superstar: sings for everybody

The afternoons flew by as the boys played tirelessly, diving into Mortal Kombat battles and PES 2003 matches, each of them fighting to win a few pounds. It was a constant struggle to play. Oliver was the best at Mortal Kombat, while Billy usually won at PES, though he occasionally lost to James. The two seemed almost synced as they played.

They both preferred using England, while Billy often chose Real Madrid or Brazil. Robert, on the other hand, typically picked Manchester United but occasionally switched to Arsenal or Bayern Munich, depending on his mood.

-Robert was a total heartbreaker, with a stunning model whose eyes mirrored the Caribbean Sea and hair as golden as sunlight. She couldn't help but confess how much she loved him. Honestly, I'd introduce him to my sister—if I had one. - Billy remarked.

-Damn, he said it was just for fun! - James exclaimed.

Robert tried to laugh it off but couldn't hide his blush. The boy was a little shy. For now, Billy just shrugged as he watched Robert deny the budding heartthrob reputation that was already forming. All he needed was to let his hair grow out a bit longer.

-The truth is, Billy's the one. The papers barely scratch the surface. He's the one with all the luck. One look from him, and women melt like sugar in water. - Robert said, clapping Billy on the back, which drew a soft groan from him.

The boys teased him, playfully jabbing his back. They always messed around like this—nothing out of the ordinary.

-My back hurts a little. I got a tattoo. - Billy said as they kept patting his back. - Have some mercy on this poor soul. -

-Let's see this epic tattoo. - Oliver said, his curious eyes lighting up. He'd always dreamed of getting a tattoo like a rebellious youth but never mustered the courage. Billy, on the other hand, had no such reservations. He said he wanted to show everyone how far above them he stood so that when they saw his back, they'd see his roar.

He revealed a black-and-white tiger roaring fiercely, claws tearing through the skin. The boys raised their eyebrows at the sheer size of it. The tattoo spanned his entire back, embodying the wild, rebellious energy he was known for—fast, untamed, and brimming with raw desire.

-Does it hurt? - they asked.

-A lot. Imagine thousands of needles piercing your skin. After a while, it becomes unbearable; your back goes numb, and you just want to pop a painkiller. But it's manageable—at least for me. - Billy explained.

-It's crazy how you always do the wildest things my parents would call stupid and forbid me to do. Honestly, I'm too nervous to get my whole back inked, let alone something so bold. - James said, a little envious of how cool the tattoo looked. Due to his contract, he wasn't supposed to alter his appearance, though he could get something in a less visible spot.

-I'm a rocker. My life isn't normal. I do the things everyone dreams of but nobody dares to do. My agents show the public that I'm living the dream. People want to be stars, but they want to be me. - Billy said nonchalantly as if discussing the weather. But his rebellious tone struck a chord with the twins, who couldn't help but widen their eyes at the sheer confidence he exuded.

It was as if he were telling them, Get lost. If you want to be me, too bad—you never will.

-Nobody wants to be you. Go to hell. - Robert quipped, handing him the controller for the next match, loser versus loser.

Jerry lounged in a foam-filled bath, phone in hand and a cup of herbal tea nearby, unwinding after a long day of work in the way he felt he deserved. As he soaked, he managed business calls and finalized Billy's medical checkups—a rule they both followed: if Billy got tested, so did he.

-Everything's set. Cancel the entire Grammy marketing campaign and focus on selling more records. - Jerry instructed Graham Anderson, one of Warner Music's directors.

-I like how fast you work. What did the kid say? - Graham asked.

-He wants part of the money and to be considered for acting roles and production ideas. He's got a movie in mind that he's confident will make a fortune. All he needs is approval and a team to help him bring it to life. - Jerry explained.

-That's easy. We're already looking at strong positions with Sony Music and Universal. Plus, the Billy era has just begun, and it's making waves like never before.

-He also wants the band sent over. He's got two new singles he'd like to record—one in Portuguese for the Brazilian market and another in Spanish for Latin America, both in time for the December tour. - Jerry added.

-We'll arrange it. Are they good? - Graham asked.

-They're masterpieces. He's also willing to sign an eight-year contract with Warner Music if the terms are slightly improved. - Jerry said, the old fox in him keenly aware of how to leverage Billy's value.

-That's simple enough. We'll offer a 10-year deal. No album quotas, just years. - Graham countered, thinking quickly.

-If it's 10 years, you need to treat him like he's your son—one you're proud of. Let's make it 12, rolling over into the current contract, and keep it strictly by years. - Jerry proposed.

This goldmine wouldn't slip away easily.

-Fine, I'll head over next week to finalize the deal. - Graham said, already dreaming of the bonus he'd receive for securing Billy's contract.

Billy's current deal was for eight years or eight albums—a clause that nobody expected him to meet, especially not with diamond-certified albums. But he did, turning what seemed like a safe bet into a liability for Warner. Jerry had pulled all the strings, even calling in lifelong favors. He still had one left in reserve, but it didn't matter. The contract was what counted.

-See you next week, Jerry. - Graham said, mentally calculating his bonus like a kid counting candy.

Jerry hung up and turned his attention to the small TV perched in the corner of the tub.

...