Going up and down, the rock seemed to be entering a new phase—one that stood out. The recognition the kid had earned came from the many concerts they performed, and from fans who defended even his most fraudulent mistakes like loyal hunting birds. After a well-done concert, it felt as if people were witnessing history unfold all over again.
–He's got a good musical ear.– said Michael G. Wilson, one of the producers of Casino Royale, as he listened to the body of the song. He had experience with soundtracks and knew firsthand that shaping a great song takes more than just the artist's effort. Now, from this new perspective, he was surprised at how good the rocker was.
–What was the offer they redirected to us?– murmured the executives. Curiously, it was a joint comparison between MGM and Sony. Unlike other major productions, the budget wasn't set to exceed $120 million—but, as always, ambition raises costs, and the production now hovered between $120 and $150 million.
–One million dollars for singing the song, licensing it, and promoting it during part of the upcoming tour. They'll resume in March next year across Europe and Asia.– Michael explained. The cost, although it sounded steep, wasn't unreasonable considering music licensing for films ranged between $500,000 and $800,000. Now it was reaching a million. What mattered most was that, for Billy, this was his entry into film—a chance to meet the right people. Once his image hit the big screen, the rest would be history.
…
–The executives have agreed. They believe it's plausible for your boy to be the band across the next three films. Depending on how well the single performs, it should generate enough public interest—maybe even award nominations. That alone could be enough for the next movie.– The producer's words weren't wrong. In cinema, awards fuel contracts and feed the public's desire to chase them. That kind of success explains why so many people chase awards, not just for excellence, but for what they represent.
–Michael, sweet words for the coming months. The boy will record with some band members and send in the tracks once the European tour wraps up.– replied Michael Ocklars, who handled all the administrative work. Unlike Jerry, who connected the logistics to Michael, both managed their contact lists with frustrating precision. Still, young Michael saw the opportunities opening up.
–Sounds perfect… We're in Milan. You could stop by or send someone. I'd be pleased if you attended Billy's concert—it starts in an hour.– Mr. Ocklars's invitation was straightforward and a bit rushed; he knew that anyone invited might be someone important, or someone who could help him later, as he hoped.
–Don't worry. In the coming months, we'll have chances to attend some of the shows. Right now, unfortunately, the timing just isn't ideal.– replied Michael G. Wilson.
–No worries.–
***
Milan was a city full of beautiful places that didn't always seem to match the tourist image. It was a contradiction, —n-rooted in a rich history that was fleeting and generous to those who visited. Many were passionate, and each one, in their way, heightened the experience through their disposition. Some might even find themselves transformed.
–You didn't organize the songs for rehearsal. – asked Sugar Egg, clearly annoyed with Billy for once again defying the band's simple structure and rules.
–I'll sing ten songs. That's all I've got. – Billy replied, shrugging.
–What are you talking about…–
–The ones I sent to Spencer and Connor. I'm pretty sure you got the notes and practiced without me. I've got two or three more in mind. Sometimes it's hard to pick. You might be surprised! If you don't have the talent to remember the setlist, that's not my problem. – He grinned, feigning a weak jab. Sugar Egg just shook his head and held it in frustration, trying to calm down without exploding.
–Damn brats… ridiculous little punks. When I have kids, I'll raise them right and send them to the army, so they don't grow up with this kind of attitude. – His voice rose from a soft mutter to a loud outburst, trying not to spit the anger boiling inside.
–Let's get meat. I'm making a decent meal. Finished my workout—I want three extra-large portions of grilled steak… and maybe some pizza. Let's get pizza.– Billy said, grabbing Sugar Egg by the collar. He was getting fatter by the day, though it wasn't obvious—his belly was what made him stand out in such an unflattering way.
–I don't like the way you mess with me.– Sugar Egg replied, still tasting the extra-large pizza he'd had yesterday for breakfast. It was the kind of hearty meal that lifted his spirits.
–I heard your wife's bringing the kids to Spain.– Billy commented.
–We need the rest. My wife's been wanting a vacation, and well, it's winter—the kids will only miss two weeks of school. We'll be back in January, and hopefully more at ease when we wake up again.– Sugar Egg answered, still a bit unsure.
–Relax, those hotels have everything. I heard you paid a lot.– Billy replied.
–Yeah. $15,000 just for the family hotel package—three weeks. First-class tickets, $10,000 round trip. Another $3,000 for health insurance and medical services. We'll shop in Madrid—probably another $15,000. A lot of money.– Sugar Egg said. Though well-paid, his musician's salary was seasonal. On this tour, he was earning $140,000, which still felt like too little.
–Hey, don't sweat it, bro… Let me pay for your trip. I could make that money back in a day with just my face.– Billy said, slapping Sugar Egg on the back. The golden boy was always the lucky one.
–You'd do that?!– Sugar Egg asked.
Billy scoffed. –Drop dead, you fat bastard.–
–Watch it, kid.–
–Make me godfather of your fourth kid, and maybe I'll be more generous… you damn cheapskate.– Billy shot back.
Sugar Egg shouted after Billy as he ran off. He was annoyed, a little shaken. It was their usual way of roughhousing, but Sugar Egg knew Billy would pay for the trip. Ahhh… rich kids.
To them, it was just a simple family vacation.
...