Compared to London, where he had lived for seven years, Los Angeles still felt unfamiliar to Ryan. That old apartment of his, after some new furniture was added, had once again become the home he shared with Nicole. When it came down to it, both he and Nicole had quite a bit of money on hand, but finding a suitable house wasn't easy—especially since Nicole had her heart set on living in Beverly Hills.
"Damn it, women changing clothes is such a pain!"
Watching half an hour slip by like that, Ryan muttered to himself while waiting on the couch in the living room.
Sitting across from him, Kinsey just smiled. The two had already signed a formal contract, and after half a month of getting to know each other, she had gradually come to understand Ryan. She knew he was not only smart but also mature beyond his years—he absolutely couldn't be treated like a child. Sometimes she even felt like she was talking to a peer.
Ryan glanced at the clock on the wall, feeling bored. He turned to his agent and asked, "Pat, still no feedback on the script?"
"Don't worry, Ryan. I handed the script to Harvey Weinstein myself. I've got some connections with those two brothers—whether they use it or not, they'll let me know right away."
Kinsey had carefully read the script. Though she wasn't an expert in screenwriting, a good story always resonates with people. In her opinion, unless the Weinstein brothers had completely lost their minds, they would definitely see the value in the script.
Sighing, Ryan realized he was being a bit impatient. Still, he had to admit he was impressed by how well-connected Kinsey was.
Given that, he was more than happy to let her handle things. As for Nicole, she might as well focus on being an actress.
"Ryan," Nicole's voice called from another room, "why is my shoe cabinet locked? Have you seen the key?"
"Nope," Ryan instinctively patted the brass key in his pocket and flatly denied it.
"Damn it! Am I supposed to go to an audition wearing slippers?" Nicole's frustrated voice rang out from the room again. Ryan's eyes gleamed as he shouted back, "Nicole, didn't you just buy a new pair of shoes yesterday? I think they're in the cabinet by the door."
"Really? I don't remember that."
With light makeup on, Nicole emerged from the room, patting her head. She opened the shoe cabinet by the entrance and pulled out a pair of high heels—four inches high, long and sharp—exactly the kind Nicole loved.
Wearing the heels made Nicole look even taller. A faint smile played on Ryan's lips—he had handpicked those shoes and placed them there. Hopefully, they would serve their purpose.
The audition was at Paramount. Just to be safe, Ryan used the privilege of being a child to shamelessly tag along in the car. When Nicole questioned him, he defended himself righteously, "I just want to see what an audition is like. Besides, there's no rule that says you can't bring someone other than your agent to one."
Sitting in the back seat of the moving car, Nicole couldn't shake the feeling that Ryan was up to something. They had lived together long enough that she had developed a certain intuition about his behavior. But no matter how she thought about it, she couldn't detect anything suspicious.
Outside the audition room, the three of them sat quietly on a bench, waiting. Ryan happened to overhear a few staff members chatting, and to his surprise, he realized that Tom Cruise was actually the screenwriter for this film. Makes sense, he thought—this kind of cool, stylish flick that exists solely to showcase the star's charm was right up Cruise's alley.
Ryan shook his head. Thanks to performing on the London stage for over a year, Nicole's acting was much better than it had been at this point in his previous life. If she landed the lead role, she might successfully break into Hollywood—but she'd also risk being labeled a "flower vase" (a pretty face with no substance). That would be bad. She was already too beautiful for her own good, and if she got tagged with that label, it would be hard to escape the path she'd followed in her previous life.
"Ryan, stay here with Pat and behave. Don't cause any trouble!" Nicole reminded him before entering the audition room. Clearly, Ryan had caused quite a few "incidents" over the past two years.
"Can't I just go in for a peek?" Ryan blinked his eyes, trying his best to look innocent. And honestly, after all those years of acting, he completely fooled the Paramount staff—though not Nicole, who knew him far too well. She immediately warned him, "Are you trying to get sent to boarding school?"
Ryan instantly behaved himself, though in his heart he was muttering: Fine, you're my guardian now. I won't argue with you—but just wait until I turn sixteen. We'll settle the score then.
With nothing better to do, Ryan started chatting with Kinsey about Hollywood and its endless drama. After about forty minutes, Nicole finally emerged from the audition room—but this time, she wasn't alone.
As for the person walking beside her, Ryan really wished he hadn't shown up: it was none other than Tom Cruise!
Even though Cruise was wearing height-increasing shoes, making him look a bit taller than his usual five-foot-seven, he still stood at least five inches shorter than Nicole in her heels.
Every time Ryan caught Nicole turning to talk and having to look down at Mr. Cruise, he couldn't help but feel a burst of glee. His plan was working—those high heels had been worth it.
Unfortunately, his carefully orchestrated scene was destined to be a private joke. Tom Cruise didn't seem the least bit bothered by Nicole's height. As they approached Ryan and the agent, Cruise extended an invitation, "Nicole, if you don't mind, may I invite you to dinner?"
I mind! I mind very much! Ryan widened his eyes and stared at Cruise. If looks could kill, the charming movie star would've been riddled with holes by now.
"It would be an honor!" Whether in her past life or this one, Nicole had always been socially adept and naturally wouldn't refuse. After thanking him, she was about to introduce Ryan and Kinsey, but Cruise completely ignored them and said, "There's a very unique restaurant in Beverly Hills. How about we go there?"
"No way!"
Before Nicole could answer, Ryan jumped up from the bench, folded his arms, and pinched his chin while giving Cruise a sidelong glance. Circling around the two, he suddenly said to Nicole, "Mom, didn't you say you'd take me for Chinese food tonight?"
Mom?! Nicole's eyes widened, but she quickly realized Ryan was up to one of his old tricks.
Tom Cruise's jaw practically hit the floor. He never imagined that this stunning Australian woman could have a son this big.
"Ryan! Where are your manners?" Nicole didn't understand the saying "spare the rod, spoil the child," but she knew she couldn't let Ryan run wild. After scolding him, she explained to Cruise, "This is Ryan Jenkins, my younger brother. He's just a bit mischievous, Tommy—don't take it personally."
She then introduced Kinsey to Tom Cruise.
Ryan got a slightly better reaction, but when it came to Kinsey, Cruise put on a full display, puffing himself up like a peacock. Perhaps that's just the aura of a big star.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Tom Cruise."
Maybe Cruise didn't know about the Chinese art of face-changing opera, but if he'd looked at Ryan's behavior now, he might've caught a glimpse of the concept.
Ryan knew he had no real say—unless he threw a tantrum, there was no way he could influence something as minor as dinner plans. So he shifted tactics. Like a magician, he pulled a notepad and pen from his bag and handed them over. "Could you fulfill a little fan's wish?"
"Of course." Cruise quickly scribbled something. "Ryan, may your life always be filled with sunshine and happiness!"
As long as you don't take Nicole away, my life will be full of sunshine and happiness! That was Ryan's only thought as he tucked away the signed notepad.
The Bentley sped along the road into Beverly Hills. In the front seat, Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman made a dazzling pair—handsome man, beautiful woman—seemingly a perfect match.
But from the back seat, Ryan could only see a vast distance between them—as far as Sydney to Los Angeles. And if he reached out just a little, he could stir up a Mariana Trench beneath the calm surface.
What Ryan didn't expect was that Cruise actually took his words seriously and brought them to a Chinese restaurant. Seeing the sign "Mr. Chow," Ryan muttered in Mandarin, "So it's Mr. Zhou's place. I wonder if the food is authentic."
Once inside, the restaurant's Western-style decor caught Ryan by surprise. Cruise, being a major celebrity, was led by the staff to a quiet booth. Once seated, they were handed menus.
Sitting next to Nicole, Ryan casually studied the waiter: black hair, black eyes, yellow skin—most likely Chinese. Judging by his manner and demeanor, probably a first-generation immigrant, maybe even a student working part-time. Many college students had come to the U.S. from across the Pacific this year.
"Ryan, what would you like to eat?"
The question came from Tom Cruise. Although Ryan had acted out a bit earlier, his manners and behavior since then had shown good upbringing and etiquette. Combined with his somewhat frail appearance, it was hard not to like him.
Too bad Cruise didn't realize—two-faced behavior was exactly Ryan's specialty.
"Can I order myself?" Ryan blinked his bright eyes, looking every bit the adorable kid. Cruise chuckled, "Of course. But Ryan, do you know Chinese food?"
"Actually, Ryan is studying Chinese culture. He's got some knowledge of Eastern cuisine and customs," Nicole said proudly, as if Ryan's knowledge were her personal achievement.
Cruise just smiled and handed over the menu. Ryan glanced at the English-only menu. Thanks to awkward translations, most of the dish names didn't make much sense. He scratched his head and looked toward the Chinese waiter. "Do you have a Chinese menu?"
"Ch…Chinese?"
Ryan's question was spoken in slightly accented Mandarin. The waiter clearly understood, but hearing such fluent Chinese from a blond, blue-eyed kid caught him completely off guard.
"Sorry, we don't have a Chinese menu."
Just as Ryan guessed, the waiter was indeed a student. While cursing his luck silently, he apologized politely out loud.
"That's fine." Ryan only thought for a moment before rattling off a list of hometown dishes: "Scallion sea cucumber, Dezhou braised chicken, nine-turn large intestine, sweet and sour carp, Kung Pao chicken."
The waiter couldn't help but develop a cold sweat. He never expected this little foreign kid to be so familiar with Chinese cuisine—some of the dishes Ryan named, he hadn't even tried himself.
Of course, they didn't have Dezhou chicken, nine-turn intestine, or sweet and sour carp. After the waiter explained, Ryan didn't push it. With Nicole's input, he ordered sautéed shrimp with spinach, Huadiao rich chicken, crab roe soup dumplings, and specifically requested an extra serving of shui zhu rou pian (boiled spicy pork slices).
Since it was Chinese food served Western-style, after Cruise finished ordering, Ryan added in Mandarin, "I want the authentic Chinese version of my dishes. And for the shui zhu rou pian, add extra chili and red oil—I want it so spicy I sweat after one bite."
The waiter diligently noted Ryan's requests, but as soon as he turned around, he rolled his eyes dramatically. Damn foreign kid—aren't you afraid of being burned alive by the chili?