Agustina watched her son enter the correctional facility with a sigh, a condolence that poured all the augury of unforgiveness. Agustina closed her eyes with marked pain; it was a river she didn't cross very often, but seeing her son in such a position only gave her headaches. Her son? A criminal. It wasn't something she wanted for herself or Billy.
'From love, we will always hold on. If you don't suffer for me, you'll suffer for what you are, for a mother, a wife, a grandmother... for a lover. We suffer because it's the only way we know,' Agustina thought, a grandmother's saying; pain was the only way to understand. That one isn't always everything as one desires. One of the reasons Agustina came to the United States is pain.
As a child, she lived in a time when dictatorship plagued the streets of Argentina. The country changed overnight; her missing brothers and her sisters slept with soldiers to save their lives. Death wasn't enough for her mother to overcome; she fell months later, in pain and loneliness. She lived cradled under her grandmother's old hands, which wiped away tears of sadness. 'You grew up in sadness, dear,' sighed her grandmother, kissing her cheeks, while she wrapped her up and sang lullabies. Even if she were too old to receive such songs, she wouldn't forget them, because love couldn't be forgotten. Love never forgets.
Only illness makes one forget love. There are no limits, but it's love that holds together with pain.
Directionless, she reached the car; Jerry's serious and wrinkled face awaited her. Her guardian angel? She wouldn't know, but he was a person who gave her hope.
-How did you do it? - Agustina uttered, on the verge of desperation.
-Do what? - said Jerry.
-He had a toad's soul, - Agustina thought, the way Jerry reacted to things, only reacting to Billy's music. Perhaps that's what tells him to fight so hard for his son, something that makes him feel emotions because he lost the ability to do so.
Tears fell like drops of water, before bursting, one by one. - You know, helping him that way, those politicians are tenacious, - said Agustina.
-It was easy, - Jerry said, looking at the woman. - I attacked all the flanks; it was ruthless. You don't need to know more! -
It was ruthless, that's what the old man said, who leaned comfortably in his seat, and had the newspaper between his knees, most likely for the crossword puzzles, a strong word for someone so stunned by society. Jerry wiped away tears with chores until they forgot they existed and only used them later to gain more strength against those who caused his tears.
-It doesn't leave me at peace; sometimes, I just want to sleep without worrying, but what else... my life is at its lowest point. I feel like I'm on a staircase, I look up, and all I see are supports, - said Agustina.
-Your son got the poetry from his mother; there's no doubt you're a sensitive woman, - said Jerry, starting the car, which disappeared down the road. Agustina's neck hurt so much that turning wasn't an option; all she could do was imagine, imagine why her boy entered, walk through the main part, leading to a waiting room, two rights. Would he follow where, perhaps, he'd follow to another building, and his room would be on the edge, in a cold bed, with fleas, and blue sheets. Maybe he wouldn't even have sheets and would sleep like a vagabond, without something to ward off the cold, but would the unbearable heat require blankets as a necessity?
The Mazda continued carelessly over the asphalt until it reached a small block of apartments, not the best, just a temporary place. A three-month contract while finding a nicer place, a place closer to work. The car slowed to a halt at the entrance, almost in suspension.
-Thank you for everything, - said Agustina, smiling at Jerry, still with red, tearful, squinted eyes, and a runny nose. That was Agustina; she cried about everything.
-Graph. - Jerry grunted; he was deafened.
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Ahmet Ertegun played the music of his new promise, without hearing such fervor. The music was good and had considerable lyrics and rhythms, but nothing aroused that feeling promoted by his peers; it was nonexistent, but he had to fulfill a contract. He would see how successful the journey was; he had to listen to it live, but on a record, it was nothing overwhelming, almost insipid, and that was a lot to say.
The rap song surprised him; they recorded it last, and the rap was quick and fitting; it had power, but he had heard better ones, perhaps more powerful... no, it needed something different. Yes, it was villainy; these songs required villainy, cunning, and an act of strength.
He sent them to the record labels almost as soon as he finished listening to the five songs; he liked two for their strong character and interwoven lyrics, "Like a Stone" and "Celebra la Vida." Spanish songs? A bilingual who sings in two languages perfectly; the only good thing is that it would open the Spanish market, and if necessary, the Latino market, a good expansion point to conquer more hearts.
He always thought like an entrepreneur.
The songs weren't bad, but Ahmet's measuring stick was the highest, as the reactions around him were high, and he measured them in every way: melody, rhythm, chords, delivery, polish, character, voice, compactness... not even in mathematics were exams so rigorous for accuracy, almost like a business formula. He rated the song a 6 out of 10, and the two he liked a 7.5 out of 10, being generous.
The agreement with the radio stations was clear: play the songs in a playlist, and give a summary provided by Atlanta Record. What did the message say? It went like this:
-A new song delivered by a natural singer: from Atlanta Records, his new singles brought to you by Billy Carson, a new entity in rock music, alternative rock bringing us the following song... -
What rating did the radio members give? 8/10, some 10/10. They were good songs, nothing indiscreet, a theme that continued the American tradition. Was it something different from the many songs delivered to the radio each year? Not at all. If they recorded and sent it, the filter was already set, they just play music, it's a job.
MTV also received it, but without a video, it wouldn't attract much attention, just a black screen, with some effects reacting to the voices, guitars, and drums... to the instruments. They watched it, mixed it, and its light section in emerging bands got a spot, but without a singer, without a sample, without an audience, it's difficult to stand out.
The following days were similar, the rinsing and washing of the music market, putting the songs out there, and people listening and defining them without much fanfare. The song was sent along with many others, but the exposure did its job. Some asked about the songs, some just remembered them in their heads as forgotten lyrics. A few more days passed, the song continued its course, and people kept listening.
Some saw behind the scenes the new music from Atlanta Records. It's not just any label; the artists under the label paid attention. The singer had character, but many just brushed it off. There were incredible people under the label, from Outkast, TLC, Usher, T.I, Ludacris, Ciara, and Jagged Edge.
...