Alicia saw with disdain, and with her aggressive disposition toward such acts, that perhaps, even as time passed and voices grew distant, when people finally faced the truth—no matter how complicated it might be for anyone—things would come to light.
-Then you may not understand, but I understand it perfectly. You're involved with someone you should never be with. – She whispered furiously, truth and discomfort laced in her voice. Certain and sharp, her words struck Gwen's heart from every angle, and as convenient as it might have been to cling to the essential truths of Alicia's life, there were two or three of them, bent toward living for pleasure. And when a younger man sought her shelter, that was what they called the graceful path of damnation, when control forces people to become prisoners of their own hearts, dragging them into a world where every fall becomes reality.
-I don't know what you're talking about! – Gwen replied, clinging desperately to the fading breath of denial, her sole purpose being to deny.
-You think I'm naïve? Your man is drunk downstairs while you fool around with a boy who makes you act like a silly schoolgirl, one who turns your life into something immediate and reckless. – Alicia said, stepping closer, almost at her side.
Billy came down the stairs, his presence brimming with rebellion, the kind he usually chased when it fed his deserved fantasies. He laughed, though it mattered little; fear of blackmail never brings people closer—it pushes them away. Truths always burst forth at the exact moment when power shifts between people, over people, and within the lives of those who dare to twist any trace of an idea into either failure or a fiery necessity for anyone clinging to the faintest spark of life.
-You'd better mind your own business – Gwen remarked, hurrying down the stairs, her graceful figure accentuated in motion, her bare feet moving swiftly, even though the sound of her sandals echoed, stirring life itself, and the chase was dangerously close to escape.
Billy burst out laughing, loudly, with strength and skill, his movement steeped in torment, on the verge of collapse—or of persistence. There was nothing more to say; he could sense that Alicia had been walking this path toward destiny for quite some time, each step twisting into ten more.
***
The torment of one man is the burden of many, stained and weighed down by fleeting moments and sharp cuts that turn everything into chaos. Billy spoke with a few of them—specialist smokers, men filled with thousands of trivial stories—as he kept checking the time, fighting sleep and pain. He was nearly certain that soon, prices would shift across Uruguay, Paraguay, Chile, Ecuador, Peru, and Colombia—three countries in which he had to accomplish everything that needed doing.
-It may stir a bit of fear, – Billy admitted, speaking truths. – Failure is when you jump from the plane and forget what to do. It happens a lot. You've got maybe twelve seconds to act, and if you don't, you drop like a bad harvest. So you've got to be mentally ready to pull the parachute at just the right moment—those twelve seconds that come for anyone. –
-So you just leap, and you do it, and hell, you dive straight down, and it's all good—just like plunging into a pool. I think a lot of times people don't notice the things that are moving. – said Billy Joe, convinced there was always a way to turn falling into flight.
-So how many times have you jumped? How many times have you turned your fall into a real race? – asked another, puffing on a huge joint.
-About a hundred times, actually. And I've always loved it. When I do it, I throw myself in with everything I've got. Besides, military training was insane. I did what I had to do with those new pilots. It was a battalion of five, but sometimes there were five more—it seemed they were either the first or the second groups. – Billy explained.
***
The story moved from group to group, fifteen by fifteen, as people danced—those who would later perish in the anguish of pulling off a colossal event of immense proportions.
-Who can achieve so much, and who can deny so much more? – said Michael Ocklars.
-There are nearly four million women eligible to be selected—we're talking about women between seventeen and twenty-seven. – responded Michael Ocklars again, certain that half-measures would only create problems, tangled in people's expectations.
-There are fifty states, and in some places, there's an opportunity to make it smaller, not so overlooked. – remarked one of the members. The process would be done through mail: buying a magazine—Vogue Teen, Seventeen, or Tigerboot—filling out a form. Though calculations were tricky, nothing was truly conclusive or guaranteed, as it often seemed.
-The form will include a phone number, an email, and an address. We'll hold a televised raffle, where we'll choose two women per state. And then—well, what else can be done? – said the magazine's editor-in-chief, the representative. Now, among themselves, they worked out the print runs and the logistics, sending forms through the mail and organizing them by location, while the whole venture seemed ready to unfold.
-Well then, let's hope this story turns out to be far more profitable than we expect. – Michael Ocklars concluded, already envisioning the project's future, the tour in June, and the role he would play. With less than three months ahead, Warner saw the potential and averages to create a superstar who seemed ready to rise fiercely from any failure.
-A letter will be sent from the offices to be used in every state's office, to make the process seamless, without pausing for anything trivial. And once it's done, the awards ceremony will take place somewhere special—it could be a studio, a stadium, or an event hall. –
The words carried weight, the burden of honor. Though some wanted to refuse or leave it all behind, the golden opportunity was almost majestic. To earn money, the magazines already saw it, the venues understood it, and the promotion of the new album was selling itself. Billy's charisma was a genuine mark of recognition, undeniable and true.
...