Chapter 5: The Audition.
Compared to London, Los Angeles — the city where he had lived for seven years — felt even more foreign to Ryan. The old apartment, after some new furniture had been added, once again became home for him and Nicole. By now, both he and Nicole had quite a bit of money in hand, but finding the right house wasn't easy. Besides, Nicole was determined to move into Beverly Hills.
"Damn it, women take forever to change clothes!"
Half an hour had already slipped by. Ryan sat on the living-room sofa and couldn't help muttering.
Pat Kingsley, sitting opposite him, simply smiled. They had already signed the formal contract. After half a month together, she had gradually learned more about Ryan. She knew he was both extremely intelligent and far too mature for his age. She could no longer treat him like a child — sometimes she even felt like she was talking to a peer.
Ryan glanced at the clock on the wall, growing bored, and turned to the agent. "Pat, any feedback on the script yet?"
"Don't worry, Ryan. I delivered the screenplay to Harvey Weinstein myself. I have some connections with the brothers. Whether they accept it or pass, they'll let me know immediately."
Pat Kingsley had read the script carefully. Although she wasn't an expert on screenwriting, a good story always resonated. In her opinion, unless the Weinstein brothers had lost their minds, they would definitely see its value.
Ryan sighed. He knew he was being impatient, but Pat Kingsley's wide network truly impressed him.
Since that was the case, he was happy to leave things in her hands. As for Nicole, she could focus on becoming a movie star in peace.
"Ryan!" Nicole's voice came from the other room. "Why is my shoe cabinet locked? Have you seen the key?"
"No." Ryan instinctively touched the brass key in his pocket and denied it flatly.
"Damn it! Do I have to wear slippers to the audition?" Nicole's irritated voice rang out again. Ryan's eyes twinkled as he called back loudly, "Nicole, aren't those new shoes you bought yesterday in the hallway cabinet?"
"Really? I don't remember."
Nicole, wearing light makeup, walked out patting her head. She opened the hallway cabinet and took out a pair of high heels. The four-inch stiletto heels were long and sharp — Nicole's absolute favorite.
Once she slipped them on, Nicole looked even taller. A faint smile curved Ryan's lips. He had carefully chosen those shoes and placed them there himself. He hoped they would serve their purpose.
The audition was at Paramount. Just in case, Ryan used his child privileges and whined his way into the car. When Nicole questioned him, he defended himself righteously. "I just want to see what an audition looks like. Besides, the studio didn't say you can't bring anyone except your agent."
Sitting in the back seat of the moving car, Nicole couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan was plotting something. After living together for so long, she had developed a sharp intuition for his behavior, but no matter how hard she thought, she couldn't spot anything wrong.
On the bench outside the audition room, the three of them waited quietly. Ryan overheard several staff members talking and realized that Tom Cruise was actually the screenwriter of this film. Of course he was. This kind of cool, handsome, idol-worshipping script was exactly Tom Cruise's style.
Ryan shook his head. Thanks to over a year of stage work in London, Nicole's acting skills were now several levels higher than at the same point in her previous life. If she still landed the female lead, she might open doors in Hollywood, but the "pretty vase" label would probably stick again. That wasn't good. She was already stunningly beautiful — if she got slapped with that label too, she would likely walk the same painful path as before.
"Ryan, stay here quietly with Pat and don't cause trouble!" Nicole reminded him right before entering the audition room. Clearly, in the past two years Ryan had caused more than his share of chaos.
"Can't I come in and watch?" Ryan blinked, trying his best to look innocent. After years of "performing," he completely fooled the Paramount staff, but he couldn't fool the cold, stunning woman who knew him inside out. Nicole warned directly, "Do you want me to send you to boarding school?"
Ryan immediately behaved himself, though he grumbled inwardly. Fine. You're my guardian right now, so I won't argue. But once I turn sixteen, we'll settle every single score.
After spacing out for a while, Ryan simply started chatting with Pat Kingsley. The topic naturally revolved around Hollywood's world of fame and fortune. More than forty minutes later, Nicole finally walked out of the audition room — except this time she wasn't alone.
The extra person was someone Ryan really didn't want to see: Tom Cruise.
Even though Tom Cruise was wearing lifts that made him taller than his actual five-foot-seven height, next to Nicole in her high heels he was still at least five inches shorter.
Every time Nicole turned to speak and had to look down at Mr. Cruise, Ryan felt secretly delighted. All that effort choosing the perfect heels had been worth it.
Yet the scene he had carefully orchestrated was doomed to become nothing more than his own private joke. Tom Cruise didn't seem to mind Nicole's height at all. As they approached Ryan and the agent, he extended an invitation. "Nicole, if you don't mind, may I take you to dinner?"
I mind! I mind very much! Ryan glared, staring straight at Tom Cruise. If looks could kill, the handsome pretty boy would already be riddled with holes.
"I'd be honored!" Whether in her past life or this one, Nicole was always graceful and socially adept. She naturally wouldn't refuse. After thanking him, she started to introduce the two people in front of her, but Tom Cruise completely ignored them and said directly, "There's a very special restaurant in Beverly Hills. Shall we go there?"
"No!"
Before Nicole could answer, Ryan jumped down from the bench. One hand on his chest, the other pinching his chin, he circled the two of them with narrowed eyes, then suddenly said to Nicole, "Mom, you promised to take me out for Italian tonight."
Mom? Nicole's eyes widened, but she knew Ryan too well. She instantly realized the little rascal was up to mischief again.
Tom Cruise's jaw nearly hit the floor. He had never imagined that the stunning Australian woman who had impressed him so much already had a son this big.
"Ryan, where are your manners and upbringing?" Although Nicole didn't understand the phrase "spare the rod and spoil the child," she knew she couldn't let him off easy. After scolding him, she explained to Tom Cruise, "This is Ryan Jenkins, my younger brother. He's a little too playful sometimes. Tommy, please don't mind him."
She then introduced Pat Kingsley to Tom Cruise.
Tom Cruise handled Ryan well enough, but when facing Ms. Kingsley he put on full star attitude, strutting like a peacock displaying its tail. That was probably the aura of a big star.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Tom Cruise."
Tom Cruise might not know about the Chinese art of face-changing, but anyone watching Ryan's performance right now would catch a glimpse of the real thing.
Ryan knew his words carried little weight. Unless he threw a tantrum, it would be hard to influence Nicole's decision on something as minor as dinner. So he pulled out an autograph book and pen from his backpack like a magician and handed them over.
"Could you grant a little fan's wish?"
"Of course." Tom Cruise quickly signed.
"Ryan, may your life always be filled with sunshine and joy!"
As long as you don't take my Nicole away, my life will always be filled with sunshine and joy! That was Ryan's only thought as he put the autograph book away.
The Bentley sped through Beverly Hills. In the front seats, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman — handsome man, beautiful woman — looked like the perfect couple.
But from the back seat, Ryan felt the distance between them was as vast as Sydney to Los Angeles. If he reached out a hand, he could easily carve a Mariana Trench beneath that calm surface.
What Ryan hadn't expected was that Tom Cruise had taken his words seriously and actually brought them to an Italian restaurant. Seeing the sign that read "Valentino," Ryan muttered in Italian, "So it's Mr. Valentino's place. Wonder if the food is authentic."
Inside, the restaurant had a stylish Western-Italian décor. As a big star, Tom Cruise was immediately led by the waiter to a quiet private booth. Once everyone was seated, menus were handed out.
Ryan sat beside Nicole and discreetly studied the waiter — dark hair, olive skin, dark eyes. He was clearly an Italian immigrant. Judging by his manner and bearing, he was probably first-generation. Maybe even a student working here; quite a few young Italians had come to America recently.
"Ryan, what would you like?" Tom Cruise asked.
Even though Ryan had acted a bit wild when they first met, his later speech and behavior showed excellent manners and upbringing. Combined with his somewhat slender frame, it was hard not to like him.
Too bad Tom Cruise didn't know that "two-faced" described Ryan perfectly.
"Can I order for myself?" Ryan blinked his bright eyes, looking every inch an adorable boy. Tom Cruise laughed outright. "Of course. But Ryan, do you know Italian food?"
"Actually, Ryan is studying Italian culture and knows quite a bit about Italian cuisine and customs." Nicole seemed prouder of Ryan's knowledge than anything else.
Tom Cruise simply smiled and passed the menu over. Ryan scanned the English menu. Most dish names were hard to understand because of the translation, so he scratched his head and turned to the Italian waiter, asking in fluent Italian, "Do you have a proper Italian menu?"
"It… Italian?"
Ryan had spoken with only a slight accent, and the waiter clearly understood. But hearing such smooth Italian come from a blond, blue-eyed kid stunned him for a second.
"Sorry, we don't have a separate Italian menu."
Just as Ryan had guessed, the waiter was indeed an immigrant. While mentally cursing in disbelief, he still apologized politely.
"That's fine." Ryan thought for only a moment before rattling off a string of classic Italian dishes in perfect Italian. "Osso buco, spaghetti carbonara, risotto alla milanese, tiramisu, and veal piccata."
The waiter broke into a cold sweat. He hadn't expected this little white kid to be so familiar with Italian cuisine — some of those dishes he himself had never even tried.
Of course, they had everything. After the waiter explained a couple of options, Ryan didn't want to make things difficult. He consulted Nicole and ordered spinach gnocchi, chicken cacciatore, crab ravioli, and specially requested a side of arrabbiata sauce — extra spicy, the kind that would make you sweat after one bite.
Since it was Italian served Western-style, after Tom Cruise finished ordering, Ryan deliberately instructed the waiter in Italian, "Make my dishes the authentic way from back home. And the arrabbiata — lots of chili and red oil. It has to be the kind that makes your forehead sweat with the first bite."
The waiter carefully noted Ryan's requests, but the moment he turned away he rolled his eyes hard. Damn kid — you really want to burn his mouth off?