DOS Ch-188

SereneDreamer: What the fuck!?!?!?!? Troy and Rihanna broke up???? How could this happen?
FireStarter12: Have you been sleeping for the last few weeks, @SereneDreamer? That’s old news. We already discussed it here.
LunaBliss: Yeah, that was a happy day for me—knowing that Troy is single again. Sure, he’d never go for me, but a girl can hope.
SereneDreamer: 😭 But I loved Troy and Rihanna together! At first, I didn’t, but ever since I saw them together at his concert… sniff... And now I just watched Troy’s latest interview with Jonathan Ross on YT, and I can’t help it. A small part of me feels like I’m going through a breakup.
PixelWarrior77: Dramatic much? It’s just a breakup. Troy isn’t even 18 yet. If he turns out to be a player, he’ll go through girls like clothes.
SkyDreamer64: My man Troy isn’t like that. He respects girls too much.
DarkMatter69: If I were as rich, handsome, and famous as him, I’d have a different girl every day. Sometimes, every hour. The man works so hard, giving all those solid performances—he deserves some fun.
QuantumFox: That’s the thing—he’s genuinely heartbroken and isn’t even having fun. I went to his first concert after the breakup, and I regret to say the quality has dropped a lot. Sure, he sang his heart out, and songs like Someone You Loved and Lovely hit deep, knowing what he’s been through, but without Rihanna supporting him… it’s just not the same. His happy energy is gone.
PatAttack: I think you’re imagining things, @QuantumFox. I was at the same concert, and it was awesome. I was even lucky enough to meet Troy backstage, and he didn’t look sad to me at all.
QuantumFox: He’s an actor. A damn good one. Of course, he won’t show it to you in person. But no one can keep up a charade forever.
GlitchInTime: I don’t think I can ever listen to Rihanna again without thinking about her and Troy. I feel like one of those mutual friends who has to pick sides in a breakup, lol.
LunaBliss: Lmao, same. I love Troy too much to side with Rihanna on this one.

(Break)

“So, what do you think of this marketing idea?” Brad Grey looked at me hopefully.

I pondered for a moment before saying, “You do realize it could backfire and mislead people into thinking the music is related to [Little Miss Sunshine] when it’s not.”

“We’ve already weighed the pros and cons, obviously,” he replied. “Since we won’t get any revenue from your concerts, we can only make arrangements for you. You’ll have to cover the costs yourself. And from what I’m seeing, you’ll personally gain a lot more than we will from arranging this tour.”

That was true. And it would be perfect for my Grammy ambitions as well. Or more accurately, Rihanna’s Grammy ambitions.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll go on a world tour to promote my music and [Little Miss Sunshine].”

Brad grinned. “Excellent. Now just finish [Superbad], and we’ll take care of everything else.”

I took my leave not long after that.

The idea Brad had proposed for promoting [Little Miss Sunshine] wasn’t something commonly done. Or rather, no other superstar actor was a popular enough singer to pull it off.

Paramount’s marketing team wanted me to do a two-week world tour, performing concerts in all the major cities where the film was set to release—starting with the U.S., Brazil, France, Germany, Italy, Spain, Australia, and Japan, and finishing in my hometown, London. These locations were carefully selected for their high potential to boost the film’s success.

This would generate massive publicity for a small indie film, as it would be released in each country the same week my concert was held there. And since I’d be covering the costs of the concerts myself, Paramount could keep its marketing expenses low.

A win-win for everyone. I’d get to embark on a world tour with my music without the hassle of arranging everything, while Paramount would get free promotion. The only drawback? My co-stars wouldn’t be as prominent in the marketing—at least not outside the U.S., the film’s primary market.

After some thought, I decided to let it go. As a gesture of goodwill, I’d buy them all a gift later using some of the film’s profits. That should be enough to make up for it.

(Break)

Seeing the insane figure in my account balance made me realize just how much I had underestimated passive income.

To get a clearer picture of my finances and prepare myself for managing them in the future, I called my accountant and asked him to send over a summary of all deposits in my trust fund from the last 7–8 years.

It took him a few days, but he delivered. The report he sent covered not just one account but two—one for my passive income and another, a Coogan account, which had been set up in accordance with American law.

A Coogan account was something I had been required to open because I started my career in the U.S. The law mandates that a portion of any income earned by a child actor must be deposited into a trust, which they can only access upon reaching adulthood. Before 2000, this amount was 30%, but after that, it was reduced to 15%.

Only three of my films qualified for those deposits: [Sex Education], [The Sixth Sense], and [A.I. Artificial Intelligence], for which I had earned $75K, $250K, and $5M, respectively. With 30% withheld for the first two and 15% for the last, my total deposits came to $847K.

Thanks to the mix of equity and debt investments we had chosen, that amount had grown to around $1.5M—not much compared to my overall net worth, but that wasn’t all.

The real treasure was the other account. Thanks to my smart negotiations with various producers over the years, I had secured a significant share in home revenue and satellite distribution. The breakdown was as follows:

Movie: Home Revenue; Satellite Rights; My share

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone: $487m; $120m; $9.7m (1.6%)

Billy Elliot (Movie): $80m; $40m; $6m (5%)

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: $420m; $110m; $26m (5%)

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban: $300m; $95m; $39.5m (10%)

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: $416m; $110m; $52.6m (10%)

The Perks of Being a Wallflower: $180m; $60m; $60m (25%)

Brick: $65m; $20m; $21.25m (25%)

Echoes of You: $275m; $85m; $288m (80%)

Adding up these earnings, my pre-tax total came to a staggering $503.05 million.

Then, there were the proceeds from Billy Elliot: The Musical. The Broadway production had run successfully in New York for four years before ending in 2005, earning me an incredible $43.7 million in profits. Meanwhile, the West End production in London was still ongoing, generating $48.6 million in profits so far, bringing my total earnings from the musical to $92.3 million. Productions in Japan and Australia had also launched, but they had only broken even.

Another thing to note was the use of my likeness by Warner Bros to sell off merchandise, mostly from Harry Potter. If I were anyone else, they would not have agreed to the deal at all, but since my Dad was the producer, Warner Bros had agreed to pay me 5% of all revenue from merchandise that used my likeness. This included action figures, apparels, video games, Lego sets, even everyday items like lunchboxes and mugs.

Not all merchandise were based on Harry. Items like wands and robes were not directly attributable to anyone. Then there were other characters as well, like Hermione and Ron that took up a major part of the merch. In all, only 25-30% of merch was based around the character of Harry Potter. Of the total of $5 billion worth of merch sold, $1.54 billion was used to account my share, which came out to be $77 million.

Last but not least were the sales of my debut music album, Echoes of You, which had sold 39 million copies to date. With an average gross profit of $10 per album, total revenue amounted to $390 million. After deducting Warner’s 5% share and $10 million in promotional expenses, my net profit stood at $341 million.

Adding everything up, my passive pre-tax income totaled $936 million.

From that, I had spent approximately $45 million on salaries for the various people employed under me—lawyers, accountants, managers, and the teams running my music label and film production company. I had to give my dad credit; he had planned everything so meticulously that I hadn’t even realized I was covering all these expenses.

After deducting those costs and paying 35% in taxes, I was left with $629 million.

Adding in my Coogan account balance, I would have access to an additional $631 million when I turned 18 in January. The best part? This was all cold, hard cash—money I could access instantly.

I could have counted my concert profits as well, but that income was quickly absorbed by my day-to-day expenses, which were substantial.

“Are you still surprised by how much money you have?” Evan asked with a huge grin, glancing up from his book. “People don’t call you the biggest superstar of the 21st century for nothing.”

I huffed and set down my financial statements.

“It’s not the number that surprises me—it’s the fact that I forgot about it,” I admitted. “You know I’ve been planning to shoot two [Twilight] films back-to-back, plus [Juno] and [Superbad]. Because of my lack of liquid cash, I was desperately waiting for my [Order of the Phoenix] salary to get things moving. But this?” I gestured to the reports. “This changes everything. Now, I can make as many films as I want—without worrying about the budget.”

Evan pondered something for a while before speaking up.

“Hey, Troy, do you think it’d be alright if I helped out with [Twilight]? It’d give me valuable production experience. Plus, I loved Catherine Hardwicke’s [Lords of Dogtown].”

I chuckled. “Do you even have to ask, bro? As long as you finish editing [Disturbia], you can do whatever you want in any of my productions.”

“I’ll have [Disturbia] done by the end of the month,” he said confidently.

I nodded, and we both went back to our respective tasks—until Evan broke the silence again.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “With all this money, you could even make a big-budget superhero movie now if you wanted. Just imagine—you could be the next Spider-Man.”

I gave him a deadpan look. “[Spider-Man 3] is already in production with Tobey Maguire.”

“I know,” he agreed. “That’s why I said something like Spider-Man. I know how much you love the first two films, so I figured I’d make the comparison.” He tapped his fingers against the book he was holding, humming in thought. “Let’s see… What other hero could you play? How about… Superboy? The son of Clark Kent and Lois Lane?”

“Warner Bros owns DC,” I reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He flashed me an apologetic smile. “So Blue Beetle, Beast Boy, and Robin are off the table, too. Let’s check Marvel, then… Black Panther?” The teasing grin on his face was unmistakable.

I shot him another deadpan look. “That was a terrible joke, Evan.”

Hollywood already has enough whitewashing problems. I don’t want to be part of that by playing one of the most iconic black superhero of all time.

Evan thought for a few more moments before finally raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, I got nothing. Maybe in a few years, a good role will pop up.” With that, he turned back to his book.

Then, slowly, he looked up at me.

“What?” I asked.

He lifted the book he’d been reading. Dune by Frank Herbert.

“You could play Paul Atreides,” he said. “They made a movie in the ’80s, but it wasn’t great. VFX have come a long way since then. A new adaptation would be incredible.”

I paused, considering his suggestion. I remembered watching Dune—the one directed by Denis Villeneuve, starring Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya. What a phenomenal film series. From the very first scene to the last, it had been a masterclass in storytelling. The visuals were breathtaking, and the performances were perfect.

That was a damn good suggestion.

“Or,” Evan continued, “you could try playing John Carter from the Barsoom series. It’s this epic romance set on Mars with tons of action. The protagonist is supposed to be older, but we could tweak the script to make him younger.”

[John Carter]. Now that was a movie I remembered from my fragmented memories—not because I’d watched it, but because it was one of the biggest box office bombs in history. I had no idea if the film itself was any good, but one thing was certain: I wasn’t about to take a risk on a franchise with that kind of reputation.

Some believed it flopped because of its abysmal marketing. Instead of selling the story, Disney had lazily compared it to James Cameron’s [Avatar], hoping the association alone would turn it into a hit. It hadn’t.

Wait a minute… It was still 2006. [Avatar] hadn’t even started filming yet.

I knew there were slim chances that a perfectionist like Cameron would cast a teenager like me in the lead role of Jake Sully. But I didn’t need to star in the film to benefit from it. A movie with a budget that massive was rarely financed by a single studio; even the biggest players hedged their bets by forming investment partnerships. If I could buy in early, I could secure a piece of what would become one of the highest-grossing films of all time.

I turned to Evan with a grin. “You’re a genius.”

He blinked. “I am? You liked the John Carter idea that much?”

I chuckled and shook my head in amusement. Then I pulled out my phone, already dialing.

Bobby, my newly appointed manager, answered on the first ring. “Hi, Troy.”

“Hey, I have two tasks for you,” I said. “First, find out who owns the rights to Frank Herbert’s Dune. I need to secure at least the first book, and I want to know if they’re open to selling.”

Bobby hesitated for a beat before responding. “I know a guy who can look into that.”

“Good.” I leaned back. “Second—and this is the big one—I heard James Cameron is prepping a major film for Fox. I need a meeting with him. Wherever he is in the world, I’ll fly to him if he agrees. Even if there’s no role for me, I just want to talk to him. But don’t make me sound desperate.”

“This task is easier than the first,” Bobby assured me. "Don't worry, I'll make it happen."

After hanging up, I found Evan eyeing me with suspicion.

“Who told you about James Cameron?” he asked.

“Brad Grey,” I lied smoothly. “He mentioned it in passing during our meeting yesterday.”

Before Evan could respond, someone cleared their throat. Loudly.

We both turned toward the unexpected guest—Rihanna.

A slow grin spread across my face as soon as our eyes met. Without hesitation, I stood, closed the distance between us in a few strides, and kissed her.

“Dude! I’m still here!” Evan groaned.

I ignored him completely.

I hadn’t seen Rihanna in weeks. Since we’d publicly announced our breakup, we hadn’t met in person once—all our conversations had been over the phone. Even a single paparazzi shot of us together could ignite a media firestorm. It hadn’t helped that I’d been swamped with [Order of the Phoenix] promotions immediately afterward.

When we finally separated, I whispered, “I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” she murmured back.

“Then let’s not miss this anymore,” I said, nodding between us.

Before she could respond, I grabbed her hand and led her toward my bedroom.

No way in hell was I giving Evan a front-row seat to this reunion.

_________________________

AN: If given choice between the two, which movie should Troy do? Avatar or Dune? I'm not holding an official poll, just want to know your opinion.