superstar: sings for everybody

July 14.

Merche arrived nervously; it was 10 o'clock, and he wasn't there yet. G let her in, and she stepped inside wearing a blue lipstick and a zircon necklace Billy had given her. It had become her favorite, a constant reminder of him, making her think about how she would soon wear nothing but that necklace, minutes away from being bare. She lowered her gaze, just as Billy had instructed, clutching five bottles of aphrodisiacs—three milligrams each—enough to stir a woman to her core. Just the thought of using them sent a shiver through her, an intoxicating mix of excitement and unease. The tension electrified her senses, each nerve alive, every hair on her body standing on edge.

-You've taken your time, - Billy said, appearing suddenly, watching Merche sit with a book in hand—though she wasn't reading. Her focus was elsewhere, consumed by the anticipation that hung in the air.

-Well… I suppose it hasn't been too long, - she replied, her voice hesitant but determined. Maybe this would be the last time they could see each other this year. Billy's filming schedule left little room for anything else. Time slipped through their fingers, precious moments dwindling as his tattoo—a vibrant tiger etched with rebellion—stood as a reminder of his chaotic life.

-You have a lot to get done in the next few hours, don't you? - he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

-Nothing important, - she replied.

They hurried up the stairs, the living room awaiting them. Every step brought laughter, lightening the weight of unspoken words. That day, Billy grabbed a camera, and they began taking photos—playful, intimate, unfiltered. Each shot captured a tenderness, a sincerity between them, their emotions raw and unguarded. The camera's flash illuminated moments that felt infinite, the charisma Billy exuded filling the room, leaving her heart full yet aching.

-I think you're going to break my heart, - she murmured deeply as they settled on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms, an action movie playing in the background. But jealousy gnawed at her, filling her mind with unease.

***

July 15.

On the set of Harry Potter, events unfolded as predicted, scene by scene, in perfect order. Interviews were meticulously scheduled as part of the promotional tour for his upcoming European tour. Whispers swirled that it would be grand, though Billy's roles were brief, his appearances fleeting. The idea of failure loomed, yet it didn't deter him.

-You recently released a single alongside your new album. Can we expect to see more of you soon? -

-That's the plan—to keep singing on stage, to feel the energy of a crowd singing back at me, each person finding their escape in the music. Rock flows through me like the western winds across the plains. It's exhilarating. Performing for an audience, feeling the adrenaline as they connect to my music—that's what I live for. I hope Europe is ready for me. Few can resist my music... except maybe the deaf, - Billy said, his words dripping with confidence and an edge of arrogance that made the interviewer pause, sensing the makings of a headline.

-You're about to surpass 200 million copies sold. Many believe you're not far from the likes of The Beatles or Michael Jackson, who have estimated sales between 260 and 270 million copies. -

-I've got a few more years to reach those numbers. For now, they can keep selling. Four years in, and I'm already breaking records, in an era where piracy is rampant. Whether music sells or not doesn't matter as much. What matters is my approach. Some say I don't make real rock, that it's more pop, or that it's not how rock should be played. They complain I don't wear leopard prints or flaunt my chest. Everyone expresses their music in their way—this is my rock, and I give it meaning, - Billy said, fully aware that the press would hound him relentlessly in the months to come, as they always did.

Dressed in black jeans and a partially unbuttoned blue shirt with a thin strip of animal-hide trim around the collar, he radiated effortless charm.

-There's been a lot of talk about your rumored romances. Care to comment? -

-No romances for now. I've got good people around me. I believe in love stories, - Billy replied, his tone calm but reflective, thinking of the fleeting relationships he'd entertained.

Exhaustion crept into his voice. It was his second interview of the day, and boredom seeped in. Just this once, he thought, he'd endure it. After this, he'd ignore the rest.

-So, those photos of you with Avril—are they just casual moments? - the presenter asked, holding up a picture of her kissing Billy's cheek and another of her lounging against his chest in a swimsuit.

-People misinterpret everything. We're just friends… relax with the jealousy, - Billy said with a wink. -Are we live? -

The presenter shook his head.

-Well then, let's do something fun. I'd like to take out some of my fans, but it's impossible to date them all. Let's organize a local contest, just for Great Britain. I'll take the winner on a date. We'll pick them at random, like a lottery… and of course, I'll be the 100-million-dollar prize. - Billy grinned, removing the mic clipped to his shirt. The presenter was left speechless as Billy sauntered off, letting out a long yawn, clearly eager for an afternoon of uninterrupted sleep.

The presenter turned back to the camera, attempting to fill the time. The 25-minute interview, with edits, would barely reach the required 15 minutes of airtime. Dozens of questions remained unanswered, but the boy was done.

To the presenter's surprise, Billy returned, microphone in hand, shamelessly belting out a song in Spanish. The interviewer's face was a picture of bewilderment, a clear sign that nothing about this was going as planned.

...