Crown Of Dreams

# Chapter 10: The Morning America Never Saw

*November 18, 1992 - ABC Studios, Times Square, New York City*

*7:15 AM EST*

"So, Jake Morris..." Charlie Gibson leaned forward with that patented mix of avuncular charm and journalistic steel. "You've become the talk of Hollywood. One minute you're fashion's golden boy who supposedly couldn't act, the next you're being called Disney's new secret weapon. Care to explain that transformation?"

The studio lights burned against Jake's perfect features while Times Square's neon carnival pulsed through the windows behind them. On the production floor, Harvey Weinstein's people scribbled notes like accountants at an audit. But Jake's attention was drawn to the bank of monitors showing Wall Street's opening bell - Crown Studios' stock climbing higher with every tick.

"You know, Charlie," Jake settled into his chair with the same grace that had launched a thousand magazine covers, "sometimes life's greatest performances come from our deepest struggles. A year ago, I was just a model watching my father's dream - Crown Studios - slip away. That has a way of... focusing your priorities."

Joan Lunden jumped in, her perfectly-coiffed helmet of hair catching the studio lights. "But Jake, your early attempts at acting were... well, let's be honest, they were legendary disasters. The Hollywood Reporter called your Three's Company audition 'the theatrical equivalent of the Hindenburg.'"

The crew stifled laughs. Even Robin Williams, waiting in the wings for his segment, mimed an explosion with sound effects that had the cameramen struggling to keep steady.

Jake allowed himself a self-deprecating smile. "You know what they say about hitting rock bottom, Joan - there's nowhere to go but up. And when your father's life's work is on the line..." He let the sentence hang, knowing every network would clip that sound bite.

Through the window behind Charlie Gibson, the Morgan Stanley building loomed like a steel and glass mountain. Inside those walls, traders were already moving millions based on Crown Studios' trajectory. The game wasn't just about Hollywood anymore - it was about Wall Street, about power, about reshaping an entire industry.

"Speaking of your father," Charlie pressed, shuffling his notes with practiced casualness, "sources say Crown Studios was deeply in debt to Miramax. That Harvey Weinstein had essentially set up a hostile takeover. Yet suddenly, you land the Aladdin role, the studio's stock triples, and Disney's talking about a multi-picture partnership. That's quite a reversal of fortune."

The temperature in the studio dropped ten degrees. In his earpiece, Jake could hear the producer's sharp intake of breath. This was the moment Harvey's people had been waiting for.

But before Jake could respond, Robin Williams burst onto the set like a comedy hurricane. "Charlie! Joan! You're looking more caffeinated than usual!" He dropped into the chair next to Jake, immediately launching into an impression of Peter Jennings reporting on Disney animation: "In a shocking turn of events, a street rat has become a prince, leaving economists baffled and real estate developers reconsidering the property value of cave dwellings..."

The studio erupted in laughter. Even Charlie Gibson's journalistic armor cracked. But beneath Robin's manic energy, Jake caught the subtle wink - the comedy legend had just thrown him a perfect lifeline.

"You know what's funny about timing, Charlie?" Jake leaned forward, building on Robin's momentum. "A year ago, I couldn't get an audition for a pet food commercial. Then Robin here takes a chance on me, helps me find my voice - literally - and suddenly everything clicks. Sometimes you just need someone to believe in you."

Robin beamed with genuine pride. "Kid's being modest. I've worked with everyone from De Niro to Pacino, and let me tell you - what Jake brings to Aladdin? That's not just talent, that's alchemy. We're talking lead into box office gold, people!"

The interview shifted into lighter territory - Robin's rapid-fire impressions, Jake's chemistry with Linda Larkin, Disney's revolutionary marketing campaign. But the real story was playing out on the monitors behind them: Crown Studios' stock up another 20%, Miramax's quarterly projections revised downward, entertainment analysts scrambling to explain Hollywood's newest phenomenon.

Through the windows, dawn painted Manhattan's canyons in shades of possibility. Somewhere in those towers, Harvey Weinstein was watching his empire show the first cracks. Michael Eisner was probably already calling his board about fast-tracking the Disney deal. And Wall Street's power players were realizing that the pretty boy they'd dismissed had just changed the whole game.

As Robin launched into a pitch-perfect impression of Donald Trump attempting to buy Agrabah, Jake caught his reflection in the studio monitors. The same face that had graced Vogue and GQ now carried something else - something that made Hollywood's old guard shift uncomfortably in their Aeron chairs. Power. Purpose. And the hint of something more.

The interview wrapped with promises of Aladdin clips and live performances. But the real show was just beginning. By noon, Jake and Robin would hit Live with Regis and Kathie Lee, then The Today Show, then a "spontaneous" appearance at the Times Square Disney Store that would make Entertainment Tonight's evening broadcast.

As Robin and Jake exited the GMA studio, Times Square erupted in a carnival of flash bulbs. The scene played out like a Michael Mann movie - early morning Manhattan light cutting between skyscrapers, street vendors setting up their carts, Wall Street's wolves heading to their trading floors in thousand-dollar suits.

"Kid, you just rewrote the morning show playbook," Robin grinned, signing autographs as they pushed through the crowd. "Charlie Gibson's been grilling celebs since before you were born, but that answer about Crown Studios? Pure poetry. Even Harvey's people looked impressed."

Jake's Nokia buzzed - Michael Eisner again. The Disney chief had been up since 4 AM watching Crown's stock surge. But Jake's attention was drawn to the bank of screens in the Morgan Stanley building's lobby: Madonna's "Erotica" controversy, Michael Jackson's "Dangerous" tour dates, and there, scrolling across the bottom: "Crown Studios Acquisition Rumors Send Market Soaring."

"Mr. Morris!" A Wall Street Journal reporter materialized through the crowd. "Any comment on rumors that Disney's planning a full buyout of Crown? Sources say Michael Eisner's been in emergency board meetings since your Tonight Show appearance."

Before Jake could respond, the black Town Car idled ominously at the curb. He didn't need to look twice to confirm it was Harvey Weinstein inside; the faint silhouette of his broad frame, with that ever-present scowl, was unmistakable. Jake felt the intensity of Harvey's gaze, heavy and suffocating, but he didn't let it distract him.

Instead, Jake turned his attention forward, his sharp eyes scanning the lively crowd just ahead. Fans waved posters, notebooks, and glossy magazines, clamoring for a moment of his time. The sound of their cheers filled the air, drowning out everything else. Their energy was magnetic, and Jake fed off it, his signature grin lighting up his face.

"Jake! Over here!" someone yelled, holding up a hand-drawn portrait of him. He strode toward them, signing with quick precision.

Harvey's car lingered in his periphery, but Jake didn't give it the satisfaction of acknowledgment. He knew better than to be caught up in Weinstein's theatrics. Whatever the man was scheming could wait—Jake had a plan of his own to focus on.

"Thanks for coming out!" he called to the fans, masking the turmoil inside with the polished charisma he'd perfected. The crowd surged closer, and Jake let their enthusiasm envelop him. His path was clear: stick to his game, keep moving forward, and let the future unfold on his terms.

Jack and Robin pushed their way through the bustling crowd, signing autographs and smiling for pictures as fans cheered. It was exhilarating, but Jack's mind was far away. Suddenly, the familiar ping of the system echoed in his head: "Ding! You are to land the lead role in the upcoming Jurassic Park and win the auditions."

His pace slowed, his heart racing as the weight of the message hit him. The lead role in Jurassic Park? He tried to push through it, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he became. "Wait a second," he muttered under his breath. "The lead's supposed to be an older professor or doctor... I can't play that. I'm too young."

Robin continued chatting with the crowd, unaware of Jack's sudden shift. "What's up, Jack? Something on your mind?"

Jack shook his head quickly, trying to mask his frustration. "No, nothing. Just... I've gotta head home, man. It's been a long day."

Robin raised an eyebrow but didn't press him. "Alright, kid. Take it easy. We'll catch up later."

Jack nodded absentmindedly, forcing a smile as he made his way through the crowd, the system's words still echoing in his mind. Figure it out.

He sighed deeply, knowing he'd have to figure out how to approach this. Jurassic Park was a huge opportunity, but how could he land the lead when the role was meant for someone older? He'd need to talk to Spielberg. Maybe he could convince him to add a different character or adjust the script somehow. For now, though, he needed to get home.