November 2006, San Francisco, CA, USA
"Thank you for flying all the way here for this meeting," Eric Schmidt greeted our group warmly. "Honestly, I was a little surprised to learn that you owned YouTube, Troy. You've kept it carefully under wraps until now."
I shrugged casually. "I like to keep some things private. At least as long as I can. I know one day this will come out, but until then, I want to stay just an actor."
"You're wise beyond your years," Eric praised before turning to the three founders beside me. "It's a pleasure to meet you again, Chad, Steve, Jawed." Then he looked at the last person in our group. "And you are?"
"Tobias O'Brien," the man replied. "I work for Troy."
"Of course." Eric turned back to me. "Believe me, I've been trying to set up this meeting for months."
Chad, the CEO, responded before I could. "Troy wanted to wait a few more months, but I convinced him to at least hear your offer."
Wasn't that the truth? I knew exactly how big YouTube could become in the future. Some would credit Google for its smart strategy in fostering YouTube's organic growth, but I didn't see it that way. YouTube succeeded where so many others failed because it launched at the right time. Plenty of streaming sites had come before and after YouTube, yet none had come close to its success—timing and luck played a huge role. Google's acquisition helped because they prioritized YouTube videos in their search results whenever possible, but I strongly believed that level of success could be achieved even without Google.
I had wanted to wait a few more years before selling YouTube—if I even sold it at all—to push for a higher valuation. But Schmidt had clearly influenced the three founders with what I suspected was some secret promise I wasn't privy to. Chad Hurley had been bugging me for the last month to meet with Eric, and I'd finally caved.
"So, you want to buy YouTube from me?" I asked bluntly.
"Yes." Eric nodded without hesitation. "YouTube's interface is excellent, and I absolutely love how you've personally promoted it with your videos."
"Thank you." I inclined my head. "It was daunting at first, releasing all my songs online for free, but I understand you have to make sacrifices to gain something. At my suggestion, Steve and Chad have reached out to all the major record labels and big artists to feature their songs exclusively on our platform. The downside is that we have to share half our ad revenue with them, but the growth has been unprecedented because of it. Today, more than half of all new songs released in the media premiere on YouTube exclusively. We've also rolled out premium services for $5 a month for users who want an ad-free experience."
I was proud that my ideas had taken root so successfully. Our revenue from ads and subscriptions was at an all-time high. While we were still a loss-making company, the losses weren't significant enough that I couldn't sustain them for a few more years—maybe even for a decade—once I secured my payout from the subprime crisis.
"Yes." Eric nodded. "That was a genius move on your part. No one expected it to work—but it did."
"Not just that," Chad added. "We're planning a massive marketing campaign to encourage our viewers even further."
Eric leaned forward eagerly. "And what's the campaign?"
Chad shook his head. "Sorry, can't share that until our deal is finalized. We wouldn't want to give away our secrets to a competitor, now would we?"
Calling Google our competitor was a stretch at best. Google Video existed, but it was tiny compared to YouTube. The campaign Chad was hinting at was another one of my ideas. I had suggested conducting feasibility studies on sharing half of our ad revenue with all YouTubers who met certain basic criteria—like a minimum number of subscribers and views. We had also drafted guidelines for ad revenue on age-restricted content.
This was something that had always frustrated me about YouTube under Google. They refused to monetize videos made exclusively for adults. Blocking borderline porn was understandable, but demonetizing all content with excessive profanity? That was ridiculous. The worst part? Their system easily flagged English profanities, but creators in other languages could curse freely and still get paid.
To fix this, we divided our advertisers into two categories: those comfortable advertising on age-restricted content and those who weren't. Sure, revenue for adult-themed videos might be lower than normal, at least temporarily, but I was confident that once companies saw the positive impact, they'd change their stance.
The feasibility studies confirmed that my plan—ambitious as it was—was viable. Next year, we planned to roll it out, sharing 50% of our ad revenue with all qualifying YouTubers, not just the top music creators.
And that was just the beginning. I had even bigger plans for YouTube's future—an early rollout of YouTube Kids and YouTube Education. The latter was my original idea: a partnership with educational institutions to launch curated, free and paid courses for kids and adults worldwide in multiple languages. Then there was YouTube for gamers, which we'd call Twitch, a short-form video app for smartphones called TikTok, and an exclusive music streaming service called Spotify.
We had already trademarked these names last year and secured their domain names. As luck would have it, none of these companies had been registered yet in this timeline, giving us the first-mover advantage.
For now, though, these were just plans on paper. They wouldn't be possible unless I made a fortune off my subprime crisis gamble—or until YouTube became profitable on its own. Pouring more money into a sinking ship didn't make sense until we had at least patched the hole.
Currently, our annual losses were somewhere between $35–40 million—already an improvement from the projected $50 million. But if we moved forward with the partnership program, our losses could spike as high as $100 million next year due to the extensive infrastructure required for scaling up the servers and YouTube's capacity.
"I don't want to waste either of our time," Eric interrupted my thoughts. "My team has done its due diligence, and we've determined that $2 billion is a more than fair valuation for YouTube. That's exactly what we're offering you—payable in full through Google shares."
I did some quick mental calculations. Google, currently valued at $150 billion, was offering us roughly 1.33% of its market cap. In my opinion, that was far too low. By the 2020s, YouTube would be generating a substantial portion of Google's total revenue and would become the second most-visited website in the world—right after Google's search engine.
"We can't accept that," I said, shaking my head. "You might not think we're worth more, but I beg to differ. I firmly believe YouTube is already worth at least $5 billion. And at the rate we're growing, it won't take long before we double that valuation."
Eric studied me for a long moment before replying, "You're not the only video streaming company we're considering, you know. We've also done our due diligence on Vimeo and Dailymotion—both promising startups."
I smiled. "And yet, ours is the one you want the most."
Eric held my gaze for a few more seconds before finally speaking again. "$2.5 billion. Final offer. Not a cent more."
"$5 billion," I countered. "Final offer. Not a cent less."
The other four men in the room—Steve, Chad, Jawed, and Tobias—watched us nervously, but neither of us broke eye contact. This was a pivotal moment, a silent battle to see who had more leverage.
Eric was the first to look away.
I celebrated my silent victory in my head.
"It seems we're at an impasse," Eric said after a moment.
"It would seem so," I agreed, standing up. "Contact me again when you have a better offer. This offer is only on the table for 24 hours. After that, the terms will change."
"You seem awfully confident that I'll reach out again," he noted dryly.
I smirked but didn't respond, simply shaking his hand before leaving.
As soon as we were back in the limousine heading to YouTube's headquarters, Chad finally broke the silence. "Why?"
"Because I'm right," I said confidently. "You might think $2.5 billion is a lot—and it is—but I see YouTube growing big enough to be valued at $250 billion one day, if not more."
Steve Chen glanced at me. "You never actually wanted to sell it to Google, did you?"
"Had they offered at least $5 billion, as I requested, I would have," I admitted. "I know YouTube will grow, but it will need a lot of cash to sustain it before it became profitable. Cash that Google has and we don't."
"How will we manage it then?" Jawed asked, voicing the concern on everyone's mind. "When we roll out the partner program next year, our losses will increase even more."
"Only temporarily," I assured him. "Once people start earning real money from us, more and more creators will want to join. I have big plans for YouTube's future, but it's only possible if all three of you are with me. If you're not, I'd be more than willing to buy you out—at the same valuation Google just offered."
It was a bluff. I didn't have the kind of money to buy them out—not yet. Until I received my revenue share from [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix], I couldn't afford major acquisitions like this. Their combined stake had reduced to around 25% after I had injected more cash to sustain YouTube, meaning I'd need around $625 million to buy them out. Not to mention, selling now would hit them with roughly 20% in capital gains taxes—something they could avoid by staying invested.
"No," Chad said firmly after exchanging a glance with Steve and Jawed. "I trust you. We all do. Your plans are ambitious, but if we pull it off, the results could be monumental. We're staying."
"Good." I nodded, smiling. "Our priority now is making YouTube profitable. That's the only way we can expand our data storage, host more videos, and bring our other ideas to life."
"We'll do whatever it takes to make it happen," Chad promised.
And somehow, I believed him.
(Break)
"We're here with the stars of [Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix]—Troy, Emma, and Jamie. Welcome, guys," the male reporter beamed at the three of us.
"Thank you for having us," I replied instinctively.
"I can't tell you how excited I am for this next installment," he gushed. "I've read all six books and watched the first four movies religiously."
"Really?" Jamie asked with an amused smile. "You're a rarity, mate. Most of our die-hard fans tend to be younger."
"They don't know what they're missing," the reporter nodded seriously. "So, my question for all of you is: what was your favorite scene to film in this movie?"
"Hmm." I mulled it over, trying to remember which scenes belonged to this installment. Shooting two films back-to-back made it hard to distinguish where one ended and the other began.
"That's easy," Emma chimed in. "The climax scene at the Ministry."
"Oh, of course," I said, recalling the intense sequence. "That was agonizing to shoot."
"But the end result is amazing," Jamie said, turning to me. "When I watched the movie last week, I actually cried during your performance. You were so good, it was unbelievable."
I smiled. "Thank you. I haven't seen it yet, but I'll take your word for it."
"You haven't seen it?" the reporter asked curiously. "Why not?"
"Because Warner Bros won't show it to me," I deadpanned, making the others burst into laughter. Emma and Jamie exchanged nervous glances between their laughter, knowing the behind-the-scenes drama between Warner and me. As ridiculous as my comment sounded, they knew it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.
After a moment, I added, "Honestly, I've just been busy—with concerts and another film I just wrapped this week. But I intend to fix that oversight as soon as possible."
The interviewer nodded. "Moving on, how do you feel about the darker themes in the last film? Does this one follow a similar tone?"
"If you've read the books, you know what's coming," Jamie said. "This is probably the darkest part of the series so far—lives are at stake, and there's one new character that any sane person will hate after just one watch."
"Oh yes," Emma agreed. "Imelda Staunton is phenomenal. Every scene she's in, you just can't look away."
The interviewer then turned to me. "By the way, I was hoping you'd write some music for Harry Potter—whether a song or even a background score. Any chance of that happening soon?"
I considered it for a moment before shaking my head. "Unlikely. My music is very different from the fantasy genre needed for Harry Potter. I could compose something like that if given time, but the issue is—time. I'd rather focus on creating independent music."
His eyes lit up at that. "So, when can we expect your next album?"
"I can't say for sure," I replied with a smile. "I'm working on some music—one song I'll release early, probably within a few month. But my target for the full album is within the next year."
Satisfied with my answer, the interviewer shifted his attention to Jamie and Emma, asking about their lives as well. It felt good not to be the sole focus for once.
When the interview finally wrapped up, it was just the three of us left in the studio. This was our last press stop for the day, and now we could head home before catching our flight to Tokyo tomorrow for the Order of the Phoenix premiere.
As I started to get up, Jamie broke the silence. "So... there have been a lot of rumors about you, Troy."
I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Ask me clearly. You know I'll answer you."
Jamie hesitated for a second before giving me a sheepish look. "What I meant was... are you okay?"
"As okay as I can be," I replied. "One breakup won't break me. Right, Emma?" I grinned at her.
She simply rolled her eyes, but there was no awkwardness between us anymore. We had reached a point where we could joke about our past relationship without it feeling weird.
"So it's true then?" Jamie asked. "You really broke up with Rihanna?"
I nodded silently.
"I still can't believe it," he admitted. "After all that time we spent together on your island, I thought you two would be inseparable for years, if not forever."
I shrugged. "That's life, mate. Shit happens. Maybe one day I'll tell you the whole story. Right now, I just need some rest before the flight."
With that, I got up and walked toward the exit, my co-stars following closely behind. Just as I reached my car, I heard Emma call my name.
"Troy?" she asked softly.
I turned to her. "Yeah?"
She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "Was this relationship real? Or was it always... fake?"
I froze for a moment, remembering that I had once told Emma the truth about my relationship. But I couldn't tell her the new truth—not now. It was too complicated. Too messy. And I knew she would judge me for it. At the same time, I didn't want to lie to her either.
After a brief pause, I made my decision about what to tell her. "I love Rihanna. A lot. But sometimes... things just don't work out."
Emma stepped forward and hugged me. "I'm sorry, Troy."
I sighed, before hugging her back gently. "Me too, Emma. Me too."
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AN: Visit my Pat reon to read ahead, or check out my second Hollywood story set in the 80s.
Link: www(dot)pat reon(dot)com/fableweaver