the world.  

Status? The gap’s even wider. Sure, Jobs founded Apple, but he holds a tiny slice of its stock. Dunn’s the biggest shareholder.  

Influence? There’s no comparison.  

Dunn’s reach is global. Forget his capital ventures—just his movies alone shape a generation. Jobs, meanwhile, has some clout in Silicon Valley, but step outside LA, and no one knows this plain-looking middle-aged dude.  

To keep a low profile, Dunn’s dressed down—casual clothes, a baseball cap, looking more like a high school kid.  

Even so, Jobs isn’t taking any chances.  

He might spend most of his time in Silicon Valley, but he’s half a Hollywood insider himself.  

Jobs is the chairman and CEO of Pixar, and of his $1 billion net worth, over $800 million comes from his Pixar stock.  

So he’s in the loop on Hollywood’s juiciest secrets.  

Jobs and Disney’s Michael Eisner? They don’t get along. Both are control freaks—power-hungry types who want everything their way.  

Back when Pixar teamed up with Disney, the talks went smooth. They signed a deal: Pixar would make five animated films, and Disney would distribute them.  

But after the ink dried, Jobs and Eisner clashed hard.  

Eisner trashed Pixar’s animated characters as pitiful—soulless, bloodless computer creations. Jobs fired back, slamming Disney’s endless stream of sequels as stale, bloated, and boring.  

Even with the bad blood, Pixar’s still stuck working with Disney.  

In Hollywood, Jobs’ tough-guy act doesn’t stand a chance against Eisner—he’s a tiger forced to play nice.  

So Jobs knows Eisner well. The guy’s stubborn, ruthless, and doesn’t care who he steps on. In Hollywood, no one wants to cross him.  

And yet, here’s this young Hollywood upstart, Dunn Walker, boldly throwing down the gauntlet against Disney!  

Not just challenging them—he’s winning!  

This summer’s box office? Spider-Man crushed Gone in 60 Seconds. It’s been all over the entertainment news.  

Jobs is an artist at heart—he loves film, and with his Pixar ties, he keeps a close eye on Hollywood. Dunn Walker? Jobs genuinely admires and respects the guy!  

At 21, Jobs started Apple, but his youth, lack of experience, and limited connections got him booted from his own company fast. He gets how brutal it is for young people to make it.  

Take Google, the hot new tech company all three major rating agencies are raving about. Just as it’s picking up steam, founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin—both young guns—get their power slashed by investors. They bring in Eric Schmidt, a seasoned ex-Apple board member, to steer the ship.  

Dunn didn’t vote against it, but he didn’t back Page and Brin either—tacitly agreeing that Schmidt’s experience trumps youth.  

Age bias often hides real doubts about ability.  

But there are exceptions!  

Dunn Walker, just 22 this year, doesn’t have that problem. Dunn Capital and Dunn Films are his private empires. And his string of successes has cemented an ironclad authority within his companies.  

It’s evening in LA, the sky streaked with fiery red clouds. Dunn and Jobs stroll side by side across the Golden Gate Bridge, the sound of car horns and crashing waves below blending into a vibe all its own.  

Jobs breaks the silence first, nodding at the two bodyguards trailing them. “They always tag along like this?”  

Dunn sighs. “The stock crash is still rolling. Some people… you’ve got to take precautions.”  

Jobs smirks. “Fair. In the last three months, 17 people jumped off this bridge.”  

“Cough!”  

Dunn shivers, his face twisting awkwardly.  

Jobs glances at him. “Band-aids won’t fix it. If you could save this dot-com mess, you wouldn’t need bodyguards—the feds would have agents on you 24/7.”  

Dunn gives a wry smile. “Save the bubble? Steve, I can handle movies, but finance? I’m clueless.”  

“Clueless?” Jobs shoots him a half-smile, half-skeptical look. “Your Dunn Capital’s been on a hot streak lately.”  

Dunn shakes his head, shameless as ever. “Nah, my investments—if you dig into them, you’ll see they’re all tied to movies.”  

“Tied to movies?” Doubt flickers in Jobs’ eyes. “I get Hasbro—that’s a strategic play. But Google? How’s that about movies?”  

Dunn grins. “Google’s a search company! I’m bullish on the internet’s future. Picture this: someday, Dunn Films’ movies become top search terms online. That kind of buzz? It’s worth tens of millions in marketing—free.”  

Jobs’ face stays neutral—he’s not buying it. “What about that other one? That’s movie-related too?”  

“Totally!” Dunn says, unfazed. “It’s an online payment company. I’m telling you, the internet’s where it’s at. Fans lining up at theaters to buy tickets? That’s a mess. The future’s online transactions—cuts out all that waiting.”  

Jobs stares at him, genuinely shocked.  

This kid—no wonder he keeps winning, no wonder Wall Street’s singing his praises. His vision’s sharp!  

Right now, the only big internet player in movies is Amazon’s IMDb. Smaller sites like Rotten Tomatoes are just niche review hubs.  

Dunn’s already spotting the trend toward online ticket sales. That alone makes him a legit Silicon Valley investor.  

Jobs gestures for Dunn to go on, then leans against the bridge railing, staring out at the vast ocean below. He takes a deep breath and asks, “What about Apple? I’m the chairman—sorry, but I don’t see how Apple ties into movies right now.”  

Dunn leans on the railing too, turning to him with a sly smile. “Apple itself? No connection. But I’ve been buying up all this Apple stock… and yeah, it’s for movies.”  

“Spill it!”  

“Apple’s not linked to films, but its chairman and CEO is, right?”  

Dunn faces the salty breeze, his grin teasing but calm—way too poised for his age.  

Jobs freezes, a mix of shock and panic flashing across his face. He blurts out, “You’re after Pixar!” 

Chapter 200: Meeting with Jobs 

Even though Dunn invested in an animation studio called Sillywood, he never thought an outsider like him could really nail animated movies. So when it came to chasing the animation industry, his focus was always on Pixar. 

Steve Jobs poured his heart and soul—not to mention a ton of cash—into Pixar Animation. Back when he bought the animation division of Industrial Light & Magic from George Lucas and renamed it Pixar, he sank a fortune into the little computer studio. At the time, Jobs’ total net worth was about $200 million. But between acquiring Pixar and its first movie hitting theaters, he pumped in over $70 million more—betting a third of his wealth on it. 

Lucky for him, Pixar delivered. In 1995, the world got its first fully computer-animated feature film: Toy Story. Made for $65 million, it raked in $373 million worldwide and topped the global box office that year. When Pixar went public the same year, Jobs—holding 70% of the company—saw his net worth soar past $1 billion, landing him squarely in the billionaire club. 

That Pixar success gave Jobs the financial cushion he needed to go all-in and fight his way back to Apple. To win over Apple’s shareholders, he didn’t ask for stock, a salary, or even options. His one demand? Put him back in charge. He even let Apple buy his $500 million company, NeXT, for $1.5 billion in cash and stock, just to get his foot back in the door. After giving up concession after concession, he finally convinced the board and took the reins again. 

All of this was possible because Pixar’s stock gave him the freedom to trade away other perks.  

Now, Dunn had his sights set on Pixar—and Jobs was on high alert. Seeing the wariness in Jobs’ eyes, Dunn smiled. “Steve, you know me. At the end of the day, I’m a movie guy. Hollywood’s where my heart is.” 

Jobs frowned, clearly not thrilled. He could smell a threat brewing. It felt like Dunn was using Apple to muscle in on Pixar. 

“What do you want?” Jobs asked, his temper flaring a bit. But he was in a weaker spot here, so he held it in as best he could. 

Dunn grinned. “If you’ve been keeping up with Hollywood news, you’d know I tried to buy DreamWorks’ animation division—and got turned down. But animation? Those old-school Hollywood dinosaurs might not see its future, but I do.” 

Jobs’ face darkened as he locked eyes with Dunn. “So you’ve got your eye on Pixar?” 

“Pixar’s got the best animation team in the world, and the movies they’ve made are fantastic. If Pixar joined Dunn Pictures, it’d be a huge boost for my company’s growth.” Dunn’s gaze was steady, his tone confident, not hiding his interest one bit. 

“You want to buy Pixar?” Jobs squinted at him. 

Dunn nodded. “If I could, I’d start a privatization buyout right now.” 

Jobs’ voice dropped. “And if I say no?” 

To him, Pixar and Apple were night and day. At Apple, the real power sat with the shareholders—he was just their chosen frontman. But with Pixar, Jobs had learned from being ousted at Apple. Sure, he’d sold off some shares over the years, but he still held a firm 70%. He was Pixar’s king—his word was law. No matter what financial tricks Dunn pulled in the market, if Jobs didn’t want to sell, Dunn wasn’t getting it. 

Dunn laughed heartily and gave Jobs’ shoulder a friendly pat, like an older brother. “Steve, relax! I’m here to talk about a partnership, not to strong-arm you.” 

Jobs’ lips twitched, unimpressed. 

Dunn pointed at the waves crashing under the bridge. “You know surfing? Even the best surfers can’t charge straight into a wave. As it rolls in, they turn their board and paddle with it. It’s a fight with the ocean, sure, but they ride the wave’s momentum and still get that thrill of cutting through the water.” 

Jobs shook his head, brushing off Dunn’s high-school-level metaphor. “We’re in a stock market crash right now. Pixar’s share price has taken a hit—its market cap’s down $400 million in just a few months. But Pixar’s potential is way bigger than this. We’ve moved into a new office, and we’ve got a movie coming out for the Christmas season…” 

Dunn waved him off, cutting in with a surprised look. “Steve, I’m trying to help you here!” 

“Help me?” Jobs let out a cold smirk. 

Dunn acted like it was obvious. “Yeah! I could buy it all with cash. Then you’d have plenty of money to scoop up Apple stock. With my help, the price wouldn’t even spike too high!” 

Dunn’s influence was massive now, especially as Apple’s biggest shareholder. If he hinted at dumping his shares, it’d tank the stock—small investors would panic and sell like crazy. A few slick moves, and Dunn and Jobs could team up to privatize Apple. 

But Dunn’s plan? It was a little too self-centered. 

“Dunn, you’re terrible at negotiating,” Jobs said, shaking his head with a laugh that was half-annoyed, half-amused. “Pixar’s got an amazing future—you know that. One or two more movies, and its stock could double, no problem. But Apple? You think I’m an idiot?” 

Dunn froze, looking a bit dumbfounded. 

He’d thought he was bringing his A-game—showing real sincerity, even offering to take a hit to his reputation so they could pull some financial strings and lock down Apple together. But Jobs… he clearly didn’t have much faith in Apple! He thought Pixar’s future outshone it by a mile! 

Dunn took a deep breath, half-laughing, half at a loss for words. Sure, Pixar’s outlook was solid. In five or six years, its value could quadruple to over $6 billion. But compared to Apple? Come on. Apple’s market cap was $5 billion now. Ten years later? $300 billion. Fifteen years? $700 billion. It wasn’t even a contest! 

He never imagined that Jobs—who’d fought tooth and nail to reclaim Apple—didn’t have enough confidence in it to swap Pixar stock for more Apple shares. Dunn rubbed his nose, awkwardness creeping in. “Uh… I figured you were pretty bullish on Apple.” 

“Of course I am, but…” Jobs shook his head. “It’s like investing in movies. Even the best directors don’t put their own money into their films. Same deal. They’re confident in their work, but the future’s a blank slate—nobody can predict it.” 

Dunn chuckled. “I fund all my movies with my own cash.” 

Jobs faltered, then snapped, “You’re an exception!” 

Dunn got it now. Convincing Jobs to ditch Pixar and pour money into Apple? Dead end. 

“Steve, don’t get me wrong. I only bought all that Apple stock to set up a partnership with you. Your focus is Silicon Valley; mine’s Hollywood.” Dunn sighed, then straightened up. “But don’t worry—I’m not here to threaten you. I’m all for you running Apple.” 

Jobs gave him a long look, his expression softening a bit. After a pause, he said, “I’m an outsider when it comes to movies. So Pixar… when the right moment comes, I’ll sell.” 

What’s the “right moment”? When Pixar’s value hits a number Jobs likes. He’s not hurting for cash, so there’s no rush to cash out. 

Dunn caught his drift and smiled knowingly. “Cool. Whenever you’re ready to sell, I’m ready to buy!” 

Partnerships go both ways—Dunn showed goodwill, and Jobs would return the favor. After all, Dunn was Apple’s biggest shareholder now, with a loud voice. That mattered to Jobs. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Jobs added. “Pixar’s got a five-movie deal with Disney. Counting Toy Story, A Bug’s Life, and Toy Story 2, the next two films we make have to go through Disney for distribution.” 

The mention of Disney soured Jobs’ mood. He couldn’t stand Disney’s big boss, Michael Eisner. He’d already decided that once this contract was up, he’d demand a steep price—and if Disney didn’t play ball, he’d take Pixar’s movies somewhere else. 

Now Dunn was in the picture—Disney’s rival—and Jobs was happy to see them duke it out. Pixar, caught in the middle, could cash in either way. 

Dunn frowned. “That’s tricky.” 

Usually, the production company only gets a cut of the profits, while the distributor holds the usage rights. So even though Pixar makes the films, Disney controls the copyrights—meaning those characters end up in Disney parks, raking in more cash for them. 

That wasn’t something Dunn wanted to see. Pixar was his prize, but having its characters boost Disney’s tourism? That’d be a joke. 

“No way. We can’t let Disney keep the distribution rights!” Dunn gritted his teeth, his tone firm and unwavering. 

Jobs looked at him, surprised. “But the contract’s already signed.” 

“Then buy it out! I’ll cover the cost if I have to!” 

If Disney hadn’t pulled their stunts before, Dunn might’ve cut them some slack. Now? They weren’t getting a dime from him. 

Jobs stared at him, genuinely shocked. This kid’s thinking was something else—bold, gutsy! Apple and Microsoft were rivals, even fighting copyright lawsuits, but Jobs and Bill Gates got along fine. Their companies collaborated plenty, and Microsoft was an Apple shareholder.  

But Dunn? Once he picked a fight, it was all-out war—no looking back. Tougher and more ruthless than even Michael Eisner! 

Chapter 201: Compensation Beats Owing Nothing  

Steve Jobs is a sharp businessman—he can’t afford to act as recklessly as Dunn.  

It’s the 21st century now, and Hollywood’s big players are waking up to the potential of animated films. Warner and Sony have started their own animation divisions, while Fox took an early leap, snapping up Blue Sky Studios. They’ll soon roll out a fully computer-animated flick too.  

But across all of Hollywood, when it comes to animation, Disney still reigns supreme!  

Sure, their animated movies haven’t been as hot lately, but Disney’s been at it for decades—they’ve got experience and resources piled high.  

Especially their reach—Disney’s got promo channels galore, from Disneyland to the Disney Channel. The “Disney” name alone often screams “animation” to people.  

So even though Jobs and Michael Eisner can’t stand each other, Disney remains a key partner for Pixar.  

It’s not just about a contract—it’s about Disney’s muscle.  

Dunn wanting to buy out Pixar’s deal with Disney? That’s not in Pixar’s best interest, no matter how much cash he throws down!  

Beyond Disney, who else could push Pixar’s films worldwide? And those sweet, mature merchandising channels—the more outlets, the bigger the profits.  

Their talk hit a wall there. On Pixar’s future, Dunn and Jobs couldn’t see eye to eye.  

But no biggie—the Apple shareholders’ meeting is at the end of the month.  

That gives Jobs two weeks to circle back and chat with Dunn again.  

Right now, the box office is still buzzing. Spider-Man keeps flexing, while Fox’s latest has shrunk to just 500 theaters with a measly 2% screening rate. Disney’s Gone in 60 Seconds is holding up a bit better, but with July’s wave of blockbusters coming, its market share’s tanking too.  

The movie fans can’t get enough of? Still Spider-Man. Four weeks in, it’s rocking a 35% screening rate. Next up is Warner’s disaster epic The Perfect Storm, followed by Miramax’s Scary Movie.  

Especially Scary Movie—it’s a total win for Disney!  

Made for under $20 million, this horror flick hit theaters July 7. Even with Spider-Man dominating, it pulled in $400,000 in its opening week, landing second on the weekly box office chart, right behind Dunn’s web-slinger.  

Sure, Gone in 60 Seconds bombed, but Miramax’s Scary Movie saved Disney some face.  

Harvey Weinstein’s been strutting lately, almost like he’s trying to steal Dunn’s spotlight.  

Miramax might be under Disney’s umbrella, but it runs independently, free from the production department’s leash. So Scary Movie’s success has zilch to do with Disney’s production chief, Joe Roth!  

If anything, it’s more of a jab at him.  

Harvey Weinstein’s $19 million horror hit is killing it in the summer slot, while Joe Roth’s $90 million action flick flopped hard.  

Joe Roth’s under insane pressure now—he could get canned any day. And he’s not about to go down without a fight!  

Gone in 60 Seconds is dead meat—no saving it. So Roth’s pinning his hopes on the next one: M. Night Shyamalan’s Unbreakable!  

Last year, The Sixth Sense blew everyone away, even crushing Dunn’s The Wedding Crashers.  

Fans love horror and thrills, right?  

Fine—go see Unbreakable!  

Starring Samuel L. Jackson and Bruce Willis, this suspense thriller’s already wrapped shooting. It’s in post-production now, set for November 15.  

Roth’s got the weight of the world on him—Gone in 60 Seconds’ failure up front, Michael Eisner’s yelling in his ear. He knows if Eisner’s feeling generous enough to give him one last shot at redemption, it’s all riding on Unbreakable!  

Natalie’s only doing one movie this year—George Lucas’ Star Wars: Episode II, reprising Queen Amidala. Her role’s not huge, and she’s pretty much done filming now.  

Her agent, Hilda Queally, tried pushing her into some flick called Zoolander, but Dunn shot it down.  

Quality over quantity—he’s not letting Natalie waste her time on trash.  

With her scenes wrapped, Hollywood tradition says actors jet off for a vacation. But Natalie’s not exactly free for that.  

To make it up to her, Dunn takes her for a stroll along Venice Beach in LA to unwind.  

Natalie pouts, clearly not thrilled. “You never take me on vacation!”  

“Didn’t we hit Australia last year? And during Cannes, we bounced around Europe too, right?” Dunn and Natalie kick off their shoes, barefoot on the soft sand, ignoring the bodyguards trailing quietly behind.  

Natalie huffs. “That was work! You just dragged me along for the ride.”  

Dunn sighs. “Nat, you know I’ve been swamped lately. Spider-Man’s out, I’ve got two big films in prep, and now I’m negotiating with Jobs…”  

“That’s no excuse! You can’t spare a week?” She kicks the sand hard, sending up a golden puff.  

Dunn grabs her hand. “It’s mostly a logistics thing. The plane won’t be ready ‘til September, and the yacht’s even further off.”  

“Yacht?”  

Natalie’s eyes light up, turning to him with a grin. “You bought a yacht? Like, a big one?”  

Dunn smirks at her. Girls always perk up at flashy private yachts. “The Lürssen shipyard in Germany sent over a concept design—it’s solid. Next week, they’re sending someone to go over the details in person.”  

“Whoa! Cool!”  

Natalie’s buzzing now, hopping over to hook her arm through his. “Tell me about it!”  

“About what?”  

“The yacht! What kind are you building? It’s gotta be impressive, right?”  

She knows Dunn’s loaded and young—he doesn’t skimp on style.  

Dunn shrugs casually. “Bigger and fancier than old-timers like the Savaronna or the Alexander, at least.”  

The Savaronna, built in the 1930s, stretches 124 meters—currently the world’s largest private yacht, leased out by a Turkish tycoon.  

The Alexander, started in 1965, clocks in at 122 meters. Owned by a Greek shipping dynasty, it’s been upgraded twice. Second-biggest yacht out there, also for rent—at a cool $850,000 a day!  

Natalie’s eyes sparkle like stars—she’s loving this. “Details?”  

Dunn catches her excitement and plants a kiss on her cheek. “What do you think?”  

“I think… it should have a hospital. If something goes wrong at sea, you’d need treatment fast.”  

“Smart.”  

“And a pool! You can’t always swim in salty water.”  

“Yep, good call.”  

“Hmm… and a home theater! For when we’re bored—we could watch movies together.”  

“Definitely.”  

Natalie’s grinning so wide her eyes curve into slits. “Oh, and maybe a submarine! We could check out the underwater world!”  

Dunn waves a hand grandly. “Done! Submarine’s in. Plus a few speedboats—tear across the ocean full throttle.”  

Natalie snorts, smirking. “Is this your way of making up?”  

“Huh? Making up for what?”  

She tilts her nose up. “You feel guilty for owing me, so you’re compensating with this, right?”  

“Cough…”  

Dunn’s forehead creases. “Babe, late’s better than never. Compensation beats owing nothing any day.”  

“Some logic!”  

Natalie rolls her eyes and huffs, but then cracks up with a “pfft.”  

They walk along the beach in silence, hand in hand, swaying a bit. The setting sun casts long shadows behind them.  

“If it’s not compensation, what’re you naming the yacht?”  

“The Nat, obviously—I’ve had it in mind forever!”  

“Liar!”  

Natalie hums skeptically, tilting her head with a teasing grin. “You’d totally call it the Dunn.”  

“No way!”  

“Bet you would! Look at your stuff—Dunn Films, Dunn Capital, Dunn Tower… ugh, narcissist!”