The madly speeding old Ford car was like a frenzied charging ox, dashing through the sparse traffic, overtaking one car after another. Yet, it maintained just the right speed to avoid attracting the attention of the police.
"John, be careful! If you damage the camera, I swear the editor-in-chief will kill us both!"
Ryan's old acquaintance, Mick Taylor, the ace reporter of the Los Angeles Times entertainment section, was currently glaring fiercely at his new partner.
"Mick, if we don't hurry, I guarantee the editor-in-chief will still kill us tomorrow. Think about it—this is the premiere of Terminator 2! A sci-fi blockbuster with an investment of over 100 million dollars! We were already late leaving, and if we don't pick up the pace, we won't get a good spot!"
Hearing this, Mick Taylor had no choice but to stop growling. He couldn't really blame his new partner. It was his own traitorous stomach that made him visit the bathroom several times before they left.
"Damn KFC. I swear I'm never eating another burger again!" Mick smacked the seat forcefully.
"Hey, Mick, it's not so bad. Aren't you close with Ryan Jenkins? Just get him to leak a little exclusive info and we'll have enough to hand in," the assistant suggested. "You know how it is—any news even remotely related to him catches fire instantly."
Mick Taylor could only give a wry smile. Of course he knew that. Just think about what's happened over the past six months.
At eleven years old, he received Oscar nominations for Best Original Screenplay and Best Supporting Actor—and even took home the Best Supporting Actor trophy, becoming a child star on par with Shirley Temple and Jodie Foster.
The third installment of the Harry Potter series was officially published, and within a week topped the US bestseller list, setting a record for having three books by the same author simultaneously in the top ten.
A single line in his Oscar acceptance speech stirred up a massive storm—landing the abusive orphanage director who had tormented him in jail and sparking an unprecedented national discussion in North America on orphans and welfare institutions. The Supreme Court even passed the "Jenkins Act" in response.
He clashed with Tom Cruise at a charity gala. In the face of Cruise's public skepticism, he came up with an entire script on the spot within three hours, then followed it up with a love song that perfectly matched the plot—all in under half an hour. Cruise left humiliated.
In 1990 alone, his income from films alone reached over 16 million dollars—undoubtedly the highest annual income ever for a child star in Hollywood. It even triggered a dramatic paternity recognition fiasco.
At a press conference, he delivered a now-famous quote: "The people who donate sperm and eggs aren't necessarily family." He asserted the whole fiasco was orchestrated and declared war on live TV. Though he didn't name names, everyone in the US knew exactly who he meant.
He released his debut single "HE," launching a counterattack in his own style. The song sparked a new trend among teenagers and has remained atop the Billboard chart, selling over 400,000 copies in just one month.
His third movie script, Sleepless in Seattle, wrapped its theatrical run with over $130 million in box office earnings in North America alone—meaning every film project associated with him has grossed over 100 million dollars.
Shaking his head, Mick Taylor pulled himself back to the present. Everything that had happened over the past year made one thing abundantly clear: a superstar was rising. Even though he was not yet twelve, and had yet to face the so-called "Hollywood child star curse," did those things really matter to him?
Even if he never appeared on the big screen again, his writing and screenplays alone were enough to earn him a place on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Mick did indeed have ongoing contact with Ryan and his collaborators, regularly receiving first-hand material. These connections had helped him immensely—he was now also the deputy editor of the entertainment section.
Arriving at the entrance of Hollywood's Chinese Theatre, Mick and John quickly found their designated spot. There were so many reporters tonight—perhaps not as many as at the Oscars, but definitely comparable to the Golden Globes.
"Mick, you're late today!"
The one speaking was the New York Times' Los Angeles-based reporter.
"Move over a bit, let me set up the camera first." Mick positioned his equipment and then replied, "Don't ask. Stomach troubles made us leave late. Did I miss anything?"
"Oh yes—Steven Spielberg and George Lucas just went into the theater!"
"Oh God, two of the Big Four directors showed up! Damn it!" Mick cursed, then asked, "What about Ryan Jenkins and Nicole Kidman?"
"Not here yet, but probably arriving soon!"
Just then, a clearly custom Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost pulled up at the end of the red carpet. A man who looked like a bodyguard quickly stepped forward and opened the door. A leg extended from inside.
Long and straight, smooth like jade, the leg belonged to a tall and slender woman with a uniquely sensual charm. Her golden-red wavy hair and black off-shoulder evening gown made her porcelain skin glow under the lights, radiating with brilliance and giving her an irresistible allure.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say she didn't even need acting skills—her stunning looks and cold elegance alone were enough to steal the spotlight in Hollywood.
Nicole Kidman didn't immediately walk forward. Instead, she turned back and reached out a hand into the car. Then, the super genius himself—the guy who made countless writers and screenwriters feel so ashamed they wanted to jump off a building—stepped out, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark teal suit.
"Damn it, Nicole, why did you have to wear high heels? You're so much taller than me!"
Walking on the red carpet, Ryan glanced at the icy beauty holding his arm, grumbling in frustration. He wasn't even twelve yet. Though he'd grown to over five-foot-three, he still looked short next to Nicole—especially with her wearing three-inch high-heeled sandals.
"Shut up, Ryan!" Nicole waved at the screaming fans on either side and reminded him, "This is a public occasion. Mind your manners and grace."
Fans screamed louder when their idols waved. Ryan and Nicole walked over, taking pens and posters, signing them quickly.
"Ryan, you've grown so tall! Wow, you're so handsome~"
Ryan looked up—it was a typical fangirl. He gave her a gentlemanly smile and quickly slipped away.
"Mina, did you see that? Ryan smiled at me! He smiled at me!" The girl, probably around fifteen, was jumping and shouting while hugging her friend, overjoyed from Ryan's sunshine-like smile.
"Ryan, Ryan, over here! Let's take a photo!" another girl screamed.
His bright sky-blue eyes scanned the crowd like radar. Ryan realized more than half of his fans were underage girls. The rest were mostly underage boys.
Just like football needs youth training and education starts from a young age, fans should also be cultivated early.
That was a good thing, wasn't it? It meant he was influencing the next generation of Americans. They would grow up with him. In the near future, he was bound to have terrifying influence.
He took Nicole's hand and quickly walked to the interview area. Reporters swarmed toward them like lunatics. If not for the security guards holding them back, Ryan and Nicole might've been completely drowned by the human wave.
"Nicole, go on ahead. I'll deal with them." Ryan put on a gentlemanly air and faced the crowd of reporters. "I won't answer any questions unrelated to Terminator 2!"
"Then can you predict the opening weekend box office?" Mick Taylor was the first to react.
"Fifty million dollars!"
Ryan casually held up his hand with five fingers and waved it. The reporters were all stunned. Fifty million! That prediction was insane!
Shrugging, Ryan turned and walked away. In his view, that was already a conservative estimate. It was July 3rd, and the week still had four full days and an evening left. Starting tomorrow was the Independence Day holiday. With his influence being far greater than that of his counterpart in the previous life, if Terminator 2's opening week box office couldn't beat that of the original timeline, then the whole crew might as well go sightseeing on the Golden Gate Bridge.
After greeting Schwarzenegger, Cameron, and others, and taking group photos, Ryan slipped into the theater with the rest of the crew.
Soon, he spotted Nicole talking with Jodie Foster and a few others.
"Jodie, I'm really sorry about The Bodyguard. Though I already said it on the phone, I felt saying it in person would be more sincere." Ryan's apology was quite genuine.
Others might not find out for another decade, but he already knew that the John Hinckley assassination attempt on Reagan was the greatest trauma of Jodie Foster's life. It made her withdraw from the spotlight for years and caused her to lose interest in men entirely, becoming a lesbian. Of course, she guarded her privacy well—except for a few, nobody knew this yet.
"It's okay, Ryan," Jodie Foster replied with a generous smile, then said softly, "If I were to resent someone, it should probably be someone else, right?"
The two exchanged a knowing smile, putting the matter to rest.
Then, Ryan noticed three people across from them, and his eyes lit up. One was Ron Meyer, who had joined Universal Pictures earlier than in his previous life. Another was George Lucas, head of Industrial Light & Magic. The last was Steven Spielberg.
"Mr. Lucas, Mr. Spielberg, it's an honor to meet you," Ryan slightly bowed after Ron Meyer made introductions. "You can call me Ryan."
"Alright, Ryan," George Lucas adjusted his glasses. "We were just talking about you!"