It's awards season, and actors are usually out there doing charity, hugging kids, saving the planet, or showing off their perfect families—all to look good for the judges.
But Nicole Kidman? She just signed divorce papers. Talk about bad timing!
She knew what Dunn meant, though. "It's fine. Whatever happens, we've got the same agent. He'll handle it."
Dunn frowned. "Tom Cruise… I've always thought that guy's a loose cannon."
And wouldn't you know it—he was right.
That night, Dunn caught Tom Cruise's "stellar performance" on some local L.A. entertainment channel. The footage was shaky and blurry—obviously shot on a DV camera—but there was no mistaking that cocky, over-the-top guy in the frame: Tom Cruise.
"Tom, word is you and Nicole split. Is it true?" a reporter asked.
Tom, sitting in his car, rolled down the window. Rocking huge dark shades, he shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah, it's a shame, but we're divorced now."
"Divorced? Is it because of those rumors with Dunn Walker?"
Reporters swarmed, shoving mics and recorders in his face. Lucky for him, Tom wasn't dumb enough to poke the bear. "Nah, it's not about that. It's mostly work stuff. We're always off filming, barely see each other. Over time, things just faded. I think it's for the best. I hear she's up for some awards—good for her, I wish her luck."
With that classic Tom Cruise grin, he left the reporters stunned.
Work stuff? Filming? Was he hinting at something?
This was hands-down the juiciest scoop of late 1998!
…
Tom's words hit like a bomb—boom! Hollywood's golden couple, adored by all, done after just eight years? No way!
Pretty much every entertainment outlet in the U.S. had this plastered on their front pages: *Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman Divorce!*
This is when a woman's at her most vulnerable, right? Dunn wasn't scheming or anything—he just wanted to help Nicole out. Tom's antics had to have crushed her.
He tried calling her a bunch of times, but no luck. Her phone was off for days, and he had no clue where she'd gone. With Christmas creeping up, Dunn got worried. Finally, through her agent, he tracked her down—she'd been crashing at her bestie Naomi Watts' place.
Dunn pulled some strings to get Naomi's address and drove straight over.
Knock, wait, knock again.
Finally, a pretty face opened the door—blonde, almond eyes, pink cheeks, red lips. She looked a bit like Nicole, just shorter.
"You've got the wrong house!" Naomi snapped, clearly annoyed at this random young guy.
Her best friend Nicole was in the middle of a career mess, and Naomi wasn't exactly thriving either. Five years in Hollywood, and she was still stuck in bit parts. If things didn't turn around soon, she'd be dodging rent and facing eviction.
"You're Naomi Watts, right?" Dunn asked.
That made her freeze, suddenly wary. Thinking he was paparazzi, she scowled. "You've got the wrong person!"
"I'm Dunn Walker!"
He blurted it out just before she could slam the door.
"Dunn Walker?" Naomi's whole body jolted. She whipped around, staring at him with a mix of shock and panic, her face going pale.
Dunn waved casually. "Nicole's here, yeah? Open the door quick—you don't want cameras catching this, do you?"
"Come in!" Naomi fumbled, flustered, and let him in, her heart racing.
She'd been way too rude just now.
Dunn didn't seem to care, though. He glanced around her place—pretty swanky! No pool in the back, but it wasn't far off from his own house. This chick knew how to live.
In the living room, he spotted Nicole Kidman sprawled on the couch. Hair a mess, wearing just a thin purplish-red nightgown, staring blankly at the TV.
"Nicole?" Dunn called.
She blinked, turning to him, surprised. "What are you doing here?"
Her voice sounded okay—tired, but not broken.
"Your phone's been off! Do you know how many favors I had to call in to find you?" Dunn shot her a mock glare, a little exasperated.
Naomi, hovering behind, caught that and her expression shifted. She'd fished for info from Nicole before but never got a straight answer. Now, hearing Dunn, it clicked—these two were *definitely* close.
Nicole shook her head calmly. "I'm fine."
Dunn sighed, plopping down beside her and grabbing her hand without hesitation. "Nicole, it's happened. Hiding won't fix it."
She blushed, yanking her hand back (unsuccessfully), and shot a quick glance at Naomi. "Dunn, what are you doing?" she hissed.
"Let's talk."
"There's nothing to talk about!"
Naomi, feeling super awkward, jumped in. "Uh, you guys chat. I'll go make some coffee!" And off she bolted.
Nicole glared at Dunn, lowering her voice. "What's your deal? Do you *want* the whole world thinking I divorced because of you?"
"Don't be ridiculous—was it really because of me?" Dunn smirked, brushing it off. "With Tom's dumb brain and ego, I'm shocked you put up with him this long."
"You know that, I know that, but does everyone else?" Nicole's voice rose a bit. "They all think it's my fault—that I cheated with you and ruined everything!"
Dunn waved it away. "Who cares? We're movie people! You're an actor, I'm a director—we let our work do the talking. Hollywood's been around forever. Name one A-lister who hasn't screwed up."
"Hmph!" Nicole's face darkened. "I'm still pissed, though!"
"Because of Tom?" Dunn's tone cooled too. "Want me to teach him a lesson?"
She went quiet for a long moment, then sighed. "Forget it. It's my mess anyway. We're done—out of each other's lives for good."
"Up to you. I don't sweat the small stuff anyway." Dunn shrugged. He really didn't care.
Hollywood's a scandal factory. Roman Polanski and Woody Allen? Artists. Harvey Weinstein? "God." Marilyn Monroe straight-up wrote about sleeping with producers because if she didn't, a line of prettier girls was waiting to take her spot. The rumors swirling around Dunn? Peanuts.
"Dunn, I can't… you know what I mean. I need some space," Nicole said, biting her lip, almost pleading.
"I'm not *that* clueless!" Dunn laughed, then leaned in, whispering, "Nicole, you're stunning—like a fairy. I'd never treat you like some fling."
Her perfect brows furrowed—she didn't like that vibe. "So what do I do now?"
"It's awards season! Sync up with AA, nail the PR. After that, shoot a movie—shift your focus. Might help."
Nicole shook her head. "I got a few scripts recently, but Pat shot them all down. There was this artsy one, *Moulin Rouge*—I liked it—but Pat said the pay's too low, so no go."
Dunn's eyes widened, then he nearly cracked up. Pat Kingsley rejected *Moulin Rouge*? Genius. Absolute genius! No wonder Tom spilled the divorce tea—this agent was a total flop.
Compare that to Kate Winslet's agent, Hilda Quealy—now *that's* a pro. Cate Blanchett, barely a year in Hollywood, was already up for Best Actress with *Elizabeth*, duking it out with Nicole and Gwyneth Paltrow. Both agents worked under Bryan Lord, but Dunn was team Hilda all the way.
"Nicole, ever thought about switching agents?"
"Huh?" She gasped, but Dunn looked dead serious.
"Your talent's top-tier, but what's Pat done for you all these years? This year's wins? That's *my* doing."
"But…" She hesitated.
Dunn cut her off with a wave. "It's settled. You're divorced from Tom now—sticking with the same agent's a bad look."
"What about AA?"
"I'll handle it! I've got your new agent lined up—Hilda Quealy. She reps women, including your fellow Aussie, Cate Blanchett."
Dunn laid it out like a boss, no room for debate.
Nicole just pressed her lips together, quiet. She was on board.
In stuff like this, guys naturally have the edge. Whatever Dunn's motives, his judgment was solid.
Naomi, eavesdropping from the stairs, couldn't hide her envy. Having a big shot like that in your corner? Dreamy! Her own Hollywood grind felt downright pitiful by comparison.
…
That night, Dunn crashed there. Not with Nicole, of course—he took Naomi's room.
Naomi was over the moon, and Dunn? Feeling pretty great himself.
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