Agustina observed Billy's classes every day; her place was secluded for now, to ensure that the teachers fulfilled their part of the deal. She took a part-time job at a newspaper. "It wasn't good for a superstar's mom to have mediocre jobs, image" were some of the words she repeated over and over. The part-time job at a library was better than any other job she could have gotten. Regular pay, little work, and she could read books in her spare time. Why did she work? For Agustina, it was degrading not to work and use Billy's money. Having a free roof over their heads and some extra cash every month was enough.
She went downstairs to the seventh floor to get to Atlanta Records, wearing a long black jacket, wool socks, boots, a coat, and a long-sleeved shirt, but she was freezing.
-Good morning, - Agustina said cheerfully to all the staff she crossed paths with, sighing as the cold disappeared upon entering the building. She had to wait for her son, who would be practicing to assess his progress. Normally, this would only happen on Sundays, Billy's day off.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor; the entrance to the production rooms was on the second floor, and the third floor housed some offices, but the second floor was where the magic happened.
-Good morning, Tom. How's everything going? I hope the improvements are outstanding, - Agustina asked about her son's condition as everyone was cordially reviewing Billy's recordings.
-I can't say anything, Mrs. Carson, but the kid sounds great, - Tom replied.
-I'm glad to hear that; he's been working very hard, - Agustina murmured, taking a seat. Billy played from 2 p.m. to nine or ten at night, from guitar to singing, sometimes piano; the routine repeated itself over and over, trying to find that his skills needed improvement, according to the latest conversations he had with Jerry.
-You sound great, kid. Try to breathe deeply in some stanzas; you lose strength. The mistake is slight and not visible to the naked eye; it's better to correct it now; later it will be a problem, - Mike, a music producer in charge of sound, production, and editing. For now, he was the one doing the work for Billy regarding his music.
-I'll take the shot, just let me rest; I'm exhausted, - Billy said from his chair; the day was dragging on, even longer than his study hours. Where are the parties? The women? Because, I've been singing for three months, studying non-stop, and there's nothing but compressed boredom.
-Rest for a while, kid; you need to repeat four songs, and the first one you have breathing problems with. -
-Yeah, yeah, whatever you say; just let me calm down, - Billy said, checking his state.
State.
Billy Carson.
Singing: (69/80) Level 4: semi-professional. * forty points
Piano: (12/20) level 2. Novice
Guitar: (9/40) level 3. Student. * increased guitar skill to level 3.
Grade: worldwide.
378/8,340,000
Numbers: followers.
2,809,044
...
-You have twenty minutes. -
He improved his singing skill by forty points, singing every Friday and Saturday in bars in New York, and afterward, he took singing lessons every day. At least his guitar level increased to level 3. If he practices enough, it's possible to take it to level 4 before June and sing to level 5 for international festivals. He eagerly awaits summer, Europe, parties, women, and everything he missed out on in these years.
As the number of followers didn't increase, it even declined; it was previously at 810,000, and now it's at 809,000. That just shows that his followers could drop. It's novel but very dangerous. What does it take for a fan to always remember your songs no matter the time, situation, and place? Even the big stars were forgotten over time.
He started imitating, a solution and advice given by Jessica Filiman. Great artists have their performances to lay the foundations of an identity. You have to understand what led the artists to that identity.
Confused?
It's the singer's career.
-Mom, what a joy to have you here, - Billy commented.
-My little one, they have you working non-stop, - Agustina responded, caressing Billy.
-Yes, Mom, I need lasagna to survive, maybe some pizza, to ease this blandness I'm feeling. I can't go on like this, - Billy complained in his mother's arms, who only made promises of food.
-We'll buy the ingredients at the supermarket on our way home, - Agustina commented, thinking that there was frozen ground beef in the fridge; they only needed cheese, pasta, and something for the sauce. They'll buy bread, perhaps a salad to complement lunch.
-Thank you, Mom. I was waiting for Mr. Jerry to mention that since spring is approaching, they'll be doing some concerts in nearby areas. Nothing big; it'll be a kind of mini-tour, through three cities to give recognition to my music career. They'll invite other singers. For now, I hope to share the stage with one or two bands, - Billy commented.
-Sounds great, - Agustina said.
-More than great, the pay is incredible. It's $5,500 per gig, which means $37,000 at the end of the concerts. We can afford an apartment in Los Angeles, just like you wanted! - Billy said.
-Wow, that's a lot of money, son, but you don't have to worry about that. Your mom has everything sorted out. It's better to wait a bit. I have some savings, and if we do the job well, we can move to a nice residential area, - Agustina commented.
-You still want to live in Staten Island. I don't think it's a good place, - Billy commented.
-It's safe, and a nice place to live, but I'm also thinking about buying in Manhattan. Prices are through the roof, - Agustina mentioned, despondent.
-I have a possible solution, but we have to wait. I'm still selling records, and we've made a lot of money from it. It's just that it's in my trust fund until it matures for the right purchases, - Billy commented, nodding in thought.
-A house is better, something quiet. Silence is pleasant when you breathe it all the time. Let's keep at it until we find what we're looking for, - Agustina said.
-I have to go back to the studio, - Billy said, returning to his identity as a singer.
-No problem, I'll wait here, -
The song by Gorillaz started playing; the rap had improved a bit. He didn't know. It sounded good.
...