Billy was panting heavily on his cot in the military barracks. They had done two extra jumps, each one incredibly powerful, each one following the captain's exact instructions, so strict and rigid that they'd become routine. Jack Sauce shifted uncomfortably in his room, pacing back and forth.
-Stop moving around.- murmured Billy.
-Sorry, I'm just a bit shocked.- Jack replied.
-Is it because you couldn't jump without a safety harness? Or because you embarrassed yourself in front of Kate? The glorious blonde wanted someone daring, but it turns out you're a coward who's too scared to jump from a plane.- Billy commented.
-What do you know about it?- Jack snapped.
-Well, women always want a strong man, and unfortunately, you're not that man anymore. You're only strong until you're scared to do something.- Billy added.
They both turned in their spots, and soon they started arguing, scolding each other, but fortunately, there was a clear division between the stars and the military guys—something about people and separation, a sort of… VIP treatment.
-You're a fool. We're superstars, man. She likes the artist who sings about love and makes her feel things, it's like you're making them come alive again. It's the electricity… that you create by being a rocker. Your guitar or bass is like a magnet, and the confidence—that's what makes you who you are.- Billy continued.
-What do you mean?- Jack asked.
-Damn it, Jack. Jumping out of a plane doesn't make you cool. You have to make love passionately. Another easy way to tell the difference is emotions. Jumping from a plane isn't any different from a party—dancing, and living life—both create emotions.- Billy explained firmly. -So just do what you're supposed to, do what you want, the way you want.-
Billy turned his back and fell asleep…
-You're always an idiot.- Jack muttered.
The next morning, with plenty to do, their training ground had become their new normal. They were doing physical training again and more jump practices, so intense that Billy considered it punishment. Jack disappeared that night and didn't explain much, but training continued unchanged. Four days passed, and Billy decided not to answer his phone. May was halfway through, and something about the yacht waiting for him took up space in his mind.
Leighton wasn't answering his texts, and their brief romance had fizzled out like a summer storm. Sadly, she lost interest after he kissed another woman in public in a strange way. His messages went unread. On the other hand, Avril was intense, sending dirty texts whenever she could—a stark contrast.
The soldiers had become calmer once they lost the fear of jumping from planes. Now, they just looked forward to more aviation tests and being part of the elite military unit.
-This Friday, we could go grab a beer at that pub you keep talking about.- Billy said to Andrew.
-I think the guys will like it.- Andrew replied.
***
Jerry was deep in thought, reflecting on how different things had become. Warner was on alert after a call from Barry Meyer himself, a complaint about Billy's treatment and the fact that he wasn't getting any roles, among other reasons. The call for Billy to participate in a real movie had finally come—a small role in which John Constantine, played by Keanu Reeves, was the lead. Billy would play a teenager who drove the taxi; not much was required beyond that.
-Let's push the project to next year. He has a tour, a recording project for a film, and a promotional campaign. But next year, let's hope a good series tires him out of acting. He's complaining, but I'll put a stop to that.- Jerry Wrexler sighed deeply.
They continued as instructed, fulfilling every task on the list.
-We weren't aware of the schedule.- someone from Barry Meyer's office remarked.
-The kid has a contract with you for Harry Potter, along with promotional work. There's a European tour scheduled for September and a Latin American tour in November and December through most of the countries. He also has to record a soundtrack for the next James Bond film, which might start next year. However, these studios give artists time to create their songs, so he'll have space, but the release of his next album is squeezing an already tight schedule. We have a contract that obligates him to produce eight albums. The kid's already made five, and the contract will double completely.- Jerry explained.
-The contract expires after eight albums. What's the problem?- the assistant asked.
-It expires in 2008, but we extended the time to retain the rights until 2015. However, he can continue producing albums, but this time, with another label. But he'll sign with Atlanta as long as I'm around.- Jerry Wrexler said, downplaying the matter, but alerting the assistant, and by extension, the directors who now viewed the relationship differently. Everyone knew Elvis, Jimmy Page, and Kurt; they all handled fame differently, and Billy's path was different too. His music wasn't trendy, but he was.
-So, you'll handle everything then.-
-I will. Don't talk to the kid, or he'll blow it out of proportion. It's better to stay silent about the elephant in the room.- Jerry said.
Taking note, Jerry had a flight to catch. He hated flying, but it was necessary to keep an eye on Billy. He visited the poor girl whose heart had been broken; she was devastated. Now Billy was with Avril or maybe just playing around. At least his website gave updates on what he was doing sometimes.
***
In a forgotten town, where only one room stood along a single main road, it resembled a hamlet, if not for the public building that confirmed the population of 56 people. It was complete tranquility.
Michael Okclars, who accompanied him, stayed in a guesthouse, exhausted from all his tasks, while a young man snuck out the back.
-Well… I didn't know superstars were destined to come to our little Worenburght, bring another round… - shouted an older man, amazed he could still stand, Old Stings, a farmer. The restaurant bar-inn, also serving as the town's community center, offered portions of fries and meatballs by the barrel as a late-night snack. Billy didn't want to know where they were prepared, but they tasted good with the dark beer. Later, the wife came down and made a meal that the young man generously paid for, even footing the bill for more cider and beer after the first round ran out. While they sang, two men went to the city to buy more alcohol.
-Hahaha, let's sing, let's sing a song, - said an old drunk.
-Make it something worth singing, - murmured Billy, keeping pace.
Everything went to hell when an Irish family arrived, including a beautiful redhead, just as the beer came in, along with large bags of chips.
Among the crowd, someone curiously had a video camera and recorded as they sang drunken songs and had a great time. In the U.S., it wasn't common to see a young guy putting on a show. It became a kind of performance, starting with Irish music. He was skilled at singing and recreating any tune, pulling off a cappella rendition with the system helping him along to the song An Irish Pub Song. The next day's noon news showed him jumping over the bar with Andrew, singing the song loudly.
As they both yelled "Hey!" and the music played on, their voices rang strong, and for a poor-quality recording, it sounded fantastic. This video, sold for 200 pounds, was uploaded to the internet by the paparazzo, later making its way around the web, showing ten minutes of chaos. A guy balancing on a bar completely drunk while drinking a bottle of cider, with Billy waving at the camera as he did an Irish jig he had just learned.
Two words: foolish and young.
-Billy, wave at the camera, - said the redhead, Murphy.
-Cheers to everyone, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you get more than 1,000 pounds for this and can buy a pig for Christmas, - said Billy, clinking glasses with Murphy, a seventy-year-old man laughing heartily.
-Marry my granddaughter, - Murphy shouted.
-I'm not that drunk yet, - said Billy, laughing with the kind of charm that brought the entire bar together. It was a wild party, funded by Billy's 6,500-pound credit limit.
The next evening, Billy uploaded the original video to his blog to avoid any trouble, along with pictures of the party.
The military guys lost some face, but it was mostly Andrew. The other three stayed calm, and when they saw they were being recorded, Gray ordered them to avoid doing anything crazy, though they did dance in circles and jump around happily.
-What language are you singing, you madman? - Andrew yelled, dancing with Billy. He looked much more sober, though he still liked to drink.
-I think it's Spanish, - commented Thomas, who had taken Spanish classes in school.
Billy was rapping in Spanish, to the song "Aguante" by Calle 13, while Murphy's granddaughter, a brave redhead, taught him some Gaelic, even though she was a bit drunk herself.
They ended up in a drinking competition, with the young guy outlasting the bar owner's son, smashing his glass on the bar and yelling for another round.
These were the scenes circulating online. Warner was preparing a campaign to discredit the footage, but the young man had already uploaded it to his blog and refused to take it down.
***
Jerry took a nap until his phone blew up completely. He was exhausted from the time zone difference until he saw the news. The British media had a field day with Billy. Mick Jagger could only shake his head, but what could the rock spirit say? Billy embodied everything he stood against. The media was clamoring for an interview with the young man.
-My God, Billy, you're a damned idiot, - commented Jerry, who couldn't help but laugh at the kid. The anger wasn't for Billy; he knew that. Scolding that kind of joy is what makes people sing.
-I'll handle the press meeting. Billy will attend interviews as punishment. On the bright side, let's make some money. The new album's already recorded; we can debut it in the U.K. first, - Jerry said over the phone, explaining to his careless son how to counter the public backlash. Billy wasn't exactly a role model for young people, which was the issue. He paused to think.
-And what idiot sold alcohol to a minor? - Jerry remarked.
-Well, sir, it wasn't technically a bar; it was a restaurant. Also, it's the town's community center for parties and celebrations. The kid didn't buy the alcohol from a pub; we're in a gray area here, - Michael Ocklars muttered, having consulted the lawyers earlier. The previous night, Billy had gone back to the hotel and snuck out.
-I'll be right back; I need to take some questions, - Jerry said, facing the press.
Jerry took an hour to give explanations. Billy's reputation was on the line, and he only offered a few statements and denials, so elegantly dodging the questions that all the reporters were left with was one clear phrase:
-The kid's got an interview in three days, - Jerry remarked, calling Nike to re-evaluate the campaign, positioning Billy as the image of someone rebellious who loves living on the edge. Meanwhile, Billy was waking up with a bit of a headache. For now, he was safe because of the town's remote location, but in less than an hour, the press would arrive, and Michael advised that they had to leave.
...