As the music director of Hollywood Records, John Burns was so worried his hair had turned white. Other than the Mickey Mouse Club, the company didn't have a single noteworthy singer to show for. And to make matters worse, the Mickey Mouse Club didn't have much to do with the record label that had only been established in 1990.
More than a year had passed, and the company had accomplished almost nothing in the music industry. As a senior executive, John Burns knew very well that if things continued like this, the group's board of directors would soon carry out a major shake-up of the record label's management team.
But even if Hollywood Records was the most inconspicuous subsidiary under Disney, it wasn't the place for Touchstone Pictures to meddle in. Yet Carter Eisner brought a boy directly to the company, saying he was very talented and gifted, and that the label should sign him. What kind of joke was that?
Fine, he had to admit Ryan Jenkins was a genius—but that was in writing and acting. This was music! Did the kid really think he was a multi-talented prodigy?
Soon after, he received a phone call from the group's CEO, Michael Eisner. No matter how reluctant he was, he had no choice but to take a group of people to the audition room.
But he noticed his secretary was constantly winking at him, silently mouthing something.
Tom Cruise?
He instantly understood, furrowing his brows. Suddenly, the wave of media coverage from April came back to him—writing a song in just half an hour! Yes! It was him!
The audition didn't last long. After Ryan sang a song called Because of You and stated it was his own original work, everyone in the studio looked at him like starving wolves spotting fresh meat—especially John Burns. As a seasoned professional, how could he not see the kid's value?
"Ryan, to be honest, there are a few minor issues with your vocal technique. Don't worry, they're easy to fix," Burns frowned and sighed, then asked, "Are you entering your voice change period?"
"Yes," Ryan nodded. "In fact, I'm hoping that professionals like you can offer me some guidance during this stage."
Burns was a little disappointed. The entire label desperately wanted to release a hit record as soon as possible to turn things around. The boy in front of him clearly had musical talent, but to record an album, they'd have to wait until after his voice stabilized, right?
And how long would that take? Typically, it would take at least six to eight months for the vocal cords to settle. Damn it!
Not long after, the CEO of Hollywood Records, Reed Miles, also walked in. After a staffer quickly briefed him on the situation, he thought for a moment, then said to Ryan and Kinsley, "Ryan, do you remember me? We met not long ago."
"Yes, Mr. Miles—or rather, Reed," Ryan replied. Of course he remembered him—they had met at a party hosted by Carter not long ago.
"Here's the thing: we'd like to sign you to a record deal. The company will assign professionals to coach you during your voice change period, and we can also use this time to collect songs. Once your voice stabilizes, we can consider recording. How does that sound?"
"No need to collect songs," Ryan gently shook his head. "Actually, I've prepared quite a few songs over the past few years. Releasing an album won't be a problem."
Reed Miles and John Burns both twitched slightly at the corners of their foreheads. What was this? Was this the true face of an artistic prodigy? Excelling in writing and acting, and now songwriting too?
"Reed, you know Ryan held a press conference at HQ today. Within just over half an hour afterward, he wrote a brand-new song," Carter Eisner chimed in, seemingly on purpose.
Some staff members discreetly wiped sweat from their foreheads. Burns pursed his lips tightly and asked, "Ryan, would you mind showing it to us, or…"
"Sure." Ryan gestured to Kinsley, took the sheet music filled with lyrics, and asked a staffer, "Can I borrow a guitar?"
He took the guitar, tried out a pick, then simply set it aside and directly strummed the strings. The melody was playful and upbeat, and his humming was like a mischievous child—sharp and laced with a hint of sarcasm.
"He is the brightest star, rising and speaking sweetly,
Beautiful words that chill like ice hidden deep,
Their sting can wound, their smile deceives—
Yes, that's the cold that cuts beneath!
Light flickers, alarm bells ring,
His eyes—like a dragon's—glint and sting,
Watching innocent children, lovely ladies,
And slandering them with torturous shaming!
His words, a constant poisonous stream—
That's his mission, his twisted dream!
Oh, the evil he brings snuffs out the light,
Where he walks, flowers wither, leaves die in fright!
He obeys Satan's orders loud and clear,
Spreading chaos and hatred far and near.
Don't rejoice when he's out of sight—
Your name may vanish by morning light!
He's hideous, he haunts the world's peace,
Dear ones, pray to God for release!
May the Lord send warriors to strike this beast—
Our world won't fall to his disease!
He's now the fly everyone hates,
No mercy when he meets his fate!
Let him tremble, always alone—
Forever unwanted, forever unknown!
Nana…"
At first, everyone thought the song was light and catchy—absolutely a tune worth promoting. But as the lyrics went on, their mouths fell wider and wider—big enough to fit an egg.
The entire melody was so cheerful, yet so full of satire. There wasn't a single swear word in the lyrics, yet everyone understood—the writer was clearly cursing someone. Someone outwardly glamorous but inwardly despicable.
As for who was being cursed, most of the American public would probably guess it right away.
Everyone looked at each other, dumbfounded for a moment, and then some couldn't help but start laughing. This was just too interesting—Ryan Jenkins' way of fighting back was indeed different.
Nicole Kidman hadn't said a word since entering the room, but now she couldn't help but laugh. After Ryan set down the guitar, she walked over and ruffled his hair. "This is your counterattack? Be careful—it might stir up controversy."
"So what?" Ryan shrugged. "He's an adult. I'm just a kid. He's a long-established big star. I'm just a child actor. He's clearly bullying someone younger and weaker. I can't just sit back and take it. This is the only way I could think of."
His spontaneous response quickly had the desired effect. Everyone in the room sighed and showed sympathetic expressions. Indeed, from most people's perspective, Tom Cruise had gone too far—especially since his target was a minor.
"A fantastic song. It definitely has the potential to hit the Billboard charts," Burns said, clapping hard.
"All right then," Reed Miles thought for a moment and asked, "Ryan, can I have someone talk to Pat about your contract?"
"Of course," Ryan nodded, then suddenly smiled. "Reed, I remember that singers can release a single first as a trial run, right?"
"Yeah."
"Well, if possible, after the contract's signed, can we release He as the single?" Ryan really didn't want to wait six or eight months.
"Hmm…"
"Can't we? I mean, it shouldn't take too much time, right?"
This was a sensitive matter, so Hollywood Records couldn't give him an immediate answer. Ryan wasn't in a rush anyway. This song could just be hummed—even if his voice changed into a raspy duck voice, it wouldn't be hard for him. He could let Kinsley take her time negotiating.
Ryan's remarks at the press conference had once again put him at the center of public attention. At the same time, Tom Cruise faced relentless pursuit from reporters and paparazzi. Even though he adamantly denied being the target of the boy's accusations, as if those people would ever believe him—they hounded him mercilessly.
The matter caused quite a stir, even drawing attention from the Children's Association and the Teachers & Parents Alliance. Their spokesperson said that if Ryan Jenkins had truly suffered unfair treatment and defamation, he could come to them for help—and they were prepared to take action if necessary.
…
Wearing sunglasses and pulling the brim of his baseball cap down low, Ryan checked his surroundings once again. No one had noticed him. He immediately waved at George, and the two of them quickly walked into a coffee shop.
Kinsley had someone run a background check on George. The retired soldier had a clean record, no misconduct of any kind. After talking to him personally, George became Ryan's bodyguard and driver.
At the same time, Kinsley hired a well-known security company to provide two female bodyguards who also acted as assistants for Nicole.
On the second floor, in a private room, a brown-haired middle-aged man was waiting with Kinsley. When he saw Ryan and his bodyguard enter, he instinctively adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"Mr. Sorkin, hello." After Kinsley made the introductions, Ryan greeted the man.
Aaron Sorkin, a Jew born in Manhattan, New York, and a somewhat well-known playwright. Ryan quickly recalled the man's profile—not because he remembered him personally, but because Kinsley had prepared the information in advance.
To be honest, Ryan had almost made a blunder. Fortunately, he remembered that A Few Good Men was released at the end of 1992. Now, with 1991 nearly over, the screenplay had likely already been written. He had specifically asked Kinsley to check if there were any military courtroom-themed scripts circulating in Hollywood. As expected, this Mr. Aaron Sorkin was currently shopping one around.
After reading just a sample of the script Sorkin had handed Kinsley, Ryan was sure—despite the different title—that it wasA Few Good Men.
Originally, he had planned to have Pat Kinsley purchase the script on behalf of Jenkins Pictures. But unexpectedly, Aaron Sorkin had requested to meet him in person.
"Mr. Jenkins, I don't mean to impose. I was just hoping to get your permission to adapt Toy Story from The Ryan Stories into a children's stage play," Sorkin stated his purpose directly.
Ryan scratched his head—this was totally unexpected. "Mr. Sorkin, may I ask about your specific plans?"
"Well, in my community, the kids really love your work. Two months from now, we'll be holding a large charity event for children, so…"
"Alright." Since it was just a small-scale performance, Ryan nodded. "I'll have Pat send you a free license."