in Jerry Wrexler's rented car, today, Wednesday was the day Billy had to deliver the five songs, including Axel's single - "Celebrate Life." All fields were recorded without delay. The good fortune was Spencer's knowledge of most songs, which allowed for an acceptable recording of the first five songs and glimpses of the other two songs, a surprise: "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes and "Clint Eastwood" by Gorillaz.
Two songs that enchanted in the ranks, Agustina's timid fangs stood out as she admired Billy.
-Kid, I'm impressed by your musical progress, -- said Jerry Wrexler at the wheel. He decided to drive to reminisce about old times. With the man in the car window, his elbow out, the hot wind on his face. -- You must continue with the musical exercises. You were good, but you need more work, a lot of work. You get tired after thirty minutes of singing, and you have to rest for the same amount of time it takes you to sing. I'll give the correctional nurse some tea bags for you to drink along with some special antibiotics, vitamins, and other things. They cost a fortune, girl. Every day you'll go after breakfast and before bedtime. Don't hit anyone, and take care of your physical health if there are fights in prison, - said Jerry Wexler.
As the next five minutes began, a new discussion about the many duties and responsibilities Billy should consider, seventy years of experience poured into a ninety-minute trip. Agustina just laughed quietly at Jerry's strong, organized character, who wanted the best for his son.
-Thank you, Jerry, I'll be cautious, but I have to watch out. The guys in the correctional facility are crazy, and for now, they have my back, but you know how these things are, - said Billy.
Jerry nodded.
-That kid Connor, Spencer mentioned he's been following you, - said Jerry.
-Yeah, he's the one with the contacts. His brothers, cousins, and friends are in the correctional facility. He's from a family of troublemakers, drunkards, thieves, drug dealers, and thugs, - said Billy.
-Tell him that when he gets out, he should let you know. We'll pick him up. He'll be your drummer, and beyond that, he should keep practicing. You have six months left in prison. As a minor, you can't be sentenced for more than a year. I hope to get you out in three, before Christmas, son, - said Jerry Wexler.
-Thank you, sir. I hope my music will be on the radio by the weekend, - said Billy.
-It will be, it will be, boy. We already have the demos. I'll send them to Atlanta Records and Warner Records. We'll ask them to play a series on all the radio stations we have agreements with, many agreements, with at least thirty stations. Only singles. There's this new app. We'll upload two singles, one in Spanish and one in English. We'll ask the audience, record labels, and passersby about the impact of your music. Although you hide it, you have a boy's voice, but it will improve. Find your tone, your voice tone, and establish a range, - said Jerry Wexler.
-Thank you, Mr. Wrexler, - said Billy, noticing his mother's prompting expressions.
-Boy, my thanks are earned. Behave yourself, and keep practicing and training. Build your image. If you're going to get tattoos, make sure they're in a classy place. When you get out of jail, I'll have you undergo a drug test. I hope you're clean. You better be clean, or I'll send you to a rehabilitation clinic for a year and suspend the contract, - said Jerry Wrexler, with total anger, abhorrence... not towards Billy, but towards many others, including all the musicians who had been consumed in the drug-infested world of music. Jerry's policy was no drugs; they were bad and a social satire created to destroy lives.
At one time, he read that it was an invention, initially produced to torture enemies. A little bit of that led people to madness, loosening their tongues in psychological torture, and making them paranoid. In other cultures, they were more of a sacred spiritual journey that couldn't be usurped frequently by the more cultured individuals, shamans, or community elders.
A silence fell in the red Mazda 1995 car, an old model. Jerry had it washed as soon as he received it due to the dark background of the situation. It was somewhat inert, somewhat misunderstood by the change in attitude. He touched a nerve, and just a second later, Jerry put on a song on the radio, a station playing tunes from the '80s and '90s, more focused on jazz and rock. Beyond that, the imposing prison loomed with its thick bars, numerous doors, and dozens of guards inside and outside the prison. Nothing friendly, but it was better, more than anything, it was a necessity, obvious against the prison's problems, gangs, and even some police officers reacted at the slightest movement of any kind, although they didn't hit, they were alert like wet cats.
-It's time for you to get off, son. You must be careful, - said Jerry, bidding farewell to Billy, who was...
-Yes, sir, - said Billy, a common trait in his dialect.
They got out of the car, Agustina was attentive to some trivialities, but there weren't many words left. Jerry mentioned that he was the bad guy, and she would be the good one; what mattered was the relationship between her son and her. Jerry was a manipulator, thought Agustina.
-See you on Saturday morning, - said Agustina, starting the conversation. -- We have more time for ourselves. I hope my receptionist job goes well, but I have health insurance, and I enrolled you in my plan. We can get free orthodontics and a general check-up every two months, where everything is checked, I even made plans to improve life insurance, - she said.
-Sounds amazing, I've needed braces for two years, - said Billy.
-I know, incredible how everything starts to fall into place. It's best to stop working at the bar, with no men staring at you every time you bend over, without the danger of going out at night, a stable job. How hard I fought for this, I'm so happy, - said Agustina.
Billy smiled with his white teeth.
-I look forward to the Christmas dinner, a big turkey, those spicy beer sausages you make, potato salad, and dulce de leche, ma, - said Billy.
-I'll bring it next week. I'm doing well, we'll have Turkey Day; I'll bring a giant turkey and hats. We'll celebrate Turkey Day; we missed it last year because we were working, but it's nothing, in less than five days, we'll have the annual Turkey Day party, - said Agustina.
Approaching the door with a lot of documentation, Jerry had taken care of everything pertinent. The legal strategy was different from what a common lawyer would do. It was a technique not many worked on, lateral thinking, finding a third way out to solve problems. They walked, the cold arrived, only one corridor was present, and as soon as they entered the facility, the air conditioning lowered, and in some parts, there was none. Only open windows.
-Remember that I love you, - said Agustina. Billy was already dressed in his inmate attire; the permission was extended, but the next one would be in the coming months, perhaps in three months on his release, they could have another recording session, a longer one, for a month, re-recording the albums this time with a better recording. Something that had to be done. Billy hoped that in the coming months, but it's a thought he doesn't voice out loud, he only lives with the weight. A burden that bothers, him is to reach fame, that his music is known, and that he can live peacefully in a cabin in a big forest. Maybe in Iceland, Canada, or Greenland, a place that requires supreme caution.
-I love you too, mother, - said Billy, kissing his mother on the forehead.
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