The Hawking’s

….

Christopher's eyebrows arched, clearly intrigued. "That's high praise, Kiara."

"...."

For a moment, the room fell into a reflective silence.

The person Christopher had initially dismissed as inconsequential had managed to earn such glowing remarks from someone as discerning as Kiara.

That was no small feat.

Finally, Christopher's face changed, replacing his earlier skepticism.

"So let me get this straight. Keanu, Andrew, Grace…" He muttered, almost to himself. "A rookie with no prior acting history, an indie regular with no standout work, and an underrated and underutilized actress. And somehow, they all delivered remarkable performances?"

Anne nodded. "That's right."

"And it was a debutant director who managed to bring forth such talent together and turned a film better than the script we received?" Christopher pressed.

Anne nodded firmly. "I know it sounds unlikely, but that's exactly what happened."

Christopher's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. "So, Stephen also liked it, and I take it he is planning to recommend it to his grandfather?"

"I am positive. He looked pretty excited about it." Anne replied, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"…then we might not have much time." Christopher's voice dropped.

He had invited Stephen to the screening for a very specific reason - to gauge its quality by himself and maybe help give the film a chance.

If not at least get the film released, whether that meant through film festivals or direct-to-DVD.

There were no ulterior motives.

He genuinely wanted to help - but it is also true he didn't take them completely seriously either or use his full connections.

It was just that he hadn't believed the film would be any good or this good.

Yes, Christopher read the script.

The deal was simple - if Grace was involved, Christopher had to read it.

When she expressed interest in working on the project, he insisted on seeing what she was signing up for.

The script was good, no doubt.

Grace had plenty of opportunities to shine, which was a rarity in such projects. That alone had made it stand out.

But potential on paper rarely translated to reality, especially when helmed by someone so young and inexperienced.

Even Grace's enthusiastic praise for the director hadn't swayed him.

Sure, the kid had talent, his script writing showed promise, even if it might still turn out to be a fluke.

But directing? His first film? That was a different beast entirely.

Yet here he was, hearing Kaira, someone whose judgment he trusted, deliver glowing reviews.

It was enough to make him pause.

Perhaps he had underestimated them, especially Regal.

Now, the prospect of the film being picked up by distributors seemed real - if the right person saw it first.

If Stephen was impressed enough to involve his grandfather, the film might find itself in the hands of someone who could turn it into a serious contender.

That possibility was more than good news, it was a lifeline, especially since one of their own clients had a part in the project.

But there wasn't a moment to spare. The industry moved fast, and the risk of losing talent to competitors was very real.

"Tell me everything." Christopher said, his voice steady but urgent.

Anne wasted no time, flipping through the papers and rattling off the specifics.

The key players, the actors, the strategy.

She was quick, and Christopher listened intently, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, as the details were being told.

….

[Next Day, Evening - Hawking's Residency]

"Sir, Jr. Sir wishes to meet you. He is waiting in the lounge area." - a man in a professional suit announced, his voice crisp and formal.

Stephen Hawking Sr., the one in power, didn't lift his eyes from the book in his lap, his face etched with age but still stern.

….that brat's here? What does he need from me? - he wondered.

But added. "Let him in." - his voice is rough due to old age.

"As you wish." - the man replied before leaving the room.

A moment later, Stephen, or more accurately, Stephen Jr., walked into the room - he was the same one who just yesterday attended the private screening of [Following].

Yet, Stephen Sr. didn't acknowledge him, continuing to turn the pages of his book, his attention fully on the words.

Stephen Jr., unbothered, crossed the room and sat on the couch.

Minutes ticked by in silence, the only sound in the room the faint rustle of pages as Stephen. Sr. turned them.

….

Stephen Hawking.

Or, Stephen Hawking. Senior - since there is another one with his name now.

Nevertheless, the name echoes through Hollywood, a legacy that refuses to fade.

He made his first mark at twenty, landing a debut lead role in indie cinema back in 1960, which is still one of the most iconic indie films to date.

However, nobody guessed that was just the start.

From there, he built a career that changed the face of acting.

With every role and film, Stephen pushed boundaries, constantly redefining what it meant to perform.

But like all stories, this came to a close.

A decade ago, he retired from Hollywood, leaving behind the glitz and the noise.

No regrets. He had no desire for the spotlight anymore.

Yet, he couldn't fully disconnect from the world of film.

The passion for cinema never left him.

Even after retiring, he kept up with the latest releases, always curious, always watching.

But recently, something has changed.

He wasn't looking to return as an actor - not unless something truly exceptional came his way.

But producing, helping new talent?

That idea had started to grow on him.

He had been reading indie scripts from people he trusted, but each one left him disappointed.

None of it felt worthy of his name, of the legacy he had worked so hard to build.

He wasn't going to settle for mediocrity.

Stephen had always been a man of principle, especially when it came to his craft.

His reputation meant everything to him, and he protected it fiercely.

But now, as he sat across from his grandson, Stephen realized that maybe his principles were part of the problem.

Stephen Hawking Jr.

Same name, but a strained connection.

A gulf between them, filled with silence and unspoken resentment.

If he were honest, Stephen knew the fault wasn't entirely his grandson's.

It ran deeper - the distance between them started with his own failures as a father.

And now, his grandson was paying the price for that neglect.

Naming him after himself had been his way of seeking redemption, a quiet attempt to make things right.

He had thought, perhaps naively, that the name might serve as a bridge, something tangible to connect what had been fractured, to mend wounds that had long festered unseen.

But it didn't work that way - a name couldn't fix years of neglect.

Now, their bond was too fragile to be saved by a title.

What could he say? What could he do to fix it?

….

After what felt like an eternity, though it was likely no more than five minutes, Stephen Sr. finally broke the silence.

He asked. "So, what do you want? It must be important if you have come all the way here." - still not lifting his head.

His voice was calm but carried an edge, the kind of sharpness that demanded an answer without delay.

…well, I guess that's enough for permission. Stephen Jr. thought.

So, instead of replying, he rose from his chair and walked over to the home theater system. He powered it on and retrieved the hard disk from the envelope he had been carrying.

Stephen Sr. didn't comment on his grandson's behavior as he watched him open an envelope, and inside it was a film tape and ….a letter that seemed -

A contract? He wondered but still maintained his silence - it wasn't the first time they experienced these kinds of moments.

In fact, that is how they converse typically - and that is by actions rather than explaining personally.

So he simply waited for whatever that was to come.

On the other hand, Stephen Jr. put away the contract without the least bit of formality it deserved or he cared to give it.

It is Hollywood, and nothing ever proceeded without some form of documentation - that is what the piece of paper reminds him of.

But apparently the contract is called - Film Content Viewing Agreement.

It was signed between him and Keanu, who is representing Regal - when Stephen Jr. requested a few clips of the movie, a trailer.

Keanu didn't decline but immediately put Regal on the line.

Regal, however, paused briefly before agreeing. 'If this helps the movie' - he said plainly - 'then I am fine with it'.

And just when he thought it was proceeding smoothly, Anne, being her meticulous self, wasn't satisfied with how things unfolded.

Watching Keanu hand over the recorder so casually, without securing any formal assurances - though she tried to temper it with the knowledge that he was still relatively new to the industry.

Perhaps he genuinely didn't know better.

Still, she expected Regal, despite his limited experience as an author, would be more thorough - and she didn't even wish to entertain the possibility that Regal might also be unaware of such formalities… that is impossible.

And rightly so, because Regal did, in fact, know the procedures.

So she simply waited on the sideline, expecting Regal to include some reference to the contract in the accompanying message.

But no such mention was made.

For a moment, she was taken aback - then, she remembered again.

Regal was, after all, the same man who had agreed to Grace's verbal commitment to the movie, despite her delaying the signing of any official paperwork.

In hindsight, Anne realized that expecting more from the men involved in this project might have been overly optimistic.

Still, she had ensured the handoff was handled with a modicum of professionalism, though it earned her a few quips from Stephen Jr., who labeled her a 'party pooper' and threw in a few other remarks for good measure.

Meanwhile, Stephen Jr. had finished setting up the system to play the short video.

He had deliberately chosen this trailer instead of presenting the entire film.

Stephen Jr. turned around, his eyes darting curiously to his grandfather still seated in his chair, his expression unreadable, a perfect poker face.

Stephen Jr. could feel the sweat starting to bead on his forehead.

The reason was simple - this brief clip was enough.

For Stephen Sr., it wasn't necessary to show more.

Anyone else might need the full film, but not for him.

.

….

[To be continued…]

★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★

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