“Welcome, welcome!” blasted the hulking studio executive.

Dexter shook hands over the man's elegant desk and golden name plate that read 'R. Thiel IV'. His grip was strong and lengthy. His emerald eyes were hungry and never missed contact with Dexter's own. This executive was an imposing man, a man of action, a man of ambition.

Dexter took a moment to admire the austere office of the mammoth mogul. It was an art deco aesthetic with a hazy glass block window directly behind the desk. The filtered light gleamed softly off of an award cabinet’s extensive menagerie of little gold men. There was space for Dexter to be added next.

“Nice to finally meet you, Richard.” Dexter said.

"Richard is my son, call me Mr. Thiel." he insisted. "Now, sit down, sit down. Please. How are you today Acie?

“Good, you?”

“You have your own studio don’t you? Why come all the way out here?”

“Just moving on to bigger and better things.”

“I’ll say! Hey, you’re the guy with the carry bag man flick, right?”

“Right as Rain.”

“Of course I am, I don’t forget a face. True crime is very popular this year.”

“It’s not true crime, it’s film noir.”

“Capocollo, gobagool.” he quipped.

“What’s it called again?” one of the producers chimed in. I’ll have to have one of my people read the script and write me a summary.”

“You don’t have to have the script paraphrased, it is a completed film. Just watch it.” Dexter said.

“But that’s what we have people for.” was the response.

“I can tell you right now. There’s a low level mobster named Jack.” Dex explains. “He just bides his time taking bigger and bigger jobs until he has enough money in his bag to make a run for it. Then the mob tries to chase him down.”

“An anti-hero! Very trendy.” the other producer exclaimed.

“No, you’re missing the point. It’s a comment on the human condition. The film is about deconstructing the crime genre and glorification of violence. It doen’t matter who is good or evil. That is subjective. He is a person in a dramatic situation.” Dexter argued.

“Jack is most certainly a bad guy. He needs to be punished at the end of the movie. That’s what people expect. But don’t worry, you will understand. You're stepping into a bigger world here. From now on it's champagne and the best golf courses in the country. Have you seen Cottonwoods? The back nine is heaven!”

“I don't play golf. There is nothing wrong with my ending. Jack doesn’t have to answer to God, or karma or audience expectations. It has to be the way it is.”

“I’m not saying it will be changed. The copy of that film is owned by your previous studio. I am hiring you to make more movies, not to change your old ones. Of course, we have some paperwork to get out of the way first." he bandied. 

Richie pulled out a sanguine pen and pushed a packet of papers as thick as Dexter's arm towards him across the desk.

“I assure you this is just a standard boiler plate.” he implored. “Basically, I won’t steal from you if you don’t steal from me.”

Dexter glanced suspiciously into the verdant eyes of his new boss. Confidently, he swiped the pen and scribbled his name as if he just completed a dare.

“Great. Now we can get down to business. Time is money and I can’t afford to waste either. The sooner we get started on a story the better.” He declared.

“I actually have some material already.” Dex tried to interject.

“So,” one of the producers started. “I was thinking of redoing an indie classic like Man Bites Dog or Eraserhead.”

“Yea! Man Bites dog! Found-footage is popular this year.” The other blurted out.

“No, no, no!” Thiel interrupted. “First we introduce him to audiences with a comic book flick. Any superhero will do. Then we can reboot The Carrybag Man for nostalgia, but put someone fashionable in it.”

“I like it. That’s why you’re the boss.” Mike conceded.

“Wait. You said you would leave my film alone. What happened to not stealing?” Dex muttered, taking out a cigarette.

“No, no. You misunderstand. I own the rights to your film. I can do whatever I want with your ideas.” the executive boasted.

“But, why? It is already made. I want to write something original.”

“What? '' exclaimed the producers almost in unison.

“An original story? How will people know to go see it?” chimed in Mr. Thiel. He  flicked the butt out of Dexter's mouth. “Listen Acie. This is a business here and we don't waste time on no-name crap okay? Indie cinema is popular now. So that means we are going to strike that artsy fartsy oil.”

“Your studio is just telling people what they want to hear.” Dex argued.

“What's the problem? It's what they want to hear.” he rebutted.

“I see. I'm sorry, but I think this has all been a mistake.” Dex surrendered.

Mr. Thiel stood out of his seat and the whole room seemed to get hotter as he spoke. The darker, Wilder side of him came up from beneath in a booming almost audible 'You lose!' Even the amiable producers lost their smiles. Dexter desperately wanted them back.

“There's no mistake.” Richie scolded. “You work for us now. You are the big name director people have heard of. We paid good money for that name. Now you're going to do what we say. It's in your contract.”

“Film is a series of compromises.” said the first producer playing good cop, gripping Dexter's shoulders in an uncomfortable massage.

“Yea! If you want 'creative control' write a book!” said the second and threw his clipboard on the floor.

Theil held his hand up to silence them.

“The bottom line is: our bottom line is all that matters. Most audiences can't handle what you call 'art'. It is our job to make it easy for them to understand and to water it down to feed as many people as possible. Sure, in the old days we could spare a few projects here and there, investing in nobodies and discovering diamonds in the rough like Citizen Kane, but times have changed. Money is tight and we can't afford to risk a nine figure budget on something that's not a guarantee.” he lectured, moving to the window.

“Look at the projects in the lot.” he persisted, starting to foam at the mouth. “The special effects budgets are through the roof, every scene has something shiny to look at, and we shoved in the hottest actors on the market. Unsinkable.”

“I have already proven myself with my previous work. I know what I’m doing.” Dexter urged.

“What you want to do might work for some audiences, but we need all the audiences. That's the math talking, indisputable math: the lowest common denominator. We will divide your movie over and over until we are left with the simplest version. The version with the biggest explosions, the biggest names, and the biggest knockers!” Theil commanded.

Dexter was escorted to his new apartment, this time by the arm, where he was put up by the studio so they didn't have to put up with him. Its accommodations were less than bare with exposed pipes in the ceiling and someone else's clothes intruding on a wire through his window. The door closed behind him and he was left completely alone. The setting sun raked across his face through the Venetian blinds.

Dexter sat in contemplative silence. This wasn’t the superstar lifestyle he was hoping for. He stared at the contract he so hastily signed and flipped it face down in disgust. With his face in his hands he summoned the strength to take out a pen and jot down his thoughts on the back.

“To whom this may concern,

I know my decision to go to Hollywood was not a popular one, but it was one made out of necessity. After the terrible experience I had working on Right as Rain, I had few options left. My finances were in ruin, my health was shot, and my relationships in shambles. I took the opportunity here to prove myself only to fail again. Send Lisa my apologies.

• Dex”

The next morning, when he didn't show up for work Mike and Jay went back to Dexter’s little shoe box of a hovel to drag him out. They knocked and the door eased open. The two men found their associate standing on a chair tying himself to the flimsy ceiling pipe with his neighbor's wire.

“Whoa! Why don't you come down, Acie?” Mike the producer pleaded.

"No, I can wait until you two are finished. What did you need to talk to me about?" Dexter asked. 

“Not down like that! Untie yourself so you can come work for us.” Jay the producer begged.

“And what if I don't?” Dexter sassed.

The two producers simply looked at each other.

Dexter kicked out his chair and the two producers rushed to catch him. Instantly the pipe snapped under the weight, landing squarely on their heads. Dex made a move to run but the pipe was caught in the doorway and the wire clotheslined him. He fell hard, but quickly untied himself and got a head start from his assailants. 

Dexter ran down the street and turned into an alleyway. It was a foggy morning and the street lamps were still illuminated. The alley led him down steep, stone stairs and through a labyrinth of narrow spaces between the buildings of the city. At last, an opening appears in front of him only to be blocked by the silhouette of two men, one tall, one short.

They encroached on him in the musty alley under the low morning sun. Dexter stopped in his tracks and broke down on his knees. One of the assailants reached his hand deep inside his suit jacket. The diminished director looked up as he pulled out Dexter's contract.

“We have your name here, you work for us.” He said.

“You had my name the minute I walked into this phony town.” Dex began, broken and defeated. “I sold it to you weeks ago when I decided to come here. Everything I was means nothing now. My friends, my fans, they all rejected me and my choice to sell out and make it big. I thought I could prove them wrong and make something legendary. Now I have no one.” Dex sobbed, grabbing the papers.

“Enough with the Oscar-bait, already.”

“You can keep my name. It doesn't mean anything to me anymore.” he finished and threw the papers on the ground. But when he looked at it he noticed something peculiar.

“What are you snickering about?” Jay asked.

“Ha! You bastards, this isn't legal!” He yelled. “You kept calling me by this stupid nickname, but when I couldn't get it out of my head I wrote it down and now you own nobody.”

The contract, streaked in red, spelled ACIE. 

“He's right.” Mike said to Jay. “But you be careful, Acie. Sleep with one eye open back on the east coast.” he said and they both walked out of the alley.