Dear Miss Drew Barrymore? A script? Owes me?
Drew had always been outspoken, and naturally, her words fell right into the ears of the reporters. These sharp-nosed professionals immediately began connecting the dots.
Could it be that Ryan Jenkins and Drew Barrymore had some kind of secret relationship? Or perhaps the two of them were...
"I heard from someone at Universal Pictures that the two of them seemed to have had some kind of entanglement at Universal Studios, though the details are unclear," a well-informed reporter whispered.
Entanglement? What kind of entanglement? A sibling-like romance perhaps?
Although Drew Barrymore and Gwyneth Paltrow had staged a surprise attack, they had ultimately come to support Ryan. So he couldn't say anything about it—he just gave them a polite hug to show his gratitude.
"No need to thank us, Ryan. I'm going to find Nicole," said the little Pepper from his past life with a faint smile.
"Alright, Ryan, I hope your first album becomes a mega-hit and sells ten times platinum!"
Drew leaned in and whispered into his ear. Even though neither of them meant anything by it, to the reporters, it was a different story entirely.
These professionals quickly chose the best angles. Their camera shutters never stopped clicking, capturing every moment before and after.
Now they were satisfied—no worries about tomorrow's entertainment headlines.
You see, Ryan Jenkins had been laying low recently and hadn't generated any big headlines in a while. What? The album's a huge success? That's not news. For a super genius, it would only be news if album sales weren't good.
But now? A super genius in an ambiguous relationship with a "fallen" girl? How should they spin it? The journalists' minds were racing. As for whether the two were actually romantically involved—that didn't matter. In their stories, even mere acquaintances could be twisted into secret lovers.
Especially since they hugged in public… Sure, even an idiot could tell it was just a polite gesture. But with the right camera angles...
And that script? Sounds like Ryan Jenkins wrote a script for Drew Barrymore—that's big news. They had to dig deeper!
If the two had no personal connection, why would he write a script for her? There must be a story behind it. The public has the right to know! Their journalistic duty was sacred. They had to uncover everything about them.
And if there was nothing to uncover? Easy. Making stuff up based on photos was a basic skill. If they couldn't do even that, they might as well change professions.
Scandal means headlines. Headlines mean circulation. Circulation means money. So the headline must be eye-catching, the content must be explosive. Even fake stories can be turned into "truth" through enough repetition!
Many reporters were already imagining how they would fabricate—ah no, write—their stories.
Ryan didn't think too much of it. For all the guests who came to support him today, he had expressed his gratitude with a hug—one of the most basic and sincere gestures, more significant than a handshake. Regardless of their motives, this was a courtesy he owed them.
Back in the lounge, all the other guests had left except Nicole, Drew, and Gwyneth. After all, they were busy people, and the fact they'd made time to come at all was already a big favor.
"Let's go," Ryan said as he helped Nicole pack up and called out to the others.
"Wow, is it over?" Drew took off her earbuds and looked at John Burns. "Mr. Burns, can we have the celebration party now?"
After receiving his confirmation, she let out an excited shriek. As the rumors suggested, she was truly a party animal.
The party was held at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. Hollywood Records had rented out a large banquet hall. Aside from Ryan's entourage and band, most of the attendees were Disney staff. Naturally, several major newspaper reporters were also invited.
"Pop!"
With a loud cheer, a huge bottle of champagne was popped open. Hollywood Records' CEO Reed personally poured glass after glass.
Since the media was present, everyone held back a bit—no champagne spraying. Besides, Ryan's allergy to alcohol wasn't a secret. The record company had warned everyone in advance.
"Cheers!"
Ryan held up his juice glass and clinked it heavily against Nicole's wine glass. With a crisp ring, they both downed their drinks.
"Sweetheart, don't drink too much," Nicole reminded him with concern.
"Hey, Ryan, look this way—smile!"
The familiar voice belonged to Mick Taylor from the Los Angeles Times.
Ryan pulled Nicole close, wrapping his arm around her slender one and resting his head on her shoulder, flashing a radiant smile.
"Wait! Me too!"
Drew Barrymore tossed away her glass and charged over from behind. Her smile couldn't be described as radiant—her mouth practically stretched to her ears.
The group struck poses, satisfying the reporters' photo needs. After that, the media people were politely ushered out by the record company. The rest was party time.
At that moment, a giant cake was wheeled in. On top of the cream, fruit jam spelled out bright "Double Platinum" characters. It was to celebrate the album surpassing 2 million in sales. The Recording Association had officially certified Ryan Jenkins as a platinum album.
"Ryan, come on!" Burns called out.
Seeing the enormous cream cake, Ryan gave an evil grin. He took the plastic knife and made the ceremonial first slice.
The cake was so large that cutting it was a hassle. Ryan only did the symbolic first cut and left the rest to the staff. He specifically chose the two creamiest pieces and held them in his hands.
"Nicole, look! I picked the yummiest piece for you." Naturally, Nicole Kidman was first in line.
"Thank you, sweetheart."
Although this kind of food was a sworn enemy of women, since it came from Ryan personally, it meant something. Nicole accepted it without hesitation and took a small bite.
Just as she was about to take a second bite, the world suddenly went dark.
In the moment Nicole lowered her head, Ryan swung his right arm and smashed the cake piece onto her face. That fair, delicate face instantly looked like a condiment shop—white, red, green—all stuck together.
"Ryan Jenkins!"
Nicole let out a shriek. Before she could react, Ryan, quick as lightning, snatched the piece from her hand and slammed it onto her again.
This time he hit a bit low. It just happened to land on her chest. The purple shirt stretched across her curves instantly turned white.
Nicole immediately realized—this little brat had declared a cake war. She didn't hold back either. Though she had no "ammunition" in hand, she simply charged at Ryan with her cream-smeared face and rubbed it against his.
But Ryan was prepared. With a few quick steps, he leapt away, landing beside an amused Drew Barrymore. Without thinking, he snatched the cake from her hand and slapped it onto her doll-like face as her eyes widened in shock.
"Ryan!" Drew screamed.
But the boy, now fully into the game, used guerrilla tactics, darting through the crowd and occasionally snatching cakes to throw backward.
Not to be outdone, Drew chased after him, armed with a cake she had snatched from who-knows-where. She hurled it at Ryan's head—but her aim was poor, and it ended up hitting the female violinist in the band instead.
When Ryan went after Drew, the older guests knew exactly what was about to happen. They smartly exited, leaving the banquet hall to the younger crowd.
Ryan was like the trigger for World War III. He attacked everyone indiscriminately—even Kinsey and Burns, who had just walked to the door, weren't spared and became victims of flying cake bombs.
Of course, no one took it lying down. Once people had ammo in hand, a wild cake war broke out. Unfortunately, several pretty women became primary targets. Gwyneth was the unluckiest. Being more reserved and not great at this kind of chaos, she was covered in cream and jam within minutes.
Still, the worst off was Drew Barrymore. Ryan had secretly rallied the entire band to launch a full-on bombardment against her. Flying cakes rained down all around her.
"Waaah!"
Under heavy fire, Drew charged toward the big cake. No longer picking targets, she started throwing wildly at whoever she could grab—within seconds, several others fell victim.
"Aaah! Ryan, you little devil! I won't let you get away with this!"
While Drew was busy attacking others, Ryan darted over, lifted the remaining half of the cake, and plopped it right onto her head. Her beautiful golden hair instantly turned white. Furious, Drew gave up on everyone else and went after him.
"Haha!"
Ryan laughed uncontrollably, not noticing Nicole sneaking up behind him. Suddenly, he felt a chill down his neck—something sticky and cold had been stuffed into the back of his shirt.
Reaching back, he grabbed a handful of cream. Without thinking, he chased after Nicole, stuffing a big chunk of frosting down her collar before darting off again.
"Ryan Jenkins! Just wait till we get home—I'll make you pay!"
Nicole Kidman couldn't catch up to him and could only stand there shouting.
As the "ammunition" ran out, the Great Cake War finally came to an end. Everyone in the banquet hall, including the staff from Hollywood Records, ended up with cream-smeared faces. Their outfits were basically ruined.
"Ryan!"
In the car on the way home, Nicole pinched his ear—pretending to be fierce but not using any force. "You little rascal, my new outfit is ruined!"
Nicole Kidman and Pat Kinsey had clearly changed clothes. Both were shooting Ryan dangerous looks.
But Ryan, who had a face thicker than a city wall, nonchalantly said, "Alright, dear Nicole and Pat, I'll place an order with Versace to send you each ten sets of their latest season's designs."