Ryan seemed to recall something, but couldn't quite form a clear idea. When he turned around, he saw the once-lively little girl biting her lip tightly, her eyes red as she stared at the departing car, two streams of tears unknowingly rolling down her cheeks.
The commercial crew was indifferent to all of this, as if they were used to such scenes. The woman took a deep breath, her eyes flickering twice before she slowly walked over to her daughter.
"Lindsay, let's go home," the woman said, taking the girl's hand.
"But Mommy, we don't have a car anymore!" the little girl had somehow already wiped away her tears.
"I'll call a taxi!" the woman said, only to suddenly remember her purse had been taken by her husband. She had no money to hire a cab.
Ryan shook his head. For once, compassion stirred within him. He looked toward one of the crew assistants, and when the assistant gave him a questioning glance, Ryan nodded slightly.
"Ma'am, if you don't mind, we can give you a ride," the assistant offered politely.
"This… how could I accept that?" the woman hesitated.
"Mom!" the little girl spoke up, pointing at Ryan. "It was his constant NGs that made us wait so long. Let them give us a ride. It's only fair!"
The black car sped away from the filming street, heading toward the address the woman had given. Luckily, it was a middle-class neighborhood—otherwise, the assistant driving definitely wouldn't have agreed.
"Mr. Jenkins, hello. I'm Dina Rohan," the woman sitting in the front passenger seat had clearly recognized Ryan.
"Hello, Mrs. Rohan," Ryan replied courteously. The little girl sitting beside him, however, was not so cordial. "Hmph, what's so great about him? A guy who keeps messing up his takes."
Ryan could only give a helpless laugh. He couldn't possibly argue with a little girl, could he?
"Lindsay, that's very rude," the woman turned and gave an apologetic smile.
"It's okay," Ryan said generously, waving his hand.
During the ride, Ryan could tell that Mrs. Dina Rohan seemed like she wanted to ask something, but even until they arrived, she never spoke up. Ryan wasn't keen on inviting trouble either, so he pretended not to notice.
They were definitely a troublesome family, and he didn't want to get too involved with them—even if saving a fallen young woman might be an amusing endeavor.
In the following days, all the scenes being shot had nothing to do with Ryan. He simply returned to school. By now, most of the students were used to his presence. Though they would occasionally ask him about entertainment gossip, the school environment kept any fangirling at bay.
Besides, kids at that age were more into teen idols—not fellow kids their own age.
"Nicole, I missed you so much!"
As soon as Nicole Kidman walked through the door, Ryan rushed over and hugged her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.
"Darling, I missed you too." She kissed him on the forehead as she put down her luggage and lifted him onto the sofa. "Ryan, you've gained weight. Pretty soon I won't be able to carry you anymore."
"Then I'll carry you instead." Ryan spoke without thinking, only realizing the awkwardness of his words after they came out. Fortunately, Nicole wasn't paying attention to that.
"Ryan, go get me a juice box. I'm exhausted."
"Alright."
As Ryan walked into the kitchen, Nicole furrowed her brows slightly. Something about Ryan seemed different. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed. She could feel that his attachment to her hadn't lessened, but there was something else mixed in now.
Maybe he was just growing up? He couldn't stay a kid forever. Sooner or later, he would become a man, have his own life, and leave her...
Nicole Kidman suddenly froze, her eyes flickering. She smacked her forehead and muttered in her mind, "Damn it."
"Nicole, are you feeling okay?" Ryan placed a strawberry juice on the coffee table.
"I'm fine. Probably just too tired." She calmly changed the subject. "How's the filming for Terminator 2 going?"
"Don't even mention it. James Cameron is a tyrant on set. I swear, I'll never act in one of his movies again," Ryan said, habitually leaning against Nicole. "Under his scolding, you start to feel like you're completely useless."
"I heard the investment in the film has reached 90 million dollars?"
"Yes," he nodded emphatically. "And that won't be the end of it. This film's budget will definitely hit a record-breaking 100 million dollars."
"By the way, Nicole—want to come to the set with me tonight? They're filming a scene in a bar."
"Hmm… alright."
This film required a large number of outdoor scenes and special effects. The crew would move across California, Nevada, New Mexico, and other locations. For the final scene, James Cameron even had a steel mill undergoing renovations leased and remodeled.
Of course, the crew wasn't planning to leave California just yet. Tonight's scene was at the very beginning of the film—when Schwarzenegger bursts into a biker bar.
"What the… what is going on here?" A provocatively dressed woman had just stormed into the bar mid-shoot, completely stunned by the scene.
Reality often proved stranger than fiction. While the crew was shooting, a flashy woman barged into the biker bar. She completely ignored the set trucks and cameras, thinking this was a real bar.
And when she saw a nearly naked Schwarzenegger in just shorts, her eyes practically lit up green. One could easily imagine that if the future governor merely beckoned, she'd throw herself at him.
Schwarzenegger's response was brilliant: "We're holding a Men's Strip Night. Welcome to join us, ma'am!"
"You… you're Schwarzenegger? You guys are filming a movie?" The flashy woman finally realized what was going on. But instead of leaving, she poked Schwarzenegger's massive chest and even licked her lips.
Though Schwarzenegger wasn't exactly a good guy, he clearly had no interest in such a vulgar woman. He quickly stepped back, looking defeated, as two crew members—laughing to the point of doubling over—hurried over to politely but firmly escort the woman out.
"Wow, Arnie, you've got quite the luck with the ladies!" Ryan laughed so hard he nearly choked.
"Ryan, that's slander!" Schwarzenegger threw on a jacket handed to him by an assistant and walked over.
"I never expected you, the tough guy, to be so funny!" Ryan sat off to the side, slapping his legs—well, slapping Nicole's legs.
Suddenly, Schwarzenegger curled the corner of his lips into a sly grin—an expression rarely seen from him.
But this smile gave Ryan an intense sense of déjà vu. It immediately reminded him of True Lies. Wasn't this the exact same smile Schwarzenegger used to finally shed his reputation for being expressionless?
"Wait a minute!"
Ryan held up a finger. "Arnie, hold that smile!"
"Mr. Lane, could you jot something down for me?" he called to one of James Cameron's assistants.
"Gladly."
"Exterior: mansion front gate. Night."
"A secret agent nods at a security guard as he passes by. Just as he reaches the terrace near the parking lot, another guard rushes after him. The guard puts down his radio and says, 'Sir, please show your invitation!'"
"The agent doesn't turn around. He simply pulls a small box from his pocket and flashes that sly grin. (Note: same smile Arnie just gave in the bar.) It's a remote detonator."
"The agent says, 'This is my invitation,' and casually presses the button. Boom! A massive fireball explodes behind him."
"Alright, that'll do for now." Ryan waved his hand.
The resting crew all gathered around, amazed. Even though it was just a short scene, it seemed sparked entirely by Schwarzenegger's smile.
"Ryan, don't tell me… you're writing a new script again?" James Cameron approached.
"Not exactly a new one. I watched an old French film recently and got inspired. Arnie's smile just now perfectly matched a scene I'd envisioned." Ryan wasn't just making this up. Ever since joining this crew, he'd been eyeing James Cameron.
"Mind sharing a bit?" Cameron gave a sly smile. "I think everyone here would love to hear a genius idea."
Everyone immediately whooped and cheered, making Nicole roll her eyes dramatically.
"Alright, fine." Ryan turned to Schwarzenegger. "Arnie rides a horse through the streets of Washington, chasing terrorists. Oh—and we can use two Harrier jets to fire Maverick missiles and blow up the causeway bridge in Miami. Arnie, interested in piloting a Harrier? You could fly through an urban jungle, rescuing your daughter from terrorists."
"Wow, that sounds like nothing you've done before. Definitely an action flick." Schwarzenegger rubbed his chin. "Looks like I'll be turning into an all-around action hero."
"Arnie, don't you think that sinister smile you just gave me was brilliant? Maybe with that, critics will stop calling you a wooden actor. No offense. Thank you!" Ryan continued, "Though in my opinion, Stallone's the real wooden actor—you're only half."
"Oh really? Then I look forward to reading your full script!" Schwarzenegger was clearly interested.
"Jim, what about you?" Ryan turned to Cameron.
"Sounds pretty cool. But… let's wait till you finish the script," Cameron said.
Ryan had no scenes that night. He brought Nicole along just to help her relax and de-stress, and maybe see Cameron's tyrant-director persona. He hadn't expected to witness such a spectacular little drama. Pity Kennedy's lady wasn't around—this could've been pure soap opera gold.