I furrowed my brow, realizing the old adage "money makes the world go round" held true. Only now did I truly understand the value of money. Without it, even the grandest ambitions are but empty promises.

  "My father's cinema is going to be repossessed in a few months. That scoundrel Boggie got into trouble and cost us several thousand. I reckon I can squeeze maybe eight to ten thousand out of my old man. The rest is up to you," I said, exchanging hopeful glances with Gance as we both turned to the fat man.

  Our entire venture hinged on the fat man.

  The fat man looked at us, exhaled deeply, and said, "I've got a little over ten thousand in personal savings. I should be able to get twenty to thirty thousand from my father. After all, I'm his only son."

  "Fat man, you always seemed so honest! How could you stoop to such deceit!" Gance grabbed the fat man, his voice hoarse with emotion.

  "What's going on?" I was baffled by their exchange.

  Gance swallowed hard and explained, "Boss, you don't know. Last time I asked to borrow a few hundred, he said he was broke, as poor as a church mouse. Now he claims to have over ten thousand in savings! He doesn't treat his brothers right!"

  The fat man, unperturbed, retorted, "I know exactly what you'd do with the money! Nothing decent! This money is my hard-earned savings over the years. If I lent it to you, it'd be gone for good! This time is different. Andre's right. We need to do something for ourselves. D*mn it, let's make a big splash!"

  Hearing this, I was deeply moved. The fat man lived frugally, saving even half-eaten bread for the next meal. His ten thousand was undoubtedly scraped together bit by bit, unlike Gance and me, who often spent every last penny.

  "Fat man, aren't you afraid we might fail?" I asked Berg. Though confident in making a profitable movie, nothing is certain. If we failed, Berg's tens of thousands would be lost—a sum equivalent to several years' wages for a family in this era. For someone who valued money as much as life, such a loss would be devastating.

  Berg's face turned red, and after a long pause, he blurted out, "We'll risk it! At worst, I'll save up again for a few years! But boss, if we fail this time, don't expect any more money from my dad."

  "Good! That's the spirit of a true Los Angeles man!" Gance clapped Berg on the shoulder and extended his right hand to us. "Boss, fat man, let's make a big splash!"

  "For piles of money to count until our hands ache!" Berg resolutely placed his hand on Gance's.

  "For a dozen beautiful girls to hold until our arms hurt!" I added my hand to the pile.

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  Our first movie was thus decided in that modest cinema.

  After downing over a dozen beers and finishing all the snacks, the group dispersed. Berg drove home, while Gance and I cleaned up the cinema before heading back.

  My parents were still up, sitting on the porch chairs, their faces obscured in the darkness, only the glow of my father's pipe flickering.

  Gance greeted them and went to my room to sleep, while I slipped into a chair beside my mother, lost in thought.

  I was contemplating whether to ask them for money. With the family's recent troubles, asking for money would only add to their burdens. But the thought of not having to worry about money if the movie succeeded was too tempting to resist.

  "Dad... I, I..." I mumbled, struggling to find the words.

  "What is it, son?" My mother reached over, stroking my head, filling me with warmth.

  "Dad, I need to discuss something with you," I said, steeling myself.

  My father sat up from his recliner, tapped out his pipe, and asked, "What is it?"

  I rubbed my hands together. "I, I want to make a movie with Berg and the others."

  "Make a movie? Like the ones we show in our cinema?" My mother smiled. "My son's growing up. He used to just drift along, but now he's thinking of doing something serious."

  "Hmph," my father grunted, turning to my mother. "Something serious?! I think finding a steady job is what's serious! You think making a movie is as easy as cooking a meal?! It takes a lot of money! You can't make a movie these days without at least a few hundred thousand!"

  "I don't need hundreds of thousands. Just over ten thousand. Berg will chip in too. We can pool together about forty to fifty thousand," I interjected.

  "Forty to fifty thousand?! What kind of movie can you make with that?! Who'd watch it?! Who'd screen it?!" My father's voice grew louder. "Andre, I agree with your mother that you're not as aimless as before, but you're still young and don't understand how hard things are. With forty to fifty thousand, you're bound to lose it all. In the past, I might have given it to you, but look at our family now. Where would we get the money for your gamble? The cinema's about to be repossessed, Boggie's in jail, and we still need to eat!"

  My father stared at me, his eyes bloodshot.

  What could I say? I knew the family's struggles. My parents were having a tough time. For a moment, I doubted myself. Was making a movie really that easy?

  I hung my head, stood up from the chair, and murmured, "I understand." I turned to go back to my room.

  My mother grabbed my arm, looking at me lovingly, and said to my father, "Hall, Andre's trying to do something serious. We can't compare him to Boggie. We should support him. Don't you have twenty thousand in savings?"

  My father stood up, glanced at my mother, sighed, and walked out into the yard without a word.

  My mother stroked my head, pulled me into her embrace, and said softly, "Andre, don't worry. Things will get better. I'd go hungry to support you. Who knows? In a few years, our Andre might become Hollywood's top director, and I can shop in Los Angeles' finest jewelry stores like those wealthy ladies!"

  Listening to my mother, smelling her cheap perfume, tears streamed down my face.

  Back in my room, Gance was already snoring, but I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The night was quiet, with only the chirping of insects. I grabbed a glass of water, walked to the window, opened it, and let the night breeze cool my chaotic thoughts.

  From the window, I could see our family's cinema. I noticed a light still on inside.

  "Could someone be in there?" I put down the glass, dressed, and headed downstairs toward the cinema.

  The cinema's door was unlocked. Pushing it open, I found the space dark and empty, except for a beam of light from the projection room on the second floor, casting Porter's "The Great Train Robbery" onto the screen.

  I climbed the stairs to the projection room and found my father sitting inside.