Even after the end credits finished rolling, everyone in the room remained immersed in the two-hour visual spectacle they had just experienced.
This was the first internal screening of the finished 'Batman', officially titled 'Batman Begins'. Top executives from Warner Bros. Pictures and Daenerys Entertainment were all present; even Steve Ross had flown in from the East Coast.
After the unexpected post-credits scene, the lights came up and Steve Ross, seated next to Simon, began to applaud.
Under the bright lights, the audience, still wearing expressions of admiration, aftertaste, surprise, and awe, joined in. No one was merely trying to flatter Simon; the more you know about film, the clearer it was how groundbreaking this superhero movie was. Many of its dazzling details had never appeared in a Hollywood film before.
The last time anyone felt this level of awe was probably George Lucas's Star Wars.
Everyone was thinking the same thing: Simon Westeros's 'Batman Begins' would surely become the template Hollywood action films would emulate for years.
Beyond the technical marvels, the plot flowed effortlessly.
Simon's final cut ran 138 minutes.
Before the screening, some had felt that length needed trimming; afterward, no one thought so.
From the opening prologue, the tightly structured story never let go of the audience's attention. When the credits rolled, most people simply wanted more. The post credit scene perfectly teased a sequel.
When the applause died down, Steve Ross said to Simon, "I think we should start on the sequel right now".
Simon replied, "Actually, we've been planning it since the first film was green-lit".
Steve Ross, recalling the post-credits teaser, laughed: "I can't wait to see part two".
While they talked, the staff showed several key-art posters. After brief discussion, the group left the screening room.
It was almost noon.
That afternoon the two companies' marketing teams would meet about 'Batman Begins' rollout. Simon had other business and wouldn't attend. After briefing Robert Rehme, he walked with Steve Ross toward the studio parking lot.
Because it was a workday, passers-by nodded greetings to the two moguls.
Amid small talk, Ross said, "By the way, Simon, congratulations again on becoming the richest man in the country".
He'd called the previous Saturday, the day Forbes hit newsstands.
Simon merely nodded. "Thanks".
Ross asked, "So, what are you going to do next?"
"Next, I plan to take a year off, step back, watch from the sidelines, sort some things out, learn a few new things".
Ross blinked; he'd meant to steer the conversation elsewhere, but quickly agreed. "That's smart. You've achieved more than most people ever will. Time to pause and think".
Simon gave a wry smile. "Easier said than done. Letting go isn't simple".
Leaving aside everything else, the ten-picture slate he'd just launched would demand constant oversight, plus plenty of other projects slated for the coming year.
Janette had warned him he might not be able to let go; she was right.
Ross chuckled and nodded. "You're still young; you'll find a way. And if you want to keep expanding, you have to delegate, no one can do everything."
Simon nodded thoughtfully. "How are things on your side?"
Ross knew what he meant. "Paramount's attempt to prove that Time Inc. changed the Warner deal in order to fend off their bid was rejected. Unless they bring new evidence, the case wraps at month's end".
The lawsuit among Paramount Communications, Time Inc., and Warner had started with Paramount claiming Time was actually the acquiree in the Time-Warner merger. If Delaware Chancery Court agreed, Paramount could bid for Time.
But the evidence was too thin and the claim was denied.
Recently Paramount had submitted new evidence arguing the revised deal was designed to block their offer.
Everyone knew it was true, yet in court Paramount could hardly prove it; Time and Warner executives would never admit their strategy was defensive.
Without an admission, and no smoking-gun documents, Paramount was doomed to lose once Time and Warner offered a few plausible pretexts.
They reached the parking lot and drove to a nearby restaurant for lunch.
At one o'clock, as they left the restaurant, flashbulbs popped.
Ever since Simon became the nation's richest man, and the absurd "psychic seminar" fraud broke, paparazzi had begun tailing him, documenting the new billionaire's routine.
"Simon, think it over. Any field Warner's in, we can partner".
"I will, Steve".
They parted. In the car Simon weighed Ross's offer of deeper cooperation.
Beyond DC, many Warner assets intrigued him, its cable systems and, still held by Time, HBO.
Hollywood's future lay with integrated media giants; without a TV network, Daenerys Entertainment would struggle. Simon had already begun weighing entry into television.
Yet Warner wasn't necessarily the best partner for now.
That afternoon he had a casting session for 'Sleeping With The Enemy' at Fox Studios in Century City, Beverly Hills. En route, his mobile phone rang.
Jennifer called from Santa Monica; Christopher Skase, chairman of the Australian Qintex Group, had reached out hoping to invite Simon to dinner.
Simon had heard about the Australian outfit trying to buy MGM, but his memory held few details. When he mentioned it to Janette, the next day she told him to ignore it and sent over a file.
Qintex Group, headquartered in Brisbane, Australia, is a diversified private-equity firm much like Westeros Company, dabbling in media, hotels, retail, tourism, everything.
Janette's dossier showed Qintex had expanded so fast its debt load had turned lethal; the slightest hiccup could sink it. A billion dollars for MGM simply wasn't on the table.
Chairman Christopher Skase's game was to rope in clueless partners and pull off a leveraged paper trick. Janette relayed her father's verdict: within a few years the man would likely be in prison for defaulting on loans and cutting too many regulatory corners.
Simon phoned Jennifer to decline the invitation, then stepped out of the car at Fox Studios' lot and headed for the admin building when a woman's voice called behind him: "Simon".
He turned, and the first thing that caught his eye were four legs wrapped in white jeans, so long it was almost criminal.
Two women: Jerry Hall, whom he'd met at the Columbia Pictures party, and beside her, Ella Macpherson, one of North America's top supermodels, nicknamed "The Body" for obvious reasons.
They strolled up, catching the trail of his gaze, both smiling.
Simon didn't bother to hide it. He offered Jerry his hand. "You two really shouldn't wander the streets, men will be walking into lamp-posts".
"So domineering, Simon. Worried you'll crash, so you ban us from the sidewalk?" Jerry shook his hand, laughing. "This is Ella Macpherson".
"Hello, Miss Macpherson".
"Good afternoon, Mr. Westeros. Pleased to meet you".
Ella answered, a little shy, studying him curiously.
Simon shook her hand, then asked Jerry, "What brings you here?"
"Auditioning for a tiny part. Ran into Ella doing the same".
"Finished?"
"Just now. Off to shop and see if anyone bumps into a pole".
"Women might, too".
Jerry chuckled. "What about you, Simon?"
"Same thing, audition".
"Except you're the one doing the picking".
"You're already gorgeous and smart; I'll spare you the extra flattery".
"Stop, another compliment from Simon Westeros and I'll faint".
After a little banter Simon glanced at his watch. "Let's catch up another time".
Jerry hesitated. "When will you be free?"
"Too much on my plate, I wouldn't finish even if I skipped sleep".
"Then sneak off for coffee later?"
"Can't do it. Too many paparazzi tailing me; a photo would be messy".
"It's only coffee, not a date".
"The tabloids won't see it that way".
Jerry didn't press him; she merely nodded, disappointed.
Simon turned to leave when Ella, silent till now, spoke up. "Mr. Westeros, could we watch you audition?"
He paused, sizing her up. "Tell you what, Saturday night there's a party in Coldwater Canyon, hosted by WMA president Jonathan Friedman. Come along. Are you signed with an agency?"
"Just signed, WMA, actually".
Jonathan was clearly copying ICM's push into fashion. Simon nodded. "Perfect. If you're free, I'll call Jonathan and have two invites waiting".
"It's a deal", Ella said, fishing a card from her bag. "My contact details, Mr. Westeros".
Simon pocketed the card, nodded goodbye, and headed for the admin building.
The autumn fashion circuit had begun; Milan Fashion Week opened 22 September, Gucci's 1990 spring/summer show set for the twenty-third. Simon and Janette planned to fly to Europe on the twentieth, the start of his vacation.
Today was Wednesday, 13 September, just one more week to go.
He'd meant to rest once 'Batman Begins' wrapped, but reality refused to allow it.
'Pretty Woman' had finished shooting and entered post; 'Ghost' and 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' were still filming, he couldn't just ignore them. Highgate's prestige project for next year, 'Short Cuts', also needed his touch.
Of the ten-picture slate, 'Sleeping With The Enemy', 'The Hand That Rocks The Cradle', 'Misery' and 'A League Of Their Own' were locked for next year and all required his steering. Add October's North-American bond-market play and "vacation" became a pipe dream.
And that was after he'd handed off all of Daenerys Television responsibilities.
September had brought the premieres of Daenerys Television's four reality heavyweights; 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?', 'Survivor', 'Big Brother' and 'The Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills', plus six scripted series, all now on Robert Iger's desk.
The four reality shows had laid solid groundwork last year; as long as Iger didn't meddle wildly, he couldn't ruin them.
Simon trusted Iger completely.
Scripted shows were another matter entirely, Simon had no bandwidth left. He hoped Iger might spring a surprise, but expectations were modest.
Simon drifted on, busy amid the headlines crowning him the nation's richest man, looking forward to Europe in late September. Yet the new week had barely begun when Daenerys Entertainment's latest clash, this time with Whitney Houston's label, Arista Records, blazed across the media again.