fashion week (part 2)

The early morning dawned, and Billy braved the chill in his scanty attire. The Californian cold brought gusts of wind, while a thousand kilometers away, the Atlantic cold bore a different character.

-I'll take a stroll, - said Billy, glancing at Julie, who nodded attentively. Unlike Billy, she knew her hotel was less than six blocks away. She preferred walking, even if her heels killed her, threading through the dark streets of New York to sober up from the alcohol she'd imbibed before retiring for the night.

-See you tomorrow. Let's hope there are no more surprises, - said Julie, bidding farewell to Winona and Gwyneth, exchanging kisses. Both seemed livelier after bonding more closely. Meanwhile, Billy found himself accosted by another trio of businessmen and some investors.

It would be logical to say it had been a productive night, but the fun wasn't so clear. As Billy bid farewell to the two young women, Gwyneth, the sweet girl, approached Billy with a gesture that caused discomfort due to her daring neckline.

-Tomorrow, it's the remaining fall collections, - she said, a blonde with a discordant attitude to her angelic appearance.

-Rest well, - said Billy, hoping both girls would get into the black car, courtesy of the godfather. Julie chatted casually with an investor, whom Julie, at a glance and at her urging, wanted to take to bed. Julie, however, escaped with quick apologies. She was a charming blonde who wouldn't be in her youth, her prime years tied to the cinema.

-Well, at this hour, there's a pizzeria still open. Fancy a quick bite? - Julie suggested.

Billy nodded. The pace he kept was what they called an obvious tourist in the city of New York. His three previous outings were only quick outings, and with companions, but he knew some streets, and the night only prevented him from seeing the days.

-It's a bit out of the way, but it's one of the few 24-hour places that serves decent pizza. By the way, I hope you don't have gastritis, - Julie said.

-No, I'd love pizza. Haven't eaten anything since lunch, - said Billy.

-It was a busy afternoon. Who would have expected my favorite director at a high society party? He told me his reasoning about my favorite movie. I certainly hoped to dance all night, but you don't see Oliver Stone so willing to chat every day. I found him on a red carpet; he didn't even look at me. Now I think I was attractive, - Julie said, pulling out a cigarette and offering it while stopping to light it.

Oliver Stone, is globally renowned for three films, "Platoon," "Wall Street," and "JFK."

-Sounds familiar, - said Billy.

-For heaven's sake, well... that doesn't matter. I just like how he manages to incorporate politics into his works. Nothing out of this world. He's not my favorite, but he's one of my favorites, on this side of the continent, - Julie said.

They walked through a dark alley, which caused Billy a bit more distrust, but Julie was so sure the shortcut would lead them to Eighth Avenue, apparently it was quite popular, "Tick Tock Diner" in the heart of Manhattan.

-Well, we've arrived, - said Julie, entering the place. It was warm. It was a relief.

The first thing Julie noticed was that there were no pizza slices.

-I think it'll be breakfast. Anyway, I'm craving some eggs and bacon, - Julie said, sitting at a table near the bar. Across from it, was served by a woman with dark circles under her eyes.

-Ouch, honey, you look exhausted, - said Julie.

-Tell me about it. It's been a disaster of a week. How can I help you? - said Grace, as it read on her badge, a white oval plastic stapled to her blue uniform.

-Let me decide! We want breakfast, for this big guy, make it double, with juice, and for me, coffee. You can also bring a basket of bread. We're very hungry, - said Julie.

Grace noted it down, then gave a loud shout. The orders were in the kitchen. As Julie said, after immersing themselves in the Nirvana song that played incessantly since Kurt's passing, the music gained an inevitable popularity of a celebrity's magnitude, the lead singer of Nirvana, playing on the radio from time to time, not to mention Michael Jackson in between, still the king of pop.

-I had the chance to go to the last gig, well, the second to last public gig. But I decided to spend the money on a plane ticket to Florida. What a silly thing to do, now I regret it a bit, - Julie said.

-I've never been to a concert, - said Billy into the air.

-Are you kidding? - Julie asked.

-No, not at all. I don't have much freedom, - said Billy.

-Too bad for you. In Europe, we can sneak off to a concert, any concert. You have to feel the electricity in the air, people chanting a song, shaking their necks, someone pushing you and saying, 'What's up brother?'-  Julie said, imitating a man's voice.

Billy couldn't help but laugh at the image of little Julie being harassed by a bearded thug; it would be quite the opposite, the bearded thug wouldn't be able to help but apologize upon seeing little Julie with her hippie aura.

-Done, if we have time, let's go to a concert. Just hope I don't have to duel, - said Billy.

-Duel? You sound like an old man, - said Julie, as the food tray arrived, a pitcher of black coffee brought by Grace. The lotus position to settle in for eating, a habit formed by the blonde, or so Billy inferred, a routine made, first tying her hair into a ponytail while forming her lips into a 'U', and preparing to eat, observing what she liked least and eating it, saving the best for last.

Having breakfast in the early hours would likely mean an early start, thought Billy, avoiding, and not dwelling on work while eating, was a recurring theme. He ate quickly and silently, paying no attention to his surroundings, not even when Julie, holding a coffee in hand, watched Billy devour his food with such concentration that she could only admire the man to his fullest.

His bacon and eggs were delicious, his toast complemented the coffee.

The next morning, Billy was already awake. He was tired; the day had been long. The agenda for the day was to draw until lunchtime, with a touch of romance. He understood that he needed to get down to work, to select the chapters. 190 extra chapters needed to be done down to the smallest detail, and the deliveries had to be completed by the end of this visible year. A total of 120 chapters, doing all the work slowly, striving to draw 14 chapters of Samurai X and 12 of Shaman King. The periodic deliveries of four books were just a dream; however, he needed to send at least ten.

The doorbell interrupted his work.

...