Atnta Records decides to bet on Billy under Jerry's insistenta Records was disarmed, in its twehe pressure from Jerry was only carried out in that way, by a group that ended up being one of the most profitable groups of the time, who rejected a tough trad lost to Sony Music. They wouldn't fail again; Atnta Records knows it, Warner Musiows it, Ahmet Ertegun knows it, who decided to sign a bastard 360 tract that only respects the framework of music; the child's profits will be insane if he sells a million records. The kid will be rich, whinoys Ahmet, but Jerry, like Peter Wolf, agrees to help the boy follow a good path.

  The tract is a musical bomb, presented for 5 years, with an almost mandatory extension for another 5 years, 22% in music royalties, an e only set for a talent every hundred years. The problem is that he must give three tours in five years, and three more tours if he extends. Here is where the trap lies; Jerry knows that tours are where the brand makes a lot of money, but he had to promise on something and preferred to promise on a plex issue like a tour.

  Jerry didn't call because he was reviewing the tract with his wyers, but as soon as he could, his wyer sent the tract to Spencer, and he firmed the green light with his professor sky, who mentiohat it was a great tract, although Spencer and or were relegated to a musical sary, as band members, at Spencer's request, it's better not to be in the spotlight. The music is created by Billy, posed by Billy, and sung by the boy; they are just accessories in the right pce.

  Spencer ran all the way looking fustina until he found her in a bar w as a waitress. She had pronounced dark circles and looked someale; Spehought she was sick, but he wasn't wrong; she had a broke.

  -Excuse me, Agustina, - said Spencer, calling her with some terror, even though the bar was empty, and nobody paid attention to a man in a wool vest, mostly because of the heat, but the vest was always worn.

  Atnta Records decides to bet on Billy after Jerry's insistence, on an unpreted talent, the bet is made that allows Billy to have a superstar tract, eight years, three albums, numerous certs, and 21% of the bel's profits, along with 4% for Jerry. "He's a star," Jerry murmurs; the boy will shine iarry sky or burn like aernal fire that 't bear the weight of the masses.

  Jerry Wrexler took a pne in a hurry; he o sort out all the details. Billy had a mother, and he hoped to vince her that attending Atnta Records was one of the best steps for her life. Like an old man, he has many tricks to get the dy's attention, especially a dy who, acc to his iigations, is a caregiver for her son. Jerry mentally made pns on who to pay, whom to whisper to, t young Billy out of the correal facility and bring him to a music b such more restrictive.

  He got off the ercial ph ease. His e hit the ground forcefully, a renewed vigor altering his being, a purpose in life, a rock to push on his baow with strength. The dazzling image of the city where he grew up came to his mind; what is more important for a musi? For Peter Wolf, it's passion; for Ahmet, it's teique, style, and performance; for Jerry, it's what he transmits.

  If he vey emotions through his songs, he doesn't need anything else. Even singing elevator songs will gee a e with the audience.

  He breathed imosphere of the angels with renewed grace. He took a taxi, paying without g about the price; he was happy and sure of himself about this new purpose that he was setting in his life. He arrived at a somewhat distant café from the ter of Los Angeles, a bit further from the spotlights, and more in a residential neighborhood. Speook thirty mio arrive; it wasn't that he was te; it was just that the ued Jerry arrived without a fixed appoi. Spencer, a yielding man, accepted the arrival and immediately headed to Jerry.

  The music professor's vest, white with musiotes, gray pants, and a white shirt, made his bck hat stand out even more. It was a on hat, very popur thirty years ago in men's fashion of that time, fotten and revived by rends; now young people have their own idea of style, followed and guided by rappers and some Pop celebrities with their tight pants.

  -Mr. Wrelex, I apologize for the dey; I finished my st css less than an ho. I hope you haven't waited too long; I'm embarrassed to have to receive you in this way, - said Spencer, cordially, with a bow, unon for an Ameri.

  -Boy, sit down. We have a lot to talk about, - said Jerry Wrelex.

  -I think it's better to have this discussion at Florence Bar's Irish. It's the bar where Billy's mother works as a waitress until 1:30 in the m. She's a woman to be feared; I think someone experienced in this kind of dealings should sort out the issues, - said Spencer, softly, his voice always gentle.

  -You're right. Did y your car? -Jerry asked, to which Spencer handed him the keys to his small coupé, owned by his great-aunt-grandmother; she no longer used it, and Spencer ied the car as his own. However, it still had the spirit of a feminine car.

  -It's a short trip; don't worry, - said Spencer.

  Adjusting his seatbelt, even though it was a short trip, respect for traffic rules reverberated through the journey for awenty minutes.

  ****************************************************************************

  Billy Carson found himself in his singing paradise, as Spencer would say. He attempted to improve with all the exercises provided by Spencer, but success y in gathering a giant group to listen to him while he sang. With the help of his advisor, he was allowed to have the guitar and take it everywhere.

  Though it seemed silly, singing in the middle of meals was just a little trick he would use from time to time. Some security guards cast suspicious g him, believing that Carson would use the guitar to attae of the inmates. A search of the official records revealed the fact that he was extremely violent when challenged or provoked.

  He was alone in the middle of the cafeteria, while the voices of ughter, cutlery, and gossip ihe enviro. Billy took only a spoonful of food auro his guitar; the gss of lemonade beside him was wele, even if it tasted like watered-down piss.

  He started a cssic solo; Billy could almost feel the drums at his back. Pyiiculously, he mao execute the song in one go, albeit with some mistakes orings, he tio crash into the soedly.

  I'm gonna fight 'em offA seven-nation army couldn't hold me backThey're gonna rip it offTakin' their time right behind my bad I'm talkin' to myself at nightBecause I 't fetBad forth through my mindBehind a cigarette.

  He sang loud enough for some tables to stop and watch him sing. Now he had more fidehanks to reag level 4, which gave him a certain sense of security. Although he had been singing for three days, his level wasn't increasing; he found himself pelled to imprint his mark in front of an audience.

  And the message in' from my eyes Says, "Leave it alone"

  Don't wanna hear about itEvery single one's got a story to tellEveryone knows about itFrom the Queen of Engnd to the Hounds of HellAnd if I catch it in' back my wayI'm gonna serve it to youAnd that ain't what you want to hearBut that's what I'll do

  He imbued the strength from his heart, the ce to never give up. He imagined a soldier trotting in a war, miles away, operating in fear, through unknown terrain, the breath of enemies very close to his position, alone, with only a few provisions at his disposal. With the absolute fear of dying, but no matter what, the soldier kept running with more determination, camping, hiding from is, rai, enemies.

  And the feelin' in' from my bones Says, "Find a home"

  I'm goin' to WichitaFar from this opera forevermoreI'm gonna work the strawMake the sweat drip out of every poreAnd I'm bleedin', and I'm bleedin', and I'm bleedin'Right before the LordAll the words are gonna bleed from meAnd I will think no more

  And the stains in' from my bloodTell me, "Go bae"

  Billy Carsohrough his singing process with closed eyes, so he didn't have much time to see people's reas. He entered his meditative trance, fetting even that security guards might punish him. However, the power of his music was veyed through his thoughts; a security guard wao approach, but he saw a vast forest, war cries, with a soldier running.

  Security guard's POV:

  For Esteban Calhan, finding himself in a giant barrier, a battlefield, was a fleeting moment. The powers of the mind passed those seds like minutes. Guard Calhan, who was about to stop Billy in his prose, stopped upon feeling is on his skin, the heat of a summer night, soaked by rain, mud, and water.

  The pain in his feet from walking long distahe blisters on his hands from parachute ndings, the pain of an injured shoulder, along with fear, his heart beating a mile a minute, enough for him to feel a thud in his chest that led him to clutch it.

  -G-g-gone... - he tried to pronounething, but his tongue felt heavy. A tear escaped his eye, thin, almost unreizable. He took a seat, incredulous at the power of the song, sighing. He almost found himself in a void, a room with no end and people to apany him.

  End of POV.

  For the rest of the people in the cafeteria, their situation was the same. Billy entered a trance, something he had done only twice before, both times to impress Jerry Wexler.

  The singing was thunderous; you could see over a space of 30 meters rebellious youths in silehe chatty, euphoric cook fell silent for the first time in five years, though the times he fell asleep didn't t—his wife said there were even nights he talked in his sleep.

  From muteo uprising, like a roar of the heart, the warmth Billy ignited in people's hearts was enough to awaken some who had succumbed to the loneliness of prison, they woke up like fireflies. Vibrating with colors, the singing tinued as everyouro reality.

  Billy finished singing; sweat streamed down his body as if it were a marathoried tute his breathing, but the attempt was futile. His body, which had transded to another pne, now returo a more three-dimensional reality. The world of music had arrived, and only silence pervaded the prison; the elders, who had suffered more, were the ones with the most moved hearts.

  Billy opened his eyes, and the light gave him some pain; his head was ringing from top to bottom. Unlike many singers, his music was so powerful that it ied even those who weren't fans.

  He tried to swallow but got a cough; his throat hurt, raspy from the tragic excess of singing, too much power in too little practice. He made a gesture, which many would remember as Billy Carson's seal, a crooked smile.

  -Want another one? - said Billy.

  No one respohey were amazed; some palms fell asleep, others froze, and others could only feel effervest in their hearts, like a good dose of caffeine would do, remaining oblivious.

  -I'll sing another oomorrow, - said Billy, leaving the guitar oable and starting to devour his food.

  After a minute, almost as if in a gesture of respect, everyouro their activities, this time much more awake, never losing sight of Billy's back after he left.

  His system wasn't progressing. Everything remaihe same. What the hell? Billy thought.

  Status: Billy Carson

  Singing: (4/80) Level 4: Semi-professional

  Piano: (6/20) Level 2: Novice

  Guitar: (1/10) Level 2: Novice

  Evaluation: World-css

  --------------------------------------------------------------

  Numbers: Followers

  115

  ...