The descent into Tokyo was smooth, the city slowly unfolding beneath the clouds like a neon-lit mosaic.
Pepper and I were seated side by side, accompanied by three bodyguards who had traveled with us from L.A.
We arrived at the hotel not long after. The lobby was sleek and modern, all marble floors and minimalist lighting. Staff greeted us with deep bows and practiced smiles.
"I really love to be rich," I muttered as I stepped inside.
Our luggage and clothes had arrived ahead of us. Inside the room, everything was already in place. My wardrobe was fully stocked with outfits I had pre-approved, and the bathroom shelves were lined with all the grooming products I liked to use. By the bed, my favorite snacks had been neatly arranged like a welcome gift.
It was like walking into a custom-made luxury bubble.
I walked into the bathroom and found the hot tub already filled and steaming, bubbles foaming gently on the surface. Without hesitation, I stripped down and slid in, letting out a satisfied sigh as the heat wrapped around me.
After a good soak and some time to unwind, Pepper and I decided to do some sightseeing. Wherever we went, we drew stares—not because of who we were, but because of the sheer size of my personal security detail. With three towering bodyguards following us everywhere, it was hard to blend in.
---
That evening, we attended the party. Even though the film was technically a low-budget project, Pepper had decided to host the event anyway. Her goal was to build ties with key Japanese figures in film distribution and production.
Normally, people like them wouldn't show up to a party this small. But considering how fast JD was rising—with three films turning into dark horses and holding the contract of the hottest name in music—they came.
After chatting for a while with Sofia Coppola, I managed to slip away and start a conversation with someone else.
"Hey, nice to meet you, Jake Harper," I said, extending my hand.
"Nice to meet you, Scarlett Johansson," she replied with a friendly smile.
She tilted her head slightly, her expression curious. "So... you're the writer? The one who came up with the story?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Though I had a lot of help making it into something film-worthy."
She smiled, then added, "You're younger than I expected."
She leaned in slightly, still intrigued. "How is it to be the screenwriter?"
"This will sound very weird, but I'm not a real writer. I wrote a few things, and two of them got adapted, but it's not what I love to do."
Scarlett blinked, surprised. "Really?" she laughed a little. "So it's like a hobby?"
"A bit less than that," I chuckled.
"Wow, I wasn't expecting that," she said.
"And you? What's it like being an actress?" I asked.
"Tiring," she said. "But I love it very much. It's what I want to do for the rest of my life." Her voice carried an unmistakable passion.
"Incredible. That's why I'm your fan," I said with a smile.
I did like Scarlett's movies—I always thought she was a good actress. And, of course, there was the obvious: she was stunning.
"Oh, really?" she said with a smile, looking a little suspicious. "Which role did you like me in the most?"
"Huh?" I said, caught off guard.
Oh crap, I thought. I only remember Natasha Romanoff and the movies Match Point and The Island. None of which have even been released yet.
"Hmm," I murmured, then looked her straight in the eyes and said seriously, "This one, in Lost in Translation."
She rolled her eyes and laughed.
"Oh, oh, I remember!" I added quickly, snapping my fingers. "There's one with horses!"
"The Horse Whisperer?" she said, laughing. "Do you even know what that movie is about?"
"About horses!" I said with the most conviction I could muster.
Scarlett playfully punched my arm and grinned. "Do you have any shame?"
I ignored her teasing and suddenly lit up. "Wait, I remember another one!" I said, holding up a finger. "Home Alone, with Macaulay Culkin!"
She laughed again and opened her arms dramatically. "I was in Home Alone 3—the one Macaulay Culkin wasn't even in!"
"Oh man, that never happened with me," I said.
Scarlett laughed genuinely this time
"Come on, let's sit over there," I said, nodding toward an empty bench in an isolated corner of the hall. "I've already destroyed your ego and embarrassed myself enough for one night."
She grinned, and together we walked over and took a seat, the party buzzing far from us.
Scarlett looked at me mischievously. "Even though I now know you're not actually my fan, tell me—what do you really enjoy? Since screenwriting isn't high on your list."
"Music and reading. But I think the first one's more interesting to talk about," I said genuinely. "Music became my passion. You told me about being an actress for your life—maybe music would be that for mine."
"So you dream about becoming a famous singer?" she asked, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smile.
"Yes, in the future—yes," I said.
"I'll be rooting for you," she replied warmly.
"Thank you," I said with a grateful smile.
"To be fair, I already sang a famous one," I added, then sang the first lines:
♪Feeling my way through the darkness
Guided by a beating heart
I can't tell where the journey will end
But I know where to start♪
"You're the one who sang Wake Me Up by Marshmello?" Scarlett asked, surprised.
"Cool, right?" I said with a grin.
"Very! I love his songs," she said, then hummed a few lines from Symphony, her voice light and playful.
I joined her, singing along to a few lines. For a moment, it was just the two of us laughing and harmonizing like kids sneaking away from the party.
Then we looked at each other.
And before she could talk, I leaned in and kissed her.
Scarlett and I found a more secluded spot to continue our interaction.
The next day, we went out to explore Tokyo. We walked through the busy streets, pausing at little shops and food stalls, laughing at random things and pointing out quirky ads. Since neither of us is famous, we didn't have to worry about paparazzi.
As we exited one store, she suddenly stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Wait... are those guys following us?"
I turned slightly and spotted two of my bodyguards keeping a discreet distance. "Yeah," I admitted casually. "They're with me."
Scarlett blinked. "You have security? Seriously?"
I shrugged. "Just a precaution."
She shook her head with a playful smile and added, "You are becoming like a puzzle."
After a while, I suggested we go to a karaoke place. Scarlett agreed, and we headed to one of those private karaoke rooms that are pretty common in Tokyo.
When we walked into the room, Scarlett looked around and then glanced at me, a little suspicious.
To be honest, I was a bit surprised too. It gave a different vibe, to say the least. I looked at her and said honestly, "My idea was to sing... and maybe a few kisses."
I took a breath and added, seriously this time, looking her in the eyes, "But if you're even a little bit uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else or end our little dating here."
I kept my gaze steady. "I know, and you might know too, how shit Hollywood can be. I will NEVER be that kind of person."
She laughed, defusing the awkward tension a bit. Then, still smiling, she reached for the door and gently closed it. The bodyguards stayed outside.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I know you don't have bad intentions," she said smirking.
"Hey, somehow I feel insulted," I said, feigning indignance. "But how could you possibly know? We barely know each other for a day..."
"Woman intuition," Scarlett said.
"Now you are BS me," I replied.
"But you should always be cautious," I added.
Because I am, I thought. There's a little camera and a recorder here. Only Pepper has access (I talked to her before). Scarlett seems like a nice person, but you never know where a bad idea might come from (I saw some wrongful accusation in this and in my past life)
"Okay, you bad wolf. I'll sit two spaces away from you," she said, laughing.
"What are we gonna sing?" I asked, then smiled. "Ladies first."
Scarlett grabbed the remote and the microphone. She scrolled through the TV menu, then looked at me with a grin. "I will sing this," she said, showing "Burn" by Marshmello featuring Ellie Goulding.
She started singing, ♪Cause we got the fire, and we're burning one hell of a something...♪
She is surprisingly good. I had heard her humming and singing to herself yesterday, but seeing her perform like this—she's good.
When she finished, I clapped. "Now it's your turn," Scarlett said, handing me the microphone.
"Which Marshmello song do you want me to sing?" I asked.
"Friendzone," she said, smiling.
I gasped but queued up the song. On the screen, the video started playing—with Regina featured in the opening shot—and the lyrics appeared in big subtitles. I hit play and started singing, turning toward Scarlett as I did (I didn't need the subtitles help).
When I finished, Scarlett clapped and said, "You really are a good singer." Then she added with a laugh, "And a Marshmello fan. You just danced exactly like him."
I turned back to the monitor, which was already blank, and then looked at her. "Totally! I sang with him, he's a nice guy!"
Scarlett didn't seem suspicious at all and asked, "By any chance, did you actually find out his real identity?"
"Unfortunately not," I said, unfazed. "He used a voice modifier to talk. And even if I knew, I signed way too many NDA clauses." I lied without shame.
"Too bad," she said.
I sat down next to Scarlett and kissed her. We stayed like that for a while.
After a moment, I said, "After singing that song, obviously I had to kiss you."
She smiled and said, "The term got really popular, didn't it? Friendzone. Isn't it amazing? How a singer could create a term like that."
"Yea," I agreed.
I don't know if I'm proud of that idea.
Scarlett sang "Outside" this time, then gave me the mic again.
"How about I sing one of my originals?" I asked.
"Do it!" she said, excited.
I got up and walked out for a second, returning with a backpack I had left with one of the bodyguards. I pulled out a DVD, placed it in the karaoke machine, and said, "I already recorded the instrumental part."
I pressed play, and the music started. Then I began to sing:
What Do You Mean? (Justin Bieber)
♪What do you mean? Oh, oh
When you nod your head yes, but you wanna say no
What do you mean? Hey, yeah
When you don't want me to move, but you tell me to go
What do you mean?♪
♪Oh, what do you mean?
Said you're running outta time, what do you mean?
Oh, oh, oh, what do you mean?
Better make up your mind, what do you mean?♪
Scarlett clapped when I finished singing.
Biba guy, don't worry, I'll let you keep the Baby song.
She said smiling, "You could put me in the video when you release that song."
Remembering how the video for What Do You Mean? looked, I turned to her and said, "You bet!"
We sang a few more songs and then went back to making out. We both knew this was just a summer fling, with no feelings attached (she is living who knows where because of her movie work). So we simply enjoyed the moment.
After a few days in Japan, I returned to Malibu. The jet lag was hitting, but home was home.
When I walked into the house, I found Alan and Charlie sitting at the kitchen table, both with mugs in hand.
"Hey," I said, tossing my backpack near the chair.
"Look who's back," Charlie said, raising his mug.
Alan smiled and added, "The trip must've been good. You're all smiley."
Charlie narrowed his eyes, staring at me for a second, then smirked. "He hooked up!" he declared.
I opened a wide smile and said, "You bet I did. She was amazing."
---
The next day, school started. Carly, Freddie, Sam, Regina, Cher, and I met at the cafeteria early in the morning. We had agreed to have breakfast together before classes began. The place was still relatively quiet, the usual school buzz not yet in full swing. We grabbed a big table.
"We are now sophomores!" said Carly, excited.
But four people at the table—Cher, Sam, Regina, and I—had their heads down on the table, not sharing the same enthusiasm.
Cher, Regina, and I said in unison, "We miss Laura."
Laura was a good friend
Sam, still groggy, mumbled, "I'm just sleepy..." but then quickly added, noticing the looks from the rest of us, "...and I miss Laura too."
The four of us returned to resting our heads on the table.
A girl walked past, and I instinctively turned to look, my gaze following her walking in front of us. "Over here, Pippa," someone called out to her.
Suddenly, I felt a smack to the back of my head.
"You are—" started Cher.
"Unbelievable," Regina finished in a mock voice.
"I was just looking," I defended. "There are these new girls from other schools."
"Yeah right," everyone said at once, followed by laughter.
Cher added, "There was some kind of murder involving a couple at a school nearby. And some students were relocated here."
Regina nodded. "Yes. I heard we're getting like four or five extra students in each class."
"Isn't that a little dumb to do that?" said Freddie.
"Our government was never known for brilliant ideas..." I replied.
The bell rang.
"Let's go to class," said Carly.
We all stood up, grabbing our things and waving goodbye to Cher and Regina, who still had different classrooms from ours.
---
When we entered the classroom, I immediately noticed four new faces—three girls and one boy.
"Let's say hello to them," I told Freddie.
"Nah, I'm good," he replied, still half-asleep.
So I went on my own.
"Hello, Jake Harper," I said, offering a smile.
The four of them responded in turn: "Pippa Fitz-Amobi, Cara Ward, Lauren Gibson, and Ravi Singh."
"Nice," I said, nodding. "If you need anything..." I continued, then pointed toward our group, "...just ask that girl. Her name is Carly. She's a good person and can help you out."
A couple of girls nearby chuckled quietly at my shameless redirection.
I smiled and then walked back to rejoin the group.
Carly narrowed her eyes and asked, "Why did you point at me?"
"I said if they need any help, to contact you," I replied.
"Why didn't you say to contact you?"
I gave her a weird look. "Noo. That would be too troublesome."
Carly started to slap me—playfully, but repeatedly—making several people around us laugh.
---
Anne approached the group (that she was already friends of) and smiled. "So, you met our Prince" she said, noticing Jake had already introduced himself to the four newcomers
"Prince?" Cara raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, but don't call him that. He doesn't like it much," Anne replied.
"Understandable. It's kinda cringe," said Pippa, wincing slightly.
"So, who's the handsome guy?" Lauren asked, curious.
"Jake? He's the most popular guy in our school. Nice and funny. I talked to him a bit, and he's really easygoing," Anne said. "Let's see… Oh, and he's insanely smart. He's two years younger than us but still got first place last year."
"He doesn't look like the nerdy type," Cara commented.
"Not even close. He sleeps in class. Sometimes he skips entirely," Anne added.
Pippa made a disapproving face.
"Oh, and he's filthy rich. I went to his birthday party and the end-of-year one too. Both were insane. But the one at Santa Monica looked like something out of a movie."
"He has two houses?" Pippa asked.
"His parents are divorced, I think."
"And his parties are incredible. You do not want to be on his bad side, or you'll miss the most wanted party in the 10th grade. Even some upperclassmen try to get in."
"And speaking of parties, Carly, Cher, and Regina throw some too," Anne added. "But Jake's is the best one. Carly's are a little childish, and Cher and Regina's are… a bit too focused on themselves."
"So, rich, intelligent, and handsome?" Lauren smirked.
"He must have some flaw," Ravi muttered.
"Well… he's kind of a playboy. He fooled around a lot last year," Anne admitted. "But this year he was kinda dating this gorgeous actress. She transferred to our class at the start of the year, but left in August. I heard she got a role in some TV show."
"Wow," Ravi said under his breath.
"A total bastard?" Lauren asked.
"Not exactly. More like… the type who'll kiss you, but you know not to expect much else. He doesn't lie to girls or date more than one at a time. So if you go out with him, you already know it's just casual."
"So a gentleman bastard?" Pippa said, giggling.
"You could say that," Anne laughed with them.
"But seriously, don't talk bad about him," she warned, especially looking at Ravi. "He's friends with the football team and a bunch of other guys. I heard some people got beat up for badmouthing him."
Cara glanced in Jake's direction and murmured, "I wouldn't mind a kiss or two…"
The girls burst into giggles. Ravi just scoffed and shook his head.
Just as the murmurs and side conversations began to fade, the classroom door swung open and Ms. Ackerman stepped in, carrying a clipboard and her usual warm smile.
"Good morning, everyone," she said as she walked to the front. "I hope you all had a restful summer. Now, let's get started. As you can see, we have a few new students joining us this semester."
The class straightened up slightly.
She glanced at her clipboard. "Pippa Fitz-Amobi, Cara Ward, Lauren Gibson, and Ravi Singh—you'll be assigned new seats. We've made a few changes to the arrangement to accommodate everyone."
There were a few groans and sighs as students realized their usual spots might be disrupted.
Ms. Ackerman began calling names from her clipboard.
"Harper and Puckett, you'll be in the last row. Shay and Benson, up front in the first row. Fitz-Amobi, you'll take the seat next to Harper. Ward, next to Shay. Gibson, third row by the window. Singh, near the window seat."
Sam and I bumped fists.
"We got last row," Sam said, grinning. Then she looked at Pippa. "What did you do wrong, pretty girl, to get stuck in the last row? I thought you'd be more like the nerdy type," she added, glancing toward Freddie and Carly.
Pippa looked surprised. "I did nothing wrong," she whispered, looking at Sam.
"Oh, don't be shy," I said, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder and giving Pippa a grin. "Come to the dark side."
Sam reached into her backpack and added with a smirk, "We have cookies."
She passed one to me and then one to Pippa. Pippa hesitated at first, but I nudged her with a smile. "Eat it, it's delicious. And believe me, Sam doesn't usually share her snacks."
Pippa ended up taking a bite, seeing how casually Sam and I ate ours without a hint of concern.
"Ms. Fitz-Amobi," said the teacher with a neutral tone. "We don't eat in class. Please don't join the two troublemakers."
Pippa coughed and said a little embarrassed, "I'm sorry."
I finished chewing and swallowed. "My God, Sam, you made so much trouble that now you're counting as two."
"She was talking about you too, you idiot," said Sam, making everyone laugh again.
---
Few days after, I was having afternoon coffee with Uncle Charlie in the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee and toasted bread filled the air.
Alan walked into the kitchen, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "Hey, how do I look?"
"Hmm, Dad, just because it's expensive doesn't mean it's stylish..." I said
"Forget it, Jake. That preppy style of his isn't going anywhere," said Charlie.
Alan glared at the two of us. "I'm really nervous here," he said. "I have a date tonight."
"You look fine, Dad. That's your best version," I said reassuringly.
"Which isn't saying much, considering the other versions," Charlie murmured.
Alan glared again at Charlie, not amused.
"You're fine," Charlie said, lifting his coffee mug. "Look, just don't turn this into a bigger deal than it needs to be. You met a woman, you asked her out—"
"Technically, she asked me out," Alan interjected.
"See, I was in the market," Alan continued. "And she needed advice on picking out corn. There were no employees around. There never are. Even if they are, they're not knowledgeable about produce."
"Thank God you were there," Charlie said dryly.
"Tell me about it," Alan nodded.
"I explained that you have to husk a few ears... to check the firmness of the kernels. Next thing you know, she asked me out."
Charlie and I exchanged a look.
"Dad, there are probably four kinds of women that would ask you out after that interaction," I said, raising my fingers to count. "She has the urge, she's a gold digger, she wants a green card, or she's crazy."
"Listen to your son, Alan," Charlie added. "Just hope it's the first one. Because if it's one of the other three, we'll have to kick her ass... and yours too."
"And Dad, boost your self-esteem," I added. "You're rich now. You have a nice house, nice cars, and your son is almost pooping money. Just don't screw it up with some random woman you met at the supermarket.
If you want to do something stupid—like marriage—with a supermarket woman, at least find one with the last name Walton." (owner of Walmart)
Alan took a deep breath. "Okay, you're right." he said, then murmured, " I'm a good catch now... a great catch." and he seemed to calm down a bit. "I can do it," he said quietly, then turned to look at me and Charlie. "Thank you." And with that, he walked out.
I turned slowly. "Does it work?" I asked, thoughtfully.
Charlie rubbed his chin. "I don't know. But miracles can happen."
---
Alan had two intense days of 'activity' with the woman.
Now, the three of us—Alan, Charlie, and I—were sitting at the kitchen table again. Alan looked simultaneously smug, exhausted, and conflicted, sipping from a tall glass of orange juice as if it were a recovery potion.
He murmured, "I can't believe she was married."
Charlie glared at Alan, then gave him a few pats on the back. "At least it was the first option."
"Well, Dad, it seems we don't need to kick your ass..." I said.
Charlie murmured, "We didn't even need to. She did that a lot..."
Alan and I looked at Charlie.
"Thanks God I had that soundproofing installed in my room," I said. "I expected it to be useful for some of Uncle Charlie's louder guests... who would've thought I'd use it because of Dad."
Now both of them turned to glare at me.
It was September 16th, just five days after the attack that had shaken the entire world. The atmosphere everywhere was still heavy. And yet, life kept moving.
We were having a secret meeting at Pepper's house—me, Pepper, Anthony, and Harvey Spencer.
I looked at Anthony and said, "Anthony, you can start with our financial breakdown of JD Company."
He nodded and started to speak. "We have a total of 720 million in own cash and investments, composed of 300 million in cash and 420 million in stocks.
These 720 million already account for the profits from the movies Paranormal Activity, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and part of Brokeback Mountain. The films contributed 320 million, while the other 400 million came from the initial cash and the insane profitability generated by it and the movies once the money started coming in."
Yeah, it is like printing money. We profited a lot from the movies, and we reinvested that profit into stocks, generating even more money.
Anthony continued, " This doesn't include the money from our short position in Enron. We currently hold 20 million Enron shares short, with an average price of 70 dollars, 2,5% of Enron's total shares. At current prices (32.76), closing the position would cost us around 660 million dollars—meaning we're sitting on a profit of 740 million dollars before taxes."
We used leverage at the start, so that explains the amazing profit.
"Why do we even make movies..." Pepper murmured, having a little existential crisis
"Keep increasing the short position, Anthony. We're not done yet," I said
Anthony added, "That's not even counting what's still coming from Brokeback Mountain, plus Lost in Translation just launched, and we still have Annabelle and The Conjuring lined up. And 1.46 billion is just own cash, investments and profit (short position). If you count all the assets, there are also properties, film materials, intangible assets, and more "
I grinned. "The United States Mint would be jealous of us."
Pepper completed, "We also have our music division through the subsidiary—Marshmello being our biggest asset there."
I leaned forward. "Let's get to what matters. Anthony, how much do we have available to invest?"
He replied, "For now, without closing the short position or selling our stocks, we have 1.7 billion in cash available. But we need around 660 million dollars to close the short position."
(300 own cash + 1400 short position, 1700 total cash)
I nodded. "The stock market has been closed for a week. Even with the FED's cash injection, chances are we'll see a bloodbath in the coming days.
We'll focus on three key investments. First and most important: Amazon. Their market cap is already at 3.1 billion, and it'll probably slide further. Anthony, prepare to buy at the end of the month. Our target is 30% of the company, with an average market cap of 2.5 billion—meaning a total investment of 750 million dollars."
I continued, "Second on the list is the Chinese company NetEase. It's likely to be delisted from NASDAQ due to allegations that some of its executives were involved in fraudulent earnings disclosures. Right now, they're worth practically nothing. I'd consider a takeover bid if they weren't a Chinese company. Try to acquire 40%—somewhere between 30 to 40 million should be enough."
"And finally, I want a takeover bid for Hansen's Natural. They're not worth much—their market cap is 40 million right now. Try to make a deal before we have to go hostile."
I rationalized, "Hansen's Natural is a manufacturer of sodas and juices, but what really interests me is their energy drink division. It's the perfect match with Marshmello. We could launch an energy drink brand at Tomorrowland and break into that market."
Hansen was the former name of Monster Beverage Corporation. They haven't even launched Monster yet. I can use that. If they don't sell to us... better register the name now.
I could finally take the first step toward one of my biggest goals: owning 30% of Amazon. The year 2002 is going to be brutal for the stock market—S&P 500 tumbling, countless companies losing their value. That's when Apple's market cap will sit at just 4.5 billion, and Nvidia at 1.4 billion.
Good time to strike. I'll take a solid bite out of both.
Anthony leaned forward. "I have a suggestion. We don't want everyone knowing that JD Company owns these stakes. And from what you said, Jake, it sounds like Amazon is going to be a long-term position. We can structure a fund, 100% owned by JD Company—maybe even place it in a tax haven."
Pepper looked up, "So we would only need to disclose that, for example, the Jacob Fund acquired 30% of the shares, without linking it to JD by name?"
Harvey replied, "It can be done legally."
"Let's do it," I said. "But really, we're using my name again?" I asked, looking at Pepper.
"Yes, let's keep the standard," she replied, unfazed.
Aye, I thought. Now we have JD Company, Harper Fund, and Jacob Fund. There is still David (I have the D. in my middle name, maybe that is why I'm the protagonist)
We kept talking for a little while longer, reviewing timelines, documents, and potential partners. Eventually, Anthony and Harvey stood up, grabbing their folders.
"I'll get the paperwork in motion," Anthony said.
"Keep me in the loop," Harvey added.
After a few quick goodbyes, they left, and only Pepper and I remained in the room.
I was sitting, sending a message on my phone when Pepper stood up and gently wrapped her arms around my head. I looked up at her, a little confused.
"Are you okay?" she asked, a little concerned.
"Yes. Nothing to think about it," I said simply.
I decided to talk to Pepper about the terrorist attack. I had never seen her so pale. After thinking for a long while, she came to the same conclusion I did—it's way out of our league.
And what I said to Pepper was totally correct. I don't feel any guilt. The blame is on the terrorists.