unbeliever.

April 18.

As soon as many people got wind of what happened at the Nike meeting, they dove headfirst into extreme sports. A song played, and it became a battle of wills, signaling the end of Jerry's peace. It was the perfect place for him to lose his cool in the right way. His calm always disappeared when Billy was involved. Ever since Billy's obscene behavior at a high-society event, Jerry had sweated bullets, but thankfully, the kid's talent and youthfulness didn't cause too many problems. But at that moment, Jerry was sweating even more as he watched the chaos unfold.

--You little punk, do you think jumping out of a plane and playing the rebellious boy makes you the biggest idiot I've ever met? Is that funny to you? You even signed the damn thing without reading the contract! Do you think I raised you to act like a pig rolling in the mud? Are you out of your mind? Do you even have the faintest idea of what you should or shouldn't do? I'm gonna have to hire someone to teach you common sense! -- Jerry shouted from his apartment in New York, stressed to the point of frustration. Only those who truly knew Jerry understood that he wasn't fully angry. It was Jerry's cold rage that people had to fear. The heat of his temper was just a passing foolishness.

-Sorry, old man, but I want to jump out of that plane. I saw an opportunity and I went for it,-- Billy said, trying to keep from sounding offensive, stupid, reckless, or anything else.

Connor, standing next to him, couldn't help but burst out laughing. Billy, now infected by the laughter, tried to stifle his own, but as Jerry's voice boomed from the speakerphone, both young men struggled to keep their laughter under control. It was probably at that moment that Billy realized just how dumb he had been, doing something he really shouldn't have.

-Are you laughing?! Do you think this is a game?! The moment I see you, you'll find out what real madness is. I'll squeeze you dry like a damn circus clown! You'll have to work your ass off! Forget about parties, forget about gatherings—forget about everything! And when you finally realize just how stupid you are, you ungrateful little brat…- Jerry raged on, but Billy was too busy stifling his laughter. He couldn't respond because of Connor, and both of them ended up jabbing each other in the shoulders, trying to keep it together.

The conversation was wrapped up with Billy and Jerry's concessions. What did Billy have to give? Attending two interviews in the UK and possibly appearing on a quiz show—which sucked, but it was the only way to get the Nike session done and dusted.

-Make it worth it. I don't want it to hurt my market value,- Billy grumbled.

-Oh, stop whining and do what they ask. Your campaign with Burberry is ready. You'll need to attend a few galas, and you might have to sit through the final matches, - Jerry added.

-I'd rather watch football! -

-You'll attend, and no buts about it! - Jerry roared one last time, ending the conversation.

Billy and Connor cracked up one last time. The messy room, with an Xbox game on the bed, was all these young men needed for these long days.

-That was something, man. I guess in the next few days, you'll have to play your part for the company. I'm off to California to enjoy the beaches, -- Connor laughed, seeing Billy's sour expression.

-It's just a bunch of lazy old dudes asking about my personal life—this, that, and the other. It's those old creeps who don't even know how to run an interview anymore. And don't laugh, it's not funny. It pisses me off that I have to sit there with those idiots in cologne,- Billy complained, hitting a nerve. He hated doing interviews and hated even more having to smile and pretend he liked talking about his private life. Very few people could pull off an interview properly.

-C'mon, dude, stop crying about it. Let's play. I need to practice my drums,- Connor said.

-What if we do some sports?- Billy suggested, eyeing Connor's look of confusion. One of the biggest problems with Connor was that he didn't like sports or anything that involved physical activity. He had terrible eating habits, loved American junk food more than anyone, and had the depressive air of a music artist. The band always teased him about needing to be more active, but Connor wasn't built for that—he was built for bad habits.

Connor's drumming was fast, but Billy's voice was what guided the jam. Some parts were slow, with Connor using double tempo to fit in 1/4 time vocals, while Connor doubled the music to 1/8. It was a way to play with the song, adding doubled beats.

-That was a good one, Carson,- commented Connor, beating his drum with numerous powerful strokes. Each hit was intense. The next song was more like a narrative, and Billy had to adapt with his guitar and operatic vocals, playing with the tempos. It was a style that involved singing in different ways... a challenge, but an acceptable one.

The two boys headed to the garage to play music, pouring their emotions into the art. Spencer found them amid this musical battle. He loved this kind of exercise, especially now that he had begun his second master's degree in American folk, Celtic traditions, and the roots of music. Many ideas for song compositions were born from his deep study of music, a passion that very few shared, but Spencer loved music as much as he loved his work.

-Check this out,- Spencer said, sharpening their attention as he introduced the sound of a lute and flute.

***

- I don't think that boy's any good, - were the words Avril often heard. Forgotten and completely lost in her thoughts, it hurt her for two simple reasons: Billy was just her friend, but the idea of surpassing that boundary was killing her slowly. Sleeping in his arms had become common, the way she held him at night, the weight of her body against his, how she ran her fingers through his hair and inhaled his scent.

-Sighing over Billy?-- asked Vanessa Carton, a friend of Avril's. Both were musicians and singers and there on the ceiling was a poster of Billy, one of her guilty pleasures. It was an ad he had done, and he looked so handsome.

-You're two years older than him. Don't waste your time. There are plenty of guys way better than that brat. Mature, desirable, and, of course, better men than that boy, - Vanessa Carton commented, who didn't have the best relationship with Billy. She had met him briefly and had two impressions of him: a musical genius and a womanizer.

-I don't see it that way, but you do...- Avril sighed. --I'm glad you're here with me. I've missed you so much, and you wouldn't believe how bad things went for me at the Grammys,-- Avril murmured, hugging Vanessa tightly, the weight of the disappointment heavy on her.

-They say Billy took home six awards,- Vanessa replied.

-Ughhhh, forget it.-

The two girls shared some songs.

-I have a new song that needs a bit of polishing,-- Avril mentioned. Billy's tour was nine months long, and with his new role, which was supposed to be kept secret, there were things they couldn't talk about. The film industry wasn't something Avril wanted to be part of, but now she had this sudden urge to act, to be involved in everything Billy was doing. She couldn't deny the desire to be part of Billy's movie, standing in front of the mirror, staring at her imperfections.

-What are you doing? Sing it already. You've been lost in your thoughts,-- Vanessa said, snapping her back to the present.

...