Chapter 33: Motorcycle Knights Bar.
Ryan seemed to remember something, but the thought slipped away before it became clear. When he turned back, the lively little girl from moments earlier was biting her lip hard, eyes red as she stared at the disappearing car. Two silent tears rolled down her freckled cheeks.
The ad crew acted like they had seen it all before. The woman steadied herself, blinked twice, and slowly walked toward her daughter.
"Lindsay, let's go home," she said, taking the girl's hand.
"But Mom, we don't have a car anymore!"
The little girl had already wiped her tears away.
"I'll call a cab!" The woman started to reach for her purse, then froze—she remembered her husband had snatched it before speeding off.
Ryan shook his head. For once he felt a pang of sympathy. He glanced at the production assistant, who caught the look and gave a small nod.
"Ma'am, if you don't mind, we can give you a ride," the assistant offered politely.
"That… would be very kind," the woman said, clearly embarrassed.
"Mom!" Lindsay piped up, pointing straight at Ryan. "He's the one who kept doing NG takes and made us wait forever. They owe us a ride home!"
The black sedan quickly left the filming street and headed toward the address the woman gave. Thankfully it was in a decent middle-class neighborhood; otherwise the assistant would never have agreed.
"Hello, Mr. Jenkins. I'm Dina Lohan," the woman in the front seat said once she recognized him.
"Hello, Mrs. Lohan." Ryan answered politely.
The little girl beside him was far less impressed. "Hmph. Big deal. He's just the guy who can't stop doing NG takes."
Ryan could only laugh helplessly. He wasn't about to argue with a five-year-old.
"Lindsay, that's rude," the woman said, turning with an apologetic smile.
"It's fine," Ryan waved it off generously.
During the drive, Ryan could tell Dina Lohan wanted to ask something, but she never did.
He didn't push. He had no interest in getting tangled up with this family, no matter how entertaining it might be to "rescue" a troubled young woman.
The next few days were all scenes without Ryan, so he simply went back to school. His classmates had mostly gotten used to him by now. They still asked about Hollywood gossip now and then, but under school rules the mobbing had mostly stopped.
Besides, kids their age were far more interested in teen idols than in a boy their own age.
"Nicole, I missed you so much!"
The moment Nicole Kidman walked through the door, Ryan rushed over and hugged her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.
"I missed you too, sweetheart." She kissed his forehead out of habit, set down her luggage, and lifted him onto the sofa. "Ryan, you've gotten heavier. Soon I won't be able to pick you up anymore."
"Then I'll carry you from now on." The words slipped out before he could think. Luckily Nicole's attention had already moved on.
"Ryan, can you get me a glass of juice? I'm exhausted."
"Sure."
As Ryan headed to the kitchen, Nicole frowned slightly. Something about him felt different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. His attachment to her was as strong as ever, yet there was something else underneath.
He's growing up, she told herself. He can't stay a little boy forever. One day he'll have his own life… and he'll leave me.
Nicole Kidman suddenly froze. Her eyes flickered. She slapped her forehead and thought, What on earth am I thinking?
"Nicole, are you okay?" Ryan placed a glass of strawberry juice on the coffee table.
"I'm fine. Just tired." She smoothly changed the subject. "How's Terminator 2 going?"
"Don't even ask. James Cameron is a complete on-set tyrant. I swear I'll never work with him again." Ryan leaned against her as usual. "After one of his lectures you start to feel completely worthless."
"I heard the budget has reached ninety million dollars?"
"Yeah." He nodded firmly. "And that's nowhere near the end. This movie will definitely hit an unprecedented one hundred million."
"Oh, Nicole—can we go to the set together tonight? They're shooting in a bar."
"…Alright."
The film required lots of location work and heavy effects, so the production would soon move between California, Nevada, New Mexico, and more. James Cameron had even rented a steel mill that was under repair to rebuild it for the finale.
For now they were still in California. Tonight's scene was the opening bar sequence where Schwarzenegger storms into the Motorcycle Knights Bar.
"What the…?" The woman who burst into the bar looked stunned.
Real life is often stranger than movies. While they were filming, a provocatively dressed woman wandered straight into the Motorcycle Knights Bar set. She completely ignored the lighting trucks and cameras, thinking it was a real bar.
The moment she saw Arnold Schwarzenegger standing there in nothing but shorts, her eyes lit up with unmistakable hunger. If the future governor had crooked a finger, she would have jumped on him right there.
Arnold's reply was priceless. "We're having a male strip night. Welcome, lady!"
"You… you're Schwarzenegger. Are you filming a movie?" The woman finally caught on, but instead of leaving she poked his massive chest and licked her lips.
Arnold might not have been a saint, but he had zero interest in this kind of woman. He took two quick steps back, looking thoroughly defeated. Two crew members, barely holding in their laughter, rushed over and gently escorted her out.
"Wow, Arnold, you lucky dog!" Ryan laughed so hard he almost choked.
"Ryan, that's slander!" Arnold took the robe an assistant handed him and walked over, draping it across his shoulders.
"I never knew the big tough guy could be this funny!" Ryan sat on the side and patted Nicole's leg twice for emphasis.
Arnold's mouth suddenly twisted into a sly, slightly sinister smirk—the kind rarely seen on his face.
Ryan felt an instant flash of recognition. That was exactly the smirk Arnold had used in True Lies, the one that finally helped him escape the "wooden" label.
"Wait!"
Ryan held up a finger. "Arnold, hold that smile!"
"Mr. Reynolds, can you take notes?" He turned to one of James Cameron's assistants.
"Happy to."
"Exterior, villa entrance. Night."
"The agent nods to a security guard as he passes. As he reaches the parking-lot terrace, another guard chases after him and lowers his walkie-talkie. 'Sir, your invitation please!'"
"The agent doesn't turn around. He simply pulls a small box from his pocket. The corner of his mouth curls into that sly smirk. (Note: Arnold's smile from the bar scene.) It's a remote detonator."
"The agent says, 'Here's my invitation,' and calmly presses the button. Boom! A massive fireball erupts!"
"That's all for now!" Ryan waved his hand.
The resting crew members gathered around, staring in amazement. It was just a short scene, but it had clearly been sparked by Arnold's smirk.
"Ryan, don't tell me you're starting another screenplay," James Cameron said as he walked over.
"Not exactly new. I watched an old French movie a while back and got some ideas.
Arnold's smile just matched a scene I was imagining." Ryan wasn't making it up. Ever since joining this production he had been looking for a way to pitch to Cameron.
"Mind sharing?" Cameron gave a sly smile of his own. "I think everyone here wants to hear the super-genius's idea."
The crew immediately started cheering. Nicole rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible.
"Alright." Ryan turned to Arnold. "You on horseback, racing through the streets of Washington, chasing terrorists. Oh—and two Harrier jets firing Maverick missiles to blow up the Miami bridge. Arnold, interested in flying a Harrier? You could weave through the city's steel canyons rescuing your kidnapped daughter."
"Wow, that sounds completely different from anything you've done before. Sounds like a pure action movie." Arnold rubbed his chin.
"Looks like I'd have to become an all-around warrior."
"Arnold, don't you think that sly smile you just gave me is perfect? With that, those critics who love to call you wooden might finally shut up. You don't mind me saying that, right? Thanks!" Ryan continued. "Though in my opinion Stallone is the real wooden one—you're only half."
"Really? Then I'll be waiting for the full script!" Arnold clearly liked the idea.
"What about you, Jim?" Ryan turned to Cameron.
"It sounds promising. Let's talk once you finish the screenplay."
Ryan had no scenes tonight. He had only brought Nicole along so she could relax and watch the on-set tyrant in action. He never expected to see such a perfect moment. Too bad the Kennedy woman wasn't here; otherwise it would have been pure prime-time drama.