superstar: sings for everybody

July 18.

All the kids were a bit nervous about the dance. The emotions of these young, inexperienced boys were evident in the way they carried themselves—trying not to appear constrained under the gaze of the cameras. They danced, all eager to ask a girl out, to experiment without fear of being watched.

–It doesn't matter. –Billy remarked to Michael Ocklars. –It's good for you to attend interviews, to be on the map, to run marketing campaigns, to be part of society, to get involved in the media.–

–No interviews, Michael. I find answering trivial questions utterly tedious. I am who I am, and I want to relax. People will come to me—at least for now. If they don't, I'll simply enjoy myself and revel in my dollars sitting in the bank.–

Michael, hearing Billy's words, fought the urge to bite his nails but shook his head instead. Letting things flow might just be the better option. Now he understood that the allure of someone scarce could surpass that of someone constantly in the spotlight. That was Billy's strategy. The press sought him out for his charm and the women surrounding him. Teenage girls devoured magazine gossip about him. For instance, when he mentioned liking girls who wore chokers, sales spiked by 40%. Moreover, a cosmetics company had even asked him to endorse their products.

–We'll do it your way, but you still need to make some public appearances. –Michael insisted.

–Fine, book me a date with a model. –Billy joked, but Michael's eyes gleamed with sharp calculation. They had favors to cash in, and leveraging them could line up some strategic dates. Exposure was key, after all. Even his outing with an unknown girl had caused a stir, seeming like a dream come true to many.

–Consider it done, kid.–

Billy nodded while dressing in formal attire—his school uniform. He had appearances to manage, ones that, if handled correctly, would benefit him greatly. These brief moments—20 seconds here, 20 seconds there—would secure his position. Memorable people only needed that.

Michael, driven by Billy's initiative, moved swiftly to position himself as the chaser, the one orchestrating moments for Billy. Climbing two floors, he entered a small producer's lounge, eyeing the money-minded producers. Adding a few extra seconds to Billy's scenes wouldn't require drastic changes, just a focused editor.

–He's every teenager's dream. A hundred ninety million copies were sold in four years. The audience surrounding this kid is enormous—we could break the billion-dollar mark with ease, even bring in two million more viewers. –Michael explained, weaving statistics into his pitch like a cunning fox. He was already envisioning Billy as the next leading man: rugged, spoiled, and handsome enough to win over any protagonist. He just needed the right tough yet charming role.

–Its marketing, pis erfectly streamlined. We have someone with the profile. Using him will yield phenomenal results. –Michael persisted, his insistence setting the stage for mutual benefits.

–Hey. –Emma murmured, blushing. –We have scenes together.–

–We do. But, darling, could you give me a second? –Billy replied, stepping away to speak with a girl from the Beauxbatons cast. She tried to say something, but her cheeks flushed as she realized he wasn't paying her the attention she'd hoped for. It was a subtle yet crushing blow—a fortuitous encounter that seemed to draw unexpected connections among the cast.

Billy returned five minutes later, having finished his conversation with the girls, who laughed at his jokes. Emma couldn't hear what they whispered, but their intense nods betrayed their enthusiasm. She felt disappointed and fought the urge to flee, unwilling to appear vulnerable or needy.

What else could she do? She felt out of place amidst the rehearsals.

–Sorry to bother you. Those girls are die-hard fans of mine, and, well, I couldn't refuse to sign their CDs. You know, work stuff. –Billy said, taking his place beside her. They had spent hours rehearsing their dance moves and dialogue.

–We need to practice our lines. –she whispered, her soft tone making Billy chuckle. With his slicked-back hair and chiseled features, his gaze fixed intently on her.

–What lines, sweetheart? I just have to look at you like I'm smitten, and you play the reluctant heroine falling for a famous heartthrob… Oops, sometimes reality mimics fiction. I think you and I will nail this—after all, you're in love with me. –Billy quipped casually. Emma wanted to deny it, to push back, but all she managed was a flustered shake of her head.

–Yes… –Her face burned crimson. He was impossibly handsome. She recalled her friend's school poster of him, shirt unbuttoned to reveal abs. A wave of nervous excitement surged through her.

–Don't worry, darling. When you turn 18, you can live your dream—a beautiful romance where you're my muse for countless songs. –he whispered as he knelt like a prince. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of longing and disbelief as he adjusted his cuffs and winked before walking away.

Every word she wanted to say stuck in her throat. She wished she could call him her boyfriend, but he had set an age boundary. It was fair—to her and everyone.

–I think you're an idiot. –Robert remarked, observing Billy from a distance. Billy was a great friend, but his compulsion to charm every woman he met was exhausting.

He watched Billy, then shook his head. Everyone was placed in position, and the ballroom dance scene—a pivotal moment—began filming. Scene 45, take 3, rolled.

…

Billy took a deep breath as he stood at the foot of the stairs, watching Emma descend. Her acting was rooted in the Chekhov method with hints of the Adler technique, honed by an acting coach who charged a hefty fee. Actions had to evoke results—results that defined the character's essence.

Billy, in contrast, wasn't keen on academic study. He embodied a more instinctual approach, relying on improvisation to channel his role. His rock-star persona, tempered by a desire for quiet artistry, created a complex allure. This duality captivated audiences, particularly women, who saw a sensitive, passionate man beneath the layers.

The next scene unfolded seamlessly: Billy watched Emma descend the staircase in her pink dress. The camera lingered on his bright green eyes as he gracefully took her hand, bowing slightly to kiss it.

Emma blushed furiously as the director marked the take. Something about Billy's energy changed the dynamic, leaving even Emma, usually composed and professional, feeling overwhelmed.

–You're stunning, Hermione. –Victor/Billy said in a low, steady tone that sent shivers through her. Butterflies swirled in her stomach, and she struggled to keep her composure. After greeting Harry and Padma, Emma and Billy launched into their dance, seamlessly navigating turns and steps with perfect focus.

...