superstar: sings for everybody

Jerry finished his lunch while Billy fiddled with his ring at the table. Both took their time, allowing things to calm down a little. The line of paparazzi outside the restaurant was enormous, and it was surprising how many people gathered to see what was happening inside. The manager tried twice to kick them out without success, as they would only back off slightly, ready to snap pictures of Billy, who found it all senseless. People were just crazy. He was now starting to view the London circle with disdain. In New York, at least, there was some respect for those around them.

–When's John arriving?– Billy asked about the head of security.

–Maybe later. He's a bit tied up right now,– Jerry replied wearily. The atmosphere felt stifling with so many people pressing against the sidewalk.

–It was your trip to La Mancha that caused such a stir. The newspapers followed your every move with absurd rigor, almost as if it were a sporting event. They invented so many stories that anything said with even a hint of common sense seemed true,– Jerry remarked.

–Ahhh, yes, what an exotic trip. Man, the models were stunning. They're so energetic and uninhibited, unafraid to show who they are. They'll dance if needed, laugh, drink, and revel in the pleasures of life. Perfect lovers, if you ask me,– Billy said, grinning at his agent and former music producer, who rolled his eyes.

–You know what they say,– Jerry muttered.

–Don't remind me,– Billy shot back.

–It has to be this way. Desire drives sales. All those young women have it in their heads that someday they might be part of your life. If you got into a relationship or, worse, got married, it wouldn't be good for business,– Jerry pointed out.

–Someday it'll happen, though,– Billy replied, a hint of desperation in his voice. –You should know—I might want to settle down with someone.–

–Don't bring that up with the label,– Jerry warned.

This was the way of things for two main reasons. First, Nike's commercial had reached its second stage, and Billy's rebellious attitude, masculine charm, and various media storms had garnered attention. Knowing the young man wasn't just involved in an international advertising campaign but had also sold over 100 million records worldwide, with sales still climbing, made headlines. The bonuses from both album sales and endorsements were astronomical. Jerry, who took a cut, profited handsomely, but the money flowed like rivers.

–Billy, what do you think about the news that you've sold over 100 million records worldwide?– a paparazzo asked as Billy headed to his car.

–That's normal. Come back to me when I hit 500 million,– he responded curtly, stepping into his car while Jerry followed behind with his cane. For now, they would lose themselves in the streets of London.

–I didn't know I'd reached 100 million,– Billy said.

–104 million, to be exact. You've sold a bit more. This year's metrics are as strong as those of the top artists. They could climb even higher once you start your international tour. You're already well-known in America and here, but there are still places with room for growth if you introduce them to your music,– Jerry explained as raindrops began to fall.

–That won't be a problem,– Billy said, stretching his arms and leaning back. With the $30 million he'd earned for turning down the Grammys, it wasn't an issue. As he got out of the car at his residence, he reminded Jerry to deposit the money in a Swiss bank and invest it all in gold. The rest didn't matter to him. As a high-ranking client, the bank held him in high regard; his account was substantial enough to make dreams a reality. After 2008, he planned to buy shares in companies he knew would skyrocket. Although he already owned some, buying gold seemed the safer bet. He was good at everything!

...

Robert Pattinson was surprised to see the news. Billy's fiery character was well-deserved. A spark of understanding crossed Robert's mind as he thought about encountering someone who was undeniable to everyone—especially women. He felt a pang of nervousness but knew there wasn't much he could do. Even now, he was just a rising star, while Billy was a full-fledged rock star.

He was with the twins, heading to Billy's house, which was part of a group of homes. Despite its beauty and privacy, its modest entrance left much to be desired.

–We're going to house 12,– Robert said from the passenger seat.

The driver nodded and let them pass.

–Billy sure knows how to pick his house,– Oliver remarked, admiring the homes, which were more like mansions. Billy's two-story house gleamed, with a large front yard and a cobblestone driveway. It had parking for four cars and a curious basketball hoop mounted on the wall.

–I haven't spoken to him since we missed the yacht trip,– Philip admitted.

–He doesn't care. He just arranged it so you'd have fun. There were so many beautiful women there, it was practically paradise,– Robert replied timidly.

–It was Oliver's fault. He blabbed to our agent, who ended up spilling everything to our parents,– Philip complained, recalling how their parents had unexpectedly shown up at their bachelor pad to shut the idea down completely.

–It doesn't matter anymore,– Robert said. He hadn't stopped thinking about Gemma Ward, the blonde with brilliant green eyes. He couldn't help but sigh at every memory, from their messages to late-night calls where they whispered promises into the night.

–I've never been in a room with a supermodel,– Oliver admitted.

...

The four boys had been playing their games for ages. They were drinking soda because Billy's governess, Mrs. Greenwood, kept a hawk's eye on everything, even their words. Yet she always maintained a quiet presence. Despite her stern demeanor, Mrs. Greenwood was kind at heart. Her children were grown with families of their own, and Billy, sweet as he was, often leaned on her warmth.

–Mrs. G, can you make us some biscuits with strawberry sauce?– Billy asked, his bright eyes shining at her. She smiled kindly, a rare softness in her usually stern expression.

–I'll prepare them after dinner. You can have some then,– Mrs. Greenwood said as she called the cook to arrange a pleasant meal while setting up the ingredients herself. She bustled around, organizing Billy's room, straightening things up, and readying the guest rooms just in case.

She glanced at his phone, noticing that it was full of messages from women, and shook her head.

She could hear them yelling and cheering in the background.

–What can you do?– Mrs. Greenwood muttered, arranging the room and moving on to tidy up the guest rooms. Tired, she decided to take a moment to enjoy a cup of tea and finish the last chapter of her novel, which she'd left halfway through. Adjusting her half-moon glasses, she settled into her quiet moment of escape.

...