Even though she had only heard a short segment, with Whitney Houston's musical expertise, she could naturally tell something from it. Combined with the earlier script, she suddenly realized this was an opportunity—an opportunity that could significantly advance her career.
Under her gaze, the near-monster-like boy genius, with his skilled hands, rewrote the messy sheet music and handed it to her.
"Miss Houston, I think this song suits your voice better," Ryan's face was a little pale, as if he had expended too much energy.
Whitney Houston took it. Unlike the ever-changing composition, the lyrics were very simple—even the chorus consisted of just a single line. She savored it carefully and began to hum softly. The more she sang, the brighter her eyes became.
After so many years in the pop music world, she knew very well that there are some singers who can make any song popular, and there are some songs that become hits no matter who sings them. Undoubtedly, this was the latter kind.
Being so close, Ryan could naturally hear her singing. It was quite different from what he had imagined. He immediately began discussing it with her, offering suggestions, and Whitney kept softly trying out variations, continuously adjusting her vocals according to Ryan's advice and her own interpretation.
By this time, it was already close to midnight. The banquet hall was still crowded—no one had any intention of leaving. What had happened tonight far exceeded their understanding. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience—something unlikely to happen again.
Actually, that wasn't quite right. There was one person who wished he could grow wings and fly away—that was Tom Cruise. Was there still any suspense left about the outcome? Almost no one cared anymore.
Most people were watching and waiting. What would the song Ryan Jenkins created in just over half an hour after narrating his script be like? They all knew he could write novels, create scripts, draw storyboards, and even act. But now—was songwriting going to be added to that list?
Of course, some people had their eyes fixed on Tom Cruise. The reporters eager for drama kept their cameras tightly trained on the charming star, afraid he might slip away unnoticed.
Tom Cruise glared at them, especially the ones holding cameras. If they had been ordinary reporters, he would've had his assistant smash the cameras into pieces by now.
But tonight's charity gala was being covered by NBC. And NBC's parent company wasn't the declining General Motors, but the world's most valuable company—General Electric!
After nearly an hour, the discussion and rehearsing on stage finally stopped. Ryan sat back down at the piano, exchanged a glance with Whitney Houston, and then her rich contralto voice rang out.
After the scale shift, Ryan's fingers fell on the black and white keys. The accompaniment began slowly and softly, telling the story of a lover's longing, gradually growing more intense. Whitney's voice became increasingly powerful—especially the explosive "and" in the chorus. The high note echoed throughout the banquet hall with stunning impact.
"Wow~"
Applause surged like a tide. Even though the song carried hints of soul music, no one could deny it was a deeply moving and powerful love song. Thinking of the emotional climax in the script, where the bodyguard and superstar fall in love—it was a perfect match.
At that moment, they all understood why Ryan Jenkins had said the song wasn't something he could perform. Indeed, a song that required such explosive vocal power wasn't something an eleven-year-old child could sing.
To be honest, it was the first time Ryan and Whitney had performed together, and there were some flaws. But for them to achieve this level of performance was already astonishing. Clearly, both had exceptional musical talent.
Exhaling, Whitney looked at the sheet music in her hand with some reluctance, but still handed it back to Ryan.
"Keep it, Miss Houston," Ryan's face turned even paler as he leaned against Nicole and shook his head slightly.
Whitney's face immediately lit up with joy. She naturally understood what that meant and quickly said, "I'll have my company contact Ms. Kingsley as soon as possible."
The crowd parted below the stage. Tom Cruise walked up under everyone's watchful gaze. His expression had returned to normal, and he appeared suave and composed. He walked straight up to Ryan and Nicole, slightly bowed, and said:
"Nicole, Ryan, I apologize for my inappropriate words earlier tonight. I'm sorry."
Though he wore a smile, his eyes flickered—no one could know what he truly thought.
In short, Tom Cruise realized he was facing a PR crisis. Putting on this show of humility might help recover some public favor. If the other two were aggressive or lashed out, the tide might turn in his favor.
One had to admit, Tom Cruise's acting was superb. Even though no one believed he was sincerely apologizing, nothing in his expression gave it away.
Unfortunately, he was facing someone who lived every second as if acting on stage. Ryan squeezed Nicole's hand, smiled with great poise, and replied first:
"It's okay, let's leave it at that, Mr. Cruise."
It's okay? How could it be okay? Watching Tom Cruise walk briskly off the stage, Ryan was still smiling. Right now, he and Nicole indeed had no way to retaliate—but time was on their side.
Besides, in such a public setting, was he supposed to curse and throw punches? Don't be ridiculous—that would only hurt him.
"I'm tired, Nicole." Even though all he did was describe the scenes from his mind, it had drained him.
"Alright, let's go home." Nicole helped him up and whispered, "Do you want me to carry you?"
Ryan's mouth twitched. "That would make me a laughingstock. I'm not some little brat who hasn't grown up."
As the two just stepped off the stage, Warner's Gerald and his team rushed over. Without them needing to speak, Nicole already knew what they wanted and quickly said, "Mr. Gerald, Mr. Leisman, Ryan is exhausted. We're going home."
It was true—Ryan looked pale, sweat beading on his forehead. Clearly, he was spent. The others couldn't say much and made way for them.
"Mr. Gerald," Ryan suddenly said, "can someone bring over the recorded script? You must've noticed—it only contains the main plotline. Many parts still need to be filled in."
Even though Ryan had narrated for nearly three hours, he had only laid out the main storyline. And in The Bodyguard, apart from the dramatic plot, it was the songs that really captivated the audience. He still needed to recall those songs—otherwise the film would lose much of its charm.
"No problem. Tomorrow okay? I'll have someone send it to Beverly Hills."
"Alright then. Goodbye, everyone."
Watching the pair lean on each other and slowly leave the banquet hall, many in the crowd felt emotional.
"Bly, send the tape to HQ immediately. What? It's past midnight? I don't care—fly if you have to! I want tonight's footage on tomorrow morning's news!" the NBC executive shouted at his reporters.
Everyone realized the value of this news. Anyone involved in the media industry pulled out their phones and started making calls. Even those in print media couldn't wait any longer. They dashed out of the hotel and sped toward their offices.
That night, the LAPD caught many speeding and resisting arrest. Most of them were well-known newspaper and magazine editors and media workers.
"Hurry! Get all the script recordings organized and sent to me!" Gerald barked orders at his subordinates. Then he turned to Whitney Houston, who was still studying the sheet music on stage. "Whitney, come here!"
"What's going on?" Whitney quickly walked over.
"Are you really that clueless?" Seeing her confused expression, Gerald laughed in exasperation. "Don't you get it? In the script, Rachel is a Black pop star! Of course she'll sing the theme song herself. Ryan Jenkins just gave the song to you—what clearer sign could there be?"
"This…"
Whitney Houston finally realized—this was a golden opportunity to take on a leading role on the big screen!
Gerald leaned in and whispered more details to her. She nodded continuously, clearly agreeing with his suggestions.
Meanwhile, Tom Cruise raised the divider and shut himself off in the car's back seat, revealing a face twisted with rage. He could already imagine tomorrow's headlines plastered with coverage of tonight's events—and he would be the fool at the center of it all.
Who would've thought? Who could've predicted that guy would outline an entire script in just three hours, based off a TV show he had just seen? Not even Tom himself, the instigator of it all, could believe it—his mind had gone blank at the time.
This wasn't over! Tom Cruise clenched his teeth. This wasn't the end by a long shot!
In the front seat, Kingsley glanced back with concern at the two people in the back. Everything that had happened tonight had been like a roller coaster ride.
She hadn't been there during the clash with Tom Cruise, but when she arrived, she couldn't help but worry—after all, he was a major figure in the industry.
But what followed completely overturned her expectations. She had known Ryan for two years, and they were friends of sorts, but she had never seen this side of him—so wild, so intense. And that overflowing talent—it was like the Pacific Ocean, endless and inexhaustible!
I'm really lucky. As the car pulled into the villa, that was the only thought left in Kingsley's mind.