Good News Travels Fast

Lex was halfway through a annual review report when his phone buzzed.

Benny.

Lex smirked as he answered, leaning back in his chair, already anticipating Benny's usual blend of chaos and charm.

"Tell me you're calling because you owe me drinks," Lex said, his tone casual.

Benny's laugh was loud and unrestrained. "Drinks? Forget drinks, Lex. You're about to buy out the whole bar."

Lex raised an eyebrow, sitting up slightly. "That good?"

"Better," Benny said, practically bursting through the phone. "Silent Crossings is killing it. Like, absolutely blowing up. Every festival screening is sold out. The critics? They're eating it up. Oscar and Ana? People are already calling them the next golden duo. It's a hit, Lex. Like, hit hit."

Lex tapped his fingers on the desk, his smirk widening. "What about the numbers?"

"Glad you asked," Benny said, his voice laced with excitement. "The pre-distribution deal locked in seven figures—seven figures, Lex. That's just the start. Hallmark's sniffing around for the cable rights, Hulu wants it for streaming, and Netflix is officially circling. You know what that means, right?"

Lex tilted his head, already calculating. "We've got a bidding war?"

"Damn right we do!" Benny practically shouted. "Hulu's got the early edge, but Netflix could drop a bigger bag just to steal the spotlight. And don't sleep on Hallmark—they've got deep pockets for this kind of thing."

Lex chuckled, enjoying Benny's enthusiasm. "Alright, break it down for me. What's the projection?"

"Okay, listen up," Benny said, clearly savoring the moment. "We've got two numbers to keep in mind. First: The safe bet—seven figures, no problem, between the streaming deal and a limited release. But…" Benny paused for dramatic effect. "If we lock in a streaming giant and throw in DVD sales, we're talking eight figures by next quarter."

Lex whistled softly, letting the numbers sink in. Silent Crossings had been a calculated risk, but now it was paying off in ways even he hadn't expected.

"How soon until the money clears?" Lex asked, already organizing how he'd reinvest the return.

"Three months, give or take," Benny said. "After backend fees, marketing cuts, you're still looking at a fat payday."

Lex leaned back, a satisfied smile creeping across his face. "Not bad for a first swing, huh?"

"Not bad?" Benny laughed. "You just knocked it out of the park, man. You've got exec producer credits now, which means people are gonna start blowing up your phone. You're officially that guy."

Lex's smirk didn't fade. "Good. Let them. I've got room for more projects."

"Oh, I bet you do," Benny teased. "Careful, Latham. Keep this up, and you're gonna be the next big Hollywood name. Maybe Netflix's new golden boy."

Lex chuckled softly.

Lex leaned forward, his fingers steepled under his chin. "What about the reviews? What are they saying?"

Benny's tone shifted, taking on that rare, serious edge. "They're calling it a masterpiece. Variety said it's the 'indie thriller of the year.' Even The Hollywood Reporter is raving about the tension between Oscar and Ana. They're saying it's award-worthy."

"Award-worthy?" Lex repeated, his brow arching.

"Yeah, like actual awards," Benny said. "Golden Globes. Maybe even an Oscar nod if the right people watch it. This thing has legs, Lex. Long ones."

Lex's mind raced, already planning the next steps. Awards buzz meant more than money—it meant reputation. And reputation was leverage.

"Alright," Lex said finally. "When's the next screening?"

"Next week in Chicago," Benny replied. "You coming?"

"I'll think about it," Lex said, though he already knew he'd be there. "You've got this handled, though, right?"

Benny let out a mock gasp. "Handled? Lex, I'm juggling a masterpiece over here! I'm doing screenings, managing bids, dodging emails from every indie producer who suddenly thinks I care about their half-baked horror flick. This digging thing is more complicated than you think Master Lex. You owe me at least two bottles of something expensive after this."

Lex laughed. "You'll survive. Just keep things moving."

"Moving? Lex, at this rate, we'll be sipping champagne at Sundance next year."

When Benny hung up, Lex leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as he processed the call.

Three months.

Ninety days until the money hit his accounts—and when it did, it would bring more than just a fat payout. It would bring legitimacy, the kind that turned whispers into offers.

Silent Crossings wasn't just a win. It was proof.

Barnie Maddox wouldn't notice yet. He was too busy building glass towers, measuring success by stock prices and square footage.

But when Barnie finally did notice?

Lex would already be at the top, making the board his.