Chapter 28
Hi everyone, sorry for the long wait. I have honestly been having trouble coming up with ideas for this story. Thinking of a full rewrite with more detail and story. Give me your thoughts on that.
I am not going to cover any reviews this time till I can get my mind in the game. I hope you all like this chapter, and as always, feel free to give me ideas.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"So I have to ask—what's the story with you and Ceaser?" Kelly asks, giving her current guest a knowing look.
Britney Spears rolls her eyes, smiling as she laughs. "No… God, no. Why does everyone think we had a thing?"
"Come on, Britney," Kelly says. "You and Ceaser are close. Very close, in fact. He's worked on so many of your albums, and there are plenty of pictures of you together."
A photo of the two of them hugging on a boat appears on-screen, with Britney wearing a bikini that was a size too small, drawing whistles and awes from the audience.
Britney waves them off and says again in a playful voice. "We're just friends."
"Just friends?" Kelly presses.
"Okay, I'll be honest," Britney says flatly. "I know how that picture looks, and yes, we're close—but Ceaser is not my type." She says it with such blunt certainty that it is hard not to believe her.
Looking stunned, Kelly brings up a photo of Ceaser—older now, but still strikingly fit. The gray in his hair and beard only makes him look more formidable, and at fifty, his six-pack and defined muscles still draw immediate wolf whistles from the women in the audience.
"That's really not your type?" Kelly asks as Britney laughs.
Trying to compose herself, Britney says, almost defensively, "I never said he wasn't handsome."
That only makes everyone laugh harder.
"Okay, okay," Kelly says once she catches her breath. "So he isn't your type. Can I ask why?"
"Honestly, he's too honest," Britney says, as if weighing every word before saying them.
"Too honest?" Kelly asks, confused.
Britney shrugs. "Yeah, and I don't mean the kind of honesty where someone tells you the truth gently. I mean, he's a total jackass—completely unapologetic, no filter, brutally honest."
"That bad?" Kelly asks, starting to understand.
"Oh yeah, it's that bad," Britney says. "But that's also why we're such good friends."
"Can you explain what you mean?" Kelly asks.
Britney takes a moment to think. "From the day I met him, he made it clear he wasn't impressed by me. While we were working on 'Oops!... I Did It Again,' he told me that, in his eyes, I was a child pretending to be an adult."
Kelly looks shocked. "No, he didn't."
Britney nods. "He did."
Kelly's mouth falls open. "How did you take that?"
"Oh, I was furious," Britney says. "I wanted to fire him right then and there."
Kelly lets out a dry laugh. "I would imagine. So why didn't you?"
"Mostly because firing him would have cost a million dollars to do so," Britney says. "So yeah, I was stuck with him." She says it without sounding upset.
"You don't seem disappointed that things turned out that way," Kelly says.
"At first, I was," Britney says. "But back then, I was surrounded by people who were looking to use me for their benefit. They wanted me for my talent, my fame, my money, or my body. No one, and I mean no one, not even my own family, was really looking out for me. Telling me only what I wanted to hear and keeping me far away from the actual business decisions. Then Ceaser came along, and from day one he was blunt and honest, and most importantly of all, didn't need or want anything from me."
"He wanted nothing? That is hard to believe." Kelly asks.
"I get why it sounds hard to believe, but you have to remember where Ceaser was in his career when we met. I may have been more famous and wealthier, but he was far more powerful. He knew people I had never even heard of—the real decision-makers in the industry. Truthfully, I was so low on his list of priorities that I probably wasn't on it at all."
"So in 1999, you were too insignificant for him to bother with?" Kelly asks, stunned.
Britney nods. "Exactly. That's why he could look me in the eye and say, 'Britney, right now, you're the meat on the table, and everyone is feeding on your work and talent. By the time they're finished, there won't be enough of you left for anyone to recognize. This is the moment you either grow up or let them hollow you out. Learn this business. Learn where your money goes. Make it clear that if they want to talk about your career, you need to be in the room—or there is no conversation. And if anyone takes even a bite of your money, you'd better know how much they took and why. Make sure they know you are always watching. Always.'"
Kelly studies Britney, and for a moment, the Pop Princess the world once adored seems to vanish. In her place is something sharper and far more dangerous—the woman who fired and sued her own father, had her longtime manager brought up on charges, then sent to prison for stealing from her, and destroyed the careers of several ex-husbands. Behind her, Kelly can almost imagine Ceaser watching over her shoulder, his eyes cold and unreadable.
Trying to hide her sudden nervousness, Kelly says, "Ceaser has been a good friend to you, hasn't he?"
Britney says nothing at first. Then she leans back, slips on that practiced, calming smile, and says, "The best."
- The Kelly Clarkson Show interview with Britney Spears 2026-
-1999-
"Hahaha," I start to laugh lightly as the limo pulls up to the Dolby Theatre.
"What's so funny?" Salma Hayek asks, my date for the night.
I look over at one of the most beautiful women I have ever known—the mother of one of my children—and smile. "Nothing. I was just thinking how funny it is that you're here with me again."
"Is it?" Salma asks, not quite following.
"Yeah. You were with me the first time I was nominated for an Academy Award. You gave me my first child. And now you're here again, walking beside me at my first world premiere as a director." I laugh softly again. "Thank you, Salma."
Salma shakes her head. "For what?"
"For being here with me," I say.
"Oh God, Ceaser," Salma says. "Don't get emotional on me. I'm still not sleeping with you tonight, no matter what you say." But the faint smile on her lips—and the way her heart pounds in her chest—tell a different story. Even if he would never love her, she was in love with Ceaser, and despite all his flaws, he still appreciated her.
I smirk at her. When the door opens, I step out into a barrage of camera flashes—something I had grown used to, though it still annoyed the hell out of me. I didn't smile or wave. I just faced it with the same silent contempt I was becoming known for. The PR team called it my image, but it wasn't an act. I really did hate this shit.
I hold out my hand and help Salma exit the limo like a gentleman. Like everyone else, I take a moment to admire her. I had already seen the dress when I picked her up, but her beauty still demanded attention. I was no exception, my eyes moving over her form-fitting, sparkling black Gucci gown and the diamond necklace I had given her.
When our eyes meet, she smirks, fully aware of the effect she has on me. I don't smile back, but it doesn't matter. She can tell, the way women always can, when they know they have you in the palm of their hand. As for me, I wear my usual black-and-white suit, a matching Panama hat, and a notebook hanging from a long steel chain at my side. It is my style, if it can be called that. I never try to stand out. The suit is custom-made, but otherwise plain. Maybe that is why the media loves it. Unlike so many young men from the streets who are desperate to be noticed, I don't try—and I don't care to be seen. I prefer to be overlooked. After all, if they can't see you, they won't notice when you strike.
Taking her hand, we start down the red carpet. Salma waves and smiles at everyone, while I barely pay attention, stopping only when she does. I don't answer questions about how I feel about the movie, and when I do, my replies are short and direct. Still, I have my own fan base, and when I see a kid calling my name, I either nod or give them a fist bump out of respect.
Once inside, I spot Danny, Usher, and Dre right away and head over to greet them. All three had appeared in the movie, though not in real roles—just cameos as ghosts. Danny played an old gangster with half his face blown off by a shotgun, Usher played a junkie who overdosed, and Dre played an abusive husband who killed his wife and children in a murder-suicide. Maybe Dre's part hit a little too close to home, given the domestic abuse stories that had followed him in the press, but he had approved it himself, so there was no issue.
I greet them with a faint smile and clasp their hands. We had all seen the final cut during a private viewing in the editing room, watching Richard Leslie Francis-Bruce work. I would have liked to claim I handled the editing myself, but the truth was I was only there to offer suggestions. Talented as I was, I knew my limits, and cutting a film was beyond my skills. That was why I had pushed for Richard in the first place; I had worked with him before on Seven.
Richard was one of those rare men who didn't mind having others sit in while he worked. In fact, he preferred it, since it gave him people to bounce ideas off. So when it came time to edit Seven, David brought me into the editing room with him. Richard and I talked, and I got to know him a little. Since then, I had stayed in touch, mostly because few people could match him when it came to editing. He had cut not only Seven, but also The Shawshank Redemption, The Rock, and Air Force One. He would later edit the first film in a string of hits called Harry Potter. The man was a beast.
"Man, I can't wait for them to see me on the big screen," I hear Usher say. "My time to break into Hollywood has finally come."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dre says, looking at him like he's lost his mind. "You're in the film for about five seconds."
"Hey, you can do a lot with five seconds, Dre," Usher says.
"Is that what you tell yourself to feel better, homes?" Danny asks, making Dre, Salma, and me laugh.
It takes Usher a moment to catch Danny's meaning, but when he does, he says, "Oh, fuck you, Danny."
We all laugh. Yeah, you could say we were friends. We may have all worked in entertainment, but Dre was mostly in producing, while Danny, Salma, and I moved in film circles, so there was little overlap. That distance made it easier for the five of us to stay close in a world where trust was rare.
"Have you guys heard Puff's new track yet?" Usher asks.
"Not yet. Why?" I ask.
"He takes some pretty hard shots at you, man," Usher says.
I wave him off. "Let the fool dig his own grave. All he's doing is giving my movies free press."
"You know that casual dismissal is what's pissing him off the most," Dre says with a chuckle. "Most people wouldn't take what he's dishing out lying down."
"Most people have to care," I tell him. "At the end of the day, it's about where we stand. Right now, I'm trying to reach the top of the ladder. Worrying about someone on his level would be pointless."
Danny and Dre understand what I mean. They had both been in rooms with the real shot callers—Dre more than Danny—but the point is, they know Ceaser will soon be sitting in those meetings more often. A public pissing contest wouldn't do anything for him.
Usher, still young and learning, didn't quite grasp it. "You know he's getting pretty influential now, right? Are you sure you can afford the hit to your reputation?"
I laugh softly. "Usher, do you know how much money is being invested in X-Men right now?"
Usher shakes his head. "No."
I look to Dre. "Dre?"
After a moment, Dre says, "I heard it's around fifty million, and WB has already agreed to distribute it."
I smirk and say, "You're well informed, Dre."
"I try," Dre replies with a chuckle.
Even though he wasn't in the movie business, he always kept his ear to the ground. One of the best indicators of someone's power is how much people are willing to invest in them. The higher the amount, the more important it was not to cross those people.
"You're only off by 25 million dollars, and negotiations are still ongoing regarding distribution. The group doesn't own the rights to X-Men outright, and our investors in Germany have advised us to keep our options open," I explain.
"Ah, okay, I see where you're going with this," Usher says, and he understands. "Forever" by Puff Daddy cost a couple of million dollars to produce and made millions in return, but that amount was nothing compared to what was spent on the production of X-Men. In fact, it paled in comparison to what Ceaser had earned for the major studios. When you're talking about those figures, you're usually looking at billions. While not all that money went into Caesar's pockets, it was certainly going where it mattered most.
"Always remember this, Usher: it doesn't matter how much you make, but what you make for others," I say just as the bell rings to start the movie.
Putting my arm around Salma's waist, I walk inside with her. As the film begins, I watch with a sense of cold detachment. I'm unsure if I've improved upon the original, if there even was an original anymore. With how much the world had already changed from what my knowledge told me, it was hard to say. What I do know is what I hear around me and how Salma grips my hand as the film starts to unfold.
She was scared—they all were—but that meant they were enjoying it, as strange as that may sound. This film, *The Sixth Sense*, represented the pinnacle of the horror genre. It was a movie destined to remain at the top of the all-time highest-grossing horror films for well over a decade, solidifying my place in Hollywood. With every sudden gasp and scream, I realized I had just entered the big leagues. No one could dare to suggest that I lacked the skill to direct a major motion picture, but I still had to proceed with caution. One misstep could set me back, and given how the world was changing in unexpected ways, I couldn't be certain that what was expected to be a hit would still resonate.
-Later-
The following night, I sat in a rocking chair inside the nursery at Salma's house. Softly, rocked my daughter to sleep in my arms, as she had refused to settle down this night for some reason. Not that I minded, however. It was strange that just five years ago, if someone had asked me if I would enjoy staying up late at night, holding my child in my arms while listening to the gentle melodies of classical piano in the background. I would have called them crazy, but now there were a few things I enjoyed doing more. Be it my son or my daughter, I would take this over anything else.
As I rocked her, I heard a phone ringing from the living room, but I made no move to answer it. Right now, my focus was entirely on my daughter, who looked up at me with innocent eyes—dark brown and beautiful, like her mother's. So unlike my own, which were also dark brown but often looked lifeless and cold even to me.
Suddenly, the ringing stopped, and I could hear hushed voices from the living room. A moment later, Salma entered the nursery, wearing a white nightgown that, at any other time, would have captivated my attention. Right now, however, I couldn't care less about her appearance as I watched my daughter reach up to touch my face. Making me smile softly as she cooed in my arms and let out a soft laugh.
It was a heartwarming sight that made Salma feel guilty for interrupting the moment.
"Ceaser….Ceaser…." She calls out softly so she doesn't upset Julia, who always seemed to calm down in her father's arms.
Looking up at her, I hear her say, "It's Arnold."
I hold out my hand for the wireless phone, and she walks forward and hands it to me. Not even asking if I wanted her to take Julia. She already knew the answer would be no.
"Arnold," I say into the phone.
"Caesar, I'm just calling to let you know the first day's numbers are in," Arnold replies.
"And what are they?" I ask.
"11.3 million," he states in a business-like manner.
I smile and hear my daughter, Julia, cooing in my arms. "Thank you, Arnold. I'll see you tomorrow."
I hung up the phone and returned to rocking my daughter, as if I hadn't just learned that *The Sixth Sense* was a huge success because right now this was all I needed. Just my little girl and nothing else.