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 hoeople gathered to see what was happening ihe maried 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 ter. 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 neers followed your every move with absurd rigor, almost as if it were a sp event. They ied so many stories that anything said with even a hint of on sense seemed true,– Jerry remarked.

  –Ahhh, yes, what aic trip. Man, the models were stunning. They’re so eid uninhibited, unafraid to show who they are. They’ll dance if needed, ugh, 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 retionship 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 bel,– Jerry warned.

  This was the way of things for two main reasons. First, Nike’s ercial had reached its sed stage, and Billy’s rebellious attitude, mase charm, and various media storms had gartention. Knowing the young man wasn’t just involved in an iional advertising campaign but had also sold over 100 million records worldwide, with sales still climbing, made headlihe 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 hat you’ve sold over 100 million records worldwide?– a paparazzo asked as Billy headed to his car.

  –That’s normal. e bae when I hit 500 million,– he responded curtly, stepping into his car while Jerry followed behind with his e. For now, they would lose themselves ireets 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 iional tour. You’re already well-known in Amerid here, but there are still pces with room frowth if you introduce them to your music,– Jerry expined as raindrops began to fall.

  –That won’t be a problem,– Billy said, stretg 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 i it all in gold. The rest didn’t matter to him. As a high-ranking t, the bank held him in high regard; his at was substantial enough to make dreams a reality. After 2008, he po buy shares in panies 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 uanding crossed Robert’s mind as he thought about entering someone who was undeniable to everyone—especially women. He felt a pang of nervousness but khere 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 art 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 ahem 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 rge 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 arra so you’d have fun. There were so maiful women there, it ractically paradise,– Robert replied timidly.

  –It was Oliver’s fault. He bbbed tent, who ended up spilling everything to our parents,– Philip pined, recalling how their parents had uedly shown up at their bachelor pad to shut the idea down pletely.

  –It doesn’t matter anymore,– Robert said. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Gemma Ward, the bloh brilliant green eyes. He couldn’t help but sigh at every memory, from their messages to te-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 pying their games fes. They were drinking soda because Billy’s governess, Mrs. Greenwood, kept a hawk’s eye ohing, 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, 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 have some then,– Mrs. Greenwood said as she called the cook te a pleasant meal while setting up the ingredients herself. She bustled around, anizing Billy’s room, straightening things up, and readying the guest rooms just in case.

  She g his phone, notig that it was full of messages from women, and shook her head.

  She could hear them yelling and cheering in the background.

  –What 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 st chapter of her novel, which she’d left halfway through. Adjusting her half-moon gsses, she settled into her quiet moment of escape.

  ...